Creating New Territory

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This work is copyrighted by the author, [EVILCATDOG], and commercial use is prohibited without permission in writing from the author. Personal or private copies are permitted only if they are complete and include this copyright notice. Placing this story on a website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of this copyright.

The story contains fictional consensual, psychological, rough, authoritarian sexual behaviour between adult males. It depicts unprotected sex as part of the fiction. Safe sex practices are always best in real life. Some parts of the story involve forced-sex, but it is not without a level of enjoyment by the other participant.

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CREATING NEW TERRITORY - PART 06 --------------------------------------- Saturday Evening (That first night....) ---------------------------------------

The quiet street of newly built homes was about to be disturbed.

Brad flew around the round-about, into Rooster Lane and immediately began searching for number 9. There was only a short amount of time before the boss would arrive and Paul had supplied Brad with a long list of tasks to complete before then.

The cul-del-sac had 9 houses, but only two of them were double-story, so finding number 9 was fairly easy. Number was 1 was some sort of crazy mega mansion. It wasn't that one. Number 1 and 9 were situated parallel to each other at the entrance to the circular road, but angled inwards towards the centre.

There was no power activated at the newly built properties yet, so Brad got out of the car and manually opened the garage door to number 9 before driving the faggots' black car inside.

Using the key remote, Brad locked the vehicle then checked the ID in the bitch's wallet to confirm the faggots' house number. It was a completely different address quite far away, but he remembered Paul had said the homo lived right across from the front of vacant number 9. He started across the road as the street lights came on.

Knocking on the wooden front door of number 2, he waited for signs of any unexpected faggot visitors. There was an unexpected red car in the bitch's driveway. Nobody answered though. He turned the stolen house key and called out. Again, no answer. It was clear for entry. Time to get to work.

Inside the new, well-furnished home, the young, attractive tradesman methodically searched each room for all the items on his handwritten list. Landlines, Mobiles, Tablets, Wallets, ID's, Credit Cards, Keys, and Cash. He found the two home phones - one in the kitchen, the other in the master bedroom. Grabbing a plastic shopping bag from the bottom kitchen drawer, he shoved these inside and continued searching. He was excited - there were a lot of valuables here.

He proudly located 2 old mobile phones in the study, and a surface tablet from the master suite. These went into his bag. There was also a plastic box of about 50 keys in the hallway drawer, which wafted a metallic odour that he tasted as he opened it. There were some spare keys hanging on hooks by the front door. He grabbed them all. He could find no cards or cash though. He did locate a folder in the filing cabinet which had personal documents, bills and birth certificates. He grabbed those too.

Brad wondered how a faggot could afford to live such a luxurious lifestyle, while he worked all day and some nights but could barely afford his own living expenses. God, he HATED faggots!

Brad's cock stirred as he remembered the cocksucker trying to suck his cock earlier in the day. The fucking cum-guzzler had wanted to drain his balls like a bitch. They were feeling full now too, the excitement of this endeavour was getting him solid. He checked the list from Paul again.

Step 2 was the computers.

Paul had given him a USB disk - he had to stick it in each PC and laptop he found. It would activate itself and beep once complete. Paul had once worked as an IT consultant, before he got into building and had hired Brad, so he knew how to program and hack into things. There was a computer in almost every room! Brad didn't even have a laptop.

There were computers connected to the TV's in each living area - they were easy to spot, being in the entertainment units and there were keyboards and mice on the coffee tables to give them away. The obvious PC boxes in the studies on the desks were straightforward too, and there was another one on the kitchen bench, powering a touch screen monitor. It was currently showing a slideshow of photographs. Mostly of the fag's trips to the USA. Brad recognised the Empire State building, although he had never been overseas.

He almost missed the computer in the master bedroom, as it was just a tiny box screwed to the rear of the television. He wondered who else lived here, unaware that although there were separate bedrooms, these guys were together. He did wonder if the roommates fucked each other as he imagined living in a house like this himself. The master suite had a living area, walk in dressing room, double ensuite as well as generously sized bedroom area. It was bigger than his own apartment.

Brad could locate 3 laptops in the house, but one would not turn on, the other was so old it had no USB slots and the newer one he hacked as instructed. He smashed the two he couldn't hack and threw them into his bag.

He now stood at the kitchen bench scanning his eyes around the room. From his tradey cargos, he pulled out an old Nokia phone, which was the last thing on the list, and in doing so removed one of the bulges in his pants. He had to set it up on the bench so it would stand out "like dog's balls" according to Paul.

Brad then noticed a pile of mail on the far side of the island bench and decided he would take it too, in case there was personal information they could use. A magazine in the pile caught his eye as he slid it into his bag. It was a 'DNA' magazine, and it had a very attractive man posed just in his jocks on the front cover. He shoved it into the bag too, deliberately avoiding the reasoning behind it.

Having completed all the necessary activities, he wondered how they were going to get all this stuff out of the house in such a short time. The big screen TV that occupied most of the living room wall must be over 80 inches and there was another one in the other room just as big! It would look great in his house, with the surround system too of course. Even the bloody fridge was hi-tech and would be worth about 7 grand.

He now wandered through the house at a slower pace, searching for himself. In the second bedroom, he found a chest at the end of the bed. His curiosity caused his cock to swell when he opened it and discovered all the sex toys and BDSM gear.

He rummaged through the stuff, guiltily and anxiously as though he was doing something very wrong. The smell of the leather was intoxicating. He came across a bottle of lube called "boy batter" and checked out the label to find out what it was.

Checking his phone for the time, and to ensure he wouldn't be caught, he quickly unzipped his fly and yanked down his pants. The pressure had become too much, and he needed to unload bad. He squeezed some of the gay lube onto his enlarged knob, not that he needed it really, and laid back on the faggot's bed. It smelled like another mans bed too, musty and sweaty.

He felt a bit dizzy taking in the scene, the smell of the faggot, and the excitement of being in a stranger's bed without permission. He guessed the cocksucker had this bedroom and not the master suite, as the smell in here seemed familiar to the faggot he held down before and the shirts in the wardrobe matched what the faggot had been wearing. The other bedroom smelled nicer.

The muscular and sweaty Brad began to jerk himself off to relieve the building pressure in his unshaved balls, but went limp as he started imagining himself in homo-erotic situations - probably because he was lying on a faggot's bed. He got up and shuffled into the kitchen with his pants around his work boots and googled some normal porn on the bitch's laptop.

Amidst the sounds of the two actual bitches moaning and licking each other's pussies out, he furiously tried to jack off, but the image of the cocksucker kept coming into his brain. He forced it away and kept going at it, squinting his eyes shut. When he opened them, the photo slideshow in the corner of the kitchen had a nice close up of the bitch with his boyfriend in Times Square. His boyfriend was more attractive than the faggot - he decided. Soon, Brad began looking for somewhere to blow his load.

If the faggot loved drinking cum so much, he would do him a favour and help him out.

Opening the fridge, Brad pulled the bottle of milk out, unscrewed the cap and aimed his cock into the opening. He got a lot more excited over the thought of the faggot drinking his cum without realising it and immediately squirted 7 large shots inside. He screwed the lid back on, swirled it around a bit, and put it back into the fridge.

He killed the video of the 2 whores. This faggot would pay for making him think of gay thoughts and ruining his wank. But - deep inside, he knew that he was experiencing some sort of sexual awakening. A set of repressed and banished feelings was slowly blooming, having been activated earlier that day. He was furious. He knew about it, but had become very adept at hiding and denying it, having done so for 15 years.

He grabbed the bottle of creamy milk again, and deposited a huge, long dribble of spit into it, then stuck his now smaller cock into the opening. He tilted the bottle, to cover his dick in the white liquid and shook it a bit to rinse it off. He didn't hear Paul enter the house until he suddenly walked into the kitchen, making him jump in fright as he put the bottle away. Luckily, he had pulled his pant back up, his jocks soaking up the milk from his cock.

"You do it all?" Paul asked him, zipping up his own fly.

Brad nodded, noticing, but pretending he hadn't.

