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Disclaimer: If you aren't 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, stop now. This story contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenagers and is for adults only! The acts are consensual. This story is complete fiction, all descriptions, and names are also made up. Any similarities are purely coincidence. This story also contains violent scenes including force, bondage and humiliation. If this bothers you, please do not read any further!
Perceptions - Chapter 9
It was Saturday morning, and Captain Greg made it clear yesterday that I was to be at his house by 11 this morning. He told me to bring two energy drinks, and a water in a plastic bottle. He also told me to wear the Tag watch I received for my 16th birthday last year. I think he liked the way it looked on me, I know I really loved it and he must too. I was standing in his driveway when Laith cruised up in his convertible, top down, looking the total picture of an ideal existence. I smiled at Laith, but thought better of waving like an excited school girl as he spun into the driveway where I was standing. "Hey, what's up faggo" he chimed with a smile. "Hello Sir", I offered with shyness, then I began to look down at my shoes because his presence was making me too self conscious, but finally I looked up with a smirk or a smile or something that made him chuckle, because he added, "Queer, you don't have to hide or pretend you aren't addicted to us. It's ok to be happy and smile, ya know? You're our girl now, got it?" He questioned. I simply blushed and nodded. "But what I like is that you are a guy with muscles, a wrestler, a jock, but you're still my girl. You still take my dick and follow my orders like a bitch, and I still control you like a bitch."
The front door opened and my Master GREG strutted down the sidewalk into the driveway, seeming very pleased to see us. I was beaming in his presence, and I think it was obvious I felt privileged to be in his orbit. He offered a bigger than usual smile and demanded: "Monsters?" I pulled the cans from the bag, and offered them to him. He tossed one to Laith, then pointed me towards the backseat of Laith's chariot. "Faggot, don't throw that bottle away. You can drink the water, but keep the bottle. We got in the car and pulled out of the driveway. "So, I'm gonna give you some choices", my master explained as we headed downtown. "Do you have any cash saved up faggot?", he asked. "Not really Captain", I offered. "Just about $30 that I have on me, and that's really everything." My master looked at Laith and we took a hard right, towards the less desirable part of town. "Ok, give me $20 of what you have. You can keep $10." I was a little surprised, but after a second of figuring (or maybe feeling), it made sense to me. I understood and wanted this for him and myself. As I handed him the cash, he said "What's yours is mine faggot", and I smiled feeling even more connected to my owner.
We pulled up in front of a pawn shop, and I was blissfully clueless what we were doing there. Master looked at me with a firm but considerate stare, and explained, "You are going to willingly give me your watch, and I am going to pawn it fag." He paused for a few seconds while I reacted to my sense of loss. I was speechless for an instant, I thought of asking 20 different questions, sharing a dozen hurt feelings, but then decided to say nothing. I composed myself, embraced my submission, my life, my enslavement and I removed the watch and handed it to my master. "Thank you Master GREG. This belongs to you Sir. I love being your slave Captain." He took the watch, got out of the car and walked into the pawn shop. I was content. No, I was more than content, I was owned. I belonged.
"Nice" was Laith's simple observation. "I woulda thought you'd have a hissy meltdown or something fag, but you took it like a good bitch." We both pondered for a minute, but he had something on his mind, or maybe he was figuring something out, but he continued to work his ideas out aloud. "I think he actually likes you or something. That's fucked up! He isn't as into Melanie as he used to be." He seemed a little frustrated by this, maybe angry, or resigned to it or neither. There was some friction going on inside of him, then a little anger came out. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard later, you're gonna beg me to stop. You're gonna cry and beg and pray, but I'm gonna rape your ass cunt." I didn't exactly know what his motivation was for punishing me, but as he said it, my dick got harder and jerked a bit.
Captain Greg strutted out of the pawn shop with a smile. Taking the front passenger seat next to Laith, he displayed a fistful of cash and proceeded to fan himself with it. Laith busted out laughing. "$940 bucks fag.", he pronounced to me in the back seat. Then he looked at Laith and inquired, "You know where we're going next, right?"
