DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. This is my first story, please send feedback good or bad to fireypheonix1212@gmail.com and if you have any ideas on where this story could go then feel free to email those over too. I hope you enjoy the third installment of "Build For Purpose".
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Built For Purpose
Chapter Three - The Marking
One week later I met HD at the location on the card. The card did not give anything away as to what we would find there when we got there. My cock was straining in its cage. It had been doing that a lot lately as I had never gone so long without cumming. Even as a judge, I used to rub one out in the morning, in my chambers at lunch, then again before bed in my office and everytime I would swallow my load. Some habits just never left you. This was some change for me. I had needed to be creative about hiding it from my wife, ensuring that I went to bed after her each night, sleeping in my home office, getting up before her, getting dressed in the en-suite and so on. She hadn't questioned me so far but it woulnd't be long as by now we would have had some kind of sexual interaction at least 3 times.
The location turned out to be a joint tattoo and body piercing place. As I pulled up HD was already waiting at the intersection. I pulled into one of the parking spaces and looked around, paranoid that someone would recognise me. I had known nothing else but anxiety and paranoia since this whole ordeal started. Little did I know that It was going to get worse, much worse!
We said our hellos to each other and had a quick chat to check if either had heard from anonymous but neither had. Again, I wasn't surprised since he had no real reason to contact us. So far we had been good fags. It had been decided last week that we couldn't do anything but obey but keep our eyes open for some kind of escape opportunity. Right on time we headed inside in the hopes that there was some sort of clue about what we were expected to do.
As the door closed behind us with a soft click a young man came through from a back room. I say young, he was probably late 20's or early 30's so not young, just young compared to how we were feeling lately. He looked us up and down with an emotionless expression. I was checking him out too. He was somewhere between preppy and geeky, he had those stupid extended earlobes that you just wanted to hang Christmas decorations from, a pierced lip and tattoos visible on his neck. He was wearing an open necked t-shirt (more tattoos on his chest) and some hippy style short sleeved shirt on top which was unbuttoned (more tattoos on his forearms). Basically there was little visible skin on this guy that wasn't showing some design or another.
He was the polar opposite of us with me in my pin striped 3 piece black suit, white shirt and red tie with polished shoes, cufflinks and black overcoat. HD was dressed in a similar way except for a yellow tie and had no overcoat. Our hair was pristine, we were freshly shaved and we could not have looked more out of place in our current surroundings.
The guy walked up to within 2 feet of me, a bit too close, this was my personal space and I wanted to either step back or push him back a foot or two but I didn't know who I was dealing with so I wasn't willing to risk anything at this point.
"001 into that room," he said motioning to a side room to the right, "and 002 into that room," pointing to the room on the right. This left a closed door in the middle. Without looking at each other we headed towards our doors as instructed. As I walked towards my door I was thinking `You've got to hand it to anonymous, he has his hands in everything and has thought of every little detail. This guy was meticulous, possibly suffering from some type of OCD or something, but whatever it was he was good. Real good!. Even with these insights I still couldn't attribute it to anyone I knew from school.
As I entered my room there was already a guy in there putting some finishing touches to what looked like a tray on wheels, similar to what you'd see in a hospital operating theatre. Someone shut the door from the outside and I just stood there like a complete lemon. After 5 minutes or so the stranger said "Strip" without even turning around. I'd had plenty of time to admire his ass in his tight jeans. I don't think they were meant to be tight, but more like he had put on a couple of pounds since they were purchased. He was beefy alright, but from what I could see of him he carried it quite well. These days I think you'd call him a `Daddy'.
"Strip everything?" I questioned.
"SIR," he barked, "and did I fucking stutter? Strip now."
I was starting to get angry again. My hands had involuntarily balled into fists, I forced my fingers to straighten out and gave myself a shake. I had worked too hard to be spoken to like that from this nobody. I concluded that this was probably just a mild taste of what my life was to come.
"Yes Sir, fag is sorry for its stupidity Sir." He replied with a grunt and a few minutes later my coat, jacket, tie, shirt, trousers and socks were removed and folded neatly on the floor. My boxers came off last. "Hand those to me," he ordered and stretched his arm out behind him. As I did so he continued, "you are not to wear underwear from now on. You've to text Him for permission if you really need to but don't hold your breath for the answer you want!" He chuckled at his own joke as he used his foot to open a small pedal bin and threw my boxers inside. I had noticed how he had said `HIM', with reverence and admiration, or maybe it was awe with a hint of fear. It was hard to pinpoint exactly. "Hands behind your back one over the other at the base of your spine, chest out, back straight, eyes forward. Just like you were taught in Alpha Alpha Epsilon." I gulped. This guy knew way too much, but even as scared as I was, and I was very scared, my cock was betraying me and was doing its best to escape its metal prison.
