Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between young men. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
For the first of Dave's adventures see "Carried Away" Nifty Archives (Authoritarian).
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
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I could hardly say that the last few hours had been boring: I had been kidnapped by Erik and Chad, the two hitchhikers I had picked up, forced (kind of) to perform oral sex on them and on several other hunky strangers, locked in the trunk of my own car, drugged, and finally driven to some house where I was face-fucked again. Now I was lying on the floor in front of another horny guy who apparently wanted to get off in my mouth. His name was Jeff, and his buddy Wade had already done me. Jeff wasn't too happy at the moment because he thought I should be able to kneel in front of him--and apparently suck him off--even though my hands and feet were bound with ropes. He kept yelling at me to get up, and finally started kicking me.
"Get the fuck up now, cunt, or you may be nursin' a couple of broken ribs." He drew back his booted foot again, ready to kick me harder.
Besides being unable to get my balance while being tied up, I had another reason for staying on the floor. I had popped an enormous boner. In spite of his scowl, Jeff was a real hunk. Moreover, he was wearing combat fatigues and boots, just the right recipe to get my cock hard and dripping. If he saw that he had turned me on, he might freak out and really do some serious damage to my already sore ribcage (thank you, Erik!)
Losing patience Jeff suddenly bent down, grabbed me under the arms and hauled me to my knees with brute force.
"Oh, Ho!" Erik said. "No wonder he didn't want to get up. Look at the fuckin ' faggot: he's hard as a rock! He must really like you, Jeff. He told me his brother is a marine, so he probably gets the hots for guys in uniform."
"You sick motherfucker!" Jeff shouted at me. He brought up his right boot and stomped me hard in the chest. I flew backward from the force of the kick, and slid across the floor into the wall. Damn, did that hurt! Jeff's eyes were blazing, and he looked like he was ready to launch a full-scale attack, which might really bust me up bad. "Hey!" Erik said, sounding a bit surprised by Jeff's ferocity. "Chill, man; it's just a joke. Don't take it personal. This faggot is hot for any cock around. You shoulda seen how he chowed down on mine. Fuck, he sucked me dry!"
Somehow Erik's words didn't have the calming effect on Jeff that I thought he intended.
"How can you guys let that slime bag touch you when he's boned up? Shit, that disgusts me." Jeff started moving toward the door.
"Erik's right, buddy" Wade shouted out after Jeff's retreating form. "The guy may be a faggot, but he sure has a way of servicing a stud. Shit, I always say that a hole is a hole, and damned if this one isn't real talented. I don' t remember the last time I came so hard."
"Whatever," said Jeff, "I need some fresh air." He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and slammed out the screen door.
"Hey, fag," Chad said, winking at me. "Not a good idea to piss Jeff off. He knows a bunch of karate and shit. He was in the marines himself. Hell, he may even know your brother," he laughed.
I shuttered. My breastbone was starting to feel like it had been hit by a wrecking ball. "Hey, I'm sorry; I couldn't help it," I said, thoroughly intimidated by these guys and their explosive tempers.
I looked around the room for the first time. There was a couch and a couple of arm chairs in one corner that looked like they had been picked up at a garage sale. A bulky table with four chairs took up part of what was obviously a kitchen area. There was a grimy looking refrigerator, a sink full of unwashed dishes, and an oven that probably had two inches of grease on it. The ratty-looking carpet looked like it could give you a bad case of lice: all-in-all, not what I was used to. Chad interrupted my thoughts.
"Hey where's Sharon?" he asked Wade. "I thought she was gonna make some dinner for us when we got here."
"Shit, she got mad at something I said to her before. She went over to Donna' s place. Those two bitches are probably pie-eyed on gin by now. You better fix your own dinner, dude."
"Hey, fag, go see what's in the fridge and make us something," Chad ordered me, forgetting apparently that I was still tied up.
"Ah, sure, Chad," I said. "Uh, but you have to untie me first." Chad looked hard at me. "Um, sir," I added.
"You are the biggest fuckin' pain in the ass," Chad mumbled as he roughly started to untie me. "If you don't serve us somethin' decent, that kick of Jeff' s is gonna feel like a fuckin' love tap."
"Yes, sir," I said, relieved to be free of the ropes. I was rubbing my sore wrists and trying to get the circulation back in my hands.
After rummaging around the frig (it was more grimy inside than outside) I found the fixings for some grilled cheese sandwiches. Erik had ordered me to put on Sharon's frilly pink apron, and he and the other guys were teasing me while I was working.
