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Even The First - PART SIX
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Even The First - PART SIX
[quote] Use your anger. [unquote]
I ran to open the door when I heard the bell ring. I could see it was Paul from the shape in the frosted glass. I opened the door wide so he could see I was nude, which is what he wanted. Only if there are strangers am I to hide my waist behind the door. The delivery guys all know me. I think the neighbours all know me.
As soon as He saw my face he said, "Why didn't you open the door? Right. I shouldn't have to ring the bell. You should see me coming and waiting and open the door the moment I arrive and open your mouth for my cock into it. Kneel. Right. I'm giving you free board and lodging..."
I closed the door.
"I'm sorry Sir."
"Right."
I sank to my knees and opened his trousers. I removed his cock. It was soft. The thick dorsal vein stood out like a long fat worm. I sucked it into my mouth. It started to harden and Paul patted my scalp as I started to fuck myself on it. "Right. Don't be sorry. Get it? Learn. Don't make me punish you again. Get it? You'll really regret it. Is that clear? Is that clear? I need to piss. I'm serious. You don't want me to punish you again."
I had not forgotten.
Since I had arrived in Paul's home in suburban London, an ordinary detached 30s building in the leafy Epping Lanes area of North London, Paul had made good use of the hole in my face, and my tight and passive and responsive fuckhole, and I had eaten the mess, and I had cooked and cleaned the kitchen up after, but Paul, it seemed, was dissatisfied. He didn't speak. He ignored me, flicking channels. I looked at his cock, wanting it again.
"Right. Come here." I took a step. "On your knees." I sank slowly to my knees and stumbled over to him, my leg chain dragging noisily and the cuff on my left hand knocking on the floor. Paul put a hand behind my head and pulled my face into his chest, gripping my short brown hair and rubbing my nose roughly against his shirt.
"That's right... Smell me. Get the smell. Nothing to worry about," he said, patting the top of my scalp.
Then he pushed me away and swung his legs round so that I was between them. He took my head in both his hands and looked at me. He gave my face a little slap, which didn't hurt, and them looked at me some more, staring straight into me. I looked back at him. I was so hard right now. He laughed.
What was he thinking? He must have been trying to assess me, thinking about how to go about breaking me into mindless subservience. I know now: He intended never to let me go. He intended never to let me choose to leave. He intended never for an instant to lose the coming struggle between his will and my head. He was looking into my eyes and summing me up. He was anticipating his next move and how it would match up to his ultimate aim. I had no idea.
"What's the problem?"
Already all I could do was think about his cock. Nothing else was in my mind. Now that I had had him inside me, striking me with it, I hoped he would want to fuck me again. That's all I wanted.
"Right," he said. "Follow."
He stood and walked to the basement door, unlocked it and we descended into the gloom - I mean, the light was on but it was like gloomy and I couldn't see anything, or, I couldn't make anything out. The centre of the room, with the tiles, was fairly clear, but round that was an area filled with shapes and things I couldn't make out.
"Right," he said, "bear with me. Stand there. Calm." he placed a hand only shoulder and pressed it gently. I was shaking again. He connected a chain to my collar. I felt it hang coldly over my chest.
He ran a finger up the underside of my fragile dripping penis. I moaned and felt myself getting closer and closer to orgasm so that when his finger left the tip of it and he grasped my balls and squeezed so I could feel the sperm building up in me on the verge of jetting out and then, "No," he said, withdrew his hand and released me.
He reattached the handcuffs so that my arms were fixed behind my back.
"Don't be scared."
I was never scared; that's the army. In the army it's like everyone knows - all your secrets - and they laugh cs all of your secrets aren't serious. That's what you learn. It's cleansing, in a way, cs you stop worrying and learn to trust - first you trust others, then realise that others trust you, then you trust yourself - cs there's no secrets. Every. One. Knows. They know you suck cock. They know who you sucked and who fucked you and who you slept with and what you are. They talk about it openly and make jokes about it. Nothing's serious. Everything's a joke.
It was different with Squigger. He was built like me, and nearly all the lads, a shithouse of muscle. He was a redhead; though his skin eventually coloured up - cs we were shirtless a lot of the time in all conditions - it was a creamy colour that looked pink when he was lying next to me in his bunk and touching my honey-gold tan. He loved my skin, stroking me incessantly with his large rough hands, playing with my nipples or strumming his fingers across the ridges of my abs, gently tugging at the growth of pubic hair like it was a girl's head, and smiling.