He finally turned towards me and I tried to catch a glimpse of him without him noticing that I moved my eyes, but I didn't dare look for long. I could tell you that he had a beard and moustache and had a definite dad bod. He reminded me of any ex-high school football player that had let himself go over the years that you've ever seen on TV.
"Your instructions are not to question what happens today and follow every order for as long as you are in this studio. Is that clear 001?"
"Sir, yes Sir" I said with as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster.
"Good fag. Get onto the table on your back. Hands at your side and feet shoulder width apart. Look only at the ceiling and do not speak unless you are spoken to."
I silently moved into position and soon felt him drawing something over my nipples and then pressing something into each side of both. I later discovered that he was using a cleansing wipe at first then a marker pen to mark the entry and exit points for my new nipple rings. Shortly after he told me to take a deep breath and then slowly exhale. As I began to exhale he put the needle through my nipple. I wasn't shy about pain and barely flinched. I somehow got the impression he was hoping for more from me. He moved over and did the same to my other nipple.
Once those were done I felt the same kind of procedure going on at my belly button then I was told to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. That hurt more. He got a bit of movement out of me with that one. He finished fiddling around with whatever jewellery he had just adorned my belly button with and gave me a light pat on my side whilst simultaneously giving my balls a squeeze. "Good fag. Rest for a minute while I prepare for the next step. Don't move a muscle." It was obvious to me that he didn't want me to see or explore what changes he had made to my body in the last 10 minutes. As I lay there, I wondered how HD was doing in the other room. I hadn't heard anything but then if he had been given the same instructions as I had then I wouldn't hear anything. I just hoped that my friend, my ex-lover, was okay.
The guy came back and sat on his stool again and I heard what sounded like shaving cream being dispensed from a can. It was shaving cream, I could tell when it was applied to my crotch! "This is no normal shaving cream. This will also kill the roots of any leftover hairs meaning it'll take much longer before they grow back and will also get rid of any hair that's trapped beneath your cage." My balls were also covered in this cream, but he only scraped the cream away from above the cage. Next I heard the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun and I started to sweat.
The room was hot, but my sweat was cold. Worse than cold, it was chilled! I jumped slightly when the gun first made contact with my skin but quickly settled. He would tattoo a little bit, then wipe his hand over the area then do a bit more then wipe and continue like that until he was finally done. It didn't seem to take long so it was obviously a basic design, but the area had gone numb so I couldn't really follow the motions of the gun in my mind to try and picture what was being branded into my skin. He eventually used a wet cloth to clean the area, remove the cream from my balls and then put his equipment back on the tray.
"Your Master had considered a septum piercing and ear studs for you too. Luckily for you he reconsidered since you're meant to be this straight laced conservative judge." He snorted and fondled my balls some more. "Fag, you're not too bad a specimen. I've seen much worse!"
"Sir, thank you Sir." I said without looking away from the ceiling.
"Mmmm yes, not too bad at all," this time he wasn't speaking to me, but was more likely voicing an inner monolouge. He was obviously thinking of something because I could see the motion of him shaking his head roughly then slapping me on the inside of my thighs before standing up, "right fag, up on your feet''. He stepped back to allow me to move. I assumed the same position as before. He moved to the side and grabbed me quite roughly by the back of my neck, sending flashbacks into my mind of when my grandmother used to do that when I misbehaved as a youngster. He used his hand on the nape of my neck to guide me to a mirrored panel in the wall. I didn't know it at the time, but anonymous was on the other side of this panel in a room connecting the two consulting rooms and was seeing this guy's work for the first time too.
I had two angry looking red nipples now both sporting ball closure rings in matte silver and a purple jewelled belly button bar. All the cream had been removed from crotch and balls and I couldn't see a single hair. Above the cage in thick pink letters was "001" in gothic style lettering.
I felt faint. But I wasn't going to give this guy the pleasure of seeing me hit the floor. I couldn't really fault him. He was assumedly being paid for his time, just like with any other client, although he might've got a bit of a bonus since he was dealing with a lowlife faggot. "Suits you, don't it?" He asked. It was probably rhetorical but I answered anyway, "Sir yes Sir, thank you Sir for marking the fag in a way that its true nature cannot be questioned nor misunderstood." He seemed almost impressed with my answer. If he had experience of being around slaves before, I doubt he'd been around a slave as well trained, as smart or as well educated as me. Inside I was screaming, wondering what the hell had become of me and what my new future had in store. What would guys at the gym or my wife think? What about my neighbours, as I lounged on the patio during the hot summer months. I certainly wouldn't be able to do that anymore! My life is over, it's over... it just is.
