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The Night Bus Chapter Three
I was exhausted and sore long before the last of them finished in me. I couldn't hold my face up anymore; at some point, they'd torn off my shoes and the rest of my clothes and flipped me on my back so my head could hang down, my mouth more accessible to one as another held my legs up and fucked me. I don't know what happened to Charlie or where he went but at some point after it was over, I must have dozed off because I awoke on the pavement to the feeling of wetness. The acrid scent of piss hit my nose. I was lying on my side, my chest and back scratched and rubbed raw from friction against the wooden crate. The piss stung them. My neck felt wooden and stiff. My jaw felt like granite that had been pounded with hammers. My tongue seemed twice as big as it should be and my throat was on fire. My hole was worse, even though their loads had provided lubrication there after that first spit-lubed fuck from Charlie. I opened my eyes and abruptly clenched them shut. The sun was out now and the light seared its way into my throbbing skull.
'What are you doing out here?' a familiar voice asked calmly.
'I'm pissin' on fagboy,' someone said softly.
'Animals piss on things to mark what belongs to them, Ste,' the first voice said.
'Yeah, Charlie?' the second voice asked innocently. I opened my eyes again at that name, squinting. A young boy, maybe twelve, stood in front of me, waistband down, piss flowing from the small cock in his hand. Had I sucked that? Had it been in my arse? No, I wouldn't have. Couldn't have. And I didn't remember seeing him last night; all of Charlie's mates had been at least out of school.
'Yeah. And who does fagboy belong to?' Charlie asked, still calm. He wore a sleeved t-shirt this time and a pair of joggers. A glance told me he still wasn't wearing underwear. He was bareheaded, his wet, styled hair showing that he'd showered as well as changed clothes.
'Erm, you, Charlie. Sorry,' the boy said. He finished pissing and shook off his cock.
'So fuck the fuck off then,' Charlie said gently. 'And what are you doing, Nicky?' he asked someone behind me.
'I'm gonna shit on his face,' another voice said. My neck muscles screamed as I craned my head over my shoulder. It was another kid, about the same age. He crouched behind my head with his tracksuit bottoms and briefs round his ankles.
Charlie chuckled. 'Where the fuck did you two get these ideas?'
'Freddie and Gav said it would be funny,' the boy behind me said. 'They saw us comin' to the bins and said he was here.'
'Yeah, it would be funny but another time,' Charlie said. 'Fagboy did well last night. He doesn't need to be shat on today. You fuck the fuck off, too. Come on, I'll see you both get back home.' And the three of them walked away. I rested my cheek on the pavement.
I awoke again sometime later. My arms were still tied behind me. I wriggled and sat up. Looking round the alley, all I could see were bins. I rocked forwards until I could get my knees under me and rose, planting one foot, then the other. Then I crept tentatively down to the broken metal door. It hung open a few inches and I peered through the gap. Nothing I saw told me anything about where the fuck I was. I pushed the door closed with my shoulder, cringing at the groaning hinges, then scuttled back to the bins. What the fuck was I going to do now?
I was still replaying the night before in my head when I heard footsteps approaching, then the door's tell-tale groan. I cringed up against the bin, trying to make myself as small as possible. It was Charlie. He held a carrier bag.
'You pong like a urinal exploded in a sperm bank, fagboy,' he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 'Let's deal with that first. Not that you shouldn't smell like piss and cum but I can't stand the stench of you -- and it's not my piss.' He put the carrier bag down, took out a coil of hosepipe, and connected it to a spigot beside one of the bins. He aimed the other end at me and turned the spigot on. Icy water shot out.
'Oh, fuck! Fuck!' I gasped and pranced foot-to-foot, as he trained the stream over me from head to toe and back.
'That'll do,' he said after a minute or so. He crimped the hosepipe to staunch the flow, then took a plastic dog bowl out of the carrier bag and set it on the pavement. He filled it with water, then turned off the spigot. 'Bet you're thirsty.'
'My throat feels like I've been eating wire wool,' I croaked.
'Turn round,' he said. He pulled at the knot that once had been my shirt sleeve until my arms dropped free. Pain shot through my shoulders.
'Ow, fuck,' I whined.
'Want me to tie them back up?' he asked.
'No!' I said angrily. He slapped me.
'Try again,' he said calmly.
'Listen, you gay-bashing rapist...' I began. He slapped me again.
'Don't make me angry. You did well last night but don't forget you're mine now,' he said. 'Now stop fuckin' talkin'. You need your throat. Not for bitchin'. For keepin' this happy,' he said, grabbing his cock as he'd done on the bus. 'So drink.'
