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Even The First - PART TWELVE
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Even The First - PART TWELVE
What do you do when you realise your whole life is built on a lie?
Answer: You do as you're told.
Standing at Nigel's front door, as per Paul's orders, I thought, "What am I doing here? This is stupid. I have been completely broken. I can't resist him. He is too powerful. He has got into my head. He's everywhere. Even when he's not here he's in me all the time."
After a while, Nigel came to the door to let me in. By then I was cold; I stood up, naked, legs apart, hands behind my head, upright. My genitals had shrunk. I had placed my clothes and shoes in a neat pile beside me. The doorway was shielded to a certain extent from the street by vegetation. I had been crouching until Nigel came to the door.
"But don't cause a scene. right," Paul had said, "cs Nigel doesn't want any trouble. Just undress unobtrusively, then crouch down in front of the door and wait. Right. There's bushes and stuff so you won't be visible from the road if you just do things quietly."
Nigel opened the door, looked me up and down. He was wearing a short-length dressing gown that he held together with one hand over his giant belly. "Leave your clothes." I followed him, and his giant shifting arse, into the hall and into the sitting room. He had drawn the curtains. There wasn't much furniture, just a sofa and a chest of drawers.
I stood in the centre of the room whilst Nigel lowered himself into the sofa. He let go of his dressing gown so that it fell open and disappeared either side of him.
"Right, let's take a look."
I put my hands behind my head and let him stare at me, which he did for some time.
"So good to have you all to myself at last," he said. "Just look at that beautiful development. Turn round, slowly! Let me look at those glutes ... muscular back. I've always wanted to admire that. That's just incredible. You must work out hours every day. Do you?"
"Most days, Sir, to keep in shape." "Paul's provided all that equipment for you to play on. You don't train for yourself. You train for him. You're a good boy; you know that, and you know your place. I know Paul values that. "Tell me, do you like being whored out to Paul's friends?" "I don't think of it like that, Sir." "How do you think of it then?" "I think of it like I don't get any choice, Sir." "But you can enjoy doing it. "It's not about that, Sir." "You are allowed to enjoy what you do - so long as you do as you are told. Does it disgust you?" he said. "Answer honestly now. Do you feel degraded and humiliated?" "No Sir," I replied Nigel's face suddenly turned into a smile that looked like a twisted grimace of contempt. "You lying cunt! You really are a shitty lying little cunt aren't you?" "I'm sorry Sir?" I said - but I knew what he meant. "No matter. Tell you what I want, I want ... I ... "
He became silent and I realised with surprise that he was crying softly.
"You are so lucky having Paul find you," he said. "And Paul's happy. I've never known him so happy as when he's with you. Is he? You seem happy. Aren't you happy?" "I don't know, Sir." "You clearly like being a slave." "Am I a slave, Sir?" Nigel laughed. "You're funny, aren't you? You clearly like being fully owned or you wouldn't do it."
Nigel stared at me for a moment, thoughtfully, then he continued, "Do your parents know? My mother never knew. All she wanted was for me to be happy."
I thought of my parents.
"No, Sir. I've never told them anything about my life." "You should. They wouldn't mind." "They wouldn't understand, Sir." "Things are more accepted now." "They wouldn't understand ... how I live with Paul. It can seem like I'm wasting my life, Sir" "I know what you mean." "And I don't know if Paul would let me tell them, Sir."
I thought of my parents.
"He'd let you do anything you asked him." "That's not how it works , Sir." "Have you asked him?" "I don't think he'd like it if I started asking things, Sir." "Perhaps you should start."
He paused, continuing to look at me in that thoughtful way, making me feel uneasy.
"Is there anything I can do to help you, Sir?" I asked.
"Well there is something you can do actually. First of all, I need to get ... this ... stupid ... dressing gown off. Help me then!" He didn't move. "Just help me... Lift my arm." I lifted his arm and helped him roll over gradually releasing the dressing gown from his arms and off his back. His fat spread out under its own weight. His legs spread, but the fat still pressed his thighs together into a narrow tight impenetrable fold from which his genitals emerged like a swollen purple flower.
I resumed my position standing in front of him with my hands behind my head. "Ha. That was fun. Come here, so I can reach you." I stepped towards him so that he could touch me without getting up. I had to stand astride his swollen legs and push myself forward until I nearly fell and had to reach out to support myself on the wall. Meanwhile, Nigel stroked my cock and my balls with his thick, lardy fingers.
"That's nice. Do you like that?" "Yes. Sir. Thank you, Sir." "Good boy. Do your like being pretty? I think you do. I think you like being pretty. And I think you like it when men want you. You like it when they whore you. You like men doing what they like to you cs it means you're pretty and attractive, doesn't it? And you like doing what they want cs it makes you feel safe, doesn't it? See, I understand more than you think.