"Time for part of my payment fag" he unzipped his jeans, undid the top button and forced them and his jock (nice surprise there!) down as far as they could go. As I mentioned earlier, they were tight so the motion almost reminded me of trying to pull off a condom from the tip rather than from the bottom. You can picture it now can't you?
I stood still in position until he told me to get down and suck him. I spun 90 degrees while simultaneously bending my knees so that once my turn was finished I was at nearly the correct height. I looked over his cock. He was one hairy man, I'm guessing he must have been mid 30's now that I'd been able to get a good look at his reverse in the mirror. His cock was short but fat. Maybe as thick as a can of Sure deodorant and about 6 inches long and cut. His balls were really small, so maybe that explained his fascination he seemed to have with mine. If his were the size of ping pong balls then mine were tennis balls, just to give you an idea. I opened my mouth as wide as it could go, but still had trouble getting it inside without feeling my teeth scraping against the top and bottom of the shaft. I'm guessing that this problem wasn't new to him as he didn't comment on being able to feel my teeth. I sucked him the best I could and somehow, I don't know how, my mouth seemed to grow slightly as it fought to accommodate this mutant dick. I spent nearly an hour in front of him licking his shaft and listening to his soft moans when I hit the right spot or the right combo. He wasn't really that verbal so I had to listen for the subtle sounds to know when I was doing a good job.
It wasn't much longer before he gave this guttural moan and shouted, "Yes fag, you fucking little homo cunt, take my load you cocksucking whore! Fucking take it!" He slammed his hands onto each side of my head, hard enough to leave my left ear ringing. Holding my head tightly he released a torrent of cum into my mouth. I choked and I gagged, my eyes watered and still he kept hold of my head. Caught by surprise at the sheer volume of this seed, I flailed my arms, trying to push him back even an inch to escape this feeling that I could end up drowning, but he was unrelenting and not caring that I couldn't breathe. He kept his hold of my head until the smallest final drip of cum left his cock.
He stepped back, breathing heavily as he composed himself, I swallowed his load and took several deep breaths, thankful to get my lungs inflated again. "Fuuuuuuuck me faggot. You're good," he eventually wheezed at me. "He said you would be. J-", he stopped immediately and looked at me realising his mistake. It doesn't go unnoticed by me either. "Who? J who? Do you know who's doing this to me?" He scooped up and threw my belongings at me, telling me to get dressed. He was almost as red as a tomato. He'd fucked up and he knew it. As I continued to question and protest, he made a move as if he was going to punch me. As I raised my hands to protect my face, I lost sight of what he was actually doing. Next thing I knew, I felt this almighty pain in my balls, my eyes saw spots, my hands flew down to my metal groin and I collapsed on the floor. He grabbed me by the hair, focing me to look at him, "Shut the fuck up, get dressed and get.. the.. fuck.. out!" he snarled at me.
The pain was severe enough to make me vomit, I collected my stuff on unsteady feet, put it on the best I could and fled the room. I rushed past the guy who had greeted us and got outside into the fresh air where I promptly spewed all over the sidewalk. As I looked through the window into the bright store I saw both of them watching me. The guy was obviously telling the other guy what had happened. They weren't laughing, they looked... concerned. I walked out of sight of the window to wait for HD and 15 minutes later he walked delicately out onto the sidewalk. Looking around, he spotted me and headed for me sidestepping my vomit as he did.
"Yours?" he asked, flicking his head towards the mess behind him
"Yeah." I'll tell you the story another time. I'm not ready to relive it."
"You and me both brother," HD exclaimed, "you and me both!"
We checked with each other and HD told me that he had received the exact same treatment as I had, but he had been fucked by his tormentor and he had released a load up inside of him. He had also confiscated HD's underwear so he could feel the guys load dripping down his thighs.
HD started to cry and flew his arms around me right in the middle of the sidewalk outside of an adult bookstore and toy shop but at this moment, I didn't care what people thought. My friend needed some empathy, "What are we going to do Avery, I can't go back to Catherine looking like this!" His sobbing got more intense but I had no words of wisdom for him, no words of comfort, nothing that could be said would improve our situation. Between sobs I could make out the words 'end it', 'not worth it' and 'should just go.' I wasn't sure if he meant leave the city, the state, or worse but I knew we would only survive this if we stuck together.