I bent over and reached for the bowl. 'No,' he said. 'Hands and knees.' I turned to glare at him. He was still holding his cock through his joggers. I didn't want to fall under its spell again but I was fucking thirsty. I knelt and put my lips to the bowl. I sucked in the cold water and sighed as it salved my throat.
'Fuck,' he said. I looked up at him. 'I should've given you these first so I didn't see your bare arse in the air like that.' He took a t-shirt and a pair of joggers like he was wearing from the carrier bag and tossed them at me. 'But now I have, I'm tempted to fuck it again,' he continued. He looked idly towards the alley door.
'It hurts too much,' I protested. His eyes narrowed. 'Sir,' I added insolently.
'A fagboy like you should have a sore hole,' he said. 'Reminds you what you're for.'
'Stop calling me fagboy!'
'It's what you are,' he said. 'You want me to call you Simon?' he asked. I stared at him. He took my wallet from the carrier bag. So that's how he knew. 'I didn't pay for this lot,' he explained, waving it at the clothes, bowl, and hosepipe. 'I did have the lads charge up your phone for you, though.' He put the wallet back and held up my mobile, before putting it back in the bag as well.
'Nah, you don't want to be Simon with me,' he continued. 'You want to be fagboy with me 'coz you need to keep Simon separate for out there,' he said, nodding to door. 'At least until you're ready to be fagboy out there, too.'
'I don't want to be fagboy anywhere,' I said.
'Go on,' he smirked. 'You wanted to be fagboy last night. You fuckin' crawled to me on your hands and knees, just like you are now, and begged to suck me off on a bus, then followed me when I got off it. You let me half strip you and lead you like a dog to an alley you've never been to before. You let me tie you up, then you sucked off and got fucked by a crew of fuckin' straight boys you've never met. We didn't force you. We didn't hurt you, apart from a well-deserved belting. The only time we threatened you was to keep your teeth off us. Through all that, you know what you never did? You never said stop. You never asked us to let you go. What you did say was please. And when I asked if you liked it, you said yeah. When I asked if it was what you dreamt of, you nodded. When I fucked you, right there,' he pointed to where the crate had been, 'you told me I owned you. You told a group of lads you'd never met I owned you. You yelled to the whole estate that I owned you.'
I sulked because I knew he was right. 'I was horny,' I said petulantly.
He laughed. 'Yeah, and you will be again soon, too, and where's fagboy gonna be then?' I shrugged. He smirked. He pointed to his feet. 'Right here.'
'No,' I said.
'You say no to me one more time without "Sir" or "Master Charlie" behind it and what you got with the belt last night you'll look back on fondly as a lover's tender caress,' he warned. He clicked his fingers and pointed again. I looked up at him, then down at his feet. I was purposefully avoiding his crotch.
'Why are you doing this?' I asked.
'Because I fuckin' deserve it,' he answered. 'And so do you. Now heel.' I crawled naked over to him. He turned up the toe of his left trainer. 'Kiss it,' he said. I did. He repeated with his right trainer and so did I.
'Good faggot,' he said. 'That is your fuckin' place. And I got you a memento, a souvenir to help you remember it.' He reached into the carrier bag and brought out a chain necklace. Actually, I realised, it was more like an oversized identification bracelet because there was a long, narrow tag centred between the links of chain. He held it out for me to read. 'fagboy,' was engraved on one side, 'Property of Master Charlie' in two lines on the other. Looking at it made my cock stir.
'A bitch needs a collar so everyone knows who owns it,' he said. 'Ask me. Ask your owner to collar you.'
'And what then, sir?' I asked.
'Then I'm gonna fuck you again before you get dressed. And after, I'll see you get back home,' he said, the same as he'd told the two boys.
'Please,' I said and bent my sore neck.
'Please what?'
'Please collar me, sir.' The chain was short and the tag hung just over the notch at the base of my throat.
Twenty minutes later I had a fresh load in my arse and had spaffed mine on a bin. Charlie had knocked my hand away when I tried to wank myself, just as Jack had always done 'That little nub's not yours anymore,' Charlie had said. 'I own it.'
He let me put on the t-shirt and joggers before he led me barefoot back to the bus stop. Wetness told me his cum was leaking down my legs from my arse as I walked. 'Text this number,' he said, holding up his mobile so I could read it.
'Thank you, Master Charlie,' I typed. He read it on his phone and nodded.
'You answer when I text, fagboy,' he said.
'Yes, sir.'
'Your shoes and keys are in here, too,' he said, handing me the carrier bag. 'The rest of your kit wasn't in a state worth keepin'. If you don't know how to get home, the Tube's a ten-minute walk that way,' he pointed.
Fuck! I'd been that close the whole time.
[Continued.]