Christian: The Highway Hooker - Part 6 Master Chris
By: Christian Xavier Gartrip
(christianxgartrip@gmail.com)
With Dwayne curled on the wet carpet in the fetal position and still sobbing like a little girl, I took a few moments to take stock of the morning festivities while I enjoyed about half an hour of chain-smoking and channel surfing (the 2 pre-lunch glasses of generic scotch didn't hurt either). I felt empowered in a way that I had never before felt. Sure, I had topped countless guys in my life, but that was before - when I was a stuffed shirt barfly bedding standard issue twinks at the local disco. Kid stuff, really... grease 'em up, slip it in, whisper a few caring words into a stranger's ear, shoot a load, promise to call, then out the door. Like I said, kid stuff.
Times were different now, and Dwayne's sudden appearance in my life had provided, if nothing else, a new opportunity to explore another corner of the 'dark side.' I liked it. I didn't want to live it 24/7... none of that crap, but I did enjoy my morning of (light) brutality, and I was already experiencing a second erection from just seeing him gasping through his gag and struggling against those cuffs.
I thought about my months with Paulus and how he had cleverly initiated me into a state of willing passivity while pretending to be fairly new at it as well. In truth, he had bigger plans, but I didn't realize it at the time. I would never sell anyone into the 'trade,' but some of what Paulus did to me did seem appealing, and so I reached for my cell phone to see whose name might jump out as a potential playmate for the evening.
Bennie? No, too dirty, and lacks self-control. Will? No, too straight, and too vanilla. Stan? Nope. Jimmy? Nope. Red? HELL no. Anyone from my lengthy list of beefy black dudes? Uh, uh... definitely saving them for later, though. Truckers? Maybe, but most are on the road or safe at home with the wife and kids. It was the weekend after all.
Okay, so I struck out with the call list. I couldn't just turn this kid over to brutes, could I? Well, I might do that one day, but not now, not on day one. Plan B, then. What would be plan B?
"Stop your bawling, and get the hell over here. You have work to do." Dwayne failed to move, choosing instead to curl up further and break into a fresh cry. "NOW, BITCH!"
No longer willing to wait, and feeling a bit pissed in spite of trying to remain calm, I leapt to my feet and stormed angrily over to where I had left him. I reached down, unbuckled his gag, and then grabbed a snatch of his piss-stained curls and forced him to look at me through his tears.
"I've got your money, and you've had your chance to play slaveboy for a few hours. I ain't giving you no refund, and you seem to hate all of this, so I'm giving you fifteen seconds to make a decision. You can leave now, but without your money, and we don't ever have to see each other again, or you can stay until I'm tired of you. Just know that if you choose to stay, you'll have to endure whatever I give you. No more 'outs'. What's it gonna be, you sick piece of shit? You wanna go home? Huh? What's it gonna be?"
"Whip me, sir."
"HUH? What'd you say to me, faggot?"
"WHIP ME!"
Whoa. Now I was NOT expecting that. I would have bet every last penny that he was about to demand that I take him home. In fact, in the back of my mind, I was worried that I might be facing assault charges and kidnapping. Honestly, I was blown away.
Looking back, I should have savored the moment a little better, or at least given his a chance to say a little something more about how much fun he was apparently having, but I didn't. I kind of panicked. Well, not panic, exactly, but at that point I didn't really know what to do with the little freak, so I just forced the gag back into his mouth and took another piss on the side of his face just to let him know that he was still mine, and that I wasn't going to let up on him. Besides, my cock was just hanging there and I really did need to piss. I also discovered that I was suddenly overwhelmed with an intense need to pass a lot of gas, but I hate that shit when Bennie (a fuck buddy and neighbor) does it with me, so I held it back until I got to the other side of the room and then ripped one really loud fart as I lit another cigarette. I was embarrassed by it, but at the same time, I knew that it made me look like a who-gives-a-fuck son-of-a-bitch, so I just did it and moved on.
The kid wanted me to whip him, but I wasn't going to do what he wanted. Masters don't take orders from slaves, right? No, this was my call, so whipping was out... for now.
I picked up the black leather toy bag that I'd hastily assembled and went digging inside of it in search of something that might peak my interest. I pulled out a dog collar with silver rivets, a heavy buckle, and a large steel hoop attached to the front of it. It reminded me of my days as a sex slave, so I thought it seemed appropriate. And then it hit me... I needed to torture his cock. And such a nice little cock! For a slave, it was perfect: short, thin, and boyishly hard most of the time. Clearly, he was ashamed of it, and who wouldn't be, but I liked it, and so I decided that I would enjoy some time playing with it while letting him know how disappointingly underdeveloped it was. The perfect humiliation for a self-conscious newbie.
I tossed the collar on the moist carpet next to Dwayne, then grabbed his upper arm and lifted him to his knees. He'd finally stopped crying, but he didn't appear to be very happy. Why the heck was he still hanging around, I thought. I collared him as others had done to me in the past and then lifted him to his feet and snatched up the key to the cuffs and dragged him into the bathroom.
As luck would have it, the shower rod was heavy-duty and bolted into each wall. Perfect, I thought. Perfect. As quickly as I could, I forced Dwayne into a standing position with his calves against the outside of the tub and his knees just inches away from the toilet. He realized that this was not a whipping position, so he tried to turn around, but I just jerked him back into position and unlocked the cuffs that had held his hands for the past hour or so.
