DUDE'S GOTTA PAY HIS DEBTS - PART 11
I am 32 years old, British/Australian living in London and working as a high street solicitor. If you'd like to read about my first sexual encounter with a bloke, check it out here: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/dirt-in-the-dunes
This full series, "Dude's gotta pay his debts", can be found on Nifty here: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dudes-gotta-pay-his-debts/
I am 28 years old at the point this story is set.
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At the end of August, not long after Tony left Cerberus to continue his travels, my contract was finally up. My debt to Big Bad Wolf Studios was paid, and my indenture to Cerberus Productions was complete. This dude had finally paid his debts. No one had mentioned anything though, and I wasn't sure what the protocol was.
A couple of days after the contract had expired, I'd just done a nude workout in the Warehouse basement gym. Any performers, escorts and fluffers in redidence were generally expected to be naked at all times inside the Warehouse, unless the Director had other specific requirements for particular occasions or assignments. Even if we left the first floor or basement, the Director was more than happy for any punters who might be passing through to see us nude - it was all marketing, afer all. Only during health and safety or hygiene inspections did we throw on some clothes. So naked workouts were totally normal and the straight, fully-clothed PT was totally desensitised to it. I'd been spotted on my heavy lifts by a new young resident named Maarten. A Dutch lad of 21, he was 6 foot of athletic muscle, fully shaved from head to toe, his scalp covered by a week's black stubble. He had a random collection of tattoos but his left arm sported a full Traditional Japanese sleeve which extended to cover his entire left pec, from which peeked his newly-pierced nipple. His smooth groin sported a chastity cage to protect his fresh Prince Albert. I'd had the pleasure of roughly fucking his mouth and breeding his cunt the day after his Intake Session. We headed off to the showers together - I'd been given instructions to clean his piercings and generally help out with his ablutions.
Today was a warm late summer day, and just as I was turning on the shower taps, Erich padded into the communal shower block wearing tattered cut-off jeans and an oversized sleeveless tshirt with armholes that exposed his pierced nips, barefoot. "Hey Dave, when you're done cleaning off, the Director wants to see you." "Sure Sir, like this or...?" I asked. "As you are mate," Erich laughed, leaving the key to Maarten's cage on the bench by our towels along with the saline and swabs.
I had a good wash, and me and Maarten scrubbed each other's backs. I gave my shaft and balls a going-over with a razor as Maarten shaved his face and body in front of the full-length wall mirror; I joined him, wiped off the steam, and tidied up my throat and neckline. I removed Maarten's cage, cleaned his PA and nipple and did him a solid by shaving his groin, shaft, balls and asscrack for him before I locked him up again. Getting back under the shower, we turned off the hot tap and had a cold drench for a couple of minutes, then dried off and moisturised. I slicked back my damp hair with pomade - at six month's growth, it was now long enough to style in a few different ways, but I generally either wore it as a shaggy mop (it looked good that way during sex) or slicked right back off my forehead. I oiled and brushed my thick, well-shaped beard. I didn't apply deodourant - none of us did unless we were going out. My hunky spotter lotioned my back for me and I returned the favour.
All sorted, I padded naked up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the Director's office door. "Come", spoke the soft, deep Dutch-accented voice of the boss-man. I entered the large, industrial-chic office suite. The Director was lounging in an overstuffed leather armchair, weating a dark suit and white shirt open at the neck, flicking through documents on his iPad. He was a handsome man in his mid-40's, his thick but prematurely silver-grey hair worn long and tied back in a manbun, his moustache and goatee - much darker than his hair, trimmed neatly. I'd never seen him wearing anything less than a suit, so I didn't know what his body looked like, but I could tell he was in good shape. It was never entirely clear what his sexual orientation or interests were, but at least to some degree he enjoyed seeing naked male bodies and must have been pretty familiar with the content of our gay porn output, as well as the straight and bi stuff he produced. Clearly, though he used this as his main office from which to conduct his affairs, his business interests were far wider - and undoubtedly far more illicit - than Cerberus Productions. Wordlessly, he gestured to the matching sofa and I flopped my naked bod down onto it, my arms stretched along its back, legs spread and one bare foot tucked underneath me. My limp pierced cock and heavy smooth balls draped over my hairy inked ankle. The Director smiled appreciatively. "So David, I believe you have completed your contract and your term of service with us. What are your plans?"
"Well Sir, I thought I'd do some more travelling, head down to Sydney for Christmas, something like that. I plan on going back to London early next year and finding a new job."
