All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Though this work of fiction may contain sexual situations and/or sexual acts between adults and minors, neither the author condones such situations and/or acts.
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Gambi heard a shout as he stirred sluggishly on his bed; his head throbbed, as did his innards. A groan passed his lips, as he tried to recover his senses, his hand rubbing the back of his head. Light flashed into his eyes forcing him to screw them closed, letting out another groan in protest of the brightness shining over his face.
"Mr Santino?! Are you alright, sir!"
Gambi grunted his assent and moved to pick himself up from the bed. Another officer approached the bathroom checking the corners as he went, looking for the perpetrator.
"Dispatch this is forty-two, send EMTs to 1623 East Lake Drive, over!" the officer holstered his weapon as he dropped to eye level with Gambi.
The man was dizzy from the blow to his head, slumping back down to the bed, he waved his hand to gesture he did not need medical aid. "Dispatch, cancel that last,"
"Roger-roger Vinnie!" came the response over the radio.
The officer returned his attention to Gambi as he knelt beside the bed, "Can you tell me what happened Mr Santino?"
Before Gambi could respond shouts came from down the hall, "Freeze! Hands! Up!"
Gambi's mind recalled the earlier events; the feeling of a blade to his neck, a clothed warm-body against his naked flesh, the long absent sense of fulfilment from serving an alpha male. As he tried to turn over, he felt the bedsheet peeling away from his ball sac and cock; he had shot a load from the savage fuck he had endured. In that instant something clicked deep in Gambi's soul. The person found by the officers had to be the one who fucked him so ruthlessly; exactly the kind of man Gambi had been searching so long for.
Still groggy from the blow to his head, Gambi struggled to think how he could prevent the police from arresting this man. His cock stirred at the thought of being able to live in service to a true alpha. To him, his life was painstakingly routine. Each day he would host meetings, or conference calls, in the evenings his meals were served in traditional fashion, but whether he dined alone, with business associates, or members of his social circle; something was always missing. Even the men Gambi hired to fill the void in his life felt like facsimiles of the `real deal'; professionals merely providing a service. Whilst these men were each good at what they did; to Gambi the experiences were always lacking. The escorts would go through the motions of dominating him; they could act the part and say the right words, for brief instants it would seem as though they meant it; but they would break character and check on his well-being, making sure he was enjoying the experience. The aftercare was the worst part for Gambi; being asked if he was happy with the session, completely shattering the impression of serving a dominant, alpha male. Those he had encountered always seemed to react the same way when they discovered who he really was, and who his connections were; they seemed to lose their edge.
"One in custody Vinnie, we're taking him downstairs to check him over," another officer poked his head through the bedroom door. The cop he had called to looked over and began to reply when Gambi's hand quickly seized his wrist, "Not... him..." Gambi gasped; the desperation in his voice, reinforced by the look in his eyes. Vinnie looked to Gambi with an expression that was at first puzzled, but he quickly understood what the man was trying to tell him. Standing up, Vinnie went over to the bedroom door, and removed the robe that was hanging on the back. Returning to the bedside, he assisted Gambi in putting the robe on to cover himself. Vinnie led Gambi out into the second floor hallway whispering, "I'll take care of it Mr Santino,"
Jake was pressed against the wall, in the entry hall of the house, surrounded by three police officers; one standing just behind him with the barrel of his gun pressed against the nape of Jake's neck, whilst the other two proceeded to empty his pockets. Jake had been here before, he knew to keep his mouth shut until he spoke with a lawyer, he expected rough handling by the pigs; but always resented them going through his pockets. The cigars and lighter he had taken from the humidor had already been found and put onto the side table by the door, the officer to his right was about to reach into Jake's back pockets when a voice called out, "Hey Jimmy! It's all cool, he's one of Santino's, uncuff him!"
Jake was confused as the officer behind him returned his weapon to the holster, jangling his keys loose from the loop of his belt, to remove the handcuffs. Before tonight, Jake had never heard of Gambi; he was not even sure which neighbourhood they had wandered into. His mind pondered the possibility of the cops being dirty. After hearing a name like Santino, his mind recalled all the retro police-drama shows involving crime-families with cops in their pocket. His train of thought was interrupted by the officer named as Jimmy, turning to call up to the officer beside his victim, "We know what went down Vinnie?"