Again, quickly, I stretched his arms upwards, tossed the cuffs over the bar and refastened them, locking him onto the shower rod. I tried to avoid eye contact and went about my work as if he weren't there. Okay. Done.
Back to the bag, I pulled out an adjustable cock ring and a small steel sac stretcher (as my friend Bennie calls it) and returned to the bathroom. I tossed the tools of my trade onto the sink, lit a cigarette and perched my naked ass onto the counter, letting my semi-hard cock hang freely from its edge. He focused on my cock, just as I had hoped he would.
I was still wearing my white wife-beater and decided that it made me look more menacing, so I left it on. I had also added a pair of white sweat socks (old and yellowed) and my favorite black leather square-toed ankle boots - the ones with the scuffed sides and the heavy silver buckles... old and well worn.
Now for Dwayne. Saying nothing to the little perv, I stood up, tossed my cigarette in the can, and then lifted my black boot slowly between his legs and gently fondled the underside of his small sac. He thumb-sized cock shot up immediately and brushed against the hairless flesh just above his blond bush. I laughed under my breath, letting him know that its small size amused me. Dwayne's face went red as he turned toward the side wall in shame.
I sat on the edge of the toilet and ran my index finger along the shaft of his dick. It twitched as I played with it, but Dwayne refused to watch. Slowly, I began to pull on his sac. To be honest, there wasn't much there, and his nuts were almond-sized, but it was really fleshy, and after a while, I was able to give it some length. When I thought it ready, I reached over for the sac stretcher, unfastened it and then gently wrapped it around the top of his ball bag, trapping his testicles below the steel rim.
Once I had it securely in place, I let it drop so that Dwayne could feel the full weight of the heavy device. With two fingers, I slapped his sac just hard enough to force it into a swinging motion, which had the added benefit of further stretching his scrotum to an unnatural length. This hurt. I could tell.
I blew a bit of warm air onto his cock, then hocked up some thick phlegm and shot it onto the shaft and rubbed it into his tight little boner. He liked it, but I didn't do it for long. I stopped and laughed at him for enjoying it and for thinking that I would be generous enough to give him another handjob.
"Don't move," I said. "You do, and you'll be out in the parking lot, and don't think I won't shove your faggot ass out in the daylight for all to see. You got that?" Dwayne nodded, but his eyes widened as I stood up to leave the bathroom. I looked at him one last time and then flipped off the light and retired to the next room.
Damn, I was hungry. I really wanted a pizza. I don't eat a lot of pizza, but I was craving one, so I picked up the phone and called the local delivery service and about 40 minutes later opened the door in my wife-beater and a white jock strap and collected a small pepperoni and black olive pie from a shocked middle-aged delivery man who looked like a church deacon who might be moonlighting for his kid's tuition. I handed him some of my hard earned cash and, noticing that he was sort of cute in a Bible-thumpy kind of way, I peeled off an extra ten-dollar bill and handed it to him as a tip. He nodded, turned, and left. I wonder if he fantasizes about me? Who knows.
I sat quietly in my chair and ate a couple of slices, washed them down with a fresh glass of scotch, and then lifted a third and walked into the bathroom.
"You hungry for something?" I said as I leaned against the doorframe and stared into the dark room. I bit into the fresh slice as Dwayne nodded his head.
"Well, too bad. Next time you should think about eating a bigger breakfast. If there's any left, I'll save you some and maybe you can have it for dinner. Can't promise anything, but we'll see."
I turned and walked away to the sounds of moans and clanking metal. He was pissed.
I finished off all but two slices, and then tossed the box on the bureau. I would let him eat those... in time.
Having now consumed almost half a bottle of booze, I suddenly felt the need to play some more with my pet Dwayne. I pulled a handful of small weights designed to hang from the "sac stretcher" from the bag and returned to the bathroom, only this time I turned on the lights and took my place on the edge of the john. Carefully, I checked the condition of his sac and then added two additional weights to each side. He squirmed again as I pushed it around like the pendulum of a clock, but his cock was rock hard, so I must have been doing something right. His sac was noticeably longer now, and his winced expression told me that he was very uncomfortable with it, which I liked. I squeezed his nuts in my palm and watched his face as he tried to twist around and endure the pain. He was trapped; I was pleased.
"You need to take a piss?"
Dwayne nodded as his eyes popped out a bit as if to emphasize the point. I held the milk jug up to his prick and motioned for him to release. He filled the jug with about a cup and a half of pale yellow liquid. I sniffed the bottle as if it were wine, then tipped it over his head and let it pour gently through his hair, down his back and chest, until it puddled around his feet. Served him right, I thought. I offered him no commentary. I just did what felt right and then left the room in search of a thin piece of bamboo I'd added to the bag at the last minute. It was time for some cock slapping.
I returned to the makeshift dungeon and found the shivering Dwayne no longer struggling against his shackles, but his arms did look to be a little tired from being stretched out over his head. So be it, I thought. So be it.
I slapped the very thin piece of fresh bamboo against my palm and grinned, but looked only at Dwayne's pitiful little cock and the heavy set of weights that had been slowly pulling his sac for the past hour or so. I think he got the message. He grimaced, and tried to struggle, but he knew what was coming and that he couldn't stop it.