Paul did a sweep through the house, and confirmed with Brad if he had done each PC as he found each of them himself during his own walk.

At last, they were done here.

Paul deadbolted the door open so the bitch could get back inside without keys then got back in his blue ute as Brad carried all the pillaged items across the street.

"Get the other car too!" Paul said out the wound-down driver's window.

Brad looked back and saw the red sedan, then realised he already had the keys for it.

Luckily it was a 3-car garage over at number 9.

It wasn't really luck though - just good planning on Paul's part.

Getting inside the near-new vehicle, he reversed it out the driveway, noticing the same sweet smell as in the master suite. This was the boyfriends' car he figured, and seeing the picture of the two homos on the dashboard confirmed it.

He drove it into the garage opposite their home, where Paul had parked his ute alongside the faggot's car. With all 3 vehicles now inside, the two men closed the garage door and walked upstairs into the master bedroom and waited for the bitch to return home from where he had been dumped a short while ago. The smell of fresh coats of paint lingered in the darkened, cavernous home.

Brad sat quietly on the fresh carpet next to Paul as he poured a coffee for him from a red thermos. He was wondering about the meaning behind the piss he smelled and the carefully laid out tradey clothes on the master bed which he noticed as they left the fags' house. Why would Paul piss on the bed and leave his clothes there? He kept the thoughts to himself.

He was hanging out badly to see the bitch return home and drink that tainted milk. They had a great view from here directly across the street to number 2. But he also wanted to be alone to check out the gay magazine he stole in more detail. Both him and Paul had some more work to do first, in order to convince the faggot to stay quiet. Otherwise, they could both end up in jail.

Paul had assured Brad that wouldn't become an issue, and alluded to "guaranteeing" it wouldn't happen as he packed his shovel into his ute.

------------------------------------- Monday Evening (The Present Night...) -------------------------------------

"Paul! Unlock Me!" I cried.

The pain and damage in my abused ass was stinging from the strangers piss still slowly dripping out my hole. It felt like it wouldn't close anymore.

"SHUT UP BITCH!" he yelled back, kicking the bed. At least I thought he was aiming for the bed and not me, it was pitch black with the power out and the rain was bucketing down outside. I was becoming quite agitated. This situation had dramatically escalated and now seemed to be beyond Paul's control too.

If there was a point during this ordeal, in which I would have seized control of my life again - this would have been the closest I came to doing so. Ironically, it was when I had been least able to, tied down to my own bed with my own toys and Paul skitzting out like a madman.

Paul pulled out his mobile phone and activated the torch. I heard the toy chest open and he began to rummage through it. My own sex toys were being used against me. It was both exciting and terrifying.

"Do you have a douche?" He asked urgently amidst a loud thunderclap.

"What?"

"A Douche?"

"In the shower. It's plumbed in." I replied.

Paul moved to unlock me from the bedframe as quick as he could, and got me up on my still cuffed feet. My ass was on fire, and still dribbling the strangers piss. I was still in some sort of shock to be able to process things properly. I had been in a constant state of mild shock since this began 2 days earlier. I couldn't stand properly, and Paul was happy to drag me anyway.

He led me into the bathroom and tried to figure out how to get the shower head's water to divert into the douche nozzle. Once he figured it out, he shoved me inside the shower, still wearing the leather cuffs, which were now secured to each other at my ankles and wrists, and immediately and unapologetically shoved the stainless-steel nozzle inside my torn-up ass.

I could immediately feel the cold water rushing through my bowels, snaking its way around me until the pressure began to build. I began to yell out, when Paul suddenly yanked it out and I expelled everything with full force. I stepped aside as the dirty water began to pool around the drain, as he shoved it in to repeat again and again. After a few more times, he handed the steel nozzle to me. "Keep doing it!" Then ran down the hallway and outside the house. He was pissed off! I felt guilty, yet I was the one who had been attacked.

I continued the douching, albeit much more gently than he was. My ass felt shredded inside from the rough rape earlier. I actually didn't mind the douching, as I was feeling a little bit cleaner now. All the foreign cum and piss was being washed out of me, and the water was feeling nice now it had warmed up. My immediate concern was STDs. But I didn't realise at this point Paul would take care of that.

Paul ran back in, noticed the water was clear and turned off the taps. I was happy there was no blood I could see. He man-handled me back into my bedroom, then yanked all my soiled sheets off the bed into a pile then left the room, being sure to lock me in behind him with the lock on my door. I couldn't understand why he was being so vicious. I hadn't done anything wrong.

I tried to get out, but it was no use. Not unless I smashed my way through the door, like the splintered wardrobe door next to it. Or smash the window. I could escape if I really wanted to. But I didn't need to. Paul came back inside holding his phone-torch, and some new, clean sheets.

"Put them on the bed." He handed them to me.

Luckily, I had a mattress protector on my mattress. It was relatively clean and dry.

I made the bed and turned around, but was immediately shoved onto the mattress and resecured to the frame by all fours, this time face up.

"Do you have more cuffs?" he asked.

I nodded, wondering what else he wanted to cuff as Paul searched the chest again, quickly locating 2 sets of metal cuffs, as well as some other leather restraints.

Waiting for him to put them on me, but also wondering what for, I asked.

"These are for Brad."

"What!?" I said incredulous. "What do you mean, what for?"

"He used your fucking Grindr profile to tell random guys you wanted to be raped in your sleep!"

My cock sprang to life. "What the fuck?!"

I began to realise what had happened the past few days.

"He told them, you'd leave the front door open and they should come in and fuck you, even if you screamed no." It was pretty clever, I realised. How could they know it wasn't just an act? I replayed the attacks in my head, and could now see they thought it was a game.

The void feeling in my abused and stretched ass missed the cocks which were inside it earlier. Not because of them. I had been raped because of Brad. My cock jumped again at the thought of him. I was sick.

"You have an iPad?" Paul asked suddenly and randomly.

"Huh? Yeah, in the lounge room..."

Paul went to retrieve it and came back in asking for the passcode urgently.

"4 ones" I said.

He sat on the bed, near my chest. I watched as he entered my new, unknown to me, password into the iPad to activate the iTunes account. Once done, he opened Find my iPhone and waited anxiously as the GPS tried to locate the phone, my iPhone. That Brad had still.

Paul jumped up and shoved the cuffs into his jeans pockets. I hadn't seen him in normal clothes before - I preferred the work outfit. He just seemed like any older man without them. On his way out of the room, he noticed the kitchen knife I had left on the dresser and picked that up, before he tore off down the hall. I strained to hear, but he had left the house. I glanced towards the iPad still illuminated next to me on the bed and noticed the location of my iPhone. It was across the street.

I hoped he wasn't going to hurt Brad, then I hoped he did. Then I changed my mind again.

If anyone was going to hurt Brad - it should be me.

Or I could blow him...

--------------------------------------- Saturday Evening (2 Nights Earlier....) ---------------------------------------

It was late, it had been a crazy day and Paul was spent.

Quietly, he pulled down the roller door to number 9 and got into his running ute out in the street.

"I'll see you on Monday! Enjoy the weekend." He whispered.

"Thanks, Cocky!" Brad replied happily.

"You sure you don't want a lift?"

"Nah," Brad replied, "I'm getting picked up in a minute by a mate."

"Ok. Just hang tight and we will own this bitch. He will be begging us to suck our dicks by the time we are done." Paul joked, smiled at his pun, and drove off while dialling the Nokia. Brad kept his expression neutral.

He watched to be sure Paul was gone, then, re-entered the garage. Inside he busted open the interior door lock and climbed upstairs, sitting on the floor in front of the window again. It never occurred to him how Paul had gotten in without breaking the lock earlier.

He had no intention of being picked up by a friend tonight. This was too enthralling. He was very happy Paul gave him the day off tomorrow. He wanted to take in this experience further.

He figured Pauls' plan made logical sense. Change all the faggot's passwords, and lock him out of all his accounts. Prevent him from being able to travel, or contact anyone, then threaten to email his private pics and get into his bank account.