"Someone broke in and was caught in the act by him," Vinnie indicated Jake, "Everyone was asleep, but something woke him up and he walked in on the perp helping himself," the next question was addressed to Jake, "Hey buddy, you get a good look at the other guy?"
Jake shook his head, but then felt a sharp slap to the back of it when the officer to his left; clearly the youngest of the group growled at him, "Speak up punk!"
Jake saw red, turning to attack the officer, but before he could ball up his fist; the other two intercepted him, "Whoa there big guy", "Easy big fella!"
"Please do not assault him," Gambi called out, the voice though calm, seemed to carry some hidden power over the officers; it was clear to Jake there was a lot more going on here than met the eye. Jake relaxed his muscles and the officers released him, the youngest moved away muttering insults under his breath. Jake's eyes flicked to look at Gambi and the other officer still on the stair balcony, they had to be discussing him though he could not make out one word of their conversation. Looks were exchanged between Gambi and the officer, as they made their way down the stairs. The pair of men stopped by Jake, by comparison of their heights alone, Gambi and Jake could have been mistaken for father and son. The officer Gambi had been speaking with turned to Jake asking, "Did you at least land any punches on the guy?". Vinnie raised one eyebrow ever so slightly; indicating he was expecting a particular response from Jake.
Jake thought for a second, and blurted out, "I landed one in his face!"
The edges of Vinnie's lips twitched, "So that is the perp's blood on the bedroom floor," turning to Gambi, "I'll get it taken care of tonight and we'll be out of your way as soon as possible,"
Vinnie radioed in the request for a team to attend the scene before gently taking Jake's elbow; gesturing him to follow Gambi across the hall, into another room. Gambi entered first, switching on the lights to reveal what Jake thought was an office, but as he looked around, he realized the room was more like a private library. Shelves of books lined the walls, several tall-backed black leather sitting chairs dotted the room. Jake remained silent, as Gambi gestured for Jake to take a seat. The entire situation was out of this world; he should have been sitting in the back of the cop's car, being grilled about what he was doing there, but he was sitting in an insanely comfortable leather chair being treated as an old friend. A few whispers were exchanged between Gambi and Vinnie, before Vinnie spoke up, "We'll take care of things Mr Santino, everything is in hand," as he turned to leave he addressed Jake, "Sorry buddy, never got your name in all the commotion?"
Jake hesitated for a moment, but from the corner of his eyes he noticed the relaxed expression on Gambi's face; his eyes seemed to be desperately trying to reassure him everything was fine. Conflicted and unsure, Jake bit his lip as he decided to answer the cop, "I'm Jake!"
Vinnie pursed his lips, but said nothing more as he left. Jake turned and leaned over the arm of the chair to watch as Vinnie closed the door. Jake was surprised when he turned back to see Gambi had removed his robe, and was kneeling with his head bowed, only a couple of feet from the chair where he sat. Finding himself in such a precarious predicament, Jake was irritated, and this was conveyed as he spoke to the naked man in the room, "Just what the fuck do you want faggot?!"
Gambi did not look up, but his cock twitched as he responded to the words and tone Jake had used, "To serve you Sir,"
Gambi's head still lightly throbbed from the earlier blow, but presently the throbbing he felt the most; was his own heart through his ears. Kneeling in front of this alpha male, bearing clearly his desire to be of use to him; he awaited the man's next words with baited breath.
"What the fuck does that mean?" was the reply he heard. Whilst the sentence was clearly a question, the tone and brute force of the low voice that spoke made it come across as an order. Gambi was excited by the tone, but the hint of uncertainty kindled the minute traces of doubt he always felt, when he engaged in this kind of thing. Desperate for the previous cycles not to repeat, Gambi placed gentle emphasis on his first and last words, "Anything you order, Sir?"
