Side Bets

Side Bets: Chapter Seven

mm, bd, sm, hm

Sunday: Awards Show and After-party

I practically ran to the awards table. Bryce was running the numbers on his spreadsheet.

"What's my standing?" I asked.

Bryce said, "We still have a few games finishing."

"Yeah, but you can tell me my score, right?"

He shook his head. "You'll just have to wait for the awards."

I sat despondently in a chair. I started to sip some Pepsi, but then I wondered how many ounces were left in it. I cast it aside, and it rolled under a table.

The last few games finished. Bryce had to go stop some of them. People began to wander back onto the floor. Some of them brought dinner. I wasn't hungry. I suspected I might soon have plenty to eat anyway.

The Praetorians gathered around me. Larry put his hand on his shoulder. Tim smirked. Chris hovered really close but didn't want to look it.

Larry said, "Don't go anywhere. I want to watch your face. Loser."

He and Tim high-fived. Chris took that moment to pat my ass.

Bryce got up on a chair.

There were a lot of bullshit awards. Best sport. Best painted. Best Rokkit Goblin! Best Space Crusader. My ears perked up for that one. But I didn't win. Then he announced the top three. Eric took third place. Larry took second. Someone else took first. Milt Roland, I think. He always won these things.

Then Bryce said, "If you want to know your exact standings we should have them posted in a second.

I waited awkwardly.

"Enjoy your last few moments of freedom, before you become our bitch," said Larry.

One of the teenaged Games MegaShop minions took 4 printouts to the wall and tacked them up. The Praetorians formed a wedge around me and pushed me up to the wall. I had to wait for other players to find their scores before I could get close enough to look. I scanned down the list.

I had 59 points total.

Number 10 had sixty.

I had failed to break the top ten by one fucking point!

"Party time," hissed Larry,

The Praetorians cheered. Hands slapped my back as if in congratulations. Chris and Larry took my by each arm and marched me away. The press of Praetorians disguised the action from the other attendees. Larry smiled and waved to a few people.

They all crowded me into the elevator. Tim pushed the button for floor twelve. Up we went.

"Not so smart now, are you?" asked Larry.

I was pretty sure that pleading would get me nowhere. I tried anyway. "Come on," I said. "We don't really have to do this. If you wanted to humiliate me. Fine. I learned my lesson, but God, not in front of other people."

Larry scowled. "I might have considered that. Before what you did to Andrew."

I looked around at other faces, like Chris. "I could do you all in private. However much you like. Just the Praetorians."

"No dice," said Larry. "You're fucked."

Several of them laughed.

The elevator dinged and we exited onto twelve. Most of the Praetorians headed down the hall towards the suite, which I knew was in 1245.

"See you later," Larry called.

I was left with Larry and Chris,holding my arms, and Tim who seemed to be some sort of lookout/scout.

They frog-marched me the other way, towards the low numbers. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Shut up," said Larry. "You lost your right to ask any questions about ten minutes ago."

We stopped in front of 1212.

Chris let go of me and slid his card into the door. Tim handed him a big black bag. "He needs to make his debut at about 8:00," he said. "Can you handle it?"

"Unless he runs," said Chris.

Larry grunted. "I don't think he's gonna run. He wouldn't have done all he did, if he was. No, he wants to keep his secret. And his livelihood." He leaned in close to my ear. I felt his stubble on my ear. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," I said.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... sir?"

"That's good." Larry cupped my ass and squeezed. "He knows his place."

I thought, at least he doesn't want me to call him: "Yes sir, Mr. Knight Commander." Cuz that would be fucked up.

He must have seen me grin. "There is nothing funny about this," Larry said.

"Maybe he just enjoys it," said Tim.

Chris held open the door. "Can we get started?"

Larry shoved me through the doorway.

Chris closed it behind us and locked the deadbolt and chain. If I did make a break for it, those impediments would slow me down. He flipped on the light and crossed over to the bed. He plopped down the bag on one of the two beds and unzipped it. He rummaged around inside. I saw the shine of polished metal.

"Now what?" I asked.

Chris said, "First we shut you the hell up. You think you're too clever. Ah!" he exclaimed. He came back up with a sort of metal ring, about 3" in diameter, with some leather straps hanging off. "Hold still," he said.

"What is that thing?" I asked.

