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RICK HOWMAN - PART FIFTEEN
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RICK HOWMAN - PART FIFTEEN
[... continued] "I even though I wanted it and he knew I wanted it, and I didn't want what he wanted; I wanted to be forced. But that's what I got! But I found myself locked into his fantasy unable to get free. He had me where he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted and I was trapped. He wanted me to dress a certain way, usually in scanty suggestive clothing that invited molestation. He liked me to wear a white office shirt, for example, and nothing else, like it was a dress, or a miniskirt. He liked the tease of it. He always wanted me to expose my arse - continuously when indoors even if people visited. Or I might wear a tiny jock that barely held me in and disappeared under my cheeks; my cock was held inside this tiny bag that forced it to one side and curved it up when it was stiff. He wanted me to present myself always submissively and available. He wanted to have this doll who was just waiting for his orders, waiting to be spermed into, waiting to be spat at and without any comeback to be humiliated. That's what turned him on. He said, 'You don't have to be excited honey. You just have to do as I tell you. I am going to use your basic urges to satisfy myself.' He spread my legs and ate my box then pushing his cock into it while I was soft and flaccid and practically out for the count. What do YOU think?"
Baby stopped talking and looked at Tony for his reaction. Tony took a deep breath. "What do I think, what do I think? Well, I'll tell you for one I didn't think you were into that kind of life of self-deprivation, self-abnegation and I absolutely love, I mean, love, I mean totally love-turned-on by that side of you, someone willing to completely submerge their own desires into the desires and whims of another man who is unreasonable and demanding and completely self-centred. And I cannot understand how it is that you would want to live like that but I'm ... Really. Really. Glad that you do. Really glad. Because if there's one thing missing from my life it has been to have a completely submissive bitch like you. Look, let's get this clear: you DID become his unwilling-and-yet-willing total slave for the duration? It doesn't make any sense but, yeah, it fits and yeah ... yeah, I think I want that from you. Yeah I think I do. That's what I always wanted. That's what I always intended to have some day if I could find it. A total sub who is content to no longer exist outside of the requirements of my own satisfaction. Who doesn't have to be excited, who just has to do as I say, who I use your basic urges to satisfy myself - Oh Baby that's ... That's sooo hot. Yeah. That's really hot. That really excites. That, turns me on!" Tony was holding his erection and was looking at Baby as if to say, 'look at that', as though he wouldn't even stroke it for himself but wanted another man who would stroke it for him. "I like it," said Tony allowing his pole to stand up by pushing two fingers and a thumb against its base. "I like it Baby; tell me more."
Baby, sniffed. He wiped his nose and smiled. "So from then on his ... prerequisite was that everything had to be against my will. I had to literally dislike everything or object to everything I did or he did. He only took pleasure in my misery. I mean, that turned me on, absolutely, but there's only so much you can take. It made me so horny to know that I was turning him on - he was constantly into it, thinking of new ways to use me - when I hated it too - but it wore me down because there was no let up to my discomfort. That's when I knew I wasn't ready for the life of a total slave."
Tony said his words carefully, "Are you ready now?"
"I don't know. I just want to please him. For me the turn on is, I want to worship my Master; I did that by obeying him even when it felt uncomfortable or unpleasant or bad."
"How did it end?"
"Well, inevitably he had to impose punishment when I wasn't quite acting as I should - that's normal isn't it? He started verbally, complaining and then criticising. He wanted me to be a perfect match for his expectations but I failed. Inevitably. I had to endure him complaining about me, and then he started hurting me to make me comply and work harder. I was coping alright but he got carried away I think."
"That's what happens ..."
"Yeah. I wanted it to be real, but it never is. But then I thought, It IS real! and I was scared shitless. And he wanted harder more difficult punishment. He had this strap. Gradually despite me trying to keep with it he ground me down until I was broken - well I was already broken in the slave sense but then I was just simply unable to take it and he didn't see that I needed a halt until it was too late. He tied me to a bar and strapped me until I was too upset to even beg him to stop. He had this thick leather belt he liked. And he used to humiliate me constantly, constantly criticising my appearance, my attitude, everything I did, my performance as a hole, my performance as a urinal, what I said even it was just Yes Master, or Thank you Master, or anything, Master; nothing I did, nothing I did made any difference; he punished me for breathing, for sweating, for being scared, for being tired, for trying to avoid his attacks, or even if I accepted my fate meekly and quietly he called me weak and pathetic and punished me for that. He was a monster. He became a monster."
"How did that feel?" asked Tony, as if he needed to ask.
"What, to be destroyed by another man, by him demanding more than I was able to give? Yeah I was disappointed because I thought I wasn't his fantasy any longer. I felt sad that he was so angry and dissatisfied, when I reckoned that I had failed to be his fantasy. Because that's what I want: I want to be another man's fantasy. I want to match his desires exactly no matter what he wants. And when I do that I'll have the safety of knowing it's forever. That's forever isn't it? Fulfilling another man's fantasy? Being his dream so when he imagines something he sees it standing there in front of him and he doesn't know if it is real or something he has thought? So then I know I have become the embodiment of everything he desires, or could imagine he desires. So yeah, I was disappointed. I was worse than disappointed because I thought that I had failed to be the thing I wished to be. I had failed to be the thing he wanted me to be."