"Hey, Wade, buddy," Erik joked, "looks like you got a substitute wife. She can probably cook better than Sharon, and she can damn well suck your cock better. You should cut that bitch loose."
"Yeah, buddy," Chad added, "and like ya said before, this one's real polite. Sharon ever call you `sir'?"
"Hell, no," Wade chuckled. "Yeah, maybe we should keep this faggot around for awhile." He brightened. "Fag boy here can earn his damn keep. He can cook, wash the dishes, clean the house, do the fuckin' laundry . . ."
"Just so ya don't need yer jockstraps back right away," Erik laughed.
"Shit, yer right," Wade said, knocking back his beer, crumpling the can and throwing it at me. "You keep yer fag hands off my jocks, ya here me boy?" He burped loudly.
The laughing got louder and louder. I noticed they were working on a bottle of tequila along side the beer. They were doing chasers. Pretty soon they would all pass out . . . which might just be my chance to get away. I thought about my car. It must be somewhere nearby, but where were the keys? Probably in Erik 's pocket. Now if he was unconscious . . .
"C'mon, pussyboy," Wade prodded. "Get that fuckin' food going or we may just haveta whip ya."
Luckily, I had worked as a part time cook at IHOP one summer so I knew my way (more or less) around the kitchen. I put slices of cheese and some cut up ham on each sandwich before placing it in the pan to cook. I started a smaller pan going on another burner with some frying potatoes I cut up with onions. Then I dumped a can of baked beans into a pot and let it simmer on the back burner. Real four-star stuff! For the first time since I was dragged into this rat trap I was feeling kind of good. "Food's comin' right up," I said brightly, then more timidly. "Ah, do you mind if I make something for myself, sirs?"
"Nah. Why the hell not, kid," Erik slurred. "Yeah," he added, "yer gonna need your strength `cause eating grilled cheese always makes me horny." Drunken laughter. Har-de-har-har!
Just then Jeff wandered back into the house. He seemed to be in a better mood. When he saw me at the stove with the pink apron on he just shook his head, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and walked over to the table.
"Hey Jeff," Wade said, "you see Sharon out there?"
"Yeah," she and Donna were sitting on the porch over there. She said don't wait around for dinner `cause she was busy."
"Busy, my ass. That lazy bitch," Wade complained as he lit up a cigarette he bummed off Chad. "She doesn't do shit around here. The reason she got pissed off before . . ."
While they talked I discovered a few clean plates (none of them matched) in the cabinet and proceeded to set the table. I let out a surprised scream as Chad goosed me. The guys laughed hysterically. "Hey, babe," Chad cooed, "you please your man and I'm gonna make you a real special dessert. You're gonna love it."
I served up the grilled cheese, potatoes, and beans and the guys wolfed it down along with more beer and tequila. I had purposely made large portions so that there would be some leftovers for me after the guys had their seconds. Since nobody invited me to sit at the table, I ate my sandwich and stuff standing by the stove. The first bite of that sandwich was pure heaven. I felt my stomach rumble. 7:00 PM. Hummm. I hadn't eaten a thing since 8:00 AM when I choked down half a bagel on the run to get Bob to the airport.
I put on a pot of coffee and found (to my surprise) a relatively fresh crumb cake in the bread box on the counter. The guys were impressed. "Alright," Erik said, clapping loudly as I poured the coffee and passed around the cake. "Let 's hear it for the fag. He may just be our new lady of the house."
I cleared away the dishes as Wade pulled out a deck of cards. How `bout a few rounds of poker, dudes? I hear you guys came into a little extra cash today and I wanna relieve you of some of it."
"You're on," Erik said. "but we ain't gonna be the losers. You better scrape up all your loose change if you want to stay in the game for more than ten minutes." More macho posturing.
"Now for the best part," Chad suddenly said. "We get to feed the cook. Okay, under the table, fag. We each got a little tip for ya, right guys?"
Erik must have been right about the effects of grill cheese sandwiches (more likely the beer and tequila) because all the guys--including Jeff--were ready and willing to drop a load in my mouth.
I looked at him blankly for a moment before realizing he was ordering me to suck their cocks while they were playing cards. I started to take the apron off, but Erik ordered me to leave it on. He also told me to put his jockstrap back on my head which started everyone roaring with laughter.
Seeing no way out of this humiliation (at least for now) I walked over to the corner where the jock was still lying and picked it up.