"Well David, I have a proposition for you which might help with that. We very much like having you around you see, your work for us is highly profitable, you are in demand, and I have to say, you are one of my favourites. Our lawyer Mr De Vries is a consumer of our product, as well as being an admirer of yours, and when he learned you were dual qualified to practice law in both Australia and England, he asked if you might be interested in working for him for a while." My interest piqued, the Director went on. "Here is the proposal. The financial terms will not change. One thousand euros per week, plus tips and discretionary bonuses, plus full bed and board in exchange for performance and escorting. However your availability for filming will reduce somewhat, as you will attend Mr De Vries at his firm Monday to Friday from 08:30 to 17:30. There will be no additional payment, you understand, but you will gain a great deal of valuable experience for a few months, and Mr De Vries will undertake to secure useful introductions to prestigious London firms for you, along with a generous reference. You will be available to the studio and club in the evenings and all day Saturday, with Monday nights and all-day Sunday and Sunday night off. This arrangement is for three months, so you will depart for your travels at the end of November. How does that sound?" I said it sounded great, and I expressed my gratitude. "Excellent David, I will confirm the arrangements. Ah, there are some additional terms I forgot to mention. You will wear a chastity cage at all times when working for Mr De Vries, as I need to ensure you are able to perform for us and I can't risk you having any unprofitable sexual encounters - we all know you have well-developed appetites, and more to the point, we know Mr De Vries all too well and your penis and semen are not part of our understanding with him. He may, if the opportunity arises and he is so inclined, take advantage of your mouth and anus, but you will not ejaculate. Additionally you are not to wear your own underwear to the law office, you will wear a jockstrap that we will provide, and only that jockstrap. Even if Mr De Vries wishes to utilise you, it will not be necessary for you to remove it. It will not be washed, only aired when you disrobe after work. In fact, if you go out on your days off, you will wear it, no other items of underwear will be permitted. Clients will bid generously for such an intimate item with three months of continuous wear from one of our men, especially if it soaks up some... shall we say... atmosphere. I shall of course provide you with suitable attire for the office, which, other than the jockstrap, will be laundered for you weekly."
The next day was a Saturday, and the day's shoot a relatively vanilla straight scene filmed in the sun on a roof terrace. Back at the Warehouse I sunbathed on our own rooftop sundeck for an hour or so, building a nice sweat as the pussy juices baked on my cock, before heading down to my room to rest up for a few hours before a podium show that night. I saw that the previously empty hanging rail in my room now carried three suits, very good quality, all slightly too small for me - though as a result, they did look pretty hot when I wore them. There were five fitted business shirts with French cuffs hanging there as well, two pairs of smart leather shoes which, fortunately, fitted perfectly, and another plastic storage box containing five pairs of socks, a belt, a selection of ties, and a fresh white Bike jockstrap. A small leather pouch in the box contained an antiperspirant spray, a small bottle of cologne, a pair of elegant silver cufflinks with the Cerberus logo discretely stamped on them, and a dozen Cerberus Productions business cards. As I sorted through the other plastic box with my personal gear it it, looking for something, I noticed that my own underwear had been removed. No great loss, to be honest - my two pairs of stained Lonsdale boxer briefs and two pairs of holey Aussiebum briefs were overdue for replacement, but I felt a little twinge of loss just the same, and hoped they hadn't been binned but that someone was enjoying them. Erich later confirmed they'd been sold to the highest bidders online for a tidy little sum and my cut would be added to my next bank deposit.
I was lounging naked in the Common Room watching the TV with a bowl of chicken and pasta the next day (Sunday, my day off) when Erich brought me the fresh contract for signing. When I'd given him back the pen, he rummaged for something in his pocket, crouched down and fastened the plastic chastity cage to my soft cock and balls; it was a roomy one as usual, as the object was restraint not clitification. "Awww dude, really? I don't start work at the office until tomorrow!" Erich just laughed and and said he'd see me in the morning. I was highly conscious of the cage as I sat in a sunny beer garden with some mates later that afternoon in denim cutoffs over my new jock, a surfie vest, flipflops and sunnies.
I rose bright and early on Monday morning, did a heavy push session in the gym with Maarten, had a solid breakfast, and hit the showers. I was granted the keys to remove our cages so we could wash and shave our shafts and balls, but as soon as we were dry and lotioned, we locked each other back up again. I brushed my teeth, shaved my neckline, applied antiperspirant and cologne for the first time in ages, moisturised all over with the Maarten's help, slicked my hair back neatly and oiled and brushed my beard. I decided to keep my earring in - the Dutch are pretty chill with that sort of thing - and returned to my room. Erich was already waiting for me and I handed back the keys to our chastity cages. He unlocked and removed my heavy padlocked choker chain, then handed me my jock, which I splipped on and adjusted the butt straps and the pouch over my cage before dressing in suit and tie and heading out.
