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Previously:
Then he yanked his big dick from my sloppy hole, wiped it on my boxers and tucked it back into his athletic shorts. I felt empty and wet. As I stood-up he said, "Pull up your pants, bitch. We need to get going." I did, tucking my rock-hard dick back into my boxers and buckling my belt. Then I followed him like a puppy-dog to the front door where he smacked me on the ass and said, "I'm Don. Don't be a stranger". I fled to my car and drove home in silence, my humiliation total and complete.
My Dom Asian Twink - Part 3
The next morning was Saturday and I woke-up in a haze. My sleep had been restless. I was still uncertain how to deal with the events of the previous day. I understood how a sexual assault survivor feels...shocked, dazed and confused. But I also knew I couldn't claim to be a victim. The orgasm I experienced while Boss (the Asian twink) was fucking me in front of an audience at the bathhouse was intense, one of the best orgasms of my life. And after the white nerd used me as a cumdump, I actually went to my car in the parking lot, pulled out my cock, jerked it twice and shot a huge load all over my steering wheel, soiling my slacks and staining the leather in my car. I definitely wasn't a victim...but what was I? And why had I gotten so much pleasure from being dominated so brutally? These thoughts were swirling in my head as I sat on the toilet and began to expel the seed of my assailants from the day before.
I wandered to the kitchen to make breakfast and check my phone. Aside from a few emails and news headlines, I had a text from Boss, my Asian twink. It said, "ur place @ noon 4 quickie b4 I go to work. B ready". My place? How did he know where I live?? But a quick check of my messages revealed he had texted himself my vCard yesterday when he put his contact info into my phone. Cocky SOB. Then I realized that my left hand had moved involuntarily to my crotch. I was rubbing myself. Fuck. I checked the clock....9am. I decided I needed to see him face to face, explain to him that the bathhouse was a 1-off and put an end to this thing. So I made some breakfast and started doing my chores. Around 11 I hopped into the shower and threw-on a pair of loose shorts and a wife-beater, then I sat down to watch some college football.
The bell rang at noon...3 times. He was clearly impatient....good. I intended to make myself clear and send him on his way. I opened the door and he entered without saying a word. I closed the door behind him and turned to face him. He'd already discarded his t-shirt and was dropping his shorts. The intensity and speed of his moves in the bathhouse were one thing, but this was my home. MY home. I opened my mouth to protest when he snapped his fingers...the same snap he'd used to direct the Jewish guy in the bathhouse. His beautiful cock was already at half-mast. But I managed a small grin and stood there with my back to the door, arms folded across my chest, defying him. This asshole was going way too far and I was about to put him in his place. Within seconds, though, everything changed. He moved to me at lightning speed and wrapped his small hand around my cock and balls. As I reached to stop him he squeezed hard and twisted. I let out a painful groan and grasped his forearm, which only caused him to twist harder. I was backed against my front door and he had me by the balls...literally. The pain was intense and I stopped fighting, barely able to catch my breath now. Standing mere inches from me and gripping my balls like a vice, he reached for my shoulder and shoved downward hard. Before I realized it, my ass had slid to the floor with my back to the door, my legs spread and his cock entering my mouth. Tears streamed down my face from the pain but he'd let-go once I was on the ground. In that instant, I realized he had bested me again and just wanted to please him. I began to suck, intending to give him what he wanted so he'd leave. He stared at me while I licked and sucked him, assessing me. His eyes finally flickered as he realized I wasn't going to fight anymore. Then he pinned my head against the door roughly with both hands and began to fuck my throat. It was just like his initial assault in the bathhouse. I fought to relax and breathe, losing the will to resist him. It was brutal, just like last time. He pumped his long, thin cock in and out of my throat for two or three minutes until he announced, "I'm cumming". I never tasted it. He pumped his entire load directly into my stomach. He was leaning against the door for support in the aftermath, his cock still rock-hard in my mouth. He withdrew it slowly and I licked and cleaned him as he did so. He released my head, pulled up his shorts. I thought it was over, so I rolled away from the door onto my knees and began to get up. He kicked me hard on the ass and I fell forward to the floor. The next kick landed strategically in my abdomen. This was followed by a series of kicks to my abs, my ribs and my nuts. There would be bruises, perhaps even a cracked rib. He kicked my head and I felt blood running down my face. I was curled in a fetal position trying to protect myself when it stopped. I heard him walking toward my bedroom as I tried to recover my senses and assess the damage to my body. He was rummaging in my closet for a few seconds before he returned with a couple of neckties. I had one eye closed because of the blood and I was still curled-up on the floor. What was he doing? Why did he have neckties??
I found out quickly. He rolled me over onto my knees and pulled one arm behind my back. "Noooo!" I screamed as I jerked back. But he paid no attention and wrenched my arm up painfully toward the top of my back while smacking me in the head. I howled in pain and he used the opportunity to pull the other arm behind me and secure them with the necktie. Then he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me over the ottoman in my living room. My cries were a mixture of pain and surprise, but mostly despair. My body was on fire....I hurt everywhere. I was disoriented and confused. He kicked me again in the abdomen and went back to the bedroom while I groaned in pain. When he returned, he had a belt. My belt. The one I was wearing with my slacks yesterday at the bathhouse. "No, please stop", I said. He was silent as he yanked my shorts to my knees and rubbed his small, smooth hand over my ass.
"Do you know why I am punishing you?", he said calmly. I knew, of course, and I shook my head in the affirmative as I sobbed. "This is your lesson", he said. "Do not resist me again". I don't remember much after the first blow. I yelped and tried to rise-up off the ottoman. He shoved my head down hard and ordered, "STAY there". Then he beat me with the belt until I was a whimpering, mewling baby. I vaguely remember him tossing the belt on the sofa and leaving, but I have no idea how long it took. I woke up an hour later, hands still tied, ass still exposed, blood caked on the side of my face. I remember thinking this is how battered spouses must feel.
I tried to get loose from the neckties, but I couldn't. My abdomen was throbbing and I had a couple of bruised ribs at minimum, possibly more. I used leverage from the nearby sofa to get to my feet, kicked-off my shorts and stumbled to the bathroom. One look in the floor-length mirror shocked me. Boss had beaten me. Hard. This 130-lb twink had knocked the shit out of me and then whipped my ass until it was raw and whelped. I checked the knots and realized he had tied me tightly....too tightly to escape. I didn't want anyone to see my like this, but I knew I needed some help. I sank to the floor and cried softly for a few minutes. Then I remembered my Google Home devices, placed strategically around the house (including the master bathroom where I lay). I agonized over who to call, but finally said, "OK Google, call Quentin on his mobile". He answered on the 2nd ring, heard the pain in my voice and told me he was on his way. I passed-out again....