Jake tensed slightly in the chair, still trying to comprehend the situation he had got into. He had broken into a stranger's house; at least a stranger to him, on a stupid dare to butt fuck a guy. Sure he had fucked men before when he'd spent time in jail, but that had only ever been for the sake of blending into the faction culture when they passed their `bitches' around. Refusing never went down well among the various groups, gangs and brotherhoods; if you weren't a fucker, you got fucked!
Jake turned the last words the kneeling man had spoken over in his mind, focusing on his use of the word anything. Jake already figured, whoever this guy was, he was definitely a man of means. His bedroom alone was bigger than the small room Jake was forced to rent. Quickly, Jake stopped following that train of thought, as the police were still in the house, if he started demanding money, the guy could easily turn on him and he'd end up back in the sights of the cops. For a long time neither man said anything. Jake was looking at the man kneeling in the room; now he saw him in full light; he could tell the man was similar to him in build, though only just over half his height. He was not slim, nor athletic or muscular, but he did take care of his body. Unlike Jake; the man's arms, and chest had no ink, and his groin region was devoid of pubic hair, as was the rest of his visible body.
Rising to his feet, Jake decided to wade a little deeper into the water of the situation. Ignoring the kneeling man, he explored the room he was in. The shelves, full of books, contained no titles he recognised, though one set of large volumes were clearly a fancy encyclopedia collection. Turning his attention to the desk, he noticed another dark wood box; practically identical to the one he had opened in the bedroom. Opening the lid, sure enough it was filled almost to the top with cigars of various lengths and thicknesses, and like its bedroom twin, the lid insert held a lighter and other implements Jake assumed were functional as well as decorative.
"Would Sir like a cigar?" Jake barely heard Gambi's whisper, which sounded like a plea than a question.
His prison mentality kicked in; he answered as though he were talking to a cell mate, "You'll know when I want you to open your mouth bitch,"
Gambi's dick jumped at the growled response, which radiated raw power and authority.
Jake turned his attention back to the humidor; he'd smoked cheap cigars before, much smaller than the ones in front of him, sometimes barely thicker than cigarettes, but clearly the tools inside the lid were used somehow with these larger, thicker cigars. Jake was unsure how to make use of them, so he decided to try out the service offered. Making his way to the nearest of the armchairs in the room, he sat down heavily, kicking off his boots; one of which was flung casually to hit Gambi in the ribs.
The man jumped at the sudden impact, but he quickly returned to his haunches as he whispered, "Thank you Sir,"
Jake's mind did not register the words, grunting in amusement at Gambi's reaction, he lowered his bulk into the chair; laying back in a slouch. When he was finally comfortable, he looked at the man, who was still knelt looking at the floor. "Well faggot? Where the fuck is my cigar!" Gambi both started and quivered at the gravelly tone of Jake's growled demand. Crawling on all fours, like an animal, he made his way over to the desk; rising on his knees, he kept his eyes on the open humidor as he asked, "Does Sir have a favourite cigar?"
"What is this? Twenty fuckin questions cunt? Gimme my cigar faggot!"
Gambi quivered again, as he selected one of the cigars from the humidor. He had always found the scent of cigars and cigar smoke arousing, but despite trying to become a cigar smoker, he could never fully enjoy the taste and flavour when he had tried to smoke himself. The paradox which to this day he could never explain to himself, was why he could enjoy the smell and taste of second hand cigar smoke, or the other things about cigars he craved to enjoy as a subservient. Drawing himself back to the moment, Gambi selected a 60 ring cigar, 8 inches long; one of the bandless variety that were sold by one of the cities local tobacconists. Carefully he tested the leaf of the cigar, firm, yet still ever so slightly moist; perfectly stored, waiting for a man to enjoy it. Taking the lighter and a guillotine cutter in his other hand, Gambi crawled towards the armchair where Jake waited. When he finally reached Jake, Gambi thought about asking permission to prepare the cigar, but he did not want to risk the man deciding to leave because he was getting annoyed. Kneeling back on his haunches Gambi dared a glance up at Jake's face. His eyes were met with a piercing, stern glare, that clearly conveyed the man's impatience. Setting the lighter on the floor, Gambi set about preparing the cigar for the man he saw as his new Master.