Then they could transfer what they wanted and the faggot couldn't even do anything about it or fear his sick perversions would be unleashed to his friends and family. But Brad thought they should take the stuff from the house too. Paul was adamant that this was not in the plan.

Paul had taken most of things Brad had seized from the house earlier, except for the keys to the faggot's cars, the cunts phone, his wallet and the gay magazine Brad had hidden in the spare room. Brad retrieved it and re-sat on the floor in front of the window watching the house across the street, hoping for a glimpse of the faggot for some more excitement. It appeared as though he had gone to bed. He hoped he had drunk some of his milk beforehand.

Brad tore open the plastic covering of the newly mailed magazine, and wanting light to see it, used the torch on the faggots iPhone, being careful not to let any light shine through the window, detailing his location to the bitch. As he unlocked it, he remembered hearing Paul say the fag had some great private pictures on there. He opened the camera roll and began scrolling through.

His cock leaked pre-cum in drizzles when he found the first one. The faggot was standing in front of a mirror naked. The next one was his cock - hard as a rock. Next was a picture of one of the largest loads of cum he had seen, all over the bitch's stomach. After many images of warehouses from the fag's job, he came across another batch of selfies.

One photo showed the faggot swallowing cum from some guys thick cock. Brad pulled his own cock out unconsciously. As he scrolled further back in time, he found a video! The fag had secretly set up his phone in a hotel room and sucked off some dude. The guy blew straight into his throat without stopping once for air! The faggot didn't even gag. Unlike like his last girlfriend who refused to suck him, and gagged like shit when he made her. Brad was amazed and began to stroke his cock.

Going back a few years, he found more videos of secret hotel room blowjobs and some home-made movies with his faggot boyfriend. Brad zoomed up close on Nicks' face and watched him fucking his bitch. Nicks expressions intrigued him as he imagined what Nick must be feeling with his cock buried balls deep in another man. He also found some pictures of the faggot tied to his bed with serious leather restraints, helpless, and one where it said, "Nick's Faggot" in black marker across his face and "Cum Dump" on his chest with an arrow pointing to his mouth. Nick treated the fag the way a straight guy would. The magazine didn't interest him anymore.

Brad had never been so horny. His cock was hard and leaking onto the brand-new carpet. He put it down to the events of the evening though. It was pretty exhilarating what him and Paul were up to here. He felt alive again. He forwarded some naked pics of Nick that he found to his own phone. He wanted to see him in person, but knew he wouldn't be back in Australia for the next 2 weeks.

A vibration alert popped up on the faggot's phone, interrupting his fantasies. It was from Grindr. He had heard about this app before. Fags used it to meet other Fags, like Tindr but for cocksuckers. Brad could never bring himself to install it, but he did pretend to be a girl on Tindr a few times to chat to guys a while back. He got some attractive straight men to send him some dick pics. But he never wanked over them, that would be crossing the line. He thought at that time he might have been bisexual, but decided he would never action it.

Brad opened the app.

Another faggot was looking for a cock to suck in the message.

For a split-second Brad considered asking the slut to come there. For him.

Brad stood up, shaking the thought away. Once again, he was furious.

He was going to go over there and bash the faggot in his sleep. How dare he make him think these homo thoughts. He was interrupted by the same guy sending a cock picture.

Brad looked at it for some time, then got an idea.

Going into the settings, he changed the sleeping faggots profile.

Title: Want to be Raped Now!

About Me: Horny Faggot wants to be raped by as many guys as possible. I am home alone and my door is open. Cum inside my ass. Anyone welcome.

In just 10 minutes he got a few messages at once.

Some old fat faggot had sent disgusting pictures of his sweaty, oily cock. The knob looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a while.

He would be perfect to breed this cunt and get revenge.

The fat faggot sent another message. "Location?"

Brad sent the address, then followed up. "I want you to fuck me even if I say no! Tie me up if you want. Cum inside me."

"Don't worry boi! I have a 4 day load I need to shoot now." He replied. "I'm leaving now?"

"OK" Brad replied.

"Be there in 15 minutes."

Brad sat back feeling nervous and extremely horny. This power was incredible.

The faggot would have no idea what was happening.

He grabbed a coffee from the thermostat Paul had left behind and drank a cold cup in one go, and waited while he slowly jerked himself, waiting for the main event.

At last - he saw the vehicle, a white van, approach and park in the street. The disgusting, overweight man got out and messaged. "I'm here!"

Brad watched - his cock pointing straight towards the window as it leaked more pre-cum, knowing the faggot was going to get this guy's cum up his ass whether he liked it or not.

"I'm inside - bedroom at the back of house, straight down hallway."

"Front door is open."

"Come in and don't stop until you have your load in me. Even if I scream."

He watched as the man went to the front door.

It seemed something was obstructing it. A drop of pre-cum fell from Brads cock into the windowsill. The man pushed the door open and went inside.

Brad jacked off furiously and in seconds was looking for somewhere to cum. The coffee cup would do. He will add it to the milk bottle for the faggot later.

A message went on the phone. Another guy already?

But it was the fat fag.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" He demanded to know.

What happened? The faggot bitch should have been there! Maybe he had missed him leaving? But he was watching the whole time... Having cum now, he wasn't feeling as crazy. The nerves go the better of him.

"HELLO?" the man replied again.

Brad didn't know what to do so just remained quiet and still, and eventually watched the man leave. A short time later he observed the faggot shut the front door again. He must have hidden somewhere in panic. He must be freaking out right now, Brad realised.

After a while, Brad fell asleep on the carpet, with his limp dick hanging out of his work pants. He woke as it was beginning to become light the next morning, and his cock was hard again.

Wanking another load into the red plastic cup, he sat up and noticed the bitch from number 2 limping away in the builders clothes Paul had left out for him. He must be off to meet Paul at the building site. Paul told him he would make him help out today, which is why he had the day off. He would be a little while, Brad realised.

Brad got up and brought the cum filled cup across the deserted street, entering the fags house and headed directly for the fridge. He noticed the faggot had made a coffee, seeing the empty mug on the sink.

Another guy had swallowed his own cum! This was sick and he loved it. Not because he was gay, but because he was sneaking his semen into another man. The power was charging him up. Grabbing the milk bottle, he began to pour his watery cum inside, wondering if it was too much, and would give itself away. Then he had another great idea.

He went to the bathroom and dipped the fag's toothbrush into the cum, swirling it around being sure to fully coat it, then carefully set it back where it was.

He began searching around for something else to infect. He was on a rush. He entered the faggot's bedroom, and noticed the laptop was on. Windows was installing.

The faggot must have realised they had hacked the PC the night before.

He looked for something to put the rest of the cum in, and thought about coating one of the dildos he saw in the sex toys. Then the faggot could fuck himself with his man cum too. But instead, he was rock hard again and it took over focus.

Brad sat on the bed and pulled out his cock. He was mega horny. Maybe he would let the faggot blow him one day. No - he would make him do it. He wanted to unload directly down a throat like in the video. Maybe he would be able to blow in Nicks throat. Maybe he would let Nick fuck him like in the video. He imagined Nicks expressions...

Pissed off again for thinking homo thoughts, he rolled over knocking the cup of cum he had sat on the pillow. It soaked in immediately. That was good. The bitch would put his face against that tonight, breathing in his sperm.

Brad grabbed the pillow, and wedged his cock between it, and the mattress and began to fuck it like a sex doll. His cock grew larger between the fabric, as he screwed it like a whore. In a few seconds, he grabbed the pillow and deposited a shower of cum over it, being sure to cover as much surface area as possible.

He needed a piss now. He turned around, opened the wardrobe door, and began to piss in the corner - coating a bunch of hanging shirts. He then closed the door behind him. Paul would probably get blamed for that. He wondered why he did it afterwards. Was he trying to punish the fag, or marking his territory? He just did it spontaneously without thought, so couldn't decide.

Seeing the dresser drawer half open, he noticed clean underwear and jocks inside.