And so a new phase of my professional life began. The Law Office of Mr De Vries was small - him, two junior advocaats and a team of staff - but had an excellent reputation and a roster of high-end business and private clients. The team was lovely and provided me with a new social circle for a while. De Vries himself was a nice chap, in his early 60's, balding and somewhat overweight. His consumption of his client's porn was not a matter of general knowledge, especially not to his wife and family, and they certainly didn't know that sometimes he asked me to stay late to suck his 5.5 inch cock or bend over his desk with my trousers around my ankles to take him up my bum. These encounters were usually somewhat furtive, but once he did take me to a meeting and afterwards checked us into a seedy Red Light District hotel for a couple of hours so he could strip me down to my jock and play with me more thoroughly. Fortunately as I was jocked and caged, I didn't need to "perform", let alone cum, but his modest cock was easy to suck, felt nice enough in my bumhole, and he was an enthusiatic rimmer, pit licker, nipple sucker and foot eater.
My porn shoots now took place exclusively on Saturdays. As a result of this shift, for the next six weeks my scenes moved from being almost entirely gay, to being mostly straight or bisexual. In line with that, though I still did some evening podium performances and private shows for a male audience, I found I was booked for the fortnightly Ladies' Nights as well. As I've previously noted, I am a shit dancer and stripper, but women liked seeing a well-formed man getting his cock sucked by a hot chick, eating and fucking her pussy, or even better, getting bound, whipped and firmly pegged by a vinyl-clad dominatrix. My escorting also switched from mostly gay to mostly straight, often women looking for a boyfriend experience, an erotic massage with a happy ending, a BDSM session (sometimes I'd top, other times I'd bottom), a cuckolding session where we'd have sex in front of her husband, or even have him join in to spitroast her. My rigorous training under Erich had taught me how to delay orgasm and fuck for ages, and my G-Spot fingering and clit-licking skills came on a bundle. One well-off female fan, her biological clock ticking, even paid hansomely for me to knock her up. A watertight contract and an extra STI screening later, and I spent a few nights fucking her during her ovulation period until she was happy. I wasn't just a stud, I was a fully-paid up breeding bull! Man, the tip and bonus I got for that job...!
I have to say, my ego skyrocketed during this phase, and I gained quite a bit of swagger. But midway through October, with just another six weeks of my contract to go before I headed off on my travels, everything changed...
At the start of the third week of October, Mr De Vries' secretary led one of his clients into his office, where I was sat to take some notes and advise on a specific question of English trusts law. His name was Pieter, and oh my God, he was a stunna. In his late 30's and around 6'2", broad shouldered and athletic in a slim-fitting suit of expensive cut, he wasn't wearing a tie, instead the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of dark blond chest hair and a fine silver chain from which hung a small cross, nestled in the fur. His thick golden-blond hair was cut in a mid-fade with some length on top, neatly styled with wax. His handsome face and dazzling smile were framed with thick, dark reddish-blond whiskers, not quite a beard but more than stubble, extending down to his Adam's Apple before naturally ending. A single silver stud pierced the tragus of his right ear, and his mesmerising grey-blue eyes captured mine as he shook my hand in a firm grip as Mr De Vries introduced us. "David, good to meet you." His expression changed as he eyed me questioningly. "You look familiar, I feel we have met before, perhaps?" I said I didn't think so, but throughout the meeting I caught him glancing at me curiously. I guessed why he thought he'd seen me before, and where. To test my theory, I casually scratched the inside of my right wrist, causing my shirt cuff to move and briefly expose the triskelion tattoo just slightly up my inner forearm - if he was a fan, he'd be familiar with my ink. I made sure he was looking my way as I did it, and I saw his eyes momentarily widen as his suspicions were confirmed. I caught his gaze briefly, and his lips twitched in a slight smile before we refocused on the matter at hand. I looked over at Mr De Vries - he was smirking knowingly. After the meeting, as I led our client out to the reception, I reached into my jacket pocket and, as I shook his hand, slipped a Cerberus Productions business card in Pieter's palm. He glanced at it and smiled before slipping it into his wallet. "I am sure I will see you again David."
After work that day, I stripped naked as per usual, hung my suit up and dumped my shirt and socks in the laundry basket in the shower block. I went hunting for the fluffers and found one in the Common Room; in Erich's absence, he knew what to do and went to the admin office to recover my choker chain, which he then put around my neck and locked. I stood expectantly, but the twink flopped down on the sofa and resumed his Netflix. "Hey dude, what about my cage?" "Nah mate, the key wasn't in the safe", he shrugged without taking his eyes off the TV. Confused, I checked the roster - I was down for a podium show later that night, a solo with a fuck machine, and my instructions were to douche and wear my jock. Shrugging, I ate a meal before going off to prep. But after the show, and even the next day, no-one unlocked me. I couldn't shave my cock n' balls the next morning, and had to use a hair dryer to make sure my bits were dry before slipping my stained, ripe jock on over my cage and dressing for work. It wasn't until I got home that evening that I found Erich and asked him what was going on.