"Here, le'me help ya with that," Chad said, winking at the others. He was holding the blue bandana he had worn earlier. He took the jock from me, slipped it over my head, and tied the bandana tightly around my eyes, holding the jock in place and also preventing me from seeing who I would be sucking off. Laughing, he led me to the table and told me to get down on all fours and start crawling. I did, and banged my head solidly on one of the table legs, setting off another round of laughs. Somebody goosed me again.
I finally found my way under the table where everyone started to push me around with their feet.
"Hey, fag," I heard Erik say in between laughs, "Let's get movin'. I need to get off bad so get your pussy mouth over hear. I got somethin' you're really gonna like."
Erik's voice was coming from my left, so I turned around blindly and ran into a pair of legs that magically opened. For a moment he gripped me forcefully with his knees. "There's a perv under the table!" he howled, and the foot pushing started up again.
I guess his need to get sucked finally overcame his desire to humiliate me further. Erik let go of my head, and I found my nose right in his crotch. He pulled down his zipper and told me to get to work. Meanwhile, the other guys had settled down (somewhat) as Wade started dealing cards. It struck me as rather odd: who could concentrate on a card game when he was getting his cock sucked? Of course, a lowly faggot had no business questioning his superiors.
Erik wouldn't allow me to use my hands to get at his cock so I had to somehow fish it out with my nose and mouth (but no teeth, he warned.) Actually it wasn 't as hard as it might have seemed, since Erik was already hard and his dick had pushed it's way through his open fly. It was still covered with his boxers but they were no real obstacle for a determined cocksucker.
As soon as I started rooting around in his boxers I began to feel (and taste) his precum which was already starting to leak through the thin material. If anything, the smell from his crotch was even stronger than before since he still hadn't showered. I quickly maneuvered his cock through the opening in his boxers and could feel the warm, firm flesh spring up along the side of my cheek, covering it with dick slop. My own cock immediately started to harden as I began licking his now exposed shaft. Erik gasped as my tongue massaged his dickhead provoking a laugh from his poker buddies.
"Hey, dude," said Wade, "you look kinda funny. You okay?"
"I'm more than okay, buddy. Just deal me two. Ahhhhh!" (my tongue found his piss slit.)
At that point I forgot all about the game and began focusing my attention exclusively on the pulsing piece of manmeat directly in front of me. After licking the precum off the huge head, I opened my mouth and went down on his pole. He gave several powerful strokes up with his hips, each time banging my head on the bottom of the table.
"Whoa, dude!" Chad teased. "Somebody's messin' around with the table!"
"Yeah," Erik groaned, "tell `em ta stop, buddy, ohhhhh, shit!" (I just started deep throating him.)
"Hurry up," Wade complained, "I'm dyin' over here. I need a hole!"
By now I was bobbing up and down on Erik's cock, giving him the best blowjob I could under the circumstances. Apparently I was doing something right because all of a sudden he grabbed my head in both hands, pushed it all the way down and held it. Suddenly I felt warm cum spurting from his dickslit as he groaned in appreciation. "Oh fuck, that's it you queer cocksucker! Ohhhhhhh, yeah!"
Erik was flooding my mouth with his thick cum, and I was doing me best to gulp it down, folded up like a pretzel under the table. When the guys heard Erik climax they began to push me again with their feet and even try to pull me in their direction. Erik, however, had an iron grip on me and wouldn't let go until he had transferred the last drop of cum from his cock to my mouth. Then he ordered me to clean up his cock and finally pulled away. Blind and panting from the blowjob, my chin dripping with cum I made a quarter turn and reached out with my tongue to where I hoped I would find the next cock.
It was Jeff. "Clean off your face, scum ball," he ordered. I don't want any fuckin' jizz on my pants."
I carefully wiped my chin on the arms of my shirt and presented my open mouth again to Jeff, wondering what to expect from him after his earlier outburst.
"Okay, queer," Jeff said, "this is how it goes down. Take my cock in your mouth and hold it there. Don't start sucking until I tell ya to. Got it?"
"Yes, sir" I said automatically.
"Open wide," he said. As I opened my mouth as far as I could, I felt his soft, warm cock slide across my tongue. Obediently, I closed my mouth over it and waited. I heard him sigh, and then started to taste something strong begin to dribble and then to shoot into my mouth. He was pissing! I tried to pull back but, like Erik, he got my head in a vise-like grip.
"Yeah, you stupid faggot," Jeff gloated, as the piss stream grew, "you're my fuckin' urinal, and you better drink every drop. I've been savin' it up for you. Spill any of it and I'll break your damn jaw."