Next we pulled up in front of a tattoo parlor. The front windows were blocked out by dark colored posters and pictures arranged under black lights that brought out the highlights in the special ink and colors used to make them. It looked like a serious place, and maybe a little intimidating. "C'mon fag", Captain Greg directed. The three of us hopped out of the car and walked into the clean, well lit workroom. It was arranged as a series of semi private booths behind a large counter positioned at the front of the shop. It was quiet at this time of the day with just a few people in the place, and only one other customer. A guy with a shaggy beard and hair came over to the counter and sort of greeted us. He looked kind of distracted and seemed to be riding a fog that I would guess probably never goes away for him based on the distinct smell of weed that seemed imbedded in his tie-die and woven wool wardrobe. My master announced, "We need to a get a tattoo". "Sure", he offered. "Tina can do it now if you want. Hey Tina", he called out without too much volume.
A small girl, probably no more than 5 feet tall and 100 pounds came out from one of the booths. She couldn't be more than 30, and she had long straight hair down to the top of her butt. She seemed pleasant, but she was one of those people who seemed to practice never smiling. I was still unsure what was happening to who, but I knew I'd find out soon enough, and did it really matter anyway? I was not a self-selecting man anymore, I was an owned fag to Master GREG. "All three of you? "she inquired with a little smirk. I was wrong, she could smile, or at least smirk. As we entered her work area she got down to business. "Ok, so what's the plan BOYS?" My Master chuckled and sort of cockily dripped out the reply, "Well Tina, there's really only one `boy' here." while he pointed one finger casually at me. I blushed a little and shuffled where I stood, and she smiled and stifled a small giggle. Taking a more inquisitive tone, she investigated. "So, is the boy getting something, or the men?" she questioned with a little smile. You could tell she was enjoying the conversation, she found it amusing, but she wasn't being snarky about it, just curious. My Master smirked at her question and offered a bit more. "The boy is getting something. MY BOY actually.", he purred in a low voice. She took a moment to step back and considered me for a moment, actually to consider the entire situation. "So, how does such a ......uh...... substantial man end up being your .. uh boy? Now both Master and Laith are smiling, and Laith is starting to genuinely laugh a bit. With a cocky smile, Captain GREG offers, "The boy is just really lucky, isn't that right" he directs at me. "Yes Sir", I croak. She inquires to me, "And, is this alright with you." I nod and immediately respond "Yes ma'am." She resumes her business tone and explains, "You'll have to sign a form." "Yes ma'am" I repeat, and my master smiles.
We arrive back at Captain Greg's house and go to the attic. Upon careful inspection I see that on my left cheek in maroon and black are the letters PoMG which stand for Property of Master GREG. On my right cheek in a light blue script it reads `Captain's Booty'. The print is not large, but it is not small either. It's sized to provide notice, but not to scream at you. I realize that I am marked by my owner, and my master seems gleeful.
"Time for you to show my friend here some appreciation for hauling your ass around today faggot." I survey and see that Laith is already in motion. He moves to the couch and plops down with his legs spread wide. "Over here you queer, on your knees now.", he commands. I move directly to my knees in front of him and look into his dangerous sparkling green eyes. "Yo dude, I'm starving" my master interjects, "what do you want from the kitchen?" The two discuss snacks, and Captain Greg heads down the stairs to the kitchen. Once we are alone, Laith stares at me. There is some level of contempt or disapproval happening here, like in the car outside of the pawn shop, I feel like I need to pay for something, but I'm not sure what. "Do you want to suck my cock fago?", he blurts. "Yes Sir" I nod enthusiastically licking my lips to let him know I really want it. "Not good enough he responds. I want you to show me what a worthless pussy you are and beg to serve me before I let you touch my perfect body." Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he turns the phone towards me and starts recording. "Show me bitch". I quickly enter that headspace. "Please Sir, please can I see your amazing cock? Can I take off your pants, just to see your cock pressing out from your underwear. Just to sniff your shorts and get near it Sir. Can I please just slide down your Calvins and see that superior baby making club and imagine it in me, choking me and dominating me. Owning me." As I say the words and they overwhelm my mind, I begin to rub my torso up against Laith's legs and rub my face on the outside of his jeans at his crotch. I begin to lick the dry fabric with my mouth, and within seconds I am licking hungrily, furiously as if my life depended on it. "No bitch, no touching until I say so.", he commands as he pushes me off of him. I begin to whimper and I feel the desperation building. In a pathetic, but very serious tone, I continue, "Sir please let me worship you, nobody can do it as well as I can. I need you to use my mouth, spit on my face and show me that I am your faggot. I'll do whatever you want Sir, please Sir, if you'll just feed me and use me Sir. I need your control Master, I need to be enslaved by you."