"You've been booked mate, and the client wants you caged until the appointment." I asked when that would be and when Erich told me it would be in two weeks' time, I moaned. "No more shaving either Dave, let that hair grow back on your junk and just do your neck from now until then." My sex work flipped back to power-bottomming and BDSM stuff where I kept on my trusty jock or had my cage on display, and my Saturday shoots were suspended. Unless I managed a hands-free cum, I was left unrelieved, and the itch of regrowing pubes under my cage was a fuckin' nightmare.
Two weeks later at the start of November, Cerberus had arranged a Friday off work for me, and Erich summoned me to the Intake Room on the first floor. He removed the cage, eliciting a sigh of relief from me, and I was directed to lie on my front on the exam table. The attending twink undraped the instrument table and donned latex gloves, before proceeding to wax my shoulders and back, all the way down to the top of my crack. I was then told to get on all fours so he could wax my crack, asshole and the back of my scrotum. I confess, the feeling of the hot wax on my sensitive zones was nice, and the sting of the strips being ripped off pressed those buttons that ten months of flogging had uncovered - my cock grew hard and leaky. He sprayed my back and bumcrack with cooling antiseptic which he then smoothed over my bare skin with a gloved hand, then I rolled onto my back so the twink could finish stripping the pubes from my scrotum and rigid shaft. I felt his breath on my junk as he leaned in to tweezer the remaining stray hairs, then he applied the soothing spray to my genitals as well.
Then Erich slipped on a pair of black latex gloves himself, and wheeled over a stool as the twink swapped the instrument trays. I lay there obediently as Erich proceeded to pierce my right nipple with a snug titanium barbell to match my nearly-healed left one. "A request from your new client, boi," explained Erich. After he swabbed it, I was told to stand while Erich used the mains-powered trimmer with a guard to clipper my pubic bush nice and tidy, then he had me sit on the edge of the table so he could trim my beard, not taking any length, just eliminating strays and sharpening the line, and removing the guard to scrape the whiskers off my neck. "No need to shave the neck tomorrow Dave, leave it natural". He unlocked my heavy choker chain and replaced it with a leather collar. My dick had drooped to a semi by now, so Erich applied a cold compress until it fully subsided, before re-caging me. "Not much longer now Dave, tomorrow you'll get your fun," Erich wispered into my ear as he wrapped his hot hand around my cage and balls.
On Saturday morning I did a naked full-body workout. My after-gym protein shake and hot breakfast got my guts moving so I did a healthy dump, pleased by how easy it was to wipe my ass clean now that my crack and hole were totally smooth. I cleaned my new piercing with saline solution but didn't shower straight away though, as my filming was suspended and I was free until the evening. I called my folks, read, watched TV, ate, and went up to the rooftop solarium to lie naked but for my collar and cock cage on a lounger and bask in the warm Autumn sun. I showered at about 19:00 and douched well before completing my ablutions.
In the Common Room, I did 20 minutes of pushups and pullups from a bar screwed to the wall to get a nice pump and a light, clean sweat on. Erich wandered in - looking hot in his harness, leather-pouched jock, and knee-high black boots - checked my collar and cage, and fastened padded leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles. He latched my wrists together behind my back and fitted me with a penis gag; the short thick dildo which now filled my mouth had a tube running though it with a hole at each end. Finally, he clipped a leather leash to the steel ring on my collar and led me up the stairs to the hospitality floor and between the tables, attracting a throng of admiring and lustful gazes as I went. I mounted the podium and Erich removed the leash and unclipped my cuffs, stretched my arms and legs wide and reattached the cuffs to a St Andrew's cross, my front against the polished wood and my back to the audience. 30 minutes of flogging with a cat-o-nine tails followed, interrupted only by a good 15 minutes of ass paddling.
