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RICK HOWMAN - PART FOURTEEN
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RICK HOWMAN - PART FOURTEEN
It was some time before Tony wanted to speak again. He sat in his chair, thinking, staring, and breathing in a controlled way so that he eventually calmed. Baby had been waiting so long, his erection had come and faded so many times, he was waiting and waiting; this was his condition, to wait and hope that Tony would touch him, give him some physical attention, and fuck him with his thick veined prize-bull phallus.
He busied himself around the flat, wandering around naked, cleaning and tidying, hoping Tony would eventually come out of his mood and look at him, see his naked available body, want him and use him again.
When Baby eventually realised Tony had indeed started noticing him - Tony had his hand on his junk and fondled himself whilst Baby walked around in the nude like a good house slave - he was careful to avoid reacting but just kept in moving around like an exhibitionist at a slave fair. It felt good to be observed.
Tony's eyes followed him round the room, examining him, watching once again the beautiful muscular development, how his buttocks clenched and dimpled, how his stomach was hard and flat and concave rising to a chest that was unnecessarily developed for a cyclist, his nipples were small and pointed; his dick was swelled but flaccid and his balls hung so low that they looked like two stones in a slingshot and banged pendulously against his superbly enlarged thighs. Tony played with himself, stroking his balls and coddling his heavy meat, increasingly aroused by the beautiful guy parading in front of him. He leaned back his head and started wanking, precum leaking over his knuckles.
Eventuality he smiled, "Yeah, you're my little bitch. When I saw those narrow hardened buttocks and Rick told me you're a keen cyclist - do you work out? Yeah, course you do. You're used to practice - I realised that ring would retain its rigid elasticity despite my monster's repetitive assaults; and your enthusiastic discipline reinforces my confidence. Your unextinguished ability makes me want to go in it again and again. You drain my faucet, honey; you drain my faucet. Carry on. No, carry on, but talk to me, tell me something about something that's happened to you, how you've been of service to other men, how other men have used your body."
Baby thought for a bit, also looking for things to do that would keep him occupied in front of Tony. In the end, just posing for Tony to look at him, he stood still without any ideas, though being stared at by Tony gave him a hardon. "Like what," he said, casting around for ideas, touching himself, "like, 'Hey guess what? Happy Birthday!! Me and some guys gonna give you their load as a present. Where do you want it, round the back? In front? Both?' Me kneeling and they take turns shooting me up?" They laughed. "Yeah, something like that," said Tony with a chuckle. "Like my first experience?" "Your first man - yeah, tell me about that!" "That was in a park. This man I met who talked to me and then he put his hand inside my trousers, he opened my fly, and started playing with me. I suppose I was scared. I didn't know what he would do to me, but I knew I wanted him to do it." "You knew even then." "I was desperate to be felt up by a man." "How did that make you feel?" "Terrified." "Yeah. Not that story. Coming out is boring. Bring it up to date, like how some guy has used you like I use you, taken advantage of your ... particular strengths to get off."