Chris ignored me. He circled around beside and slightly behind me. He stretched the device out, held it to my face, and adjusted two of the buckles on it. I realized what it was – a gag! But why did it have that ring? Where did it ...?

Oh, shit.

Chris reached around my head. "Open!" He jammed the ring into my mouth, and pulled the straps tight around the back of my head. His prizing fingers parted my jaws, jamming the ring into place so that it forced my mouth into an open O.

"H! nnng! H! nnng!" I said.

"Hold the fuck still," Chris said. "Jesus! Some people."

He tightened the buckles behind my head. My hair caught in them, and he pulled it out from behind. He turned around to look at my face, inspecting. I felt myself beginning to drool. With my mouth open, I couldn't stop it. He grabbed my face and turned it from one side then the other, inspecting.

"Shit!" he said. "That's so hot. Let's try it out." He slid a finger through the ring into my mouth. I pushed against it with my tongue but was basically helpless as he felt around the inside.. He pushed in a second finger, and a third. The ring was wide enough to inhibit him only minimally. He rolled his fingers and let me lick them for a moment. My lips struggled to close on them. Mostly I just let out more drool.

He stepped back. "That will do." He eyed me warily as he turned back towards the bag. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if he was afraid I'd attack him. I just stood there. I knew I'd forfeited that option a long time ago. Chris came out of the bag with another black leather object. He set it on the bed. He drew out two more. They looked like nothing so much as short black belts, each with various hoops hanging off them. The last thing he set down was a carabineer, like you use in rock climbing.

He said, "Stretch out your wrists." He came up to me. He took my hand like someone about to propose and laid the first band against it. He tightened the buckle. It was a cuff, of course. Then he did the same to my left hand.

"Put them behind you," he commanded.

I did, folding my hands into the small of my back. He took the carabineer and locked the leather cuffs together. Reflexively, I pulled against them. I strained but I couldn't get them loose. It seemed to turn Chris on. He sort of started to tremble. What a repressed gay-boy – and I was in a position to know, now.

He reached up to my neck, running his fingers along my clavicles. He said, "I've wanted this for a long time, Ben. The Praetorians gave it to me. They gave me your body."

What was I supposed to say? That this fucked up shit was romantic or something?

"Mmmph!" I drooled.

He gripped my shirt collar with both fists and pulled. It tore, revealing my neck and upper chest. Chris continued massaging them. Then he pulled the third belt-thing from the bed. A collar. "Bend your head," he said.

I did. He fastened the collar around my neck. The two little hoops on it jangled as I raised my head back up, staring ahead, like I was at attention. Drool pooled on my lower lip and began to drip down my chest to soak my ruined shirt.

Chris stripped me slowly. He pulled a set of shears from the bag. He partly ripped, partly cut, the rest of my shirt away from me. He tore it to the navel, and ran his hands up over my chest, then down my arms. I was straining against the cuffs now, bulging more than I usually would. He seemed to enjoy feeling me, and he pushed the remnants of the shirt down my arms to my wrists. There, he used the scissors to cut away the remaining rags, and cast them aside. His hands played all up and down my chest. I groaned.

Chris kissed my sternum and worked his way down to my navel, till he was on his knees. He sat back on his haunches and reached for my belt. He ran his fingertips under my waistband and against my straining crotch. I jerked and shuddered at his touch.

Slowly, he undid my belt. He looked up at me with huge dark eyes, a look of total lust on his face. Then he pulled my belt slowly out of its loops, and cast it aside. He tongued my zipper, up and down.

He reached up and undid my fly, which took him more than one try. Then he undid my zipper and slid my pants down my legs. His hands left the punches of cloth where they were. He explored my thighs and my calves, before proceeding back up to the waistband of my shorts. He started at them for a moment. Then he apparently thought the better of his plan. Instead of pulling them or reaching in the fly, he took the shears and clipped along the line of my left thigh. The sundered shorts fell apart. My cock popped out and up, while the remaining shorts leg slithered down my leg to join the rest of my garments in a pool around my ankles.

Chris breathed as he saw me in my erect glory. (Such as it was.) He reached out for my cock, running his fingers over the shaft and head and gently touching my balls as they dangled. I moaned. He leaned in and gave the head of my cock a quick suck, just on the head. He looked up at me and flushed.