I extended my right arm and placed the rod between his legs, letting the slick surface of my weapon gently scrape the underside of his sore nut bag. I finally let my eyes connect with his. Holding his gaze like a snake charmer, I gave my wrist a quick flip and landed the rod hard against his nuts three quick times. THWAP THWAP THWAP!!!
This hurt like hell, and Dwayne's muffled screams told me that I had definitely hit the right spot. I rubbed the shaft of his cock with the stick until it was fully erect and then gave him three more quick slaps in exactly the same spot. THWAP THWAP THWAP!!!
DAMN! That felt good (to me; not to him... definitely, not to him). Instinctively, Dwayne shut his legs tightly in a feeble attempt at protecting his sac. It was the wrong move, and it pissed me off. I gave his little erect dick a couple of quick smacks with the stick, but the point wasn't made. Dwayne simply twisted his entire body at a 90-degree angle, which amused me but only made matters worse for him.
With his naked ass now more exposed, I thought it best to give it some of the same treatment. I reached up and held onto his cuffed wrists and pressed my body against his to keep him from moving, and then landed 5 really swift strokes onto his scrawny backside.
THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK!!!
"Don't you DARE fuck with ME you little piece of dog shit! DON'T YOU DARE!" I used my deepest and most menacing voice, something that probably frightened him even more than the beating, and then hit the back of his tender ghostly thighs with 5 more firm licks, pausing between each one to let the pain set in.
THWACK... THWACK... THWACK... THWACK... THWACK!!!
The screams now emanating from behind the gag were starting to echo in the small bathroom, so I slammed the door shut in an attempt to contain them and to keep the folks in the surrounding rooms from hearing him. This was a cheap motel, but not one that I was familiar with, so I was a little worried about the management's reaction to any phone calls they might receive.
After I'd bashed his thighs, Dwayne's little body relaxed, and his head dropped back as if to say, "I give... you win." Now that's more like it. With his squirming all but over, I stood quietly and watched 10 fresh red welts surface on his flesh, each one taking on a unique glow. That's going to be sore tomorrow, I thought.
"Now straighten up and spread your legs. This ain't over."
Dwayne was slow to move into position so I offered some assistance by slapping the tip of dick with the bamboo rod. Twice. This not only got him where I wanted him, but it served as a reminder that contrary to his objections, his erect cock seemed to indicate that all was well. Again, I sat on the edge of the counter, placed one boot on the john and gave him a good long look at my pulsing, bound cock, my naked crotch, and the growing gut that was peeking out from beneath my old sweaty wife-beater.
Saying nothing, I extended my arm and the bamboo rod, placing it between his legs, and then let the tip of it brush gently against the inside of his creamy white thigh and just below his small sac that was still wrapped with the thick steel ring. Hanging from the ring was a pair of weights that were swinging back and forth as Dwayne tried to calm himself. I tapped the frantic set of steel balls with my cane and then picked up a larger set of metal knockers from the sink counter and slowly replaced the smaller pair with a much larger set.
Dwayne winced as the new heavier pair of metal knockers pulled against his scrotum, forcing added pressure to his small nuts from the thick steel ring that was locked in place above them. I tapped them until they began to swing gently between his legs and then lightly slapped the inside of his thighs with my cane as a way of letting him know that I needed him to spread his feet even farther apart for his Master. He complied... grudgingly.
I checked the expression on his face. His eyes were closed, head bowed slightly, and a thin but steady stream of drool was dripped from his gagged mouth. Dwayne was now crying again. His cheeks were flushed and tear-stained and mucous was dripping from his nose, which I refused to wipe away. Remember, he wanted all of this, so I felt no sympathy. He wasn't bleeding and he could breathe, and so for me, things were fine.
While Dwayne adjusted to his new sac weights, I walked out to my bag o' tricks and snatched up a pair of shiny silver nipple clips, the ones that look like my high school roach clip collection but with rubber tips so as not to cut the flesh. I had others, but these were my favorites and they were the cheapest ones to replace in case I lost them. When I returned to the bathroom, Dwayne was still hanging (a beautiful sight, I might add) and his cock was still as hard as a rock. Of course, he was also crying like a two year old, so I had no real idea what the heck was going through his head (and didn't care).
I draped the rawhide string that held the two clips together over the top of Dwayne's cock and proceeded to twist and tweak his nips with more force than I had originally intended. Dwayne let out another scream, which I ignored. I grabbed his chin, stared into his eyes, and whispered:
"I have several actual whips in my bag, faggot. If you like, I can throw you and them in the truck, stretch you out between two trees in the woods, and really show you what true pain feels like. Keep it up and we'll be on our way. You got that?" Dwayne kind of nodded. "And trust me when I say that I will drag your naked ass out into the wilderness, but getting home will be your responsibility. You can think about that, too." At this point I think Dwayne was starting to take my threats seriously. I would never leave the kid in the woods, but I liked that he thought I would. It gave me more power over him, which meant that he would be more likely to humiliate himself in the future for me,... something I was very much looking forward to.
With my left hand still gripping his chin, I used my right to lift the rawhide string from his cock. I attached each clip to his nipples but never broke my stare (or cracked a smile). It was almost too much pain for him to bear. He welled up again but he managed to stay still. He was trying. He was trying.