I guess that was good enough, because without wasting time or waiting for me, he dropped his phone, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and in one motion pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees. Without a wasted movement he pulled my head down on his now hard cock and introduced the first few inches into my mouth. I could hear him groan, and then the jingle of his belt buckle, and then I felt the leather strap slide along the back of my neck. He took up the slack in the strap and used the leather to control the motion and tempo of my cocksucking. He pulled down hard forcing his now rigid cock all the way down my throat. I started to gag and tried to push myself off of him but that didn't work. He just held me there choking me as my throat gagged and spasmed on his incredible tool. "Fuk yeah bitch, massage that cock you queer. Serve me." And, I did, willingly and enthusiastically to the best of my ability. I literally fagged out on his cock and became the horniest, sluttiest cock slave I could for him. I was lost in service to him for the next minutes. His scent, his motions, the vibration of his voice growling at me. Finally I felt him pull hard on the belt and I assumed he was going to cum. He pushed in to the hilt and began unloading volley after volley of his cum down my throat and I gulped hungrily as he stated the obvious, "Take that fucking seed you cucksucking faggot. Eat my cum you fucking pathetic whore. Fuck, eat it bitch." And then he collapsed back into the cushions, allowing his cock to slide out of my mouth. As he lay there panting, I spoke, "Thank you Master".
That freudian slip will always be one of my most memorable regrets. I didn't realize my master had rejoined us, and even if I had known, in the headspace that I was in serving Laith, I don't know if I would have filtered out the word `Master' when I referred to Laith and thanked him after he fucked my face. I could sense Master GREG's anger as he barked, "Fuck you faggot." Master GREG approached and threw me back onto the floor. Staring down, he locked into my eyes. "You have only one Master faggot, just one! That's me, and only me! You got that queer?" I shook my head affirmatively at a desperate pace. I wanted to show him it was a mistake, an error in getting caught up in the moment and confusing my words, but he had no interest. He settled down on top of me, straddling my chest with his legs. Continuing to lock eyes, he collected his spit and hocked it onto my face. "You stupid, worthless bitch", he explained, "I have been too kind to you. I have been too soft on you and you think you are allowed to do things without my permission." Please Master, no" I pleaded, "I am just a stupid fucked up faggot who doesn't know any better. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." "You got that right", he continued. From my side vision I caught a glimpse of Laith, and I could see he was enjoying this. I considered for a second that he really was a sadistic prick.
As Master Greg swung his leg around and off of me, he flipped me over like I was a rag doll. His adrenaline must have really been spiking the way he was manhandling me. Before I knew it my pants were down and he was pulling me across his lap as he positioned himself seated on the corner of the coffee table. He slowed for a second to lower my underwear and expose my fresh tattoos. They were covered in a post tattoo oil and then with a plastic film. His slow pace indicated a slight bit of consideration from him, and that made me feel hopeful that he still cared enough to give me another chance to earn his domination and ownership. Appraising the situation, he announced, "This is really gonna hurt for you bitch, but you deserve every bit of it." With that, he lifted his arm and then brought his strong hand down against the left cheek of my ass. I howled with abandon as he alternated between striking my sensitive left cheek and then my right. He was ruthless, driven and unfeeling as the blows went from five to 10, to 20, which is when I began to sob and cry in earnest. My begging to earn his trust again and be his boy, his slave, his property fell on deaf ears for a bit longer until I was a bowl of mush. He eventually stopped, but I don't know that indicated he was satisfied or had given up on me. If I had to endure a hundred beatings, I would do it to earn him back. I needed him and could not survive without him.