Jake watched, trying to avoid being caught staring, as the man knelt on his heels and went to work. He slid the flat end of the cigar into his mouth, turning the object around between his lips; gently moving it a little deeper with each turn. Jake thought for a while this was the guys way of trying to ask him for permission to suck his cock, or just what all faggots do when something round and firm is shoved in their throat. He was slightly surprised when all but one inch of the cigar had disappeared down the man's throat; he was clearly well practised in performing this kind of trick.
Gambi withdrew the length of the cigar after ensuring it was thoroughly moistened, parting his thumb and finger, he slid open the guillotine cutter and inserted the rounded-end of the cigar between the blades. With the cigar positioned in the cutter, he raised it over his head, with the shorter length pointed towards his gaping mouth. Clicking the blades closed, he sheared the end from the rest of the cigar.
Jake watched in sick fascination at the floor show, as the man caught the falling cutting on the end of his tongue and seductively rolled it into his mouth. The manner in which he moved his jaw exaggerated the size of the object in his mouth, which Jake thought was just another facet of a faggot trying to excite a man. Finally his Adam's apple twitched as he swallowed the wad of tobacco, and reached for the lighter. Jake watched as the lighter expelled a powerful jet of blue flame, which the man held close to the end of the cigar; moving it around just at the edge of the flame. This continued for a while before the kneeling man released the lighter flame and inspected the burnt end of the cigar. Jake quickly stopped him as he was about to put the cigar in his own mouth; snatching it from his hand, he growled aggressively; "Gimme that, you piece of shit!"
Gambi's head slumped in shame as he offered the lighter up like a packet of stolen candy. Jake grabbed the lighter with his other hand and clicked the flame to the end of the cigar. He was not prepared for the intense buzz as the first hit of smoke entered his lungs; he was barely able to suppress the urge to cough. His pride forced him to keep himself in check as he slowly continued to light the cigar; maintaining a composed facade. Finally after a few minutes, the cigar had a glowing orange head, and Jake was able to take some time to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs protested at the diminished level of oxygen, and his head swam from the buzz of the strong cigar.
Jake clenched the cigar between his teeth and realised the lighter in his hand was incredibly hot from lighting the cigar, which caused him to suddenly drop it to the floor. Glancing down to check he had not started a fire, he returned his attention to the man kneeling in front of him; his head still bowed and his hands behind his back. Neither of them spoke as Jake continued to slouch in the chair, slowly smoking the cigar, gradually forming a veil of cigar smoke towards the ceiling of the room. Jake noticed the man's dick was fully erect; standing almost vertical against his flesh, he assumed the man was gay and into some freaky shit, given his mannerism and the obvious physical reaction. Eventually, Jake could ignore the pressure in his bladder no longer, or the growing ash on the end of the cigar. Looking around the chair towards the desk, he was puzzled by the absence of an ash tray or other receptacle for cigar ash; there were no fancy items in the room that could have doubled as an ashtray. The lump of ash would soon fall off, so Jake asked in a tone that was still firm but clearly inquisitive, "Where's the ashtray fag?"
Gambi did not speak, or look up as his arms moved; offering his cupped hands towards Jake. Not wanting to question the man's reasoning and still not completely sure of himself, he dabbed the end of the cigar in the bowl of the waiting hands. Gambi's body twitched at the intense heat, but no sound emerged from him. Jake's bladder protested still, and he could see no other exit from the room except the one leading to the entry hall. Whilst the police were still present, they had not disturbed the door since Vinnie had left some time ago. Jake looked down at Gambi, "I gotta take a piss," Gambi lifted his head slightly lowering his palms; keeping them together to avoid dropping the ash. He shuffled closer to Jake and moved his face towards the man's crotch. Jake was buzzing from the cigar; his head swam in a blissful sea of smoke-haze, his sick curiosity forced him to watch in silent fascination.