"Oh. Ok. Well ..." Baby thought, "well I was with this guy, once who. He liked to hold my face and spit dribble into my open mouth." "Yeah? Mmmmmmm and you liked that." "It tasted like really sweet and good. It made me feel good Sir because it made me feel safe, like I knew what I was and who I was and so did he. I'd go home with him. In his kitchen it was, he started being like all he wanted to do was tie me up and tape my face. On this chair. Then he just sort of marched around me, slapping me with his hard dick occasionally - which wasn't as huge as yours but it was hard and he loved slapping me in the face with it. Main thing was, it was boring, but eventually it was like I realised it was boring but he was using me, he wasn't bored, and he was using me. "Eventually he told me to stand up, which I just about did despite the ties, and he pushed me over this trestle he had set up, and played with my arse and fucked me for about an hour." "You liked that!" "Yeah. Course. I did actually. He tied my hands behind my back and my legs to the legs of the tressle and fucked me like that. "Did you like that?" "Course. Him too. He was playing with my arse and fucking me ages. Then when he'd done he just left me tied up like that. Gagged with tape." "What did you like about it?" "Well strangely, I was completely flaccid. And he liked that. He liked that I was completely under his control and not just cooperating because it turned me on. And I felt like he was enjoying it and not bothered about my feelings. And I liked that. Cause I knew I was serving a purpose. I like serving a purpose. Although it was a bit odd. And I felt a bit in danger caus I realised stupidly I'd gone with it, letting him do this, without really thinking it through and, was I in danger? So I had to trust he knew what he was doing and not about to, you know, do anything I'd regret. Then he stripped off the tape -" "That hurt." "Fuck yeah. And he rubbed my face and slapped me and he put his hand in my mouth so his fingers agitated me to gag. I had to really relax to let him do that caus it made me want to vomit. But he was all calm and as I looked in his eyes I knew what he wanted me to do, and I thought, I'd better do whatever he wants. So I sucked on his hand so he had nearly his whole fist in my mouth. When I had mastered that and he had me like that for a while I was pretty spaced out. I had been in this like sort of spell and now I was hard as anything though obviously not touching my own, and then he took out his hand and wiped my spit from his fingers like it was my own shit. Then he said, good boy, now bend forward I'm going to hurt you because you need it to be hurt. And I said, yes Sir, and I was really frightened and then he started. He whipped my arse - gently at first and then - so raw so I was crying and he loved that. He touched me where he had hurt me and said does that hurt? Which he knew it did. When I said yes he said good boy, and when he said did I like it? I said yes and he said good boy and stuffed his cock head in my mouth so that I had to choke on it. He loved that, really got off on playing with his cock by rubbing it between my open lips then saying he wanted me to beg for him to cum. 'Beg me to cum.' And as he hurt me I could see he was lost in his own fantasy. The way he stared into my face when I was crying was like he was staring at a glass of water with a goldfish swimming in it. The happiness and excitement in his eyes was like a lad seeing a rainbow for the first time, and I was his rainbow."
"That's gross."
"And when he fucked me he said, let's keep this thing going all night. And he was in me all night. When he cum he stayed plugged in me so it stayed and entered me and I absorbed it. Nothing went to waste. I had it all inside me and I could feel it and he stayed inside and gave me more and more until he was dry. Then he came out and waited while I slept and recovered then he was ready and hard and did it again and again until I was really screaming.
"He said, do you mind that I am exploiting you? I said, No. He said, 'Good, because I have a good time using your body and your mind. You have a good, fuckable body and your mind is like a blank. I can do anything I want and you'll do anything I say. I like that.'
"I liked it too. I liked that he wanted to play with me and mess with my head. He made threats and I'd believe him. He made demands and I'd do whatever it was, because I knew he'd fuck me, and I needed that more than I needed anything.
"And another thing he liked to say was, 'make love to it'. Like, make love to the washing. Make love to the cooking and cleaning. Make love standing there watching him watching tv. Make love to his prick obviously. That was his favourite phrase and it was humiliating to try to be making love to every menial thing I did. But I used to try. He'd punish me if I didn't seem to be."
"How did you do that?"
"I used to talk dirty and say things like, Oh yeah you turn me on. And I'd go like, 'I want to be assfucked. I want your meat. I want your sperm,' while I was doing my chores. He liked that. Like, doing my chores was arousing me. Which it was, because he made it into like everything was to excite him and hard him so he looked at me and I was this fuck toy for him he could use how he wanted, or just use for servant duties if that's what he wanted.
"He used to play with me and when I was hot he had me beg him to do it, like I always believed he wouldn't fill my hole if I didn't absolutely beg and humiliate myself for it first. That's what I don't understand about myself: I used to do things he told me to do as if that was the only way he'd fuck me, as if he was doing me a favour doing it, as if he didn't want to. But he did want to. He wanted to take my hole insatiably. He used to say, 'Come on baby. Come on baby. Spread. Spread for me. Spread those legs,' and I'd lie back on the edge of the bed and lift my feet and grab my thighs and stretch my legs apart, displaying my opening for him to stare into and he'd grab my ankles - guide it in, rest its hot tip on it and press it in and then grab my ankles and hold me apart, breaking his back to fuck it.
