This story which follows is completely the product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to actual events is purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.
Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the five chapters of this story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future stories.
One last thing. While Nifty provides its services free of charge to both budding authors and readers, it is not free of costs. Please consider donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.
SIR'S bitch IN THE BACKROOM
Chapter 3
The next couple of hours passed in a haze. There had only been a few moments, in between customers, when my cunt hadn't been in use, but i'd been hitting the poppers regularly since my second customer finished with me and Sir had proved right, once again. The poppers helped; they helped a lot. my cunt hurt bad, real bad, just like my tits, but the poppers seemed to make it all more bearable, to take the edge off the pain. It wasn't so much that i didn't feel the pain - it was more that the poppers helped me to disassociate myself from it. It was like the pain was still there and i could feel it but at the same time it was almost like it was somebody else's pain. i knew that was crazy, but that's how it seemed in my befogged mind. And, because i figured that was probably the best it was going to get, i went with it.
i had lost count of how many guys had fucked my cunt. At times it seemed like it had to be in the twenties or thirties. It almost had to be, i would think, since i had trouble remembering a time when my cunt wasn't being fucked. But i knew the real number couldn't be anywhere near that high. There were still a lot of condoms in the box i'd brought with me. i obviously didn't have much of an opportunity to count how many were left while i was being fucked - which was pretty much all the time - but the box looked to be only half empty when i finally managed a quick glance to my side
The box had been sitting next to my head since i first settled in. As the night had progressed, it had been knocked on to the floor a number of times by guys who got tired of waiting for a shot at my pussy and decided to get off in my cock-hole. Fortunately, those guys had been really good about picking the box off the floor and putting it back next to my head after they'd pumped their loads down my throat - or on my face - or a combination of both.
For the last hour, the guys in the backroom had been banging my cock-hole almost as much as my cunt and my lips had gotten puffy and my throat was feeling raw. But at least my throat was getting some relief when their cum spewed down into my stomach. It wasn't much, but the regular infusion of thick man-scuzz seemed to lubricate my throat just enough to ease the soreness and, except for the guy with the PA ring, it hadn't been too bad. But my cunt was a different matter.
i had really lubed my cunt-hole up before i'd left home but, given all the use it had seen, the lube was pretty much gone and Sir hadn't let me bring any with me when He sent me to The Pit. Since all the guys fucking me had been using condoms, the only thing left to ease the abrasion of the dicks working away inside my twat-hole were my own anal juices. But, given the number of guys who'd used my cunt in the past few hours, my pussy juices just weren't up to the task and every fresh cock ramming its way inside of me seemed to abrade my bruised cunt-lips and my already aching cunt-hole more and more. And it didn't seem to have occurred to any of the guys fucking me that it might be easier on me if they lubed their dicks up before ramming them into me. Or maybe it was that they just didn't care - or didn't want to waste the lube on fucking a cunt-boy like me.
It was only then that i understood why Sir had ordered me to buy non-lubricated condoms. It wasn't because they felt tighter on the cocks of those wearing them like He had said; it was because they felt rougher on the cunt being fucked - on my cunt. Sir had known this would happen. He had wanted my cunt sore and hurting while i was getting fucked and fucked and fucked some more. And, as always, Sir was getting what He wanted.
i would have asked the guys taking their turns in my cunt to at least spit on their cocks before they rammed them into me but it seemed that every time one guy shot his load inside my pussy, pulled out and was replaced by the next guy in line, some other dude was plugging away at my cock-hole and i wasn't able to say anything - all i could do was gurgle around the cock in my throat. So my cunt just kept getting drier and sorer as my long night of whoredom continued. But despite the fact that it had been Sir who had decided that i would buy unlubricated condoms, all i could think was how grateful i was that He had given me the poppers before i left home. Without them, it would have been so much worse.
i took another hit just as an arm reached next to my head to grab a condom. 'One more down,' i thought, finding it easier to count the condoms than to remember the faces of the guys who'd already fucked me. A minute later, as a way of ignoring the sudden surge of renewed pain that indicated that the guy attached to that arm had barreled his way into my cunt, i tried to force myself to remember those faces. i could remember the black guy who had started it off and the bastard who came after him, the one who had given me a public cunt-spanking - i knew i'd never be able to forget that asshole - but the rest were really a blur, they all seemed to merge together. Suddenly, though, a face popped clearly into focus and i had to wonder how i could possibly have forgotten that guy, how i could have forgotten that fuck.
It had been maybe an hour earlier. Somebody had just finished with me (there was always somebody just finishing with me, or just starting with me, or just fucking me - that was a constant) and the guy who'd been standing behind him watching him do me had stepped forward for his chance to play that ever-popular backroom game, 'Fuck-the-bitch.' i had glanced up to see who was going to be mounting me next but, when i saw him, i had almost recoiled. 'Jesus,' i had thought, 'this guy has to be at least sixty years old.' And when his wizened hands reached out to pull my cuntholder closer to him i had realized that sixty might be on the low side. i couldn't help being really embarrassed thinking how here was a dude who had to be older than my own father and he was about to fuck me in front of all of these other guys.