"I started gulping his piss down frantically as he let go full force. He must have been drinking beer all afternoon because his piss stream seemed to go on forever. I could feel the warm liquid begin to fill my stomach. Even though the taste was awful my cock was loving it. My boner returned full force, and before Jeff was finished pissing I shot a load all over my briefs.
"Yeah, pissboy," Jeff said, "that feels good . . . the pause that refreshes."
"Way ta go, Jeff, my man!" Wade shouted.
"Let's hear it for Jeff!" Chad announced, clapping loudly. All the guys were high-fiving each other and downing tequila shots, the game forgotten for the time being.
The other guys decided that they wanted to get off before they went back to the game. Chad reminded me that his ass and my face had a date. "I want you to rim me, queer," he said. "I ain't never had my ass licked out and you're just the shitface to do it."
I was still blindfolded so they led me into the bathroom and lay me down on the cold tile floor. Somebody at least had the consideration to bring a pillow from one of the chairs to cushion my head. I wondered whether they had played this game before with some other poor fag.
I was nervous about the idea of giving a rim job. The last time I had done it was when I was gang raped by those bikers. My memories of that occasion were not the happiest ones. But the situation was similar. It was me against four strong young men who were determined to make me service them. Chad had decided that I should be the one to introduce him to the pleasures of ass licking, which none of the sluts he had met had been willing to do for him. That left me, the lowly faggot, to take care of his fantasies.
Suddenly the blindfold came off. "I want you to see what you're doin' this time," Chad said with a smirk. And take your shirt off; I may wanna play with your tits. He carefully straddled me, facing my feet. He dropped his 501's, followed by his briefs, and presented me with that incredible bubble butt I had admired before from a distance. Almost immediately my cock started to stir again (in spite of its recent eruption), a fact that Erik and Wade were quick to point out.
"Yeah, I know," Chad beamed, "the fag loves my ass. Well that's perfect because I want him to make love to my hole. Ya hear that, fag. I want you to start by kissing my ass all over. Then I want you to lick my hole. It's all sweaty and crudy from a week on the road, and I want you to clean it up. Then I want you to stick your tongue as far as you can up my chute. I want to feel that tongue reamin' me out. Ya think ya can remember all that, you stupid fag?"
"Y-yes, sir. I can remember." I said as he started to lower his ass directly onto my face.
The other guys had brought their beers along to watch the show. They encouraged Chad. "Smother `im man. Sit on his face and make him smell your shit. Then make him clean it all up. Fuck, that's all he's good for anyway, cleanin' some stud's butt. Go for it fag!"
Just as Chad's butt cheeks made contact with my face he let out a loud fart. I got it full blast, almost barfing from the smell.
As the guys went into hysterics Chad commented: "Hey, don't blame me. The fag 's the one who served the beans!"
This only caused the guys to laugh harder. Erik started a chant that the others soon picked up: "Rim that ass! Rim that ass! Rim that ass! . . ."
"You heard them, faggot," Chad shouted over the drunken chanting: "Now get to work!"
Finally recovered (partly) from the horrible stench, I started gingerly licking Chad's muscular ass. As Chad settled down on my face I had no choice but to begin licking his hole. He was right. It was dirty. At first I gagged at each lick, which for sure tasted like stale shit.
"Yeah, that's it," Chad encouraged, "that feels great . . . Now dig in. Get your tongue up my hole. I wanna feel it!"
I started some exploratory thrusts up his sticky hole. Chad went wild each time he felt my tongue up his chute. "Get up there," he shouted, settling further on my face so that it was getting hard to breathe.
I curled up my tongue and rammed it in as far as it would go, and I felt Chad shutter in response, giving me a strange sense of power. I had felt it before, and it started reawakening my lust for this nasty stuff. Now that Chad's ass hole was relatively clean (I had swallowed all the gunk I had found so far) something started to turn me on again. Maybe it was the way Chad's hole relaxed and contracted alternately allowing my tongue to go deep and then squeezing it, almost like a fist. The sensation was tremendously erotic, and I started to bone up again.
"Look," Erik said, between long swallows of beer. "The fag is getting into it again. He actually likes this shit. How sick is that?" If I was liking it, Chad was loving it. I could tell from the motion of his body that he was jacking off as I continued my deep riming. In between he grabbed my tits and twisted them painfully. Pretty soon he groaned and shouted: "Oh fuck, I'm coming! Keep that toilet mouth of yours open faggot, I got somethin'
for ya!"