Embarrassed now, he took the shears and went to work on the jeans around my ankles. He cut and pulled, eventually severing the denim from one leg. He pulled the shoes from my feet, and slipped the pants away. I stood there, completely naked, very erect, and pretty much helpless. I suppose I could have kicked him in the head, but then I would have fallen over.

Chris stood up. Once again, he circled me, running his hand over my body. One hand found my ass and massaged it. His fingertip rubbed at my hole.

"Oh," he said. "I think you'll do well."

"Uk ff, ggt!" I managed through the ring. My spit flew. Chris pushed the gag farther into place. With the same finger he'd used on my ass, I thought resentfully.

Chris went back to the bed. He looked at his watch. "Damn," he said. "I wish we had more time. Some of the things I want to do – I don't want to do them in front of the others. Maybe we will have time later." He sounded disappointed. He rummaged around pulled two new objects. One was a long shiny chain. The other looked like those masks the Lone Ranger used to wear. Only without eyeholes.

He stepped up to me and clipped the chain lead to my collar. Then he reached up, like a girl about to kiss her taller man, and fastened the mask to my face. It had long-haired felt on the inside which completely blocked out the light. Everything went really dark.

I felt Chris 'grip tighten on the chain. He gave it a yank. With my bad balance from my hands tied behind me, I stumbled forward. "Ah, yes," he said. "That's the stuff. That's power. I've got you now, dog boy." He reached down and fisted my cock for a few strokes. I was so hard and hot, that I threw back my head at the sudden touch.

Chris pulled something over the base of my dick, and with a jerk, tightened it. A cock-ring. It held me erect and painfully engorged.

I groaned and struggled against it, wanted to come.

Chris laughed at me. He slapped my ass.

I heard him pick up the bag from the bed.

Then he jerked on the chain, and led me stumbling forward. He gripped the lead only a foot or so from my neck, so that at every other step I almost fell against his back. My cock bounced up and down. I felt like a sacrificial animal, trussed for sacrifice. I heard the lock clicking, and then the door opened to a cool breeze from the hall.

As Chris led me over the threshold, I head clapping and laughing.

He dragged me down the hall. It must have been lined with people. I felt hands touching me, gripping me, slapping me. Some dragged gently across my skin, like a woman touching the hem of some saviors' garment. Others groped so hard that I almost fell. Slaps and pinches and pulls, and once, a kiss that turned me around and thrust a tongue down my throat.

"Not now," I heard Chris admonish. "We get him first." He dragged me the rest of the way through the gauntlet, till we arrived. I guessed at 1245. I already felt more abused than I had in my life. The flush of my shame lit up my whole face and chest. I felt it radiating.

"Here we are," said Chris. He stood me upright. Some hand or another jerked my dick.

He knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Larry.

"It's the Loser," Chris said. "I brought him."

The door opened in front of me, letting out a wave of music and heat and laughter. Chris put his hand between my shoulders and shoved me forward. The carpet changed to tile under my bare feet, and the temperature rose from the hall. Someone pulled the chain and led me forward. Hands reached up and removed my blindfold.

I blinked and looked around.

I stood in the entrance way of a suite. Immediately behind me lay the sort of standard hotel antechamber with a bathroom on one side and closet alcove on the other. The open door blew cold air that chilled my buttocks and back. Outside, curious gamers peered into after me and at me. Tim was holding my chain, and right in front of me was some kind of kitchen island. The room opened in an L from there. I saw three bedrooms, all crowded with different spectators. Someone had set up a keg and a snack bar in the side area. The crowd held beers or colas or even a glass or two of wine. I recognized faces from the Con – mostly men, but some women, too. Bryce was there, with both teenaged Games MegaShop Minions. They looked pretty sloshed.

Directly forward, there was a room full of couches and a TV. Someone had thrown a few cushions on the floor and pushed the coffee table. The remaining Praetorians stood there: Larry, Paul, Greg, Erik, Don, and Matt, plus several other guys I'd only seen on their site.

Chris plopped the bag down on the kitchen island.

Tim yanked me forward.

"May I present, Ben Manser, the Loser! " Larry announced in his best announcement voice. "He's here to show us what it means to challenge the Praetorians!"

Tim motioned to Chris, and Chris undid my wrists from behind me. He gave me a shove on the shoulders, and I leaned forward, bracing myself on the counter with my outstretched arms.