He was thin but wiry. His face was lined so deeply he looked like some sailor who'd spent his life on the open ocean where the wind had just slowly eroded and cut into his skin. And his skin looked it, too. It was all mottled and had a strange off-yellow pallor to it that made me shudder despite myself. i looked up to see that the old guy was watching me as intently as i'd been looking at him.
"How old are you, bitch?" he'd asked in a tone that was more demanding than questioning. In my disoriented state, it took me a moment to process the question. i was just about to respond when i felt a searing pain on the left side of my face as my head was whipped to the right. The man had slapped me as hard as i'd ever been slapped before - as hard as Sir had done the few times he'd felt it necessary to bitch-slap me when i stepped out of line.
Being slapped was just about the hardest thing for me to handle. Being punched was one thing - punching is what you do to another man. Being slapped, though, was something else. That's what you did to a woman, to a little girl, to a bitch when he needed adjustment, when he'd been acting up and had earned a severe correction. Only Sir had ever bitch-slapped me like that before. The first time He did it i was so embarrassed and humiliated that i almost started crying. Standing there and letting Him slap me had felt so un-manly, so emasculating. And that's exactly how i had felt when the old guy slapped me.
Even as my entire body flushed in abject embarrassment, i heard the old guy speak again. "I asked you a question, bitch. How old are you?"
i looked up at the man and saw that he was looking at me closely with a mixture of amusement and irritation on his face. Quickly, knowing that this guy wouldn't hesitate to bitch-slap me again, i told him my age. Hearing my answer, a wide grin appeared on his face.
"Twenty-six," he repeated, chuckling. "Twenty-six. Hell. I'm old enough to be your grandfather, bitch. Just think of that. You're about to get your boy-twat fucked by a man old enough to be your grandfather. What do you think about that, bitch? What do you think about that?"
For a second i was at a total loss, not knowing what to say. But then, just as i could see the man tensing up and i realized he was about to slap me again, i blurted out, "i'm glad to be of service to you, Sir." Just by the way his body relaxed, i realized that my answer had been acceptable.
"you're glad to be of service to me, are you, bitch?" he asked with a bemused air. "Well, we'll see about that." And with that he rammed himself fully inside my cunt. Once mounted, I expected him to just start banging away at my cunt-hole like most of them had, but instead he stopped and looked at me again.
"Now, bitch," he instructed me, "while I'm fucking your hungry little boy-twat, I'd like to hear how much you're enjoying me fuck you. So what I want you to say is stuff like 'Oh, yeah, Grandpa, fuck me. Fuck my bitch boy-twat. Fuck me hard, Grandpa.' you get the idea, don't you, bitch?"
"Yes, sir," i immediately agreed. i was sure that the imprint of the man's hand on my left cheek was becoming clearly visible to everyone in the room. i didn't want to run the risk of sporting a matching handprint on my right cheek. i knew it was going to be way embarrassing repeating the words this guy wanted me to say, but it wouldn't be nearly as embarrassing as being bitch-slapped again in front of all these guys. So i was just about to open my mouth and do as i'd been told, when the old guy cautioned me.
"One last thing, bitch," he warned. "I'm a little hard of hearing so I want you to shout as loud as you can. Loud enough to be heard in the front bar. Do you understand, bitch?"
"Yes, sir," i agreed. "i understand."
There was a long moment of silence as i waited for the old guy to begin fucking me. It was finally broken when the man looked at me with obvious anger. "Well, bitch. What the fuck are you waiting for? I want to hear you begging me to fuck you. NOW!"
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," i apologized quickly and then in a noticeably louder voice i began. "Fuck me, Grandpa. Fuck me. Please fuck my boy-twat, Grandpa. Fuck me. Fuck me HARD."
"Louder, bitch," the man ordered. "Louder. I told you I have trouble hearing. You need to be shouting. Shouting. Don't make me slap you again."
Hearing the man actually threaten me with being slapped again, i did what he wanted. i started shouting - shouting as loud as i could. "Fuck me, Grandpa. Please fuck my bitch boy-twat. Fuck me hard, Grandpa. Please, fuck me hard."
As the entire backroom erupted with raucous laughter, the old guy looked down at me and smiled. "That's it, bitch. Now you just keep doing what you're doing while I fuck the bejesus out of your boy-twat." And with that, the old guy started fucking my cunt with surprising force for a guy his age.