He grabbed a pair of each, went into the bathroom, stripped off and had a quick shower - putting the fag's clean underwear on afterwards. No one would know. He shoved his used ones back in the draw for the fag to wear. He felt horny again wearing gay underwear.

Inside the fag's garage and storeroom, Brad found 2 matching sleeping bags and foam camping mattresses. He grabbed one of each and carried them over to number 9 to make a bed for himself. A makeshift campsite to watch the events unfold.

On the way out, he went into Nicks master suite to check it out. Paul had ruined the scent. The piss soaked mattress was leaning against the wall after being cleaned, but it still smelled. Disappointed, he went back across the road.

------------------------------------- Monday Evening (Present Night) -------------------------------------

Paul had left via the back door this time.

He went out James' rear yard, and climbed over the fence into number 1's yard.

It was still just dirt, or rather mud from the rain. His slippers were useless now.

He cursed himself, for not remembering.

When he saw what was happening to James on the camera, he had raced over here as quickly as possible in his wife's car! Brad still had his ute. There was no time to get dressed in work gear or boots. He now walked barefoot across the swampy yard, and climbed out into the street leading to the cul-del-sac, crossed it quickly, and walked up the side of number 9.

Careful not to pass any windows of the house, he peered around the front, looking for any signs of life. In the driveway, he noticed muddy tyre marks in a familiar pattern - they were from his own ute. The rain hadn't washed them away. He wished it would stop, as he was now saturated.

That bastard Brad was here. He knew it. He would pay for what he has done.

Paul felt the knife in his hand and wasn't sure, but continued. He felt incredibly betrayed. What the fuck was Brad thinking? The homophobic fucker was going to land them in jail.

He retraced his steps and climbed into the rear yard of number 9, going over the fence.

As soon as he landed in the gravel bed, holding in a scream from the hundreds of tiny stabs in has bare feet, he heard a vehicle turn into the street and park in front of James house.

Could it be another guy Brad arranged to rape James?

FUCK! He had left James tied to the bed, and with his ass exposed!

His blood boiled hotter for revenge on Brad.

Not just for interfering with his plan, but for destroying and tainting his new bitch.

Paul froze, unsure of his priorities and then decided to go after Brad first. The bitch had already been violated. If he had to clean him out again he could. As he tried to get in the rear garage door from the garden, he heard the roller door opening from the front side. Brad was leaving! The rear garage door was locked too, so it was useless being in the back yard.

He ran back to the fence and climbed back over, just in time to be in the middle of the road as Brad drove James' car away. Brad stopped short of hitting Paul, and the two met eyes. Brad noticed the knife in Pauls hand and began to speed up.

Paul jumped out the way, and Brad sped out of the street, which grew incredibly quiet immediately. The sound of James' car being sped away could be heard for quite a while.

Paul wasted no time listening as he ran back to the James' house.

Luckily, the other man - an old man of about 60, hadn't entered the house yet, but was watching the action in the road, visibly shocked.

"Get in your car and leave!" Paul shouted at him, pointing the knife as the rain poured off it. The man nodded and did so quickly. Paul yelled out to no one. "FUCK!!!"

James heard it from his bedroom.

He stormed back across the street to the still open garage in number 9 and saw his own ute parked inside. At least that was good news, not realising the irony of how it felt. He climbed the stairs inside and found Brad's little nest by the window. He searched through a small pile of stuff near the sleeping bag and found James' phone and the keys to his own ute.

Locking the place up, he then drove his ute over to number 2, parked it besides Nicks car and locked it. Pulling out his mobile phone, he dialled his non-concerned wife.

"Yeah, the bloody storm has sent materials flying everywhere. I'll probably be here all night! I'll just work through until tomorrow."

She figured as much.

--------------------------------------- Sunday Afternoon (Yesterday....) ---------------------------------------

Brand wondered from his sun-lit window perch. Why did Paul come back here alone today? Where was the faggot? Brad watched as Paul entered the faggots house. He was inside for about 30 minutes, before leaving. Afterwards, Brad went inside to investigate.

He couldn't see anything that had changed. What was Paul up to? His mind worked overtime.

Is Paul trying to take the stuff for himself? Is this why he asked him to stay home today?

Brad decided that he would hire a van later that day.

He had a right to the faggot's stuff too!

He sat in the bitchs' lounge room, looking at the huge TV.

He used the wireless mouse of the attached computer and was able to look up van hire in the area. They were all booked out until tomorrow. Damn.

Brad explored the hard drives on the PC, going through the documents and downloads, and eventually came across a collection of gay porn. Opening a random video, he was shocked to see a faggot completely strapped to a bench, his mouth open with an O-ring gag and multiple guys fucking his face and ass at the same time. He watched until the fag had received a load in his ass and another in his throat, then watched the guy that had fucked him, as he shoved his cock down the bitch's throat and made the faggot to clean it. The O-ring gag meant the faggot couldn't refuse. He was amazed at how straight and masculine the men fucking the bitch were. They even called him a faggot too, as they spat on him. They treated the bitch as though he was beneath them. Brad agreed. Brads cock was ready for some more action.

The virile young man got up and went into Nicks study. He remembered seeing a USB stick there last night. He found it and plugged it into the box in the living room, casually deleted all its contents without caring, then began copying all the porn to it.

The faggots phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and read the Grindr message.

"I'll be happy to fill your hole bitch!"

Another message popped up. "Where u at?"

Brad replied. "Not free until tonight."

The other guy never responded again.

Brad went searching through the faggot's bedroom again. He seemed drawn to it. Maybe he could blow in the cunts' sneakers too, he saw them all lined up neatly on the shoe rack. He pulled out his cock, looking at them all.

He reached for a black and white Adidas shoe, and brought it up to his nose, breathing in the faggot's scent. Then caught himself in the mirror and was disgusted yet again.

He got up to leave and then saw the sex toys in the chest, stopping him. Rummaging through them, he wondered what half the stuff was for. He found the bottle of lube again. Using it he began to jack off standing over the faggot's pillow, ready to coat it again with a second load.

As he turned his head, he noticed the laptop screen had what looked like a recording window open and the webcam was activated and on. He saw himself standing there with his cock in his hand. He jumped out of sight instantly. The little bitch faggot was recording the room!

Maybe he wanted to see if anyone came back looking for him today. Or what if it was Paul who was keeping the surveillance? The thought frightened him. If Paul had seen him, he would think he was gay too. He decided to leave. This was all the faggots fault. He was making him all confused. He would be punished for it.

Brad quickly stroked himself to completion, wondering where to unload next. He still had the lube bottle. He opened the lid and unloaded inside. The faggot could now jack off using his own cum as lube next time. He snuck into the room and put everything back where it was trying not to get seen on the camera.

Back at number 9, Brad stripped to his young, muscular builders body and got into 'his' sleeping bag, scrolling through guys on Grindr and reading their profiles. At around 5pm he got a notification, waking him up from the warm slumber he had fallen into.

"You free yet?" It was the same guy from earlier. "I'll let you know." Brad replied as James.

Another message popped up. An older man wanted to rape the faggot too. Again, Brad delayed any meetup, not knowing when the bitch would return home.

Brad decided to message the angry, disgusting fat man from the day before, who had gone home still full of cum. He was very pissed off at being stood up, which he made clear last night - therefore he didn't reply to the 2nd request for the rape. It was a shame, he would have been doubly eager to rape the bitch now he had been stood up.

Brad couldn't wait until the evening. He was restless. He wanted to attempt to rape the faggot by proxy now. The bitch would have then have a recording of his own rape.

Brad suddenly decided that he wanted his own recording of it. He ran over to the house before the fag got home, and placed his own phone in the faggot's bedroom, hidden in the shoe rack - recording the room.

He ran back to the house across the road just in time, noticing the faggot walking around the corner into the street. Upstairs, he watched him go inside, then pulled out the faggots iPhone and replied to all the wannabe rapists from earlier.

"I'm home alone now!" Brad broadcasted. The younger man replied first. He seemed quite attractive. Brad was almost jealous of the faggot.