Eventually, Erich turned me around on the cross and re-fastened me so I was at last facing the audience, my burning butt pressed up against the wood. Scanning the tables, I saw Pieter on the nearest one and smiled inwardly, fuckin' stoked that he might be my client. He was accompanied by three dark-suited Middle-Eastern men: A pretty young twunky dude in his 20's, a handsome man in his 30's, his head shaved and jaw covered in thick stubble, and a much older grey-haired gentleman, perhaps in his 50's. Erich then made a show of feeling me up all over, squirting baby oil on me and smoothing it all over my flesh until my body hair was slicked down and the stretches of smooth skin gleamed in the podium lights. For the next 45 minutes he flogged my front with a cat-o-nine tails and swatted me with a riding crop, tortured my left nipple (which had now toughened up enough to take it; he left my right one alone), tickled my pits and ribs with his fingers, and held a powerful vibrator to my caged cock. I twisted and writhed, putting on a show, until I finally hung limply, dripping with greasy sweat. Erich unbound me, cuffed my hands behind my back again, and pushed me down to my knees. He attached a tube and funnel to the hole in my dildo gag, unfastened his leather jock pouch and aimed his semi-hard cock; after a few seconds, a powerful stream of hot piss shot down the funnel and straight into my mouth - I managed to swallow it all, only a few trickles running down my beard to my neck and chest. There was applause as he disconnected the funnel, reattached the leash and led me off the podium to a private lounge room. There he removed the gag, fitted me with a leather blindfold, fed me water from a bottle and guided me down to my knees, my hands still cuffed behind me, before patting me affectionately on the head and leaving.
Around 15 minutes later, I heard the door open and felt the space invaded by men. "Gentlemen", said Pieter's smooth, deep Dutch-accented tones, "a little gift to seal our deal. Please enjoy. A request though, please do not touch his right nipple as it has only just been pierced and needs to heal." Two deep voices expressed their thanks and understanding; I heard Pieter's voice, and the mature voice of the older gent, moving back in the room and the creaking of leather as they sat on a sofa, talking quietly to each other as the two younger men moved around me as I rested on my heels. They started to roughly feel me up, messing my thick blond hair, scratching my beard, kneading the muscles of my shoulders and arms, and thumping my sweaty hairy pecs. One reached down to slap my ass and run his fingers up my slippery wet trench, brushing my tight hairless manhole. Their molestation got more aggressive as caresses became slaps, the pec punches and left nipple tugs got harder, and I heard them hawk up just before wads of spit began to rain down on my forehead, hair, beard, back and chest, the fragrance of Arabic tobacco rising from the fluids. Three fingers forced their way into my mouth and levered it open, and a couple more doses of richly-flavoured spit splashed my tongue; I didn't need encouragement to swallow as their firm hands smeared their sputum all over my skin and through my hair. They got bolder and bolder, speaking to each other in Arabic, before I heard the unmistakeable sound of a zipper and a hard tube of warm flesh rubbed through my wet beard and over my dripping lips. I opened my mouth eagerly, to their harsh laughs, and a large cut penis slid down the back of my throat without ceremony, eliciting a short, sharp gag before I got my reflex under control and opened my well-trained throat. He gripped my ears and started a steady, rhythmic, deep throat-fuck, each thrust triggering a wet retch, the outstroke bringing with it a surge of thick saliva which soon ran over my lips, drooled down my bearded chin and dripped to my hairy pecs in stringy ropes. I could tell when they swapped, giving each other equal time with my face, and murmuring to each other in Arabic. When one was fucking my mouth, the other was invariably exploring my body with his hands, and reaching down to spread my ass cheeks and play around in my smooth sweat-slicked crack, tapping a finger teasingly on my moist pucker and making it pulse and flare. His mouth was by my ear as I heard him suck a finger, then I felt that wet digit push insistently through my ring and fuck in and out a bit. He took the finger out of my hole and, as his friend slid out of my mouth, he replaced it with that wet finger, letting me taste his tobacco-flavoured spit and the bitterness of my clean shit chute. I lubricated it, and a second finger, with my mouth before he reached back down and forced them back in my cunt.
After a while I was dragged up by my hair and the two men took turns roughly snogging me, their Middle-Eastern smokers' breath rich and fragrant. I was led across the room and bent over the arm of a leather armchair as a hand planted itself on the back of my head and forced my mouth back onto the cock of the guy who was sitting in it, my skull gripped and moved aggressively up and down. The other dude got behind me and spread my glutes, making appreciative noises and passing comments to his mate and the other two observers in Arabic. He spat on my hole and then I felt rough stubble grind into my taint and anus - I knew then it was the shaven-headed gent in his 30's who was about to have his way with my bum, and the thick cut cock in my mouth belonged to the hot Arab twunk. A strong, thick, slippery tongue began to force through my ring and up into my chute, fucking in and out, before lapping at my trench with long wet strokes and adding more spit. A couple more wads of smoker's sputum and I felt his circumcised knobhead at my hole - I clenched my abs and forced my ringpiece to flare open just as he thrust forward and slid in one smooth movement up into my rectum. I groaned in a mix of discomfort and pleasure around a mouthful of hard penis as he started to fuck me hard, occasionally pulling out to add more spit to his cock and my hole before punching back in. His saliva was mixed with heavy smoker's mucus which he brought up noisily, adding a persistent quality to the natural lube. I hadn't been fucked with just spit for lube in ages, but this guy knew what he was doing; I imagined he cruised for lads on the streets of Riyadh and fucked them in alleyways using his spit on a regular basis.
