This story is pornoGRAPHIC fiction.
THUG CASH MASTER, by Skorpio.
Part 16: Whiteout
Brad drifted off to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes, partly due to exhaustion from the punishing torment he suffered for his Master's amusement, but also because he was ordered to get some shut-eye. Brad shut down like a wooden marionette set aside by its puppeteer.
Aaron, bound and gagged, lay awake for what seemed like eternity. Battered, broken and humiliated, he wanted to weep, but tears did not come. His trauma was compounded and confused by his sexual arousal. Eventually, he sank into a restless slumber.
The harsh light of morning poured through the Venetian blinds all too soon.
Aaron groaned: "Unnh... where am I? What's going on?"
Every muscle in his body ached. His nuts felt like they had been roasted over an open fire. Except for the contraption encasing his penis, he was naked. Slung around his neck was a white cotton athletic sock, a gag which had come loose in the night.
"Don't you remember?" said Brad, sitting cross-legged a few feet away, also naked, also sore.
"I remember everything...," Aaron shuddered. "Where are... they?"
"If you mean Master Reese and his associates, they're probably still sleeping."
"Untie me," said Aaron.
"I can't do that."
"What do you mean you can't? Untie me right now! Damn it, Bradley, what's wrong with you? We've got to get out of here! I don't know how you got caught up in this, but these hoodlums mean business! Untie me!"
"Aaron, I'm sorry, but I don't think you're going anywhere for awhile. I think Master has plans for you."
"What do you mean he has plans?"
"What do you think I mean?"
"Plans... that doesn't sound good. I've got to get out of here. Tell your Master I'll do anything he says, okay? Tell him that!"
"Sure."
"Do you promise?" Aaron pleaded, with a perplexed wrinkle on his brow. "Tell him that I'll do whatever he wants from now on without question. I don't mind admitting to you that I'm scared shitless. I'll do anything to get out of this."
"If Master inquires, I'll inform him," offered Brad, coolly. "But, begging won't do you any good. Once the Master makes up his mind, there's nothing you can do about it!"
"This is crazy!" Aaron squirmed against the rope around his wrists. "This is all wrong! He's not my Master! I'm a top! I'm not like you!"
"Well, that's not what you said last night," Brad admonished. "I tried to warn you, but you just wouldn't listen. Master isn't queer. I'm not in a gay relationship. I'm a slave! Don't you get it? He owns me. I work for him. He's like a pimp! This isn't a fantasy. Top, bottom, none of that means anything to him! You're playing by his rules now."
"What are his rules?"
"You `bout to find out, toad!" Reese in red silk boxers stood in the doorway.
"We ain't done playin' wit' chu, bitch!" added Malik, also in drawers.
"Worm, get dressed and get breakfast ready!" Reese ordered.
Brad tugged on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, before proceeding to the kitchen. It gave him a deep sense of fulfillment knowing three hungry Black men depended on him to feed them. He loved waiting on Master Reese and his friends.
"What chu gonna do wit' dis cocksucker?" said Dre, plunging a hand into his boxers to scratch his groin.
"He hasn't learned his lesson yet," said Malik, with malice in his heavy-lidded eyes.
"Just let me get my dick sucked first, aiiight?" laughed Dre.
"Mal, take this shithead to the bathroom and flush him down the toilet!" said Reese. "That's where he belongs! Make sure he knows that."
"C'mon, bitch!" Malik grabbed the sock around Aaron's neck like a collar and dragged him off.
"Oh, god, please, please, no, please!" croaked Aaron.
"Please, I'll do anything! I mean it! Anything at all! I'm sorry! Don't do this to me! Please! I learned my lesson!"
Aaron's pathetic pleas fell upon deaf ears. The door to the bathroom slammed shut.
Several minutes later, Malik joined Reese and Dre at the kitchen table. Brad presented Malik with a plate of scrambled eggs, grits, toast, and bacon. Brad poured orange juice into Malik's glass. Dre demanded seconds.
"Everything aiiight?" muttered Reese, biting into a slice of buttered toast.
"I took care of it. Bitch knows his place," said Malik. "For now. Pass the ketchup, yo!"
"He suck yo' dick?" asked Dre. His enormous, black-jeweled eyes sparkled with lascivious mischief.
"Nah, I left that for you, blood," Malik cracked. "Dayumm, don't chu ever think about anything but gettin' yo' dick sucked?"