"I am busting to nut - I will rape your holes!" He texted back. He even spoke like a man, Brad thought. Brad had always assumed fags were all queens who spoke with lisps and womanly mannerisms. At least until today.

Brad replied again with the address, detailing he would leave the front door open and to just come inside. He told the guy to rape him, even if he refused and yelled for it to stop. The guy didn't reply anymore. Not until he had arrived, to state that he had, which Brad already knew, watching from above and stroking himself.

Brad watched as the bitch answered the front door. Why did the man knock? He should have just gone inside. Dumb cunt. Sure enough, the faggot soon convinced him to leave. Brad was pissed off he wasn't going to get any action on his recording.

It would be better next time to wait until the cunt is asleep. He just hoped his battery would last long enough, it had an extra battery in its case so should be OK for a while.

After a while, nobody had replied to Grindr and Brad was bored. The thought of raping the faggot himself crossed his mind. But he wasn't ready for that yet.

He snuck over to the fag's house and climbed the rear fence, trying to look inside the bedroom window. Inside he could see the faggot wanking. He noticed the bottle of lube beside him in the dim glow. His own cock became instantly erect and painful.

Another guy was jacking off using his own semen - it was on another man's dick. Brad found the feeling unbelievable. He wanted badly to cum but dared not make a noise as he watched the bitch unload.

Within just a few minutes, the bitch had gone to sleep. Brad decided to retrieve his phone. He couldn't wait any longer. Going to the front door, he carefully pushed the faggots makeshift lock aside, and very carefully entered the bitches room to prevent waking him.

He was snoring peacefully, his mouth half open and his face squished against the pillow he had cum on earlier. Brad leant over and looked at the boy's chest. There were streaks of his cum drying on his skin. Brad uncontrollably took a deep sniff, then looked at the faggots open mouth as his hand grabbed his enlarged cock. Instead, he grabbed the phone from inside the shoe and looked at the screen. It had died.

His cock was straining so hard in the bitchs own underwear he was still wearing. So much precum had been leaking he felt a wet patch in his crotch. Brad contemplated tying the faggot down like in the video and making him suck him off. He shook his head to dismiss the inconceivable thoughts.

The whore was still wearing Pauls' old work boots in the bed. Brad didn't have the same fascination with boots as the bitch, so to him it was odd. They were just work boots.

Brad decided to get back at the faggot by pissing in his room again. He wanted to piss over him on the bed, but figured that would wake him up. Instead he placed his cock into a sneaker on the rack beside the bed and slowly let loose. He didn't mind sneakers. He loved guys who wore a black and white Adidas sneaker. His cock now rested inside one.

The shoe filled up with his hot piss and began to overflow out, dripping onto the next tier, filling the shoe beneath, and so on as it cascaded down to the floor, soaking the carpet near Brads own dirty steel cap work boots.

In the kitchen, Brad checked the milk bottle. A good portion was missing. It was too good. The faggot had drunk his cum again. It needed replenishing. He deposited another load into it, rinsed his cock with the remaining liquid and replaced it in the fancy fridge.

On the way back to number 9 - he checked out Nick's room again. There was a laundry basket in the dressing room. He grabbed a pair of Nicks used underwear and took off. It wasn't that fresh but it would do.

------------------------------------- Monday Evening (Present Night) -------------------------------------

I heard Paul come back inside, and he locked the front door before coming back to see me. "What happened?" I yelled out, worriedly.

"Brad took off in your car." "My car?" "Yeah, it was parked across the street the whole time." I wasn't shocked - still being in shock.

"Can you please untie me Paul?" I tried.

"NO FAGGOT! SHUT UP!" he yelled. I was always amazed how Paul flipped between nasty and nice instantly. "WHY NOT?" I yelled back.

Paul flipped around and punched me in the side of my head. I saw stars. The knife in Pauls hand flew towards my face as he grabbed the leather collar, pulling me up as far as the restraints allowed. "WHY NOT?" he yelled. "WHY NOT?!!" "I'll fucking show you why not."

Freaking out, I stayed quiet. Paul noticed my fear and caught himself.

Paul stripped off his remaining, muddy and saturated clothes and put the knife down. His body was amazing. I could see all his builder's muscles, as he jumped up on the bed with his dirty feet.

Paul grabbed the lube and squirted most of the contents up my ass with a powerful squeeze of the bottle, blissfully unware Brad had cum into it earlier. I didn't find out about that until much later. Even more so, Nick had cum into that lube bottle many times previously without anyone knowing but only him. If Paul had known, he would have been pissed he just squirted many foreign loads into me.

"This is my ass! Not theirs!" he claimed pointing toward the front of the house, "I was supposed to fuck you first!" "I had plans, but I have to fuck you here, now." He dropped to his knees, lining up his cock.

I started freaking out. My ass was already in great pain just being empty. "You don't have to! We can do it another night, make it really special!" I tried. I didn't want Paul to fuck me. Not because of the abuse, well it was a factor, but more because I didn't like being fucked anymore. I knew once he did, it would always become an option for him.

"NO, bitch." He responded, "I gotta fuck you tonight - now. They tried to claim you as theirs! I got most of it out, but I gotta fuck you now, twice, to ensure that my seed wins. You are fucking mine! I gotta mark you as mine." This guy was a lunatic. A lunatic with a huge fat cock.

Pauls cock grew to its full size. I think it even grew larger than normal in anticipation of an actual fuck. He disconnected my legs from the posts at the end of the bed and reattached them to rings at the top of the head board, exposing my ass to the air. I felt incredibly vulnerable. Without warning it was all inside of me and I screamed loud. He didn't care. There was nobody to hear for miles.

"Whose cock felt bigger?" he asked me, happier. "Yours!" I said truthfully, as he started shoving it in and out. "Damn right it is faggot!"

The pain of the earlier abuse was stinging with every thrust making it unbearable. I cried out with every thrust. "See bitch, I can make you feel it!"

"Stop!" I cried out, "I can't take it anymore." "Get used to it James! I only just started." Him calling my name with his dick in my ass caused me to realise he was no longer a stranger to me. I kept crying out loud. I was pissing him off though. He jumped off me.

He reached into the toy chest, then tipped it all upside down in frustration. He was looking for the ball gag. Instead he found the nipple clamps again, and a leash. He attached the nipple clamps to me causing me to scream again. He noticed the ball gag on the bed as he attached the leash to my collar.

He spat on the gag, then shoved it in my mouth, fastening it tight around my head. Then yanked on the nipple clamps causing my body to arch upwards in pain. He positioned his cock at my hole, and pulled on the leash to leverage himself into me while pulling me down onto his cock.

I was still screaming at the pain but it was at a much lower decibel, even though they were more powerful yells. He kept on fucking me, rhythmically and forcefully. He was on a mission and nothing would stop him until he completed his goal. He kept this up and in few moments, I heard his familiar cumming vocals as he emptied his balls inside me for the first time. I could feel the little impacts of his spurts inside me. This never happened before with Nick. It got me very aroused.

He collapsed with his elbows either side of my head, and put his sweaty face against mine breathing hard. His stubble roughed against my cheek. He remained inside. He propped himself up after a few minutes and dribbled multiple mouthfuls of spit into my mouth as he held my head in place. "Swallow my spit faggot!" He commanded. "I'm gonna fill all your holes with my juices tonight."

With that statement, he got up on his knees and pressed his softening cock deeper into my hole - to ensure it remained inside. When he grabbed both thighs and remained motionless - I waited for the feeling of his warm piss to fill me up. He undid the ball gag now I had stopped screaming.

A few moments later, I felt the warmth spreading through me. He looked on top of the world. For a moment, I saw him as his younger self. His eyes glistened, then he stopped pissing. "Hold it in!" he said quickly, picking up the butt plug from the floor and shoving it in. "Gotta let that soak in for a bit." I clenched around the plug to prevent any dribbles on the new, sort of clean sheets. They were the only ones left.