After a time he withdrew and grabbed my hair, pulling my face off his friend's tool. I was turned around with my back to the chair and the younger man, then guided to sit down on his cock, moaning as he slid past my open fuckhole and up into my guts. The older guy pulled my face down onto his cock, which tasted deliciously of ass, spit and snot. Gripping my hips, the young guy made me ride him hard, the spit lube wearing away and the friction in my cunt rapidly increasing, until suddenly he cried out and my tunnel was re-lubed with a healthy dose of warm Arab DNA. The older guy pulled out of my mouth and dragged me off his mate's cock, and gravity caused some of the seed to spill out of my ass before my sphincter could close, running over his hard member and hairy balls as I stood. I was spun around and bent over, my face pushed into the wet genitals so I could suck and lick them clean, as the older guy urgently shoved his tool hard up my cum-slick manhole. A few more thrusts and he withdrew; I heard the sloppy sound of wet wanking before scum splashed my back and gushed over my open leaking hole; he grunted and gasped before scooping up some slime and fingering it up into my open hole, then sliding his cock back in for a few last, easy thrusts. Withdrawing, he moved in front of me and fed me his thick cock to clean as well.
A broad bare foot was planted on my shoulder; with a hard shove, I was toppled over onto the hard wooden floor, my arms and hands awkwardly under me, before I felt streams of hot piss strike my face, chest and cock cage. I opened my mouth to catch what I could, and relaxed my own bladder so urine gushed out of the vents in my cage and washed down my thighs. The two guys gifted me with a couple more doses of spit before moving away to wipe off and dress. I lay there in a puddle, catching my breath, as they moved from the room (my two tops spitting on me yet again as they walked past). I felt a whiskered, whisky-scented mouth by my ear before Pieter whispered, "That was incredible Dave, catch your breath, I will be back in a little while". Then footsteps moving away, and the door clicked shut.
A few minutes later, someone re-entered the room. The blinfold was slipped off me and I saw it was Erich, accompanied by Maarten, who was fully naked. His hair was now a couple of months in, gelled and mussed, but his face was shaved. His body hair had grown back in but his chest was naturally smooth. His handsome uncut cock sported a fully-healed 6-gauge captive ball ring through its piss-slit. He was luggling a large canvas duffel bag. Erich helped me get to my feet. "Good job boi, I watched all that on camera." Head to toe, I was soaked in piss and standing barefoot in a puddle of it, my wrists still cuffed behind me. Dollops of bubbly, slimy spit were sliding down my skin, and I felt cum trickling down my spine and out of my well-used fuckhole. "We have only 20 minutes before your client returns, so let's get moving Dave". "Do I need to wash or wipe down?" "No boi, he wants you like this."
Erich opened the duffel bag and took out a couple of halo lamps and several cameras and iPhones, which he and Maarten set up on tipods and stands. Maarten went behind the sofa, moved a drape and hauled over a unique piece of furniture, his muscles straining as he positioned it in the middle of the piss puddle. It looked like a 6-foot length of heavy railway sleeper, the wood sanded and polished to a gleaming, smooth finish. It was mounted on solid wrought-iron legs like a bench, and fixed to its upside, evenly spaced, were three fascinating sex toys. I'd seen these before, and one had been used on me during my intake session. They were manufactured by a boutique sex toy company called "Bad Dragon", expertly designed to resemble a bewildering range of animal and fantasy beast appendages. The three dildos were in ascending size from (relatively) small, to medium and intimidatingly large, swirling with vibrant colours. The smallest one was shaped like a tentacle, with a narrow rounded tip expanding through a slight S-bend to a wide base, its surface ridged and one side studded with suckers (positioned away from me to stimulate my prostate). Erich squirted a liberal dose of creamy white cum-lube on it from a large bottle, smeared it over the surface, and indicated I should get on. I straddled the bench, lowered myself until the tip poked inside my slightly-open spit-and-cum-lubed fuckhole, and slowly sat down, moaning as the width grew and the suckers caressed the lining of my chute and then my fucknut, until I was sitting on the bench and my hole was stretched around the toy. Erich squirted a dollop of cum-lube on the heads of the other two dildos and left it to flow down their shafts naturally, then he fastened the key for my chastity cage to the steel ring at the front of my collar, patted my cheek and started moving between the cameras and lamps, activiating them and ensuring they were well-focused on me and capturing me from all angles. I sat and made small motions with my hips to stimulate my guts and p-spot as my toes dabbled in the pool of cool piss beneath me. Maarten moved to stand unobtrusively to one side, while Erich started to film me with a hand-held camera in addition to all of the stationary ones.