"Nah, not really."
Brad remained behind in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes while the posse assembled in the living room. Aaron was on his knees, wrists still tied behind his back, head dripping wet, helpless, and utterly subdued.
"I'm still upset wit' chu for messin' wit' my property," said Reese.
"Please, Sir, I'm very sorry that I interfered," replied Aaron, obsequiously. "It won't happen again! I promise, Sir!"
"I hope you mean that," said Reese. "You got gonads for a whiteboy, I give you that. Lissen up, yo! I'm gonna untie you. Don't make me regret it, aiiight? Take yo' ass to the kitchen and get some grub. Help the worm clean up. Both y'all report back to me in half an hour! Unnerstand?"
"Yes, Sir!" Aaron knew the protocol, but what disturbed him was the spontaneity with which these words fell from his lips.
Aaron rubbed circulation back into his wrists and joined Brad in the kitchen. They sat down together to scrambled eggs and grits left over from the breakfast feast.
"There's one piece of bacon left," Brad offered. "We can share it."
"You have it," replied Aaron, with disdain.
"Not a problem," said Brad.
"What's going to happen next?" Aaron asked.
"I don't know," said Brad, taking their plates to the sink.
"What do you mean, you don't know? You've got to know!"
"Aaron, listen for once, okay? I don't know what the Master has in mind for you. Honest! I don't know! You see how it is for me. I guess he has the same in mind for you. Anyway, you know too much. He has to do something."
"I'm not like you!"
"Maybe not, but I saw you sucking cock and you were into it! You might be a top, but you liked giving head, didn't you!"
"Look, sucking cock doesn't make me a bottom and it sure as hell doesn't make me a slave!"
"Keep your voice down," Brad cautioned. "You don't want them to hear you."
"Are you saying they consider me a slave just because I'm gay?" Aaron whispered.
"No," Brad averred, softly. "They see you like a slave because you're white."
"Are you kidding me?" Aaron sputtered.
"Shhhh, keep it down."
"I'm not even going to deal with that right now," said Aaron in a lowered voice. He glanced down at the padlocked plastic sheath which caged his prick. "How long do I have to wear this thing?"
"I don't know."
Meanwhile, in the living room, Malik and Dre occupied the sofa, watching Jerry Springer and puffing Black and Milds. Malik was still in his boxers, but Dre wore the whiteboy's leather pants. Reese was on his cell phone.
"That was my nigga Errol in California," said Reese, half an hour later. "He got some ideas how to handle this situation."
Said Malik, "That's good, blood, `cause I don't trust that sneaky cracker. I toilet trained him, but I don't trust him for shit. He needs his ass whupped!"
"He jus' need to suck sum mo' dick," added Dre. "Dat's what he needs!"
"What he need is a dick up his ass," muttered Reese.
"True dat," said Malik.
Reese hollered: "Yo! Bitches! Get out here -- NOW!"
Brad and Aaron hustled to the living room and dropped to their knees. The sight of these two obedient, white males, responding with alacrity, was a pleasure to behold.
"Get nekkid, worm!" commanded Reese.
Brad folded his jeans and tee-shirt neatly on the floor. His pallid, scrawny body lacked definition, but his ass was plump and round. Light brown hair covered his flat chest, convex abdomen, narrow shoulders, and flabby thighs. His shy, tiny, useless penis was a mushroom cap.
"Now, yo' turn, toad," said Reese, tossing the key to the chastity belt.
Aaron eagerly extracted his imprisoned penis from the plastic tube. He was glad to be free of this contraption.
The naked whiteboys kneeled side by side. Aaron's pecs and arms swelled from visits to the gym. Thick, dark hair carpeted his entire body. From an overgrown pubic bush extruded his pointed cock, flaccid, almost as impressive as his huge nuts.
"You are sum ugly crackers!" Reese frowned with revulsion. "Why you monkeys so hairy?"
"They look like cave men," observed Malik.
Dre chanted, "Mutanoid, caucazoid, white cave bitch..., "rapping from a hit by Ice Cube.
Reese addressed the whiteboys: "Before we get down to business, I want chu both in that bathroom when I snap my fingers! Y'all got exactly one hour to shave from the neck down. Get smooth. I want all that shit off yo' bodies. Whoever don't finish in time gets a beating. Unnerstand?"