Looking a little spent, my Master regarded Laith, who looked very content in his position on the couch, and suggested, "Maybe you should get going, I still have some work to do here". Laith seemed to understand, and collected his stuff and moved to the stairs. Before heading down, Laith looked at his friend and asked "So, we're ok here right? You don't have a problem with me, do ya?" Turning towards Laith, my Master responded, "No dude, we're all good. Just disappointed in my fag here is all. Thanks for the ride today."
Ignoring me while I laid there on the floor for a few minutes, my Master went to a short door built in on the slope of the roof. Upon opening the door, I could see a small closet, short in height, narrow, and shallow in depth; contained and constricted by the sloping ceiling and partitions on each side. It wasn't large but it was ample storage for things forgotten. Captain Greg found an old towel and threw it on the dirty wood floor of the closet and pointed. I crawled into the space and laid on the dirty towel. Then I heard a click, which I assumed was the lock. The ceiling was a maximum of about four feet at the door and diminished to zero in about five feet near the eave. I don't know for sure how long I laid there as I drifted in and out of things, but eventually I heard the lock click and the door open, it wasn't bright, but the light streaming in still blinded me. As I looked up, I saw the most beautiful sight I could imagine. It was my Master, standing there. Just him, in all of his perfection. I don't think I was forgiven, but I prayed I was not disposed of either. I moved very deliberately to his feet and started to worship them. He moved his right foot into the closet and dragged it across the dirty wooden floor, then he used the same foot to press my face down against the attic floor. He rubbed his dirty toes and soles across my face, painting me and marking me as a filthy fuckup. Then, he moved backwards leading me as I dove for the tops of his feet, the arches, heels and toes. Anything I could get into my mouth and worship to show him how much I loved him and needed him. He settled on the couch as I worshipped him desperately. I don't know how long that went on before he grasped a fistful of my hair and pulled with great force, placing my head near his lap. I licked furiously at the fabric of his jeans and whimpered begging to be let in to worship his manhood. I thought it better to show than to speak at this point, so I just worked as hard as I could to earn his affection. He seemed happy with the silence as well. Releasing his cock from his jeans, he gasped lightly when I engulfed it in my throat. I plunged myself down and allowed myself to gag for his pleasure on his amazing cock. He seemed to enjoy my effort as he guided my head, and then he became activated. Whatever triggered him, maybe a memory or bubbling frustration, he stood and dragged me up, positioning me on my stomach face down on the sofa. My dick stuffed in its cage and pressed into the sofa cushion, it was pinching like crazy, but it didn't matter.
He unfastened my pants and slid them to my knees. Then he got off of me and stood, shucking his jeans and shirt, exposing his magnificent torso, legs, ass and of course that perfect cock. The sun was almost gone and he looked magnificent in the dusk with just some low interior lights accenting his form. He looked around searching for something, and then he figured something out. He removed his leather belt from his jeans and looped it around my neck like a noose. He mounted me and quickly forced my head down into the sofa cushions. Next my Captain, my Master, my God lined up and plunged his hole wrecker into my cunt in one fast and powerful motion. I let out a blood curdling scream into the sofa cushions as I took my Master's cock the way he wanted to give it to me. I was his bitch and I would always be his bitch. He took me how he wanted when he wanted and I was his. I would always be his. He bludgeoned my hole so hard I couldn't process things anymore, and when I stopped screaming, he used the leash he had created with his belt to pull me back by arching my back. I was choking and gasping and clawing at the leash as he brutally clouted my pussy. In that moment, I was exactly what I was supposed to be.