Gambi struggled, but persisted never the less, to use his tongue to flick the zipper of Jake's pants; trying to take it in between his teeth. With great care, Gambi tugged outwards and downwards; gradually working the zip down, to avoid catching on the man's underwear. Jake's cock stirred at the sound, and sensation of the man slobbering at his groin. Taking another hit of the cigar, the rush of sensation through his body allowed him to relax as the smoke from the cigar filled his lungs. Using his nose to carefully probe the opening of Jake's fly, Gambi breathed slowly and deeply; drinking the scent of the alpha in front of him. After a few minutes of Gambi trying, and failing, to get a grip on Jake's underwear, his impatience returned; thrusting his hand down into the open fly of his pants, Jake pulled out his semi-flacid, uncut manhood. Gambi's cut cock had developed a shiny covering of pre-cum during the present encounter, he felt his brain firing multiple neurons in excitement; as he gazed longingly on the man's natural, and unspoiled cock. More accustomed to dealing with prison bitches who had long hair like women, Jake remembered that the head before him had no hair which he could use to hold onto. Biting down on the cigar in his jaw, he instead took one of Gambi's ears as he straightened the malleable member in his hand. Slipping once more into his prison mentality, he goaded the man beforehim, "Open wide. Here comes big daddy!"
Gambi's mouth practically engulfed the bulbous, skin covered head of Jake's cock. Letting go of his dick, Jake's hand moved to grasp the man's other ear; gripping tightly as though he were screwing up a sheet of paper in each hand, he growled down at the head held firmly between his thighs, "Don't you fuckin make a mess little bitch!". Relaxing his muscles as best he could while his cock lay in a warm, moist mouth; Jake started to piss.
Gambi tasted traces of cum from the earlier fucking and felt that same scent assail his nostrils, as he held the first two inches of the alpha's cock in his mouth. Carefully he formed a seal with his lips, taking care to keep his teeth from touching the flesh. His ears burned from the pressure of the gloved hands gripping them. A growled command preceded the taste of hot, strong, acrid piss flowing into his mouth. The sensation caused his olfactory centre to go into overload, and sent trills of electricity throughout his body. He struggled to keep up with swallowing what felt like a never ending flow, of divine nectar from a god, and to keep his body from convulsing as his cock involuntarily squirted thick streams of cum.
Jake noticed a warm, moist feeling on the top of his foot; at first he thought some of his piss had been spilled, but quickly he realised this was not what he was feeling. His flow came to a trickle and then stopped altogether, he started slightly as he felt the man's tongue working its way under his foreskin; lapping up the dregs of his piss. The rough edge of the tongue lashing against the head of his cock, produced the normal, human-reaction; he felt his blood flowing into his cock, gradually stiffening to fully erect. Quickly he jerked the mouth off his cock forcing the man's head away from him. Gambi was surprised at the sudden movement, but still did not utter a word of protest at the treatment. Jake looked down and saw the stains on his sock and the carpet close by; clearly the guy had shot his wad whilst drinking his piss. Feelings of contempt and disgust filled his mind; he had another man's cum on him, the finger of his hand pointed accusingly towards his soiled foot and the dark patch on the carpet, "Look what you did! You fuckin' queer piece of shit," The words began as a shout, but Jake quickly remembered the police presence, and lowered the volume of his voice to a deep growl of anger. Gambi shuffled back to make room, as he laid flat on his stomach; pressing his nose to the carpet like a shamed dog. Leaning forward in the chair, Jake noticed the lump of ash by his foot, forgetting this was not his home, he looked down at the naked man as his finger pointed towards his foot, "Clean that shit up fag!"
Jake expected Gambi to simply scoop the ash up or wipe the cum away with his hand, but instead he found it amusing how things were developing. He watched with a strange sense of inherent order, as the man used his feet and heels to push himself forward like some kind of vertebrate worm, along the trail of cum towards the lump of ash; shifting his head back and forth, running his tongue along the fibres of the carpet, as he slithered forwards.