"Do you have anything to say, Loser?" Larry asked.

"Mmm! Fhk oo, Lrry!" I declared.

Tim handed the lead back to Chris. Then he removed a whip-looking thing from the bed. It had multiple tails of leather. He pulled the wrist strap on and gave it a few exploratory whacks against the side of the counter.

"Mmmmgh!" I protested.

"Let the punishment begin!" declared Larry.

Tim took up position behind me and gave me a crack on my ass. I jumped at the sting. He beat it again. Not as hard, but over and over. He worked the whip up my now-exposed spine and to the side so that the ends of the flog caught my nipples. Every time I even thought about moving or adjusting, Chris seemed to be able to tell, and he gave a short yank on the chain to remind me. Tim began to work on my ass, flogging it up and down, over the thighs, and then back up. Sometimes he would smack my balls and my poor constricted cock.

"Who are the Winners?" Larry asked.

"Ffk uu, Lrry!"

Tim whipped me again, at maximum velocity and extension. My battered ass-cheeks flinched so hard I almost fell over against the island.

"Hhe Prrtrrnns!" I shouted into the gag.

Tim cracked the flogger again.

"Who?" asked Larry."

"Hhe Prrtrrnns!"

Crack.

"Louder."

"THHH PRRTRRNS!" I shouted. My spittle sprayed across the counter top.

People laughed and clapped.

Larry shook his head as if in disappointment. "I still can't hear you. I guess you'll have to show me," he said. "Bring him over here." Chris yanked the chain so I stood up. He led me by the chain over to where the Praetorians stood. My legs trembled. I tried not to look at their eyes as each one started at me in contempt, or greed, or maybe lust. There were about ten of them. Chris fastened my hands behind me again, then shoved me to my knees on the cushion.

Larry said, "Mindy? Have you got the camera." Mindy emerged from beside one of the bedrooms. I'd not seen her there. She held a cell phone. "Sure do," she said.

Larry looked down at me. "I just want you to know that, if you're very, very good, these pics will only go into the members' area. Otherwise, they go onto the main page."

"Ready?" asked Larry.

Chris handed the chain to someone in the crowd. Then he and Tim took their places in the circle. The Praetorians undid their flies. Don and Matt and Larry let the pants drop. The others only pushed down to their knees or brought their cocks out of their flies. They closed in.

"Me first, Larry declared." He Larry took my head and speared his cock into my mouth. The ring offered no resistance as he banged in and jammed the head against my throat. His cock seemed fat and hairy, an impression that was confirmed when he pulled it out in a shower of drool. Matt (I remembered Matt from my ass) shoved in. Others beat in my face or stepped back and stroked.

"Group shot," Larry declared. He pulled my head to face the grinning Mindy. "Say cheese,' she declared."

"Say `cum!'" Someone else suggested.

"Cum!" the crowd shouted.

The Praetorians all leaned in, so that at least ten cocks hovered erectly in front of my face." Mindy clicked the camera, which flashed. She circled around, bending down to catch me and their crotches from every possible angle but leaving out their faces.

"I think that's good," said Mindy.

They took a step back.

"Individual shots," Tim suggested. "Larry first, since this is his show."

One by one they stepped up to my face. On my knees, with my hands tied, and the ring gag holding open my mouth, I could do nothing. One by one they thrust their cock into my mouth, and Mindy knelt down to take a picture of my burning face and humiliated eyes from every angle. With the shaft in, pubes in my face. With the head on my lips. Slapping my face. Periodic shots of my rock hot cock, dangling over the cushions. I learned each cock intimately.

Larry was thick and hairy. Greg was thick and long. Chris smooth and plump. Don long and thin. Paul and Matt perfectly proportioned. Erik stout but so thick he would barely fit through the ring.

I gagged and I choked, and the flash of Mindy's phone lit my red, flushed face from over and over.

At last, they finished. Chris handed me a bottle of water, tiled my head back and poured it down my throat. I almost gagged on the ice cold flow. "Swallow," he said. "You're losing fluid."

Larry laughed. "He'll get plenty. Praetorians, if you want his mouth, now's your first go. Then we take him into the party room for his ass."