He liked it best when I licked his balls, long strikes of my wide wet puppy tongue, nibbling the spare skin and matting my spit in the long hair, sucking them hard and long til he was so hard and wanted it.
He would jump on top of me and straddle me before sitting back, grabbing my ankles and eating me out. Then he'd fuck me; gently, forcefully, fucking me with his face inches from mine, rubbing his body against my upright and beat-sore balls til I came too, when he came up me too, was magic.
I liked being with Squigger. He'd smile at me even when I wasn't trying to be funny, like he saw the happy person inside. He made me want to be that person. I felt silly being held in his arms, two grown men, but the pressure of his skin on mine felt like the warm sun; gripped in the safety of him.
He said my name and he said, "All I want to be is with you." Sleeping with him inside me till it slipped out and I woke.
When the others said, 'He has to be shared around. He's the mascot. You can't monopolise.' he wasn't happy. They said that that was the way it was. And he said he wasn't happy.
There was a lot of anger about that. That's what caused the fight. Squigger made it clear he wasn't backing down. I basically I just watched. I saw him take on the main contender, Greggs, in a fist fight that went in for about an half hour. Shirtless in the desert, grappling like Turks slippery in sweat. It was an insubordination but no one reported it. Afterwards, Greggs kept his distance but now Squigger shared me round. Squigger got the message. They sided with Greggs. He had to take his turn, though he tended to get preference and though they all got my services, he tended to get my nights.
I still don't know if it was an accident. When a device goes off... it's like an act of God, but other factors also play their part. Greggs was questioned, but so was everyone else. The disposal guys couldn't explain cs the area had been swept. Afterwards things got back to normal and I was still mascot. Greggs took his turn like everyone else; all he wanted was for me to suck him off but when he couldn't ejaculate he didn't blame me. He just walked away. Later he asked me if I missed Squigger and I said I did. Then he said, "I still don't know what he saw in you."
And then there was Rodney, who said, "You don't seem very devastated. Why aren't you devastated?"
"You've just got to get on with the job," I answered.
Rodney. I knew for a fact he was straight. He said, "Look if you ever need any one to talk to. Everyone knows you were his special friend. Now, as a reward you can suck my cock, mascot. Do your job." He said I had a girls good lips and asked me if he could fuck me and I said yes and he said is my dick too big and I said I could take it. Then he came and said I was disgusting and he felt like shit.
At the memorial Greggs and Rodney were the ones who did the flag. I'm not sure who else was there. Squigger was less popular than I'd imagined. I think he would have missed me if I'd gone first. Afterwards, that's when Greggs started getting spiteful, I think, and always found fault with me.
Rodney said Squigger was a selfish bully. When I was rimming him he said that with Squigger out of the way there was more of me to go round. He seemed to think that was funny, though he also seemed to harbour a kind of resentment that Squigger had been running me more or less for himself. Squigger got into several fights. I really missed Squigger cs once he was gone the others more or less treated me badly and he would never have allowed that. I don't mean they didn't protect me; they always made sure that I was kept out of harms way; after all, I was the mascot, the surrogate girlfriend fuck. But that doesn't mean they didn't do exactly what they wanted; assuming they knew who's turn it was. Assuming they could agree.
"Don't be scared."
Paul with a sudden movement of his arm pulled a chain connected via something above my head to the metal collar round my neck.
"Don't be scared."
He quickly removed the slack and my head was jerked up and to one side. I was yanked up painfully by the neck, upsetting my footing and making it difficult not to spin round.
I turned my wrists in their shackles and twisted on my toes, the chain holding me from falling and the collar eating into my neck. It was difficult to swallow.
Paul was staring at me seriously.
"Do you want to please me?" he said.
I looked in his eyes, "Yes Sir." Like my answer wasn't good enough he said again, "Do you want to please me?" "Yes Sir!" "Do you want to please me?" "Yes! Sir!"
Silence except for the sound of my own breathing and the blood pounding in my ears, and I was panting like a dog.
"Good boy."
Paul fiddled with the restraints a little more, tightening them and loosening them, so that once it started I couldn't move much to make him miss his target or hurt myself in the wrong way.
When he was satisfied he grabbed the chain and tightened the pull on my neck so that I was closer to choking.
"Right. Now this..." and the first blow came.
Punishment is like a dream.
It is like sleeping.
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END OF Even The First - PART SIX