He jumped up over my chest, one leg each side of my head and his cock flopped onto my face. "Drink the rest. I need to fill your stomach up again too." I opened my mouth reluctantly as he began to dribble out the remaining piss. I decided I did not like the taste of his piss at all. But I knew better than to refuse.

It was working. I was beginning to feel completely overtaken by Paul. This was elevated when he wedged my head still and aimed his still pissing cock into my nostrils, trying to create an air tight seal. The pressure forced the piss through my nose and into the back of my throat. So much for the clean sheets.

"Did they cum in your mouth?" He asked, when I had recovered from that. I shook my head no. Paul remembered the jar of cum in his ute. He smiled and jumped up running out the house, naked, to get it as I wondered what happened.

He came back inside, dripping wet and jumped on me again. He placed the jar on the pillow next to my head as I felt the cold glass roll onto my face. I could see about 3 loads of cum inside.

He rummaged again through the toys on the floor, coming up with a lube syringe. I figured he was going to squirt the semen up my ass to overpower any other man's cum in there. I was wrong.

Filing it up, he aimed it at my ear as I squirmed. The cum filled my canal and he quickly did the same on the other side. I could only hear muffled sounds as he refilled the syringe with all the remaining sperm.

He grabbed my cock in his hand and pulled back my skin. I watched wondering, concerned, as he aimed the full syringe towards my slit. I screamed out and without looking at me proceeded to squirt the entire contents into my urethra. It felt like reverse childbirth. I was in total shock and felt like I needed to piss and cum at the same time.

Grabbing my head between his thighs again, he used his thumb to force my crying eyelids open, and tipped the remaining drops of his sperm from the jar into each of my eyes. I tried to blink many times, but he held them open. I was left trying to cry out this man's semen before one of them impregnated my eyeball or something.

"I need to piss!" I yelled in pain. "NO!" he replied. "Hold it all in!" He sounded far away. My nipples, cock, ears, eyes, ass and nose burned from Paul. Next my face and ass burned as he slapped them both repeatedly. "Feel me bitch." He yelled. "All your senses are under my control."

He had overtaken my body, and I felt more raped by him than by the other men. He untied me from the bed and pulled me up with the nipple clamps, then shoved my head into his crotch for a final blow job.

I licked and sucked on his balls as he tried to get hard again. Eventually, he was solid enough to get deep into my throat, where he coated my airways with a final load. I pulled up choking on his cum.

"I told you - you are mine now." he said, puffed out and completed. I felt as though I had been baptised in some sick gay ritual. I wondered if I would be able to reach the knife on the dresser somehow.

--------------------------------------- Sunday Night (Yesterday....) ---------------------------------------

Brads phone had finally turned back on. The video on his phone had cut-off halfway through the faggot wanking earlier. It was enough to capture the events leading up to it though! Brad had been stewing over the new information for the last hour. Paul was a faggot too!

He watched as Paul made the faggot whack off for him, whacking off himself too. All those times at work, when he thought Paul was checking out his ass. He was right. He felt violated.

Brad checked the time. The old man from the earlier Grindr messages had said he would arrive about this time. Brad watched and hoped this old bastard would be the one.

It wasn't long after he arrived that the old man got back into his car and sped off. What happened this time? Why could nobody fuck this faggot? Just then Brad saw him come outside naked, wearing the leather collar Paul locked on him. This was Paul's bitch - he realised, Paul had primed him - to take control over him.

Brad remembered those times that Paul had plied him with ridiculous amounts of alcohol in the past. Offering to give him a massage after a hard day. Lucky, he had refused. He knew that was too gay! Those camping trips Paul took him on. When Paul insisted they bring the smaller, lighter tent. They could share after all. The sick old bastard.

Those times when Brad had woken up in Paul's spare bed, undressed, after a heavy night of drinking. Had Paul done gay shit to him that he couldn't remember? Did Paul fuck him while he was passed out? The sick fuck. Brad would get revenge. He was determined. He had two fags on his list now.

Paul had tried to call Brad a few times earlier in the evening, while his phone was busy recording in the bitchs house. He eventually left a voicemail asking him to divert the bitch's phone number to the Nokia ASAP.

The faggot's boyfriend was trying to call him - he said. Brad did it, but still didn't understand why they were not just taking all this stuff and leaving the faggot be. He knew the answer to that now though.

Paul had used him to lure this faggot out to the site. He had convinced Brad he would profit from this. Brad had even pulled out his cock in front of Paul. And what for? So that Paul could fuck this bitch?

He realised he was starving. It was about 6am. He needed to go to the 24hr McDonalds and grab some food. He took the faggot's boyfriends' car from the driveway carefully, and went to grab some food before driving to the building site immediately afterwards.

Paul wanted to give the faggot everything back today. But he was going to keep the fags phone a little longer... He wanted to succeed in his plans to rape the bitch.

------------------------------------- Monday Evening (Present Night) -------------------------------------

The power had come back on, which meant warm water was available. I had showered for some time, trying to clear all my airways, eyes and ears of Paul. I still wasn't allowed to remove the butt plug though. I could have, but I dared not.

My stomach cramped in unbearable pain, which is why everything was taking so long. I cleaned everywhere else thoroughly, brushed my teeth and felt refreshed. Slowly the pain seemed to be lessening.

Once I was dried off, I went into my bedroom which smelled terrible. It reeked of piss, cum, sex and sweat. Paul had fallen asleep in my bed. Despite the new sheets there was still some patches of man juices. At least they were Pauls and not some strangers.

My cock still ached, and somewhere deep inside its base I felt weird pressure. What if Paul had caused damages by injecting his cum into my cock? I needed to piss badly. And I really, really needed to cum. I couldn't cum until I pissed. But Paul warned me if I pissed in the shower I would regret it. I wondered if I should wake him up as the pressure of my bowels and bladder multiplied.

Probably not a great idea. Instead - I started to clean up to distract myself. That's what he would want.

I took the dirty sheets into the laundry and set the washer on. How was I going to explain the busted wardrobe door to Nick? I could say I fell into it. Don't know if he'd buy it. Maybe I could replace it - yeah, of course I could - I had a builder right here.

I looked at him sleeping in my bed. I felt better - safer, with him here. I wondered if this was some weird sort of Stockholm syndrome. The kitchen knife was sitting on the dresser where Paul left it. I could easily kill him right now.

I grabbed it and put it back in the dishwasher, grabbed another glass of milk and gulped it down. It tasted funny. The date was still good though. Was the only thing in the house to drink besides water and alcohol though.

I went to the bar and made myself a strong drink using Frangelico, Kahlua and more of the milk. It was a delicious creamy cocktail.

I dusted up the wardrobe splinters from the floor in the bedroom. It still reeked of piss in there. I lit some incense sticks and put them in the room.

Out in the kitchen, I turned on the dishwasher and finished my drink. I noticed the young man's phone, who had raped me earlier and that Paul had attacked, on the buffet cabinet. It was still open to Grindr. Without knowing the passcode, I carefully grabbed it trying not to turn it off. I plugged it into the charger on the kitchen bench and read my doctored profile.

Brad had even sent my private pictures to these guys. I was amazed at the level of consideration to all aspects of the scheme, as well as the invasion of my privacy. My head buzzed with intrigue at trying to see Brads mind as he programmed all of this.

I read the profile of the man whose phone I was holding. He was actually very hot. I felt bad about what Paul and Brad had done to him. I went through his contacts and located his own information and wrote down his address and phone numbers. I also found his email account. I sent him an email from himself explaining things and asking where and when I could meet to return his phone. It wasn't his fault he inadvertently raped me.

I found Pauls clothes on the floor and put them in the washer as the sheets finished. I grabbed the last clean quilt from the cupboard and put it over him as he slept. Again, I considered waking him to ask if I could expel his pressurised liquids. I made another cocktail instead. I was feeling better after the first one.

I went out toward the front door to check it out. How had these guys gotten in before? It had been locked. Brad must have made a copy of the keys. And now he had taken my car and fled. I ignored the ramifications of this. But I would need to change the lock.