Most of them stepped back, wandering for drinks or sitting on the sofas arranged around the room. Larry remained there, as did two young Praetorians whose names I did not know. Larry put his big hand on top of my head.

He said, "I told you I'd fuck you up." He leveled his cock at my face. With his grip on my head and my hands tied, there wasn't anything I could do as he speared his hairy dick through the ring gag into my mouth. He didn't, in fact, seem interested in having me participate in any way, except as a kind of human knot-hole. Larry's buttocks and thighs pumped away, and his head and shaft jammed along my tongue into my throat. I gagged a bit, and he just laughed, holding himself at full extension in my throat. I struggled to breathe as he held my nose shut, and then he pulled out and let me pant and choke around his cock-head.

He kept going, harder and harder, as if the speed and force were a test of his manhood. Only every once in a while would he pause, to leave his dickhead on my tongue or to slap my face. On those few occasions, I tried to remind him I was still alive by using my tongue and lips as best I could.

Despite his evident desire to humiliate and hurt me, I found myself turned on by his rough face-fucking. My cock jumped and shuddered, and my chest tensed and released.

Larry noticed. He grabbed my cock hard in his fist. "What a slut," he declared. He gave me a twist and a pull that had me rising on my knees so that he didn't break something. Then he let me fall, pumped three long, deep strokes, and pulled his cock out of my mouth. He was already coming as he did. Splashes landed on my tongue, my lips, my face, my hair. He pumped his cock in one fist, as his old man nuts, drew tight and he shot over and over. Then he pushed me on the forehead so that I fell over onto the cushions onto my back.

"All yours," he told the other two.

They stepped up. One had a short beard but no moustache, like some kind of nerd Amish. The other --- shit I can't remember anything about him now except his thick cock and rounded calves. The one with the calves pulled me back up halfway towards sitting. He pushed me against his legs and jammed my mouth down onto his cock. I drooled all over his balls as my face rested against his belly and he pumped my face in short motions. He must have been really turned on, because it didn't take him any time at all to shoot down my throat.

His taste, I suppose. That's another thing I remember. If he fed me cum again, I think I might recognize him.

The bearded boy took his time. He settled me back on my knees and grinned down on me benevolently as he ran his cock slowly over my lips and tongue. He let me flick him a bit with my tip, and to circle him when he thrust it. When his cock began to jump and cum, he lifted it high above me and tilted my head back. He pulled his cock into the air so that it shot up in a long arc and splattered on my face. For his second spasm a long, thick line of cum drooled out of his slit. He let it dangle and gain in weight, before shaking it into my mouth. For his third spurt, he aimed the dickhead, and let a little blast plaster my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored his taste on my tongue.

Yeah, I was that far gone.

Larry hauled me to my feet with his muscled arms. "Time for bed, slut boy. This just beginning."

"Uuhn, phlls," I said as cum and spit drooled from my mouth and onto the cushions and carpet.

Larry half dragged, half carried me into one of the bedrooms. The Praetorians had pushed two King beds together into one huge mattress and stripped away all the sheets. The pillows lay stacked to one side for easy access. I saw a crowd had already gathered around the makeshift stage. Larry hauled me onto the bed. He slapped my ass, and I crawled to the approximate center.

Two Praetorians (I assume, since I couldn't see them) unlatched and stretched out my arms. They attached leads from one wrist to the headboard, and another to the foot, so that I was pulled in a loose T on my back, sideways across the bed, facing the door. People crowded it, looking in and waving wine and beer.

"I hope you're ready," said Larry.

"I hope he's not!" someone shouted.

There was clapping.

The crowed parted as Andrew shouldered his way in. He had the most wicked grin on his boyish face as he reached up to flick his long hair out of his eyes.

"Remember me?" he asked.

I remembered his huge cock. Oh shit, I thought. Oh, no! Another part of me, though, thought, oh yes! I think, by now, that part was in charge.

Andrew stood provocatively in front of the bed, looking down at me. He shucked his pants over his bare feet. His monster cock was already half hard and he began to stroke it into full rigidity. He left on his shirt above his huge sausage and thin, muscled legs.. For some reason, that turned me on even more. Someone handed him a tube of lube, and he used to it to slick himself up

I moaned.

Andrew said, "Pull that gag out. I want to hear him to be able to talk."

Hands undid the gag.