"But my first time when I was a true slave, that wasn't it. When I was not just a deep sub, but when I was a true slave with no choices, it was when I had been out with this guy - I called him Master, but he only used to fuck me and I'd blow him off and he liked to eat my hole. I was out with him in a club and this guy started talking to us and he said, Who was Top? and when I said he was, this guy said we both looked sub. So my Master, so called, was humiliated by this and he got angry with me. So I said, So what do you want? and he said, I want you to do it unwillingly."
"I want you to do it unwillingly..." repeated Tony. "Cool. I like that."
"Yeah. Well. That was when it turned me on so much, immediately I wanted it, I wanted him to. I just said, ok, fine, do it. Because, after all, if he wanted it then it was up to him. And immediately I saw someone different emerge from him, a new man I didn't know who just sort of emerged from his imagination where I suppose he had been hidden. I could see immediately he had been like waiting for some permission to be this totally selfish, totally demanding top who never even knew what I wanted because he didn't even think about me wanting anything - except that he did care, I guess, that I wanted to be MADE choice-less. That's what he made me - for a bit. "I mean like I could see that he had been fantasising about it all that time but not to say anything cause he didn't want to drive me away, because he wanted me, but I think he was just waiting cause he could tell, something about me, like I wanted it, but wouldn't cause I didn't know I do. Til then and from then he just went for it like fucking hell and just did exactly what he wanted sometimes without telling me even what to do he would just look at me and I knew what I had to do, whatever it was I least wanted. It drove me wild just thinking of all the things I just imagined it until he looked and I'd just do it even though I didn't want to.'
"You keep saying. But what did he make you do?"
"Basically it was the grind, the relentless list of things so I never got a rest from his demands or time to think, like, what do I want? Mainly I wanted to have some time and a break but, well stuff I now just do naturally, but then I wasn't used to it, serving him, do stuff when I was tired. Being polite when I was grouchy. Making him his dinner. Housework like beds and cleaning. Tidying. Carrying. Washing his stuff. Servant stuff. Cleaning the toilet was a thing he liked to watch me clear a blockage in the bend with my arm you know, right in to shift it. I swear his dumps were monster size and he never flushed. That was my job. He pissed in my face or I had to get a glass and hold it and drink it. I mean ... He was a dirty guy and, also, dirty things he made me do that after I imagined it literally as the most disgusting thing I could think of. Don't ask me how he knew. But literally he never ever asked me what I wanted ever again. It was literally do this no questions. Bend over. Spread now. Give me your hole. Suck my cock. Lick. Tongue my arse. More tongue. Beer. He had a chore list I had to comply with."
"What if you didn't want to or failed some way?" Tony's fat prick got hard.
"That came later. To begin with it was, no choice. No questions. Had to be immediate or he'd say something like, What's this? You slave or aren't you? Then I'd comply even though I was really unhappy to. But as it got more pointless and unsatisfying for me, it stopped being a turn on, and it was tedious, and I was tired and sick of it and bored, morose, that's when it started to make him really interested because he had to use all ways to make it more strict so I couldn't act up. And his favourite was the lockdown: Hold out your arms, which I did, and he ties me in some painful position and leaves, abandons me in my place for however long. So all I can do is think about it which doesn't sound like much but believe me when you've been there and thought. And thought and thought and it's been hours. Or days once. You change. And obviously I used to come out of there in tears and begging him to let me, not even begging, I used to do it immediately. No fucking. I'd do what ever it was. What. Ev. Er. Yeah? And I'd do everything else. Whatever. He loved that. I think he loved having me in total isolation like that, knowing I was basically in panic for ages waiting for him to let me out, breath normally, or whatever it was, not through a tube. It's still there, he'd say, this glass of stale piss or a plate of food he'd puked in or the toilet was full and had to be unblocked by hand. I'd do it. I'd do everything. I just did it even though I didn't want to. Because being without choice was like this side of slavery I never knew before and it wasn't enough just to be fucked. I had to lose every right until I had no rights left to lose and my brain was completely, you know, somehow, blank, yet lucid, wondering constantly what would he want, what does he expect, what demand is next, what's on the list and where do I go from here - all of which he would completely destroy by just changing his mind suddenly and getting angry that I hadn't guessed. But I was kind of in love with it. Though I wouldn't now. Because it meant I was always constantly occupied with serving him." [continued ...]
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END OF RICK HOWMAN - PART FOURTEEN