"Yes, Sir," declared Brad.
"Yes, Sir," echoed Aaron.
Reese snapped his fingers and the whiteboys sprang into action. The thugs shared a hearty laugh.
"Mal, can you keep an eye on the clock," said Reese.
"Got it covered, blood."
The VCR displayed 8:55 AM.
"Dre, I want chu to check on the toad's ride," said Reese, handing over the keys to Aaron's Mercedes Roadster. "Make sure it's parked around the corner, aiiight?"
"No problem, cuz!" Dre grabbed his sneakers.
"An' don't be takin' it for a spin!" added Reese. "Park it `round the way an' get back here."
Dre replied, "Yo, cuz, comin' back to git my dick sucked! Word is bond!"
In the bathroom, Brad and Aaron agreed to work as a team. From the cabinet under the sink, Brad produced an electric shaver, several multi-bladed, disposable razors, and a can of peach-scented ladies' shaving gel.
"Might as well take care of me first, since I'm the hairiest," suggested Aaron amicably, sitting on the edge of the tub.
"Um, okay," said Brad. "Stand up."
Aaron stood motionless, arms akimbo, while Brad ran the electric shaver across his hirsute chest and stomach. His thick, dark hair fell to the floor in tufts and clumps. Instead of a treasure trail running from his belly button to his pubes, Aaron had a treasure boulevard.
"Lift your arms," said Brad.
Aaron's pits were so overgrown that Brad felt the urge to sniff them.
"If you want to put your nose in my pits, be my guest," smirked Aaron.
"There isn't time for that."
"Sure there is. Take a quick whiff. You know you want to. Go on, do it!"
Brad could not help himself. He had a fetish for armpits and being a true submissive made him instinctively obedient. Without thinking, he stuck his nose into Aaron's left pit and inhaled.
"Now, the other one," said Aaron. "You really like taking orders, don't you? That's what got you into this mess. But, I'm NOT like you, I'm not a slave. I'll play along with this freak show for now. You better get back to shaving me. We're wasting time."
After deforesting Aaron's pits, Brad proceeded to shear his furry back, arms, and legs. Lastly, Brad applied the shaver to Aaron's thick pubic bush and large, heavy scrotum. The change in Aaron's appearance was astonishing. At least from the neck down, he looked like a different man altogether.
"Clean the stubble with a blade," said Aaron.
"I will," replied Brad, "after you take care of me with the clippers. Then, I'll clean you up with the razor, okay?"
"No, finish me now," demanded Aaron. "Just do it! The sooner you take care of me, the sooner I can take care of you, okay? Like you said, we don't have much time!"
"Okay, okay," Brad acquiesced, applying gel to every inch of Aaron's well-developed physique.
Brad carefully scraped stubble from every inch of Aaron's body, which took much longer than expected for the razor blade required constant rinsing under the faucet.
"Use hot water, you idiot," said Aaron.
"We can't."
"What do you mean, we can't? What kind of bullshit is that?"
"Master's orders. Slaves aren't permitted hot water."
"No, no, no, no, no," whined Aaron. "I don't believe this is happening! No hot water? Oh, no! No, no, no...."
"I'm finished," said Brad, offering the clippers.
"Not bad," Aaron acknowledged, admiring himself in the mirror.
"Come on, it's your turn to do me," said Brad.
"Just wait a sec, okay?" said Aaron with a note of petulance. "I want to make sure you got everything."
Aaron inspected himself from every possible angle and liked what he saw. For the first time in years, his six-pack revealed their definition. His nipples stood out like bullets, ruddy in hue like his lips and genitals. His clean-shaven crotch made his cock and balls appear all the larger.
"We've got to hurry!" implored Brad.
"Okay, okay, hold your horses," said Aaron. "First, we have to clean these clippers."
"Will you just hurry up!" pleaded Brad. "You heard what Master said!"
"Yeah, I heard what he said. Do you have any oil? I think the blades need to be lubricated."
"Fuck the oil, just shave me. Hurry! It shouldn't take long. I'm not as beastly as you."
"Where do you want me to start? Your chest?"
"Yes, yes!" snapped Brad impatiently. "Start with my chest. Start anywhere! It doesn't matter! C'mon, we don't have much time left!"
"I better do your pits first. Lift your arms."