I left the clips in place for a second or two, and then firmly tugged the connecting strip, holding it out for an extended period of time to increase the redness and the swelling. It worked, and before long Dwayne was sporting a nice pair of perky blood red tits, which I'm sure were quite painful. I hung the smallest of weights on the rawhide strap, which provided just enough pressure and tension to keep things interesting for him.
"That's better. Now you've got one more shot at getting those feet spread like I asked or we're off to the forest... NOW!" I smacked the kid's bum and grabbed onto the straps of his gag as I barked. Dwayne's feet spread quickly.
I gave the tip of his cock a few delicate strokes with my fingertips and then slowly ran my index finger along its shaft. A small drop of precum appeared at the head. I scooped it onto my finger and then rubbed it onto my teeth. Salty.
Next, I opened my palm and let the underside of his sac sit in my hand. Slowly, very slowly, I squeezed the nuts within it while pulling it toward the floor. The weights had certainly added some length to the guy's sac, but it was still rather pathetically small when compared to mine, which is merely average on the overall scale of things. I picked up the bamboo rod again and placed it between his legs.
THWAP THWAP THWAP TWAP THWAP.
Five quick pops, and again his sac was red and glowing. Pause, rub, repeat. Pause, rub, repeat. Dwayne stood still as his new Master delivered 25 firm strikes against his nut sac. The tears flowed, the head fell back, the eyes stayed shut, but Dwayne maintained himself and took everything I gave him.
I gave his thighs 15 or so random pops as well, applied with extreme quickness, just to piss him off, and then tossed the cane onto the counter, flipped off the light, and returned to my chair for more booze and a few smokes. Dwayne's whimpering drifted from the shitter and across the room. I listened to him cry as I sucked away on my cigarette. It was like music.
Halfway through my second cigarette my cell phone rings. What the fuck? It was Gordon. You haven't met Gordon, so let me tell you about him (in brief). Gordon is a 66 year-old closet case who runs the most popular cafeteria in town. If you live in the South, then you know what I mean by 'cafeteria.' If you don't, look it up. Anyway, Gordon's kind of scummy, but he's a nice guy, his staff likes him, and he tips well, so I keep him as a customer even though I'm not always fond of what he pays me to do (more on that later). Gordon wasn't always in food service. He used to be some sort of textile bigwig with a fancy title and a prissy wife who did nothing but shop and ride around in her Mercedes. Everyone hated her, even Gordon. Then, about 6 years ago, the mill he ran went belly-up and Gordon was not only out of a job, but also out of a pension. Broke. The shock of it apparently caused his wife's heart attack (rumor has it), but not even Gordon seemed to miss her very much. To make ends meet, Gordon went to work in his favorite food dive (the cafeteria) and now he runs it. He makes a decent living, but he still has a lot of bills from the old days, so he's pretty tight.
So how did I meet him? Well, I was dining is his fine establishment a few months ago (alone), and I noticed him watching me. I was flattered, but did nothing. Eventually he came around and hit on me, but I wasn't impressed enough with what I saw to drop everything and hand him a free piece of tail. I motioned for him to sit down, which he did, and then I explained what I would do for him and how much it would cost. He countered with a laundry list of kinks, some of which I would never do, and then offered me even less money than I had asked for. I told him to drop dead. I paid my bill and while trying to crank up the truck, Gordon slipped out of the restaurant and invited me over to his house that evening (not the big house he used to own, but the unadorned bachelor pad he picked up after his wife kicked the bucket). He told me what he wanted, and offered me the full amount, so I said yes. I still don't know why he thought it okay to approach me in his own restaurant, but he took a chance and lucked out, I guess.
Sexual proclivities aside, Gordon isn't the type of guy you'd find very appealing. He has the face of an aging banker who'd lost one too many battles in his life: financial ruin, alcoholism, marital discourse, and food addiction. Gordon wasn't really fat, but he was hefty, and he carried most of his weight right in front. He also had a thick neck, a fat soft ass, thick white hair, and a moustache. He's about 6-foot tall and also wears glasses. He looks worn out, and I like the look because he makes him appear rough, which isn't really true, but he likes to play rough, and so it all kind of fits together. And like I said, Gordon is a closet case. He hangs out with a church singles group and according to him, has his pick of 3 or 4 different pieces of aging Bible-reading pussy every weekend. He fucks them, but never stays, and can usually be found downtown afterwards, where he picks up young black men and pays them to suck off his cunt-drenched pecker. He says it turns him on to see a black sissy sucking on the cunt juices of a prudish Southern white hypocrite. Maybe, but I just think he's a freak, and that's why I let him fuck me for money.
So Gordon called and wanted me to meet him. We didn't have sex at his place anymore because his grown son's wife and kids almost caught us on our second date. Gordon had me bent over the kitchen sink wearing nothing but an apron and was fucking the shit (literally) out of my ass. It was a spur of the moment date and I hadn't taken the time to clean up, so Gordon was getting a piece of ass AND a pretty filthy looking cock. Anyway, Gordon had left the front door open and his daughter-in-law had walked in with the kids. Gordon heard her phone ring just as she entered the house, leaving us about 30 seconds to get into place. We made it with about 4 seconds to spare. Too close for Gordon, so now we go to motels... like all the other normal folks who pay for weird sex.
"Hello, Gordon."
"Chris. You busy?"
"Kind of. Whatcha need, old man?"
"What I need is a tight piece of ass, so I called you. You up for some cock and some cash?"