Without raising his head to look at him, Gambi whimpered, "faggot is sorry Sir, please teach it to a lesson Sir,"
Jake felt his dick twitch; he was confused, but oddly aroused by the way the man spoke and behaved towards him. He'd only ever had sex with men as a demonstration of his own masculinity whilst serving time, and during that time, he'd only ever had blowjobs from prison bitches when he was tired of jacking himself off to dirty magazines. The power trip he was on as a result of Gambi's complete disregard for himself; his seemingly unquestioning obedience and self debasement, was stirring Jake's cock in a way he had not experienced before. He watched with perverse satisfaction as Gambi extended his tongue, using it like a scoop on the grains of ash resting by his foot. He was sexually excited, and only slightly disgusted by the sight of Gambi licking up the ash. Deciding to test his newfound power a little further, Jake lifted his foot from the floor, placing it firmly on the back of Gambi's head, "Clean that shit good faggot! If that carpet isn't perfect, it's gonna need to be replaced," Gambi eagerly ran his tongue across the carpet, until there was only a dark patch; damp with his spit where the ashes had fallen. Adjusting his position to make himself comfortable once more, Jake kept his foot resting on the man's head as he replaced the cigar in his jaw; "Now stay fuckin still `til I need something,"
For a while, Jake sat and just ignored Gambi; lying on the floor, nose pressed to the carpet. Jake considered the situation, and wondered just how far he could go before Gambi cried uncle'. He had either lied to the police, or they were in his pocket', but either way how would he react if Jake were to do something he did not like. The way in which he behaved towards Jake indicated subservience, but his home, his furnishings, the fact he had two humidors full of expensive cigars; all demonstrated clearly, that he had money, and most likely power. For the moment at least, Jake settled on the conclusion that the man was happy as a pig in slop, to be treated like a slave in his own house.
Jake came back to the moment once again, when he noticed the ash on his cigar had grown too long. Removing his foot, he barked down at the man, "Turn over faggot!"
Quick as a shot, Gambi flipped himself onto his back, and looked blankly at the ceiling. Seemingly anticipating Jake's need for an ashtray, his mouth was already wide open, his pink tongue glinted in the light; slick with saliva. Jake leaned over the chair arm; the leather of the upholstery creaking as he adjusted his body. Taking the cigar from his jaw, he aimed the object vertically as he began to slowly lower the tip of the cigar towards the waiting mouth. Dabbing the end on the wet surface of the tongue; there was a brief hiss as the smouldering tip came into contact with the moisture, the ash broke away in a neat mound. Gambi had screwed his eyes closed whilst the cigar was lowered, but even when it made contact with his tongue; he did not flinch, or even whimper. Jake's cock was completely swollen from the blood pumping through it, his ball sac ached to shoot another load; he needed to fuck something.
Darting to his feet, he growled, "On your knees faggot!"
Gambi rolled over onto his belly, quickly lifting himself up to sit back on his heels. Replacing the cigar in his jaw once again, Jake took a deep inhale as he turned to face the kneeling man. Stepping forward, he savagely clamped his still gloved hands around either side of Gambi's face; pulling the man's head forwards and upwards to meet his manhood. Gambi's mouth sprang as wide open as was possible; to accommodate Jake's swollen cock. Holding the head firmly in his grip, Jake thrust forward with his hips; forcing his cock to the back of the man's throat. Gambi quivered as he struggled to widen his throat to take Jake all the way to the base. The obstruction in his throat caused him to gag, and Jake felt warm, slimy fluid wash over his cock. Jerking his cock out of the hole, he released his grip and swung a backhanded blow at Gambi's head, "Open your fuckin throat-pussy faggot!"
Realising he had just struck the owner of the house he had broken into; Jake expected him to cry out for help, but Gambi surprised him again, letting out a choked, pleading whimper of apology, "Sorry... Sir..."
Jake took a long hard toke on his cigar and deliberately exhaled the thick stream down at Gambi's head. The man did not look up, his arms remained behind his back, his hands clasped together. From the angle of his head, Jake knew the man was staring at his spit-dripping cock. With the cigar comfortably between his teeth, Jake took hold of the man's head again; "Try again cunt!", he chided as he thrust his slimy cock, firmly down the man's throat. The gargling sounds that were being made as he thrust and withdrew further aroused him. Despite the surge of hormones, Jake willed himself to breathe slowly as he sucked hard on the now sodden cigar clenched in his teeth. He had to fight to keep himself from biting through the cigar, his body relished the satisfaction of fucking a warm and moist mouth; even if it was another man's. By the time Jake needed to ash his cigar again, he was ready to bust his nut. Glaring down at Gambi; smoke trailing through from mouth and nostrils as he grunted around the cigar, "Don't... fuckin swallow... this wad.... Fuck!.... I need... to snuff this.... thing.... Jesus! Fuck!"