I grabbed him by both shoulders and forced him arms length away from me, "Look at me Harry," I told him using his real name for the first time in many years. "Look at me," I told him more sternly. As he did, I took a deep breath and said, "Don't you dare go and do anything stupid man, no matter what happens you will always have me. We are in this together and only together will we survive. Promise me," I shook him slightly, "promise me, you won't do anything reckless!" He looked up at me, stepping towards me without breaking eye contact, his face getting closer and closer, I could feel his breath on my face and smell the brandy. I knew what was going to happen and I let it. I had missed him, I still loved this sorry state of a man, but he'd been mine since we were 17 and I wasn't going to let some anonymous dickhead get in the way of that. Our lips touched for the first time in over a decade, our tongues making their way into each other mouths, spreading out and exploring. I could taste his tears from his lips. My arms wrapped around him in a bear hug embrace as our long overdue kiss continued right here out in the open. It lasted until we heard someone yell, "fucking homos!" We broke off and looked at each other in a way we hadn't done in so long.
Coming back to reality we each said our goodbyes and went back to our offices to try and get some work done. When I got to my private bathroom I had a better look at myself. There was no fucking way I was going to be able to hide this from my wife. I'm not proud to admit it, but I cried again. I cried a lot. Salty tears falling down my face, my eyes were bloodshot and red, ending with me almost hyperventilating as I got myself so worked up. I had stayed strong for HD but now was my time to be vulnerable, I eventually composed myself feeling luckily that it was a light day in court!
That evening I went home, had dinner, helped the girls with their homework, had a glass of wine with the wife whilst avoiding her questions about my lack of conversation, and several whiskeys after she went to bed and slept on the sofa in my home office again.
The following morning I was in my chambers and the telephone went, "Your honour," it was the security desk downstairs, "We have a gentleman here, he doesn't have an appointment or anything. He's cleared security, but wanted to check with you before letting him up." I asked for the name, "Brett McDonald" was the answer. Not recognising the name I asked for a description and as the officer described him I began to tremble. It was my tattooist from yesterday! What the fuck did he want? Knowing that there could be worse repercussions for me if I refused, I told security to escort him up.
Three minutes later I was trying to act as confidently as I could. I had positioned myself on the armchair when there was a knock at the door. Security ushered him inside, looking at me the officer asked, "Should I stick around Judge?" I told him that it would be ok and thanked him for his concern while motioning him towards the door. I closed it and locked it behind him and immediately rushed back behind my desk to ensure there was something between me and this thug in case I needed it. It was only now that I could see his demeanour had completely changed from what I experienced yesterday. He wasn't this cocky, arrogant and abusive cunt that I had just experienced.
"What do you want?" I asked, mustering as much bravado as I could, hoping he wouldn't notice the quiver in my voice. Without raising his eyes he said, "I'm glad your owner..." So he's my fucking owner now, is he? I thought. "...sent you to my studio. I've had alot of slaves come through the doors since we are the only gay operated and BDSM friendly tattoo and piercing studio in the city." he paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "but I fucked up, I almost said his name. He was there, in the middle room and he could see both into your room and the other fags." He was sad, this big burly man's man was on the verge of tears. This was the asshole that had made me throw up yesterday and had provided me with the gut-wrenching pain that rippled through my stomach and ball. The cunt from my memory was no longer mirrored in the man that stood before me. When I didn't reply he continued, "He wasn't happy and so, well," he pulled down his jeans. He wasn't wearing any underwear. I gasped when I saw him, my mouth literally fell open. "What the actual fuck?" were the only words to escape my mouth. He waddled towards me with his jeans around his ankles. He reached out his hand as if to shake mine, I met his hand in utter disbelief. I looked at his cock cage, pink covered metal by the looks of it, no more than an inch long. He was really squeezed into that thing. He had been fully shaved and `003' had been tattooed above his cock in the same heavy gothic style writing the same as mine although his ink was black.
"My name is 003. Pleased to meet you."
AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you to everyone who has got in touch regarding this story. The response has been overwhelming and much more than I expected. Your words of support are very much appreciated. There are plenty more chapters to come. What will become of 003? Will he become a recurring character? What is next for 001 and 002 now that they're branded and will we ever find out who `anonymous' is? All this and more to come as we continue to explore this world of blackmail, dark secrets, corrupt officials and, of course, their victims!