Hearing me screaming 'Fuck me hard, Grandpa; please fuck me, Grandpa,' at the top of my lungs must have struck a chord with the rest of the guys in the room. First one and then another picked up the chant: "Fuck him hard, Grandpa. Fuck the bitch hard. Fuck him hard, Grandpa. Fuck the bitch hard." Soon, the whole room was filled with the refrain: "Fuck him hard, Grandpa. Fuck the bitch hard." It seemed as if everyone was shouting - so loud that it actually drowned out my own screaming voice begging 'Grandpa' to fuck me. It went on that way for a few minutes until it just eventually devolved into a simpler "Fuck him, Grandpa; Fuck him, Grandpa."
Whether this show of public support acted as a spur or whether the old guy didn't need any added incentive to get into fucking my cunt i couldn't tell. But what i could tell was that the old guy was fucking me as hard as anyone had that night. As hard even as that bastard who'd brutally spanked my cunt as a preliminary to his fuck. So hard, in fact, that at times my own voice urging him to "fuck me hard, Grandpa" actually began to crack under the pain and humiliation i was feeling. And hearing my voice crack as i shouted out at the top of my lungs just made me even more embarrassed at what was happening to me.
The old guy must have been pretty horny. i was afraid that it might take him a real long time to shoot his load but he surprised me. It took only about ten minutes before i could tell he was getting ready to pop off. i'd been shouting "Fuck me, Grandpa. Please fuck me. Fuck my bitch cunt, Grandpa. Hard, Grandpa. Fuck me hard," the whole time and my voice was noticeably hoarse. But now, realizing the old guy was close to cumming, i redoubled my efforts, trying to block out what i was doing, what i was asking for, as i concentrated on getting him to shoot off inside my cunt-hole.
"Give it to me, Grandpa," i pleaded as loudly as i could. "Bang the fuck out of my sleazy bitch cunt. Fuck me, Grandpa. Cum up my pussy. Cream my tight little boy-twat." i began frantically humping my cunt into him, hoping to push him over the edge. And then, with a piercing cry, the old guy came - Grandpa started shooting off inside my fucked-out cunt.
The entire backroom went berserk as the old codger began creaming my hole. Cheers and catcalls rang in my ears as a man who was literally old enough to be my grandfather jizzed a load of his old ball-juice deep inside my bitch-boy's pussy. And when i felt him shooting off inside of me, i felt so dirty, so truly dirty. i felt like a complete slut. And a part of me realized that what i felt was an accurate reflection of reality - i was a complete slut. Only a complete slut would do what i was doing. Only a total bitch would allow a roomful of strangers to line up and fuck him. i had asked Sir to turn me into a compliant fuck-bitch and that was what he had done, that was what i had become. A well-trained, totally compliant fuck-bitch.
With the recollection of how i'd served 'Grandpa' fresh in my mind, just as the guy who was fucking me in real time began shooting his own load up my battered cunt, i couldn't help but marvel that i had been able to forget that earlier scene, even for a moment. Thinking back on it, it seemed so vivid, so intense that i could feel the blood flowing back to my skin as i re-experienced the embarrassment i'd felt when 'Grandpa' shot his load inside my pussy. And that's when i heard him; i heard the voice i knew so well.
"Well, well, if it isn't little Colty-boy. Never expected to see you here, not like this anyhow. Not spread out naked on a platform with your well-used boypussy stretched all out of shape, your shaved torso all slick and sweaty, your trimmed pubes setting off your hard little boy-cock as you take dick after dick up your slut hole. you've been holding out on us, haven't you Colty-boy, haven't you, you little bitch?" This last epithet, 'you little bitch' was spit out with such venom that i couldn't help myself - my eyes fastened on to the speaker.
And there, standing between my spread-out legs right in front of my cuntholder and my well-used pussy was Todd, the guy who'd been my closest cruising buddy, a guy i'd hung out with for ages, a guy i cruised the bars with looking for bitches, the guy who laughed the hardest when i threw some well-fashioned slur at a passing pussyboy and watched him turn beet red with embarrassment. And what I saw made my blood run cold.
Todd was still smiling, smiling in that contemptuous way i knew so well even though it was the first time it had ever been aimed in my direction, a smile that started and ended with his lips but never made it up to his eyes. And it was his eyes that were boring into me, brimming over with disgust - and anger. It was the same burning anger i'd seen before - in the eyes of the bastard who gave me the vicious and demeaning cunt-spanking in front of the entire room. But then it hadn't personal, it had been just a general anger aimed at whoever happened to get in its way and that had happened to be me. But now, looking up at Todd, i knew it was personal. And i realized as the two of us locked eyes that any ties of friendship and camaraderie that had once bound both of us together had been irrevocably sundered. He was no longer my friend - not any more. And i knew with an absolute certainty that i was in for a world of hurt. He was going to hurt me; he wanted to hurt me; he was going to enjoy hurting me, and there was nothing i could do to prevent it. The real nightmare of the evening, the nightmare i'd feared since i first saw my two friends standing in the back of the room, was about to begin. And i was terrified.