Jake felt Gambi's throat contracting around his cock, the sensation was new to him, and the man's lack of resistance gave the impression he relished the abuse of his body. Gritting his teeth against the cigar, trying to keep from crying out at the top of his lungs, the words emerged from Jake as he felt the surge of sensation throughout his body; "Here! It! Comes! Faggot!". Jake thrust forward as hard as he could. His cock jerked in the spasm of orgasm, as he expelled burst after burst of hot, viscous fluids. Emitting a deep primal growl, he jerked Gambi off his cock, and took a final hard pull on the cigar. Bending slightly forward, his gloved hand clamped around the man's lower jaw; gripping tightly, he took the cigar nub in his other hand. With the smouldering cigar stub between his fingers, he glared down evilly at Gambi; as their eyes met, Jake saw acceptance in the man's face. Gambi extended his cum covered tongue and screwed his eyes closed; bracing himself for the cigar. Jake felt his cock spasm again but no fluids shot out, the rest of his body seem to pulsate from a second minor orgasm, as he slowly lowered the cigar toward the `ash tray'.
Gambi braced as he felt the intense heat of the cigar build on his tongue. Suddenly there was an intense sizzle and sharp pain surged through his tongue for an instant, but he would not resist, this is what he had always wanted. To service an alpha male; no matter the use he was put to, he desperately needed to serve a true alpha male, and somehow, he would convince this man that he could do anything he wanted. Gambi's life was meaningless without this alpha to give him the purpose he desperately craved.
The rapping sound on the door, snapped Jake out of his power trip; his pulse raced in panic that Vinnie or one of his colleagues was about to enter the room. He started to quickly shove his still-hard cock back into his pants. Despite the sudden shift in the man's behaviour, Gambi was still in awe of the man's use of him; gently he laid his fingers on Jake's wrist, his eyes dared a glance up to his face trying to dismiss his concern. Jake looked down, the man's mouth was still holding the cigar stub he had just extinguished; the man was smiling calmly around the lump of tobacco, he seemed to be saying everything was fine. Still unaware of just who it was that was on his knees in front of him, Jake was unwilling to take the chance; he quickly took the cigar from the man's mouth, and gave an instinctive nod as he stuffed the item into the pocket of his pants. Gambi swallowed the cum-load with an audible gulp, before looking up at Jake with a different expression. Still at a loss for words, Jake simply nodded his head again; his posture and manner passing off fear as mere agitation.
Gambi spoke in that tone Jake had first heard when he and Vinnie were conversing at the top of the hall stairs, "What is it?"
The voice that answered was Vinnie's; "Just wanted to let you know Mr Santino, our boys have finished in the upstairs bedroom. We'll be in touch if we need your man to I.D. the perp. Have a good night Mr Santino,"
Glancing around the room, Jake located the antique clock in the centre of a row of books; the hands indicated the time was 3:50 A.M. Cursing under his breath; he remembered he was down to work later today; he could not afford to be late, or to call in sick. Jake looked down at Gambi and cursed again, "Fuck, shit, damn!" he finally managed to get his cock back into his pants and pulled the zip back up, "I gotta get back faggot, I gotta get some sleep! This was fun". Jake quickly retrieved his shoes and slipped them on; not stopping to properly tie the boot laces. As he started for the door, Gambi whispered in his subservient tone once more, "Please... wait Sir!" the plea was so pathetic Jake could not help but grin to himself. Stnading at the door, his hand on the door handle, he sighed trying to calm his frustration of the man's seemingly needy attitude. Drawing breath, he gave voice to the irritation he was feeling, "Wait for what faggot! I gotta make a living, and I don't have time for a needy cunt!".
The obvious attempt at dismissal had the opposite effect on Gambi; he wanted to serve this man more desperately, "Please Sir, this faggot has never felt so fulfilled than it has been whilst serving you Sir. If Sir will permit the faggot, it will provide for all Sir's needs... all Sir's desires".