The door opened and Pieter strode back in, losening and removing his tie and tossing it on the armchair. He slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over the chair, then undid the top four buttons of his crisp white shirt. Before he walked into shot, he slipped on a leather half hood, concealing his head and most of his face but leaving the lower part of his nose, his mouth and bristly chin exposed. Walking silently over to where I was impaled, he stood in front of me, his suited groin in front of my face, one leg on either side of the heavy wooden bench. He reached down and cradled my face in his hands before he uttered a word. "David, I would like to thank you for the excellent service you provided to my business partners. Hospitality is an important part of doing business in the Middle East, and Arab men do so like slutty European boys. For them, you being caged was an important part of your submission, your concession to their masculinity and cultural superiority." He smiled down at me. "Fuck, Dave, I have been a fan of yours for many months. I have downloaded every one of your scenes - the Director at Cerberus even pointed me towards your work at Big Bad Wolf so I could complete my collection." He laughed happily. "And I paid extra for those special little clips they saved for their premium members. Beautiful stuff, boi, and tonight I am getting my very own scene made to order. By the way, you may be interested to hear I've paid to own you until you leave the studio, and any other performances will be with my permission only, and only if they can accommodate you remaining caged at all times. Oh, and that well-seasoned jockstrap of yours? I've already paid for it." With that, he leaned forward, his chain dangling outside his open shirt, and treated me to a long, slow kiss, nibbling my lips, probing my mouth with his tongue and gently sucking on mine while he stroked my slimy beard. I whimpered with pleasure and moved my hips, rubbing the tentacle against my fucknut, my caged cock oozing slime. Pieter reached down and delicately rubbed his fingers over my cage, gathering a bead of cocksnot from my Prince Albert barbell which he raised to his mouth and savoured with a sigh. He returned to the penetrating kiss, his hands now roaming slowly all over my body, smearing the spit, snot, piss and cum into my skin, body hair and beard, tugging on my left nipple and flicking my freshly-pierced right one. I groaned into his mouth, but he knew what he was doing, teasing me painfully.
Finally, he stood up straight, leaving me yearning for more, and moved his groin towards my face. He unzipped his trousers and, with some difficulty, fished his rock hard cock out of his briefs and through his flies. It was a magnificent, 7.5 inches of thick, elegant meat, smooth skinned, warm and veined, with a gentle curve and a precum-glistening glans half-emerging from an ample foreskin. Manoeuvring his balls out as well, I could tell both shaft and sack were so smooth they must have been waxed - as he had wanted me to be. My mouth watered in anticipation and I opened it, my tongue sliding out welcomingly as I looked up into his eyes. Smiling, Pieter peeled back his foreskin and rubbed his sticky cockhead through my beard, over my lips, and tapped it on my tongue, before placing his hand in my hair and sliding his full length down my well-trained throat. Oh my God, he was delicious. Starting slowly, he soon picked up pace and alternated between pulling my face onto his cock and fucking it in himself. Letting me take over, he slipped off his shirt; Maarten jogged over, bare feet splashing in the piss, to take it off him. Pieter's torso was stunning, a pronounced ilic furrow - revealed as he unbuckled his belt and fully opened the front of his trousers - with a dark blond wedge of trimmed pubes giving way to a treasure trail which narrowed and ran through the central groove of his cut six-pack before fanning out once more across his broad, muscular pecs. Glinting in the lightly-trimmed chest hair was a pair of erect nipples both pierced with snug-fitting silver barbells. His shoulders were broad and rounded, his arms pumped and lightly vascular. He pushed his underwear and trousers halfway down his muscular hairy thighs, before finally withdrawing from my mouth.
Stepping away from the bench, Pieter said "dismount boi, and re-mount yourself on the second penis." The next one was a beast's cock, a fantasy blend of canine and equine features, wierdly curved and bulging in unusual places. Its surface was littered with studs and ridges, and just beneath its oddly-rounded glans was a customisation: a band of short, soft horsehair bristles. I eased myself off the tentacle, shuffled forward and lowered myself carefully until the bulbous head nudged into my hole. The feeling of the ring of bristles brushing my anus was exquisite, and I moved up and down slightly to maximise it for a few seconds before lowering down and taking the animalistic dong deep into my guts with a moan of pleasure; my cunt finally accepted the the canine knot at its base, locking it in place. Meanwhile, Pieter had fully undressed and wandered back over to me, heedless of the wetness under his nicely-formed bare feet. He straddled the bench behind me, and I heard him grunt as he impaled himself on the tentacle dong, warm and wet from my cunt. He wrapped his arms around me, pulled my back into his chest, grabbed my cock cage hard and forced me to start riding the dildo, faster and faster, ripples of pleasure washing through me as I first disengaged from the knot and then savoured all of the other bulges, studs, ridges and bristles. After a time he pushed me off that toy as he stood up himself. "Now, turn and face me as you take the last one, boi." I did as I was told. The last dildo was a large, alien fusion of dragon, sea-beast and biomechanical design, with an inhumanly-flared head and a series of fins and tiny rubber studs and spikes running down the shaft. Unquestioningly, I mounted it as Pieter stepped forward and took the middle dildo into his wet manhole; gripping me under my shackled arms, he kissed me deeply and sucked my tits as he forced me to ride the dong in time with his own bouncing movements.