I panted and worked my mouth, trying to bring life back into my numbed face.

Andrew got up onto the bed. He lifted my legs over his shoulders and then inched forward till his knees were resting against my buttocks. He took his cock in hand and began to rub it up and down my ass.

"What do you say now, Mr. Marner?" he asked.

"Oh, god, Andrew," I said. "Please."

He cocked his head. "Please what?" Please no?"

I shook my head vigorously, "Please fuck me!" I said.

He said, "Your wish," and drove his huge cock into my spasming hole.

I screamed in pain and lust. Shit! It was so big! Was it tearing me up?

Andrew left it there for a long minute. I think he was enjoying the frantic spasms of my abused ass. My buttocks clenched and gripped, trying to push out the intruder. After a few failures, they began to calm down, and a warm feeling of fullness filled my ass. My cock, which had gone flaccid, returned to life.

Andrew began to fuck me slowly. The trick with a male orgasm is to reach the very edge, then back off, gaining just enough time to calm down for the next round. If you did this right (when masturbating to porn, say) any man could keep it up for minutes or hours, until finally his self-control broke and he pursued his pleasure over the edge into cumming. Andrew was obviously determined to make this last. For both of us. He made long strokes, then faster ones, rubbing his cock-head ecstatically against my guts and giving a little wiggle as he groaned. Then his moaning would reach a shudder, filled with small noises. I felt his pleasure though our connected bodies, and I began to arc my back and cock. He reached out, stroked me, once, twice.

"Ohhh, shit," I moaned.

And then he let his hand fall, and pulled his monster back into a resting position just inside my hole, as I shuddered, clenched, and, ultimately, fell short of cumming. (If I even could with that ring on me.) As I gave my last few spasms, he would ride it. I felt his head flaring, before he reestablished control. A rhythm. Once he had knelt there long enough to calm down, panting, looking down at me in cruel ownership, he would begin again.

He did this over and over.

As he fucked me, he demanded I speak.

"Call me sir," he ordered.

"Oh, shit, sir!" I exclaimed.\

"Mr. Flemming," he demanded.

"Mr. Flemming, sir!" I moaned. "Oh, Andrew sir. Oh shit, fuck me!"

He kept doing just that.

In a long beat between fucking sessions, he asked. "What should I call you?"

"Oh, God," I said as my ass flexed against the sudden emptiness. "Whatever you want, sir! Ben, slut, Loser, hole, anything! Just fuck me."

He looked down at me gravely, "I think I will keep calling you Mr. Marner, Ben. Slut. Hole. After all, that's what you wanted me to call you."

He began another round of fucking, and I threw back my head, beyond words.

Like I said, though, no male, however determined, can keep the tease up on himself forever. As Andrew thrust in for what seemed like the fifth or sixth session, I felt his cock swell and pulse, larger than any time before.

"Oh, shit! I'm coming!" He let loose in my guts, with a load that had been building and boiling in his monster nuts for what must have been an hour or more. It poured out in me, and as he withdrew, it ran and pooled around my sucking, pulsing, asslips and soaked the bedcovers. Andrew pulled back, still stroking lazily. Cum coated his cock.

I still hadn't orgasmed, and as I got back off the bed, I felt it slipping away.

"Oh god, Andrew," I said. "Please let me cum."

He gestured to the room full of people. "You've got lots of work to do yet, Mr. Marner. Just be thankful I lubed you up."

He crossed to the other side of the bed and stuck his crummy cock into my mouth. "Lick!" he commanded.

I was so far gone I did. And greedily too. I ignored the taste of myself on him, feasting instead on his semen.

Andrew touched my head. "I may be back later. Depends."

Someone threw him his jeans to put back on.

I was distracted from watching him by the feel of someone else mounting the bed. It was Tim, one of only a few remaining Praetorians who hadn't yet used some hole of mine or another. He had his pants off and was already lifting my leg and rubbing my asshole with his cock. I had no chance to properly gain sight of him before he forced his way in.

Someone else -- no, many someones -- had crawled on the bed. Hands shoved a bolster under my head, and yanked my face sidewise. A cock jammed into my mouth. I looked up. It was Chuck.

"Hey, partner," he said. "It's good to be an honorary Praetorian. I owe it all to you."

He began to fuck my mouth. I licked and sucked.