"Perhaps you were his fantasy," said Tony.
"He said it was all my fault. Slave's fault. Always slave's fault, that's the rule. He said I was stale. That's what he said. I thought it was another ruse to fuck me up but he meant it and I got dumped! Literally! Day come he just put me in a van and left me in a field in Essex and I had jeans and trainers and a T and that was it!"
"What?" Tony loved the image. "Yeah ..." Baby laughed despite himself. It was so absurd. "I literally cried and cried. My hands were tied and my legs were tied and I has a gag and a bag on my head. I had to wriggle out of there, which I did, by which time I was covered in mud. I was soaked through. But hard. My clothes were clinging to me, cold and wet and thin. But then I realised. And then I was even harder ... it was sticking through my jeans like obvious for fucks sake!" he laughed. "I was convinced it was a thing he was doing to assert his complete control so I thought he'll be along any minute. But night was falling and I thought, what does he want me to do? Does he want me to make my own way home? Does he want me to wait for him here? And my hard on was aching cause I knew, I thought he was watching me from somewhere or something." "So what did you do?" "What could I do? I was getting colder and colder and eventually I thought I need to get somewhere. So I walked to a town and asked for help like that. People were looking at me like that, like a tramp they were trying to avoid looking at and they steered round me and kind of looked disgusted, especially cause my prick was sticking into my jeans and I was basically covered in shit. They didn't know what to make of me. I got nothing from most of them, except disgusted or frightened looks - one youth walked up to me and his face was in my face and I could feel him breathing on me and he said, 'You're in the wrong place, we don't want you here, GET OUT!' then just walked off, but he was watching me. I ducked round a corner. There was this pub so I went in for a rest and the man in charge recognised me! I mean I don't know how. I don't know what made me pick that place to enter but he threw me a towel and said he was expecting me. I don't know how, except I suppose he was in on it. He said he knew me from before, but I didn't know what that meant. So he looked me over and groped my cock and put his hand in my crack, had a good feel and said I'd do. Then let me shower, watching me with his arms folded, but then he wanted to cum in me. Obviously. So I got on my back. He shot quickly with a grunt and then told me I was everything what they wanted, whatever that was. Then he had me wash my stuff and dryer it and then he had me help in the pub. That evening I helped behind the bar but he had to do whatever he wanted as well, obviously, like he treated me like I was his new boyfriend and, and he was going me like HE owned me! And these guys came in, there were several gay guys and he let them into a room he had, with stuff, and he had me be their thing, which he watched, and they had other friends who turned up to watch while they took it in turns - the guy from the street was one, and turns out he was the best cause he really took pleasure in using me, really enjoyed - I was just used. Ok, it was, I did like it, because men, and their cocks, and I was ... grateful. I was grateful to the men who used me for their cum, but I wanted to get back to my place so I asked to leave?"
"I don't suppose they wanted that!" "No. They just laughed. They were enjoying themselves and tried to think of some way to hold me, these idiots, but they weren't like abducters! You know. They didn't want to have to keep someone against their will. He offered me board in return for bar work and being the local's sex toy. And I considered it. I actually did. There was pay and board and getting to serve and being fucked all the time ... and generally living a simple life of sexual abuse and servitude ..."
"And you do like getting fucked!" said Tony. Baby nodded. "So you 'considered' it?! You were in pig heaven!" "I'm not a pig." Tony raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I left because none of them turned me on. Apart from being sex starved perverts, they didn't tick my boxes. Some of them were good looking, some of them had decent pricks, some of them knew how to dom. But none of them were all three ... and in any case I was still in the headspace of being my Master's slut and I wanted to go back, amazingly enough. I wanted to earn his complete satisfaction earn his cock and ownership and be his servant not the party slut of some random Essex boys." Baby snorted his disdain. "But perhaps that's not part of the deal. Perhaps dumping me out was his fantasy, just his fantasy to destroy me and use me up ..." Baby looked at Tony's face for some kind of reaction, approval or understanding. Tony sighed, but he was approving. "You are constantly getting my attention. You are being praised or being punished, publicly humiliated or petted, or fucked; you get to worship this," Tony shook his enormous prick, "which is what you want. You are in pig heaven. Humiliating a beautiful animal like you gives so much pleasure. I don't know why it turns me on so much, but I can see why he wanted to give you the ultimate humiliation. He took something unique and individual and perfect and made it generically miserable, used and finished! He used you up and passed you on. That's the untimate slave accolade, quite frankly - to get completely used."