Chad quickly pulled his ass off my tongue, whirled around, and plunged his dick into my mouth. It had already started spurting and the first three blasts hit me squarely in the face. Then I managed to close my mouth on his rampant cock and to swallow the rest of his load: two more big blasts and several smaller ones. This dude could cum!
Chad finished unloading and kept his softening cock in my mouth as the final dribbles of cum slid across my tongue. For a moment I thought he was going to start pissing and braced myself. Instead he patted me on the head (carefully avoiding the sticky cum that covered my face) and told me that his first rim job was awesome and that he expected another one soon.
Well that settled it. Wade hadn't gotten off since he face-fucked me when I first regained consciousness. Now he demanded the same treatment as Chad, and, after making me wipe Chad's cum off my face with my tee, he quickly settled down on my face, enjoying my tongue darting deep up his ass while he jacked himself off. He also pinched my tits and pulled them until I thought he would tear them off. The only difference was that when he was ready to cum he didn't move, but ejaculated all over my stomach, delivering a monumental load that started to run down into my pants.
The guys, momentarily sated, decided to get back to their cards and tequila chasers. They marched back--none to steadily--into the living room, leaving me, covered with cum, and with painfully swollen tits, lying on the dirty bathroom floor.
"Wash yourself up, faggot," Wade shouted back at me. "You look like shit." Sounds of laughing. "Then get your pussy ass back in here. We're not done with you yet."
They all sat back down at the table and the poker game started up again. The way the guys were guzzling beer and downing tequilas, I figured that pretty soon they would be working on auto-pilot: until they all crashed. Maybe this was my chance to get away. I thought about my car. My cell phone had been in the glove compartment. I wasn't sure if it was still there, since I had been locked in the trunk for most of the trip this afternoon. If I could find the car and the cell was there, I could call . . . who? . . . the police? . . . my friend, Allen? Shit, just get out and get the cell and THEN decide who to call!
The bathroom was between the living room, where the card game was rowdier than ever, and the front door, which led to freedom. Could I slip by without them seeing me? I stuck my head out of the bathroom, only to hear Erik holler: "C' mon fag, what the fuck are you doing?"
"I'll be right there Erik . . . sir . . . I, ah, just got sick to my stomach and vomited. I'm coming, URPPPP!"
That bogus upchuck must have done the trick. He didn't want me to get back to the table and heave all over them. "Okay, okay, take care of it, but hurry it up. I told you, that ya still got some work to do." Everyone laughed again.
Slipping out of the bathroom, I flattened myself against the wall and started moving toward the front door. If the guys happened to look toward the bathroom, I was in plain view of at least two of them. Suddenly there was total silence from the living room. I broke out in sweat. It dripped down into my sticky shirt which I had slipped back on to keep them from attacking my tits again. They must have seen me, and now they were gonna pounce on me, tie me up, and re-blindfold me to make sure I didn't try to get away again. Maybe they might let Jeff rough me up for good measure. Maybe . . . thoughts of Erik's knife flashed through my fear-ridden mind.
The laughing and hooting started up again. Apparently one of them had just won a big pot and everyone was surprised (into silence) by his hand. I almost sighed aloud with relief, and continued to slide along the wall until I reached the door. It was already dark outside.
As I slipped through the screen door, I quickly looked around for my car. In the dark, unfamiliar surroundings I didn't see it. I decided, however, that I had to get away from the door. Turning around I now saw the house where I had been held prisoner these last few hours. Even with the dim light from the street, I could see how shabby it was. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and a number of old cars, some only stripped skeletons (mine wasn't there!) were parked nearby. I couldn't just stand there. Sooner rather than later somebody would come back from Tequilaville and notice I was missing. Then . . .
Should I keep looking for the car or put some distance between me and "my friends" and try to find a public phone to call for help?
I turned around and almost bumped into a girl. She looked about my age, blond hair, pretty face, but sporting an obvious bruise on her right cheek bone. She wore jeans and a tight tee showing off all her endowments. She must have seen the huge cum stain on my pants. She looked at me strangely and mumbled something as I excused myself and started rapidly walking up the street toward what looked like a major intersection in the road.
I happened to look back and saw her open the door to my captors' house and walk in. That must have been Sharon, Wade's wife! Damn, she would ask them about that strange guy that just came out of their house . . . I started to run as fast as I could.
(To be continued)
***Author's note: Since I will be traveling for the next month or so, there will be no more chapters of "Carried Away Again" until at least mid-May. But there is more to come. Stand by!