"Uh, this is short notice, Gordon. When, exactly."
"Now... or any time between now and about 10pm. That frees me up to be in bed by midnight. I'm teaching tomorrow morning, so I'll need some rest." Gordon meant that he was teaching Sunday School tomorrow morning. The irony was lost on him, which was typical with Gordon.
"Sorry. All booked 'til Monday night." (I need my rest too, you know.)
"DAMN. I was counting on it. Got a nice boner for you and six bills already tucked in my wallet with your name on 'em." (I charge Gordon one-fifty an hour. Lately, I've been setting different rates for each client. It works out better that way, and I get the advantage of a little extra cash from the better off ones and from the really kinky ones. Gordon fits into both camps.)
"Yeah, sorry about that. Are the Magdalenes not available tonight?"
"Not funny." Again... irony... lost.
"I'll call you if I get a cancellation. How about Wednesday?"
"Maybe. I wanted you to wear that suit again. You sure you're not interested?"
"Sorry. Monday night is all I got. Think about it and let me know."
I hung up on him because I knew he wouldn't call me back right away. He liked knowing that I was probably on my knees getting my pipe plunged, so he left me to it and was probably whacking off just trying to picture what I was doing and with whom. The suit, by the way, was a priest's collar. Gordon wasn't Catholic, but he has a fantasy thing for young priests and last month he bought me a black suit and then gave me a collar to wear with it. He fucked me with it on three different times in the course of one four hour session. (He pops a lot of blue pills, so he's quite capable of a full day's worth.) The entire time we were together that afternoon, I was naked from the waist down and fully dressed from the waist up. He was insatiable, and now wanted a repeat performance. This time, I assumed, he wanted to add in all the kinks. (Again, later.)
I spent an hour or so fiddling around with Dwayne's cock, popping his ass with my cane, and generally growing kind of bored with the whole thing. I'm not a very good Master, truth be told, but this kid paid me almost 1000 dollars for the privilege of being treated like a puddle of dried piss, so I kept up appearances and tried not to let on that I would have preferred to be anywhere but here.
Finally, I gave up. I needed some new ideas, so I took a chance and placed the call.
"Hello?"
"Gordon. This is Chris."
"Oh good, you've reconsidered. I can meet you right now. I'll bring the collar, but make sure...."
"Whoa Whoa... calm down, big boy. I want you to do me a favor. No charge for what I'm about to offer, and next Monday is on the house, collar and all."
"Uh, what kind of favor?"
"You'll see. It's all good. Trust me, okay?"
"Uh, I don't usually trust street whores." (I ignored the verbal slap and kept talking.)
"Seriously. I need your help... hold on a minute. I can't talk here." I walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door as I left.
"I gotta client here. A young college kid. He needs a good rough fuck from someone like you. He's all yours. Whatever you want, but keep it at 'entry level' this first time. If I like what I see, and he's pissed off about it, then you can come back later and go further with him and do some of that stuff you like so much."
"So you want me to come over and fuck some guy, and if he hates it I get to do it again? What the fuck, Chris?"
"You'll understand when you see him. You in?"
"And next week, I get a freebie and you'll wear the full suit. Collar and all?"
"You got it. Whatever you want. Even that stuff I said no to last time."
"Where are you? I need to shower first, okay?"
"No. No showers. Come as you are. I'm at the Travel Lodge. Top of the ramp. Room 116."
"See you in 20 minutes."
I finally freed Dwayne from the shower rod but laced him to a chair in the middle of the motel room so that Gordon could get a good look as soon as he walked in. Dwayne wasn't happy about it, but he was glad to sit down.
17 minutes later I answered the door wearing nothing but a pair of really tight, low-cut red fishnet boxer briefs. I know, they sound trashy and beneath me, but Gordon likes that kind of shit, so I thought he'd be impressed. I had the black leather cock strap in place as well, so my dick was semi-hard, which made me look exactly like the type of slutty street trash Gordon prefers.
"Hmm. Helllloooo, Chris. Damn, you look sweet. Whatcha got for me? What's this favor you... Shit! What the FUCK is that? Whad'yu do kidnap some kid? Holy shit."
"He ain't a kid. He's 20, so calm down. And he's all yours for as long as you want him. A gift, so to speak."
"Really? Damn."
From Dwayne's reaction, I could tell that Gordon wasn't exactly his type. All the better. Dwayne's idea of 'older' was 45, Gordon was well past 60 and, to be honest, when naked, he looked even older. Dwayne sucks off semi-sexy 40-year-old school teachers in bookstores. Gordon was the type of guy that Dwayne would have refused, but not anymore. Dwayne's eyes started to widen when he realized that Gordon wasn't there to fuck my ass, but his. I was there to watch.
"How do want him?"
Gordon had already taken off his shirt to reveal he sagging tits and large pale bloated gut, which he was scratching as he approached the prisoner.
"Put him on the bed and do a kind of hog-tie thing with him. You know, on his back with his wrists roped up to his ankles. I wanna see his face when I fuck him. I think that would be nice for a first time screwing."
"You got it."
I dug in my bag and pulled out the set of leather straps designed for just such a position and tossed them on the bed. In the meantime, Gordon had dropped his trousers and baggy boxers and was parading around in nothing but a pair of mismatched dress socks: one navy, one black. His cock, always flooded with Viagra, was already at full staff, and little Dwayne was not happy. Sensing some resistance, I pulled out the bamboo stick and tucked it between my teeth to let him know that I needed him to cooperate. He didn't really get the message.