Other people on the bed or standing beside it shoved their cocks into my bound hands. I could sort of tell the difference because the men standing on the floor had steady cocks, but the ones on the bed bounced as they rocked back and forth and up and down.

From that point on, I confess, things became a blur. I remember loads in my ass and in my mouth. I remember someone feeding me ice water. I remember hands teasing my cock. I remember looking up and seeing legs and knees over me as cum rained down on me like a bukkake flick. I think there was a woman pressing her pussy into my face – or maybe it was an ass. Whatever it was, I tongued its hole till its owner pulled away. I felt so much and got so sore. I think I came once, maybe twice, even despite the constriction of the cock ring, which at some point someone had ripped off and taken as a souvenir.

I remember looking up and seeing one of the teenaged Games MegaShop minions ploughing my ass, his thin chest working back and forth, with a moaning expression of ecstasy on his cute, young face. From behind him I saw Chris enter, holding hands with the waiter from last night -- don't call me Kenny – don't call me Kenneth – Ken.

Ken leaned into my ear. He said, "I'm sorry I couldn't call you yesterday. I took Chris' number instead. We had a really good time, plotting what we'd do to you tonight. I hope you're ready."

Then he vanished back into my dim perception of the crowd. The fucking continued. I dunno if all the men present produced two liters or not. But it sure felt like more than one Pepsi bottle. The sheets were soaked with it. It dried on my ass, may hair, my chest. I bet I looked like a disaster worker in an exploded yogurt factory.

Then it was over. I lay back on the bed. The lights were out. My breathing returned to normal. I had been asleep. I didn't know for how long.

Gentle hands worked over me, cleaning away the mess with damp cloths. I opened my eyes. Chris and Ken were on the bed. Chris was totally naked. My eyes ran over his naked body, sizing him up. I wanted him. Ken had on his pants still, but he had revealed his hard smooth chest. These two – I think – were the only really gay men from the party. Myself excepted, I guess.

I reached out feebly. "More?" I asked. Maybe I was begging.

Ken looked at Chris. "You're sure you want this from him?"

Chris said, "God, yeah. I mean look at him."

Ken ran his hand over me. "You may have a point." He stood on the bed, balancing uneasily, and yanked off his pants. He looked just as young and smooth and hard as I remembered. I only wished he'd been wearing his little tuxedo thing. Service with a smile.

I raised myself on my elbows, coming more back to myself. My hardening cock certainly testified to it. "What do you want me to do? Suck? Bend over?"

"A bit of both," said Ken. "This is Chris' fantasy."

Chris' hands were on my cock. I noticed they were rubbing lube on me now, not water. "I want you to do me," he said.

He lay over a bolter and spread his legs. I wasn't sure how to take this development. I shuffled up between his legs and laid my cock on his ass hole. The bolter left a little space for Chris to stoke himself. "Fuck me, Ben. Fuck me, please."

I pushed into him, tentatively at first, but found that his hole resisted too much. I shoved harder and slid in. Chris gave a long delicious moan. I began to pump.

I was on top. How weird was that?

I felt Ken come up behind me. He spread my ass, and bent me down gently so that I lay over Chris' back. Shit, Chris was so hot, and he trembled like a rabbit under an eagle's gaze. I realized what Chris wanted now – to be the bottom of a sandwich.

Ken thrust into me. He pulled me back and kissed me deeply, thrusting and playing with his tongue.

We rocked back and forth like that. Sometimes I filled Chris while Ken held back. Sometimes I held lose while he pumped me. Sometimes we pulled out together. If one of us popped loose we started again. Sometimes we thrust hard together – that was easiest --- Ken practically drove me into Chris with his thrusts. Chris moaned the most when we did this, and I decided it was his favored stroke. I began to time it, so that the weight of two men powered each of my thrusts. Chris came first, orgasming beneath me, plastering the bolster and the already soaking sheets. His clenching ass sent me over the edge and I emptied into him. I, in turn, set off Ken, who finished in a series of blasts I barely felt in my abused guts. We all rolled over together, lying across the bed.

At last Chris said, "I hope we didn't ruin WarCon for you." He stroked my face. This time, I did think it was sweet. "You'll be here next year?"

Ken said, "If you do, you can stay at my place."

I said, "That depends on the Praetorians. Can it be the same bet next year?"