Outside I noticed Pauls ute. I went out for air and my cock ached at the concept of having a tradesman sleeping in my bed and his hot ute parked in my driveway. I then remembered I was meant to be in a relationship with Paul already. I wondered if I should just accept it, and give up Nick.

I noticed my mobile sitting on the passenger seat! I grabbed it and looked around suspiciously. It was dead though.

That other car must be Paul's wife's car. It was obviously a girl's car. It had a little stick figure family sticker set on the rear window. According to this, Paul had 2 kids, a boy and a girl, and one cat. I wondered about his son. Was he super good looking? Was he a tradey? He would have to be my age too.

I looked across the street to the opened garage door at number 9 - curious. My stuff had been just there all along. I walked across the road and went inside the house.

Upstairs, I found Nick's sleeping bag and Brad's collection of rubbish. I also noticed my DNA magazine and some other stuff from my place, cups, a fork, a bowl. I grabbed it all and went back home. Why the fuck was Brad looking at a DNA magazine? He couldn't be gay. He was way to straight. I told myself I was an idiot and that not every hot guy I meet is secretly gay. Then I told myself, well, they all have the potential!

Inside, I placed my dead phone on the charger. I put all the dishes in the sink and rolled up the sleeping bag and mattress, putting them back in the shed.

I casually flicked through the magazine. It was soggy in the middle. A few pages had stuck together. Then I smelled it and got a whiff of semen. Brad had cummed into a gay magazine? WTF? Was he gay too? He couldn't be. My cock longed for release. Looking around, I licked the page to taste him. Unaware I had been doing so for some time.

I decided I had enough of the pressure in my ass, in my bladder and in my balls. Time to wake Paul. Accidently on purpose though of course.

I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and started vacuuming the bedroom floor. Then I started chucking all the toys back into the chest when he didn't wake from that. All the metal bits rattling and clanging as I did so. He was still deeply out of it.

Despite the violent acts Paul had committed against me, I found it strange I cared about him, or at least found a level of attraction. It had only been 2 days since I met him. He did look very peaceful and nice while asleep. I decided to get in bed also, with nothing else to do. The exhaustion was sapping my energy exponentially.

I think I was attracted to his raw masculinity. His evil, almost psychotic mindset. The way he took me however he wanted. I had always fantasised about such things. Although the person in my fantasy looked more like Brad, rather than an old daddy figure. The problem with the younger men, is that they are not totally comfortable in dishing out abuse on their faggots. There are different levels of course, but they still retain a nice streak. Life hasn't fucked them over enough.

Getting under the cover, I laid down next to Paul. Instantly, he rolled over and grabbed me, pulling me into him, adding more pressure to my bowels. I felt his warm sleeping cock in my ass crack. Eventually, I fell asleep too.

----------------------------------------- Monday Morning (Earlier This Morning....) -----------------------------------------

Brad was nervous walking onsite after learning the truth about Paul's homosexual secret.

He kept quiet about it. Paul didn't say a word to him about anything either.

He just asked how his day off work went, and told him what to do on the site today.

Brad expected the faggot was going to be visiting today too, and became angry again. This little bitch faggot had screwed up his mind, and now he would need to find a new job. They were both faggots Paul and the bitch. He couldn't work for a faggot, and he didn't want to talk to the little bitch. Brad had a feeling that if he looked into the bitch's eyes, the cunt would know what he has been doing and thinking.

Brad went into the garage to make a coffee to wake him from the lack of sleep.

"Grab me one too!" Paul yelled from the yard.

Brad went to get the milk, remembering his surprise for the faggot. There was none left.

He made his coffee black and strong.

Paul used a thermos for his own coffee - he always made espresso at home and would ever drink instant 'shit' like Brad did. Brad opened the lid and his cock sprung up. He wouldn't have time to cum inside it, and piss would be too obvious. Instead he spat into it a few times then shook it up before pouring a cup for Paul.

When Paul handed him the envelope of cash a short time later, he felt bad, watching him drinking his second cup. He counted the cash as Paul took the faggot to the toilet. Paul probably wanted a blow job. There was more than ten thousand in cash in the envelope! Maybe Paul would live up to the agreement after all.

Brad decided to keep up the charades a while longer - maybe he could find a way to squeeze more money from this situation. Brad laughed when the faggot came back soaked in Paul's piss. His cock strained in his pants. It was going to be a long day. He would get his revenge on the bitch tonight for certain.

There was now 16 thousand dollars in his account! More than he first thought. He had bought some take out and a 6-pack of beers to celebrate. He hadn't had a girlfriend for more than a year and had nothing else to do, so he now sat in his window bed. Besides, watching the faggot get raped would be better than Game of Thrones.

Seeing Paul get out of the bitch's car when the pair got home was not too shocking. The fag carried a handful of plastic bags. They had gone shopping together. How cute.

It was while later, that they got back in the car and left.

Brad realised Paul probably needed a lift home. He had the ute.

Brad figured Paul had probably fucked the faggot before he made him drive him home.

Once again, Brad shot over to the faggot's house, and unlocked the door using the spare key he stole the first night. Again, he placed his phone inside a shoe - in position for recording the upcoming scene, and it had been fully charged.

He noticed the empty milk bottle on the kitchen counter top and smiled.

He hoped Paul had drunk some of that too.

He wanted to be sure he achieved his goal tonight. He knew it was going to be tonight too. He could sense it. In the fag's toy chest, he pulled out the leather restraints and ball gag, like he saw in the porn video previously. HIs cock was aching for release, and he rubbed it through the cargo's. Not too much though. He had to save it for the main event.

On the way back to number 9 he shoved the restraints into the bitch's letter box.

It couldn't hurt to have a safety net this time. Brad scanned the empty street suspiciously to ensure no one saw him. It looked about to rain really bad.

Inside his upstairs squatter's lair, he pulled out the fags iPhone from his pocket and sent messages to all the guys who had responded earlier. Specifically, he wanted to stir the big beast that had been the first to jump on the rape offer. He was ignoring him though.

"I'm sorry I chickened out the other night!" Brad sent as James.

"I got scared and hid. I really want to be raped though!"

"Please come back tonight! I really want it!"

"Hey man." The man said. He replied!

Brad sat up, his cock too. "Hi!"

"How do I know you won't stand me up again." He asked.

"I won't. I want you to come in and rape my ass even if I say no!" Brad wanted to make sure that the guy was determined. "Please fill me with your cum! I haven't stopped thinking about you."

"I will fuck your ass princess, don't worry about that. I still haven't cum so now you have an even bigger load headed your way. What's the safe word?"

"None. I want you to do whatever you want. Be vicious and rough."

"If you want. But you better not fucking back out again!"

"I won't. I don't want you to, I want you to fuck me anyway. I will leave the front door open, and I'm gonna leave my cuffs and a gag in my letterbox. I want you to use them on me right away so I can't say no."

"You are a hot little fucker aren't ya?"

"In case I freak out and I'm not in bed, I'll be hiding in the house somewhere. Find me and don't let me stop you."

"I'm so horny right now. You better not stand me up!"

"I won't. I'll let you know when to come, busy right now but I shouldn't be long."

"Right. OK then." He replied. Brad realised he was losing him.

"Serious! I want this. I already put the stuff in the letterbox!"

"Let me know then."

The faggot returned from his trip to drop off Paul at home, as it poured down rain outside. The thunder and lightning in the distance was giving the night some dramatics. Brad knew the gods were in his favour tonight. He didn't know which gods. Maybe some faggot deity who got off on rapes.

A short while later Brad scouted the house through the windows. The faggot was in bed. Perfect.

He pulled out the phone and texted the fat faggot. "I'm home now. All ready for you. I'm in bed waiting. I'll pretend to be asleep. Tie me to the bed and rape my ass."

"I'm not far away slut!" The guy was eager and probably had already began heading this direction from the earlier chat.

"Fuck yeah. Remember don't stop! Keep going even if say to stop! Don't forget the stuff I put in the letterbox."

Brad sent a picture from the faggot's camera roll. A picture of his ass hole.