After I'd untied his feet and uncuffed his hands, he tried to stay in the chair, which of course, pissed me off. I was embarrassed. I grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled him up to his feet and then pushed him over onto the floor. Dropping to my knees, I gave the back of his thighs 5 good swats and then slapped his ass with my open palm a couple of times just to let off some steam.
"Fuck with me and you'll get 50 more. That's 50. You got that faggot? 50!"
Dwayne, crying again, rolled over onto his back, bit into the ball gag and relaxed his little body. Gordon dropped down next to me and the two of us shackled his wrists and ankles together and then Gordon grabbed the kid's little cock and squeezed it into his large scaly palm.
"He's a fighter, huh? Needs tamin'. Yeah. You just wait. I'll give him what he needs."
We lifted the scrawny little thing onto the bed, and then I put a pillow under his hips to help Gordon get better access to his tight little cunt. Dwayne's eyes were filled with tears, and his thighs were a nice bright red, but his cock was hard again, so I saw no reason not to proceed.
"Boy smells like old piss. You piss on this kid?"
"Yeah. He's not much for it, but he'll get used to it... in time."
"I'll say. There's a lot I'd like to teach him to get used to. A LOT. He's a cute one. I might need to rent him some day. I mean, if you're willing to."
"We'll see. Here... you want the cane. Get him all hot for it."
"What else you got? How about a paddle? An old-fashioned paddlin' is what he needs."
I handed Gordon a thick wooden paddle covered in rough black leather. I hadn't planned on using it, but I had no problem watching Gordon give him some with it.
"Yeah. That's nice." Gordon got in close and gave Dwayne a solid round of quick sharp licks across the top of his cunt. To be honest, I lost count, but Dwayne was screaming through his gag and trying desperately to roll away, so it must have really hurt.
"How tight is he? What kind of lube you want me to use."
"Good question... and he's about the tightest piece of tail you're gonna come across these days, but I'll be working on that in the coming weeks. In the meantime, no lube."
"You want me to fuck this kid dry?! Damn Chris. Even I think that that's kind of cruel."
"Not dry. Give him a handjob first. Slow, and with some spit on it. Use whatever comes out."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Seriously. To begin with, I want him as tight as we can get him. AND I don't want him getting any pleasure out of getting his ass fucked. Making him cum first will solve both of those problems. It's punishment for an earlier transgression."
"What'd he do?"
"He spent too much time on the toilet this morning. I told him to dump his gut and he wouldn't shit when I needed him too. Next time... he will."
Gordon nodded, but with a deviousness that told me that he wished he'd been there for that one too. He hocked up some grandpa spit and rubbed it into the kid's cock and went to work giving a slow but methodical handjob.
While the old man stroked Dwayne's cock and Dwayne squirmed and pleaded through his ball gag for him to stop, I filled a plastic cup with some ice cubes and then stood behind Gordon, massaging his thick droopy ball sac and nibbling on his ear. Gordon has a classic old man physique and cock to match. It looks bigger than it is because his nuts hang so low and because when he gets his boners, his dick sports a row of heavy blue veins and a dark pink head. It's actually kind of hot... for an old guy.
Dwayne's attempt to resist his own cum spray was mostly futile. On some level, he was where he wanted to be, and Gordon is known for giving a really mean handjob, so two minutes after he started, Dwayne was shooting a long thin stream of jizz onto his painfully thin stomach. The moment he came, I stepped in and forced two thick pieces of ice into his asshole.
"Damn, now that really is cruel. I'm never gonna get my cock in there now."
"Sure you will. Now scoop up his cum and get his cunt wet, and then fuck him as hard as you want to. Don't let up, and make sure it's painful."
The ice enema sent Dwayne into a absolute fit, so I picked up the paddle, pushed Gordon off to the side, and let loose on the kid's cheeks until they were a dark flaming red.
"Now shut the fuck up and take it like the bitch you're gonna be. YOU GOT THAT FAGGOT?! SHUT UP AND TAKE IT! I'M FUCKIN' SICK OF THIS SHIT. SICK OF IT!!!"
I know. I'm a total asshole. I wasn't planning on being so rough with the kid the first time out. I kind of wanted to ease him into the whole submissive thing so that he would keep coming back for more and paying me for the privilege of being abused. We might have crossed a line on that first day and given him more shock than he wanted. Oh well. I think all the old anger I'd suppressed was bubbling up and now for the first time I was able to give it back to someone else... so to speak. Either way, I wanted Gordon to really pound the guy and make him wish he were anywhere but here. I wanted him to suffer.
Gordon took over when I stepped away. He was the calmest person in the room. He ran a couple of fingers through Dwayne's cum load and shoved 'em up Dwayne's cunt and wasn't very gentle about it. At this point, I think he was into the idea of doing this kid raw and dry, so the cum wipe was more ceremonial than anything.
Dwayne seemed to brace himself for what was about to follow. He froze up, closed his wet eyes and bit down on the ball strapped in his mouth. He wasn't relaxed, but he was still. I watched Gordon as he guided his very manly looking cock toward Dwayne's tight little hole and saw a stream of clear water pouring out of his ass. The ice was already melting and Dwayne wasn't even trying to hold it in. This was going to hurt.