Baby gulped. "Yeah but I don't want to be dumped! Look, people like normal people think nobody want to be commoditised. But I do. I've got this fantasy where I have been turned into something that can be sold for money. Bought and sold. I have this image where I want to be auctioned in a room where bidders can only bid for me online but they can request that I do stuff or I'm used so they can see how I stand up. Like if I'm tied and whipped so they can tell if I'm resilient or weak. I can be tested, or tried out to see what I'm worth, if I'm suitable, if I'll do, if I'm any good. Or I dress a certain way. Or if they ask for some guy there to fuck me so they can see how I can take it. And see how grateful I am. Say Thank you, and mean it. Or if they want to, you know, hurt me. I mean, I came to love the strap, his big thick leather strap. Polished it, on me! Wore it on my skin, til I bled and worked that in to brown it like the back of a deer. Then I think they should use me too for whatever they want, or rent me. I'd be this product. BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO BE DUMPED!! I didn't wish for me to be sold on exactly because I wanted to be used. But instead I WAS dumped, literally DUMPED! In a field! And I had no one! That was the worse moment of my life. Those pub blokes in Essex weren't any good to me. I mean I was grateful. Amateurs, frankly. They had a good few notions but were basically vanilla. How I was to dress was one thing they seemed keen on, the tight jeans and the butt-zip seemed to be their thing. They'd've had me in pantyhose and rubber." Baby took a breath "There's first class males and the rest. He was a first class male. He could treat me like how he liked. But I didn't want to be dumped. What's the good of that? What's the good of being dumped? But he was a male, a first class male, and I was just ..."
"What am I then?" demanded Tony abruptly, "First Class obviously. Ok. Makes sense." He smiled as though everything he said was some kind of indulgence. "What are you; you and your slave-perfect body? Turn round. Show me!" he demanded, roughly, watching once again as the skin of Baby's back stretched and contracted along its muscle folds, pulsing with his hurt and anger. Baby held his hands behind his neck, turning full circle with shuffling steps then dropped his hands to 'at ease' rest behind his buttocks, looked down at Tony like an automatic soldier. Soft muscle curvaceously rippled his abdomen. His prick was swelled with the tired blood of an hours old erection heavy between his thighs. He stood awkwardly, like a soldier without orders - Tony liked that, the way Baby naturally fell into a position of uselessness whenever he wasn't occupied by a Master's demands. "So. So how'd you deal with it?" he enquired as though this was a therapy session ... and he actually cared about something other than his own erection.
Baby answered him, "I went out ..." he said with a shrug. "You went out?" "Yeah I went out clubbing and, pubbing, and I went out on the scene, and, around; I hung around and picked guys up. I had to start somewhere. That's how I met Rick Howman." "Ah, Rick Howman. Tell me about Rick Howman!" Tony rejoined sarcastically and not requiring an answer.
Baby went to Tony, to kneel before him; he reached for Tony's erection, his hand shaking as he tried to touch it, as though that alone held some kind of answer.
"I like that you are broken," said Tony without moving. "I like that you are hurting inside. Do I scare you like that? Do I make you feel in danger? Do you wonder if I'll damage you?" "I'm already damaged," said Baby. "And you won't hurt me." "Yes I will," said Tony. "I will. I like that. I really like that. I like that you are damaged. Hurting. That the pain you feel goes deeper than real pain, it drops into this emptiness, doesn't it? And when you cry, those tears come from deep inside. Your beauty is that you can't be mended with kindness. You need to be hurt. Don't you? You need it. You really crave and beg to be hurt, and you love it, don't you?" Tony let Baby play with his erection, meditatively experiencing its tight, veined, smooth skin riding over the thick rubbery substructure, pulling back to expose a dark tough samurai helmet with bright magenta edge and the pale pink split tip, a tiny-lipped mouth fountain-spout dribbling pre-cum that glossed it and glued his fingers wet. "Love it!" said Tony. "Love. It."
"Yea, I do, love it. I ... I ..." stuttered Baby, fondling the pole with determination. "I ... just want to be ... engulfed - by a man," he said playing with Tony's fat prick, slicking it up and down, examining the skin and veins, the way it puckered and stretched, the way his fingers felt riding around it, the slip and slide of the hardened rod in his hand. "You enjoying that?" smiled Tony. "I keep getting thinking about it. I want it so bad." Baby said and continued fondling, letting the grey hairs tickle the back of his hand. "Well, are you going to put it in your mouth?" "Yes Sir. I am Sir. sorry Sir. Yes Sir." Baby exhaled, inhaled and plunged his face onto it, forcing it past his gag. Tony was impressed. "I want you to keep it in your throat. Keep it deep. Life is fun when you have big meat," said Tony, pressing on the back of Baby's head, feeling Baby's panicked struggle for breath and the tight ring of his neck.
Baby deep throated Tony. For some time he wanked the gunky stick, and sucked it's tip, sliding it into his neck over and over again, coughing for breath and impaling his throat with it. Breathless, he panted his praise: "Your cock is still beautiful. Your body is still lovely," he said, red faced with tears of exhaustion and suffocation in his eyes; juices ran from his lips and sweat ran down his neck, sliding his hands across Tony's hairy belly.
"What's the point of being beautiful like you if you aren't getting used?" said Tony, shooting loads of heavy deep ejaculate into Baby's stomach.
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END OF RICK HOWMAN - PART FIFTEEN