"Sit next to me so I can really get to feel you."
I stepped off and sat next to him on the sofa. He put his arm round my shoulders, gripping me by the neck. With his other hand he got hold of my pectoral muscles and started squeezing and kneading them painfully.
"Hmm you've got such nice tits. Flex them for me. Oooh. They're huge. Not as huge as my man-boobs though." He smiled. "Do you like them?"
Nigel said, "I like this. I think you do too. I think I know what you like, don't I? You like to be cuddled and cared for, don't you? You like to be fondled and caressed, like this, don't you?" He scraped his tubby fingertips unpleasantly over the muscles in my left arm, tickling the stretched skin. I shivered involuntarily. "Ooo, cold baby?"
I smiled and looked down. It must have seemed coquettish.
"No need for that. You're tough enough, and in any case, I'm here to keep you warm. Put your arms round me. See how hot I am? All this fat retains the heat... like a lard blanket."
He smiled.
I put my arms, one across his jelly moobs, resting my palm on the fold of his arm, the other was caught between my ribs and the fat on the right hand side of his body. "Here, let me hold you tight." His skin was cold. congealed with sweat. The smell of him caught in my breath; a stale oniony smell. "Paul's so lucky. I'd love to have a boyfriend like you - tough and muscular and beautiful to look at but also a pussycat. You like to be stroked don't you? You like attention, affection, don't you? The attention and affection of a man; you like that." His fingers continued to scrape and irritate my skin. "And you like that you are owned and don't have any rights, don't you? No responsibilities, nothing to worry about, just service and keeping Paul happy. Just keeping your beautiful body in perfect shape, muscles and skin tone, hair just right... Not effeminate, but beautiful nonetheless. God, how in hell Paul found you I'll never understand. Lucky bastard. I'll never understand how he got you. Lucky bastard. Lucky cunt."
I lay my head on his chest, smelling his moist odour. Then I started to lick the sweat off his tits; I knew he'd like this. He practically purred with delight, stroking my head as I cleaned him with my tongue, suppressing the desire to gag. with his encouraging hand on the top of my head, I worked my way down his fleshy corpse, across the jelly stomach, until I came to the tuft above his dick. As I put his semi-hard prick in my mouth I held my breath, trying not to inhale the ripe stench of cockcheese, stale cum and unwashed sweat clinging to his pubes.
"Hold on," he said and slid forward so that his fat legs spread apart, inviting me to clean the cracks in the skin between his legs, and his small hairy balls.
When I had finished I started to lick down his legs.
"That's enough now," he said. "Come here. That was good. Very good. Did you enjoy that? Yes you did, didn't you? You like my big body don't you? Good lad. Are you my bitch, eh, lad? You like being my bitch? Servicing a big daddy? You know what I like don't you? You know what I like and you enjoy giving it to me don't you? You like serving and pleasing me and feeling me enjoying abusing you for my own pleasure isn't that right? "I mean, you know you're just a slave; you know you're owned. You know you only exist to serve Paul and his pig friends like me, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. You are totally living it. I love that about you."
I thought, "Why am I doing this?"
I wanted to get away; I knew I could not ... cs as his hands explored my skin, stroking, mauling and pinching me, groping me, so that no part of me felt private, hidden or inaccessible, I felt safe in the humiliation of being his plaything.
"Kiss me." He made his thin moist lips into a pucker. I kissed him quickly. "Not like that. Properly. Really make me believe it." I pressed my lips to his and he opened his mouth. I knew he wanted me to put my tongue in, so I did. I reached my tongue deep into his mouth. He caught it and sucked it, hurting it. Nearly pulling it out of my mouth! Then he let it go and I recoiled.
"Do that again. That was good," he grinned.
So I did. I gave him my tongue repeatedly. He sucked til it hurt, til it didn't stop hurting when he stopped.
"Open your eyes when you kiss me. That's it. I like to look in your eyes. That's it. Such pretty eyes ... Do you always do as you are told?" "Yes Sir." "That's good. That's good. So, would you mind just displaying yourself for me, good lad. Just kneel down with your back to me and just show me your arsehole. Open your buttocks to expose it. Beautiful. That's a'boy. Good. Now just spread so I can see it clearly. Good. Touch yourself. Stroke your balls. That's it. Touch your pucker. That's it. Play with it. Ooh honey that's so hot. Lick your finger. Make your hole wet and shiny for me."
I pushed one, then two fingers into my pucker, feeling my hand there, and my wrist pressing against my balls.
I could hear his fist jagger up and own on his cock, desperately trying to bring it to climax.
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END OF Even The First - PART TWELVE