When we were both panting and slick with sweat, Pieter's cock slapping his abs and sending flicks of cocksnot over my belly, pubes and cage, he stood and turned around, bent at the waist, spread his hard glutes and exposed his gaping hairless manhole and the silver ring of a guiche piercing through the skin of his smooth, slick perineum. Growling in lust, I leaned forward as I rode the monstrous dildo, flicked his guiche ring with my tongue and tugged it gently with my teeth while Pieter moaned words of encouragement, then I began to hungrily lick and probe his open wet anus, burying my beard in his waxed trench. When he couldn't stand it anymore, Pieter dragged me off the alien dong and over to the large leather Chesterfield sofa. He forced me to sit, my arms trapped behind me, and dragged me down by my thighs until I was slouched. He grabbed my ankles and lifted my legs before guiding his beautiful cock into my gaping sloppy cunt and immediately commencing an aggressive, piledriving fuck, pummeling my insides without mercy as I moaned and drooled, my prostate singing with each stroke as he treated my cage and balls to occasional firm slaps. After a good ten minutes he stoppped and slipped out, reached down, disconnected the key from my collar ring and unlocked my chastity cage. I sighed as I was released; Pieter flipped me over and recommenced ploughing me doggie-style. My cock was soon fully erect and slapped against my abs with each stroke. I gasped in surprise as Maarten kneeled next to me, gripped my cock with a lubed fist and started to stroke it with firm corkscrewing motions. In a few moments I came, screaming with pleasure, and my spurts of thick hot seed were directed into a plastic jug Maarten held under my groin. A few seconds later, Pieter cried out, gripped my hips and slammed his groin into my glutes as he unloaded deep inside me.
He grabbed my wrist cuffs and dragged me off the sofa into a squat, while Maarten got the jug underneath my butt. As I cleaned Pieter's softening cock with my mouth, he said "push it all out boi, all of it", and I farted squirts of semen and lube from my anus into the jug until there was nothing more to give. Erich and Maarten stood before me, their own rock-hard pierced cocks in my face, and I serviced them with my mouth for over ten minutes before they put the jug of cum on a coffee table and stood around it, wanking until, one after the other, they shot their own copious loads into it, ensuring to shake off all of the last drips. Maarten reattached my dildo gag and the funnel attachment, then slowly and deliberately poured the jug of loads down the funnel and into my mouth; I swallowed it all down happily. "Good boi David, good boi". Pieter then washed it down with a stream of his piss before Erich and Maarten did the same. When he was done, Maarten held my soft penis so I could piss into the jug, which he then poured down the funnel and into my swollen tummy. I drank it all, with minimum spillage, before Pieter gently bent me back over the sofa, spread my ass and soothed and ate my pussy with his lips and tongue for ages before forcing a large plug up inside me.
Finished, Pieter sauntered naked and sweaty over to Erich who showed him some clips and stills on an iPad; he nodded approvingly. Maarten provided him with wetwipes and helped him to clean off before he got dressed, as Erich disconnected my funnel and reattached my cock cage and leash. Pieter kissed me on the cheek as he left - "We are going to have such fun, boi" - and Erich led me back out through the still-crowded clubroom (leaving Maarten to pack up before the cleaners came in), down the stairs to the ground floor. However, instead of taking me to my room, he stopped at the Gimp Room, which had not been occupied the whole time I'd been in residence. He led me inside - it was small, dimly-lit by a red bulb and lined with lockers containing equipment - there was a steel puppy cage on the floor. Erich manoeuvred me inside it so I was lying on my side with my back to him. He connected my ankle cuffs together, then tied the wrists and ankle cuffs with a rope, hogtying me. Ass and mouth plugged, my wet dripping body tied, cock caged, belly full of piss and cum, Erich wished me a good night, told me to piss myself if I had to, switched off the light and shut the door.
A month of this, I thought to myself, unsure if that was a good or bad thing, as I released my bladder, luxuriating in the relief and the wet warmth, and drifted off into unconsciousness.
TO BE CONTINUED.........