Aaron took his time depilating Brad's armpits, and then decided to shave Brad's legs where the hair was sparse.
"Turn around, let me get the hair on your back," said Aaron.
The clippers buzzed across Brad's back.
"What's taking so long?" said Brad.
"Stop whining. I want to do a good job," said Aaron.
"Just hurry!"
"So, how did you meet this hoodlum, anyway?"
"It's a long story," said Brad. "I'll tell you some other time."
"We've got time now."
"No, we don't!"
Suddenly, the bathroom door shook with a sharp blow from the other side.
"Time's up," thundered Malik. "Get out here, now!"
Aaron opened the door and stepped out with his chin up, determined to show he could not be broken.
Behind cringed Brad, half-shorn with patches of body hair and a look of misery. If Brad were a dog, his tail would have been between his legs, creeping toward his master in shame.
Their entrance was met with a collective roar of robust amusement.
"Worm, take yo' ass back to the bathroom and finish cleaning up," commanded Reese, getting the better of his mirth. "Toad, get down on yo' knees!"
"Thank you, God," simpered Brad in retreat.
Aaron dropped. Perspiration beaded his brow.
"I know what chu did," said Reese. "I like how you played the worm. You a sneaky li'l faggot ain't ya?"
"Yes, I guess so, Sir," mumbled Aaron, playing along. Or so he told himself. The line between true and feigned submission was thinner than he suspected.
"You tricked the worm into cleanin' you up first. You a devious motherfucka! That's what I like `bout chu!"
"I don't trust his white ass!" asserted Malik, arms folded across his chest.
At that moment, Dre returned to the crib. He dropped the keys to the Mercedes Roadster on the coffee table.
He wore white wife-beaters and a familiar pair of black leather pants.
"Yo, dat cracker `bout ready to give it up?" said Dre, grabbing his crotch. "I'm horny like dat."
"Nah, I got plans for this one. Get the worm to suck yo' dick," Reese advised. "Me and Mal is gonna have sum fun wit' this bitch hurrr."
Malik played a CD, "It's All Good," by DMX, and cranked up the volume:
"Love my niggaz, but where's my bitches? I love my niggaz, but where's my bitches? Love my niggaz, but where's my bitches? I love my niggaz, but where's my bitches?"
"Yo, toad," Reese bellowed. "Fetch sum beers from the fridge."
When Aaron returned with two cans of Steel Reserve he found Reese on the sofa, thighs spread wide minus the silk boxers. His large brown dick, not quite soft, not quite hard, was on display.
Malik was also nude, standing tall, lean and rangy, with Kanji tats embroidering his wiry arms. Pure malevolence shone in his black-mineral eyes and a sneer twisted his lush lips. His dick was hard and ready for action.
"Suck it!" commanded Reese, impatiently.
Like a hummingbird, Aaron hovered over the thug's succulent manhood and then engulfed it with his lips.
From the CD player blasted DMX:
"I'm in the zone, tryin' to do things, Let's turn this into a crew thing -- Wassup girlfriend, you game? Don't wonder why when I leave at night It's because I'm a thief at night, I'm leavin' bitches not breathin' right, I fuck they head up with some slick shit Hit `em off with some long dick shit Make it some quick shit, but rip shit...."
As Aaron massaged the juicy brown dick with his warm, wet mouth, it doubled in size, forcing its way down his throat.
"Suck it, bitch!" said Reese. "Impress me!"
Reese loved having a mouth on his johnson. He didn't give a fuck whether it was a fag or a female, white, Black, or purple. Head was head and once they got to sucking, that was all that mattered.
With both hands, Reese gripped Aaron's skull and brutally raped his throat.
"That's right, yahhh, choke on it, bitch!"
A deep growl of carnal gratification hummed in Reese's throat. This faggot smelled like cash! The whiteboy was gonna make profit, but first he was gonna make him bust a nutt.
Rough hands kneaded Aaron's soft buttocks like two loaves of Wonder Bread. Something greasy was smeared between his ass cheeks. Aaron was helpless to prevent what he knew was coming.
Malik's long tongue licked his thick, ample lips as he placed the head of his dick against the whiteboy's virgin pussy-hole. Thrusting with all his might, Malik penetrated that tight sphincter and pumped with abandon.
TO BE CONTINUED.... IN PART SEVENTEEN: MACKADOCIOUS