"Yeah nice. I can't wait. I'm about 5 mins away."

"Leave me locked up when you're done! Don't break the illusion!" Brad had already been chatting to another guy who wanted to partake. Why not try to get 2 in?

"Ok Bitch. I'm almost here."

Brad ran to the front of the faggot's house, and unlocked the door then left it wide open. He had almost forgot that critical part. He then ran back to number 9 and watched the man arrive.

He grabbed the stuff from the letterbox and went inside the house as Brads cock finally was set loose from his fly. Minutes passed.

This time there was no commotion.

It must have worked!

Brad waited, and about 20 minutes later the fat faggot got back in his car and left.

Brad blew his load into the red cup. He had already texted the 2nd guy to come over.

And then the young guy from the previous day responded too!

Brad convinced both to rape the faggot's ass tonight.

With any luck, the fat cunt had left the bitch tied to the bed as he asked.

The next guy was Asian. Brad didn't like Asian guys sexually.

He had lied on the profile. He had a different photo. The guy left a few minutes after arriving though, leaving Brad wondering what happened.

The young guy arrived moments later, leaving no time to find out yet. This was the attractive man Brad remembered. Brads cock hardened again. He wanted to follow him inside, to watch him.

Brad filled the red cup with another load in no time as the man was inside the house.

Brad's softening cock, shrunk up inside of him as he saw Pauls wife's car speed into the driveway. What the fuck!

He watched intensely, panicked.

What was happening now?

Paul got out and stormed straight into the house.

The good-looking man ran to his car and left, visibly hurt and shaken.

Paul stepped outside onto the bitch's porch staring after him.

Then stared directly into the dark bedroom window across the street.

Brad could have sworn they looked eyes even though you could not see through from outside.

Brad remained glued to the window and still as could be.

For a crazy second, he thought he saw a flicker of light, run across his eyes.

It was as though a spirit had materialised for a split second then vanished.

Brad didn't know how, but sensed that Paul had seen him.

----------------------------------------- NOW... -----------------------------------------

When I woke up from my slumber Paul was no longer there, hugging me.

I got up, saddened to be alone and a little afraid.

The pressure in my ass had lessened but it felt very full from the rather large plug.

Paul was coming back inside the front door with the remaining items from number 9 when I saw him. He didn't look up and see me, and I didn't want to fright him.

"Hey." I said quietly. He looked up.

"Morning bitch." He smiled. I checked the time. It was only 4am.

"Make me a coffee using your fancy machine there." He asked. Sort of.

I started doing it, then felt the pressure in me move."

"Can I take out the plug now?" I asked.

Paul realised I still had it in. "Oh shit. Yeah." Then added, "Have you pissed yet?"

I replied I hadn't.

"Good. I want you to wank now."

I was definitely not in the mood, but knew better.

I began to stroke myself as he drank his espresso watching my pathetic attempt.

Paul gulped the last mouthful in one go, then placed down the cup.

He picked me up and carried me to the lounge.

I had never been picked up like that before. I got quite hard over it, at last though.

He sat on the leather sofa, and pulled me on top of him. I felt his hard cock against my ass, but he wasn't interested in fucking me. He reached around and started jacking me himself. I was so incredibly horny, and desperate to cum that I found it to be working well. In a few minutes, I was almost there. I never would have cum before this with someone else stroking me.

He kept it up and started calling me a faggot, that I loved him stroking my cock, that I was going to blow HIS sperm from my cock. That did it. I started spraying the couch, his arm and my chest with a full load of cum. I felt something give way within my penis from the pressure. Like a blockage in my urethra that suddenly broke free, carried out with another spurt of cum. It felt so good.

"That's my cum you're spraying bitch on the leather there bitch."

I continued shooting one of the largest loads I ever have in my life. It just kept cumming as I grunted like a wild animal.

"You fucking got it all over me."

Finally, completely spent, I had no desire to lick it all off him as he requested, but did so. It didn't taste like his cum. I realised I was beginning to learn his taste as he had wanted after all.

Pushing me up he kindly told me to empty my ass and get cleaned up again.

I ran into the toilet - needing to piss first before I took out the large invader behind me.

I stood over the bowl, and felt pain as I tried to let it flow.

Forcing it out, I began pissing thick gooey piss. It was Pauls cum, burning as it released into the bowl. I quickly flushed fearing Paul would notice it and make me drink it or something.

Once I got rid of that, I squatted over the bowl and carefully pulled out the plug, trying to hold in everything for one last moment to prevent a huge mess. When I finally relaxed to let it out, only a small amount of liquid came out though.

Confused, I got up, flushed again, and grabbed a towel for another shower.

Paul had been listening from the lounge.

"It seems I soaked into you bitch! Only a dribble came out." He laughed, and began getting dressed in his old builder's clothes that I had been wearing earlier. I realised his clothes were still in the washer. I felt his piss circulating through my blood. I looked at Paul, and he caught me. This man's DNA was circulating through me everywhere.

I removed all the leather restraints, showered, then went to get dressed.

Paul was in my bedroom waiting. As I walked inside, he smacked me across the face with his steel cap boot.

Shocked, I stepped backwards and checked for bleeding. Yep. There was blood.

"What the fuck!!" I yelled.

He pushed me to the bed, grabbed the largest dildo I owned and shoved it into my healing hole with force. Tearing anything which had mended and probably causing new damage.

I screamed out in pain and panic as he jackhammered it into me for about 20 seconds.

Then, he suddenly flipped me over, face up. The dildo lodged in my ass from my weight further than it should have. I stayed still, afraid to move and not wanting to move.

He put on those boots, and was now fully dressed.

He pulled me to the floor by my legs. The dildo caught and slid out my hole as I was dragged, landing with my back on the floor. On the carpet, Paul wedged his foot against my throat and tried to block my airways.

Struggling for breath, I scratched at him trying to get him off.

I got kicked a few more times, once in the back, a few times in the leg, and once more in the head. Those fucking steel caps. He grabbed a roll of duct tape and taped my arms and legs together. Then he taped my mouth shut.

I couldn't understand what had happened. What had I done this time?

He picked me up, and threw me back onto my bed.

He picked up a small plastic red cup, which contained more cum.

I recognised the cup from Brad's nest area.

I watched as he filled a lube syringe with it again.

I tried to shield my cock with my duct taped legs, but he wanted my ass.

He squeezed a good amount of Brads cum into and around my hole.

Then he tore off the duct tape from my mouth in one quick rip.

He sat next to me on the bed. Jekyll and Hyde again. He was calm as could be. I wondered if he had something wrong with him.

OK - obviously he did. But I wasn't afraid now. Paul did not seem angry during this ordeal. In fact - he was very calm and methodical. I knew he was planning something, I just had no idea what it could be and why.

He had me drink the remnants of the semen in the cup, lick it clean, and then told me to get dressed in the same clothes I was wearing when he chucked me in the dirt field. They were still in a laundry basket, covered in dirt and duct tape.

I got dressed in the soiled clothing, then Paul squirted the last bit of Brads cum from the syringe over my shirt, in the chest area. What a waste.

I still couldn't comprehend what was going on.

Why did Paul shoot me with Brads semen if he made such a big deal about another man's cum in my ass before? I knew if I stayed quiet I would get the answer eventually.

Paul handed me my mobile phone, and told me to put it in my pocket, along with my wallet. Then he told me to get into his ute. I did as he requested and waited for him as he locked my front door and got into the driver's seat.

I wondered what Nick was doing right now.

Did he have any idea how much his boyfriend was being abused while he was off working for some stupid company and probably fucking random London guys? He should have been here protecting me, his boyfriend. Instead, I had nobody who could help me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, crying softly.

"To the cops." He replied, watching the road on alert for signs of Brad.

******************************************************************************* AUTHORS NOTE:

I welcome any/all feedback, criticism, suggestions, thank you's, chats etc with readers taken by this story. It is my first attempt at finally transcribing some of my own fantasies and uploading them for others to read - having read many stores on NIFTY for years.

James - elemenopy@homtail.com