Jake tensed; the night had been eventful, and he was thankful not to be on his way to jail as a result of the idiotic dare, but this guy was out of his mind. Gambi interpreted Jake's hesitation as complacence; crawling over to just behind him. Jake turned around and started, seeing Gambi just behind him, "Get the fuck away from me fag!" Jake used his foot to push Gambi away.
Gambi rolled, landing on his back, "Sorry Sir," he whispered without moving.
Jake pondered the man's statement, about providing for his needs and desires, his mind raced as he tried to fathom a hidden meaning behind the phrase; his stomach churned in protest, it was uneasy from smoking such a strong cigar. Jake turned back to the door, laying his hand on the knob once more to leave but something made him hesitate again.
Gambi lowered his eyes to look at Jake's back, in his mind he was begging, pleading for the man to stay; picturing all manner of perverse services he could perform for him, how he could bask in the glory of being degraded and humiliated by this man. He was clearly an aggressively assertive alpha personality, and this excited Gambi to near frenzy. In that moment Gambi realised he would need to gently guide his new Master towards understanding that he was a slave at the core of his soul, his desire to serve a real man; a man who could make use of him in whatever way he wished, a man he could take care of and through his service, attain fulfillment of the void he felt in his life.
"Please Sir..." Gambi whispered cautiously, "If Sir will permit, slave can show Sir to his rooms, if Sir wishes to rest,"
Jake squeezed the door handle again; trying to will himself to walk out of the house, but the way that Gambi addressed him both sickened and excited him. He turned around, noticing Gambi had not moved from where he had fallen when he kicked him away, he snorted in amusement as how meek the man behaved. Walking back towards him, Jake decided to try a different approach to make the man retract his supposed offer; reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the battered remains of the cigar he had shoved there earlier. Flakes of charred tobacco leaf spilled out and drifted down to the carpet, Jake held the cigar up for Gambi to see clearly, "Open your mouth faggot,"
Without question his command was obeyed, Jake aimed carefully and dropped the cigar into the waiting hole. Having spun as it fell, the cigar nub landed across Gambi's face and rolled to the floor. Jake flicked his eyes following the path of the cigar; which Gambi interpreted as an order to retrieve it. Rolling to his stomach, he crawled after the cigar like a pig on the trail of truffles. Jake watched with fascination as Gambi took the remains of the cigar between his teeth and turned to face Jake like a dog. Their eyes met again, Jake's expression was unreadable, Gambi's eyes were full of longing, pleading. Eventually Jake realised he was waiting for the next order, finally, Jake obliged, "Eat it!"
Gambi complied, the strong acidic taste was vile in his mouth, but he refused to disobey. Fighting down the urge to gag, he chewed the spit soaked cigar into a soggy lump of tobacco. Choking as he willed himself to swallow, he forced it down, opening his mouth wide to demonstrate his compliance.
Jake was dumfounded by the man's unquestioning obedience; and he bemused that his cock was again twitching at the spectacle, but the feelings of disgust still lingered. He struggled to understand what was happening, he knew he enjoyed the power trip of abusing the man, but at the same time could not understand how another human being could willingly accept such treatment; voluntarily debasing themselves on the say-so of another without physical coercion. Turning away to leave again he heard Gambi following him on all fours, Jake opened the door to the entrance hall. Finding the place deserted, and devoid of any sign of police presence he relaxed, knowing they were alone. For an instant he considered venting his frustrations violently on Gambi, but chose not to press his luck, in spite of the man's apparent masochistic tendencies. As he moved toward the now closed front door, he caught sight of the items he had lifted from the bedroom humidor, still where they had been placed by the officers when he was being frisked. This prompted him to remember he still had the watch stuffed into his back pocket. Given Gambi's submissive demeanour, and his disregard for police assistance whilst being abused and violated; Jake decided to pick up the cigars and lighter. Turning to the front door he finally settled on leaving the house, putting the suggestion of spending the night out of his mind. Gambi, who had crawled naked into the hall, decided against trying to persuade Jake further, he knew if he pressed too hard, he would only push the man out the door faster; he would have to tread carefully to steer Jake towards realising, and accepting that he was a natural Master in need of a slave.