Gordon fell forward and kept his balance by placing one hand on the mattress, guiding his old bloated cock with the other. He pushed the head of it into Dwayne's small little cunt causing the kid to scream and twist from the pain.
"Don't stop! Give him the whole fuckin' thing. FUCK HIM!"
Gordon released his own cock and placed his other hand on the mattress too and then dropped his full body weight onto Dwayne and drove his thick slab of chemically treated meat into Dwayne's rectum. OUCH! Damn, that looked rough. Dwayne went white for a second and then his entire face turned bright red as he tried to push back, but Gordon was too wired up and too big to fight off. He was impaled, and he was suffering.
Gordon loved nothing more than a really tight piece of tail. It was written all over his face, and to this kid all bound and gagged and having to endure the pounding he was getting made it all the better. Gordon was surprisingly relentless as he pushed and pulled his cock out of Dwayne's asshole. His face was covered in a thin layer of sweat and the beads of moisture were dripping onto Dwayne's chest as Gordon gave it everything he had.
"Rip him open, man! Come on, Gordon... show that little BITCH what it really feels like to be FUCKED! He's nothing. NOTHING! Yeah! FUCK THAT BOY'S CUNT! FUCK IT!!!"
Gordon stared down at Dwayne's tear-soaked face as his hips picked up speed. "Be still faggot and let grandpa have his fun. BE STILL!"
Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too. It did look like some teenager getting it up the ass hard from his gramps. Hot, I thought, very very hot. At some point, Dwayne sort of stopped fighting and went into a mild state of shock. I could smell the faint scent of fresh shit now, too. Gordon was plunging the kid so deep and so hard that Dwayne's bowels had moved and Gordon's cock was now covered in a thin layer of icy, cum-stained shit. Nasty, but Gordon seemed to love it.
I stepped out of my red fishnet briefs, sat down in the chair, lit a cigarette, and let my boner flop back on my gut, which I gently stroked with one finger as I watched fat ol' Gordon literally fuck the shit out of Dwayne's scrawny little chained-up ass. I desperately wanted to whack off, but I held back so as not to disturb the actors in my little play.
Being old, it takes Gordon a little longer to cum, so he had quite a bit of fun ripping into Dwayne's shithole. Dwayne would periodically scream through his gag (as if anyone who might care would hear him), and then he'd struggle against the cuffs that held him in place like a Thanksgiving turkey, but nothing he did stopped grampa from his task of initiating the kid into a life of being brutally fucked by dirty old men.
I felt a little guilty, but not enough to stop the action that was playing out across the room. To an outsider, Dwayne was a victim, and maybe he was, but he asked for this, and he offered me almost 1000 dollars to get it. I kept reminding myself of that as a way of drowning out the terrifying screams and the heavy odor of fresh shit.
Gordon's face was turning bright red and the sweat was poring onto Dwayne's bony chest like a spigot. He was close. He powered his cock into the kid's chute like a pro then froze as he shot his load into Dwayne's dirty asshole. Instead of collapsing onto the kid, he slowly stood up and let his cock fall from Dwayne's cunt. It was almost black, but Gordon seemed unaffected by the sight of it, as if it were merely a minor inconvenience. He picked up his old-man boxers and wiped off what he could, and then dropped them in the trashcan as he slowly walked to the shower. He never said a word... to anyone.
Dwayne rolled over onto his side with his back and freshly fucked shit-stained ass aimed in my direction. His butt was still red and was covered with lash marks that probably wouldn't fade for a week or so. He sobbed through his gag, and his entire body was heaving as he tried to calm himself and catch his breath, but he wasn't struggling. I thought about wiping his backside for him, but I didn't want to show him any tenderness. Instead, I lifted the bottom corner of the old bedspread and draped it over his frame, leaving only his head exposed.
With my cock still rock hard from the show, I walked over to the bath and found old Gordon sitting on the can taking a shit with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked tired, but pleased. I sat on the sink and stroked my cock slowly and pretended to enjoy the odor that filled the small bathroom.
"I'd fuck you too, but I'd probably end up with a heart attack. Want me to suck off that nice piece of wood you got while I sit here." Such a nice fellow, huh?
"Why Gordon, what a gent you are. No thanks. I'm saving it. I think I'll pop one up the kid's tail in a little bit before I call it a day. I'm exhausted."
Gordon stood up and wiped his ass then stepped into the shower, which he has already turned on. "So when's the payback?"
"Huh?"
"You know. When do I get what's coming to me? You promised me a scene, the one I've been wanting... no charge, as I recall."
"Oh, well, like I said, I'm free Monday night, but not until 10. I have to work at the gas station until 8 and then I'll need some time to prepare. I can meet you here. I'll keep the room until then. It's cheap, so what the fuck?"
"10 it is then. I'll drop off the collar at that bookstore if that's okay."
"Okay. And you're sure about this? It's really what you want?" I was hoping for a pause and maybe a no.
"You got it, punk. I want the full ride, just like I described the last time we met. You sure you don't want some money for it? I know it's not your thing and all."
"No. A promise is a promise. I'll deal with it. Want a towel?"
"Yeah, I gotta head home. Would love to stay and watch you screw the slave, but I got things to do. Hand me the towel."
Ten minutes later Gordon was dressed (minus his shitty boxers) and out the door. He never acknowledged Dwayne, who seemed to be asleep actually, but he did remind me that he would be back at ten o'clock on Monday. He made me give him a key to the room because he wanted to arrive first. He told me not to come until ten-thirty. Ugh. That was one session I was not looking forward to. (I'll tell you about it in my next chapter because I know that a few of you pervs will write to ask me about it, so I might as well get it over with.)
I turned my attention back to the kid wrapped up on the bed. Geez, we sure had done a number on his ass. I was a little worried about him because, to be honest, I thought we'd crossed the line. I poured a drink and sat on the chair and waited for him to start screaming again. I then remembered that he'd been gagged for a while, so I got up and removed the rubber ball from his mouth. It was the least I could do.
"Start screaming and you're toast," was all I said. I was at a loss for what to do next. To be honest, I just wanted to dump the kid somewhere and go to bed, but I still had this hard-on that wouldn't go down, and at some point I was going to have to address the issue of Dwayne's clothes, which were still in a piss-soaked bag in the back of my truck.
"Fuck me."
Huh? What the fuck? I turned around and walked back toward the pile of flesh curled up on the bed. "What did you say, faggot?"
"Fuck me. Please." Dwayne's demand was uttered with barely a whisper. His face was bright red and he almost looked sick with flu, but there he was asking for more cock.
I pulled the old bedspread from his body, rolled him over onto his back and with one hand lifted his cuffed ankles and wrists into the air. I made the mistake of glancing at his blackened cunt, which almost made me sick, but my cock was like marble and desperately wanted all of this to end... and soon.
"I'll fuck you're dirty asshole you little piece of shit. I'll fuck it like it's never been fucked and will never be fucked again. Hold on, because this is gonna hurt."
I held my cock in my left hand and quickly snatched up Gordon shitty underwear out of the trashcan and shoved them in Dwayne's mouth. What I was about to do might make him scream, so I thought it best to prepare.
I held back a sudden need to puke and instead focused on my need to blow one more quick load and send the kid packing. I didn't bother with lube, or even spit. He didn't deserve it. I just placed the head of my cock up against the slit of his cunt and pushed as hard as I could past the dried shit and then slammed my entire body weight against his bright red ass.
Dwayne reacted as one might have expected - like I'd just gut-punched him, which in theory, I guess I did.
I said nothing. I locked my eyes onto his face, ignored his gasps for air and simply pounded his asshole as quickly and as forcefully as I could. Yes, I fucked him dry, and it hurt him in exactly the way that one might imagine, but he asked for it, and he got what he wanted.
It took maybe 3 minutes of constant pounding to bring about the orgasm I needed. I shot the full load into his hole and then held him in place as I calmed down. I started to pull out but figured that at some point the kid was going to have to experience the pain of having a man piss up his ass, so why not now? He had no idea what was coming, but as soon as I released it he caught on. There was this mixed expression on his face - part pleasure, part horror, but he had no idea what to do about it. I just grinned and nodded. He got the point.
Either his gut was smaller than most or I had one hell of a load in my bladder, because before I could finish my piss a bright golden shower sprayed out of his ass like a broken pipe behind a sink. Pretty gross, to be honest.
I ripped my cock out of his butt and shot the last of it onto his dick. His hole was incredibly open by this point, so the contents of his rectum splashed out onto the old carpet, which actually made me laugh and made him cringe with embarrassment. It was a perfect ending to very eventful day.
I took the key off the dresser and uncuffed him. "Get up and get in the shower. You smell like shit."
Dwayne literally crawled to the bathroom. A few seconds later, I heard the water running. I found a towel and dropped it on the floor and stood by passively as the towel soaked up the mess his ass had made.
Forty minutes later we were in my truck approaching his dorm. Dwayne was wearing his piss-stained clothes but aside from that, he was clean and somewhat composed. We had operated in silence, but I finally decided to speak up.
"I figure you got about 500 dollars worth of my time out the day. You just need to let me know what you want to do next. No refunds of course, but if it was too intense then I guess I can credit you for the remaining amount and you can work it off with blowjobs or whatever else you might enjoy."
"No. I'm okay, I guess. I think I'd like to do it again, but not for a few weeks." Dwayne's response was weak, but not surprising.
"Meaning...?"
"I told you that I wanted to be your slave, and that's what I was. It was fine. I just don't want other people involved in it. I didn't pay you to let disgusting old faggots fuck me. I wanted you to do that. I wanted you to be the one to whip me and to make me an unwilling servant. I didn't want to be handed over like that to some gross troll. That's not what I paid for."
"I see. Well, then you pick a day and we'll see if it fits my schedule." Arrogant fuck.
We decided on Saturday, three weeks hence. I was open to it, and he'd have time to recover. I'd already been paid for the time, so I was obligated. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I'm an honest whore, so I was committed.
As I drove away from his prissy dorm, I thought about what he'd said in the truck. Fuck him. Yes, he was the customer, but what he was paying for was servitude. Slaves, real ones, don't get to say what they want to do. That's not real submission... that's just some bondage game played by posers on the internet. He wanted an authentic experience, and I gave him one. How dare he tell me what I could and couldn't do with his body the next time around. No. That was not how this was going to be played. Yes, we met again three weeks later, and he got exactly what he paid for... another day of horrific slavery.
Until next time...
CXG