Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 19:30:55 +0000 (GMT)
From: Jamie Knight <badboyjed@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Cashmaster Jed stories

The Adventures of Cashmaster Jed - Part 7

This work is copyright and remains the intellectual property of the
author. Any reproduction, either in part or in whole, without the express,
written permission of the author is strictly forbidden.

The skinhead continued to kneel in front of me as I relaxed in the booth
and finished my Jack Daniels, smiling to myself as I looked round the bar
at the press of queers drinking and laughing, courtesy of the walletcunt I
had used earlier. He was now with the 17 year old skin lad I had met up
with, and had now taken it out for an ATM rape. The potential slave in
front of me stayed down on one knee, it's shaven head bowed, awaiting my
reply to it's request to serve. Having announced to the whole bar that my
walletcunt's credit card was up for abuse by it's master, me, the punters
in the bar had all got their drinks and were now carefully ignoring my
booth in the corner by the toilets. Content to drink at one of their own's
expense, it seemed, but also giving me a wide berth. Just how I liked
it. Fucking pricks. No doubt the story was going round about how I had
reacted at the bar to a bearded cunt who had tried to buy me a drink. I was
way out every fucker's league in here. Fear and power always get me hard.

Kneeling in front of me was the skin bloke I had clocked when I arrived at
the bar earlier. Not fucking bad on the eye, muscled, built and looked like
he could look after himself. I had owned a skincunt before, when I was a
young teen, and he had got off on a dominant bad lad abusing him for cash
and tributes. It was my first proper introduction to cashraping cunts and
it had kept me minted and my 9 inches fucking rock hard for over a year. It
was like owning a pitbull. I pointed out what I wanted when he took me out
drinking or clubbing, and he got it for me. Leathers, watches, cash or just
if I didn't like the look of some fucker. He dealt with it. I was the
richest and most popular kid in school. It only ended when he got banged
up. I had been on the lookout for a new pitbull ever since. Time to see if
this one had any bollocks.

"Wallet." I said, my eves never leaving the shaven top of its head.

The black docs gleamed as the skinhead shifted it's weight to reach into
it's black MA1 jacket. It withdrew an untidy handful of notes and coins and
put it on the table. There was barely 50 there. "You are fuckin' takin' the
piss, you queer cunt." I looked at the skin's face. "If this is all you've
fuckin' got, you can fuck right off. You ain't no use to me fucker." I
sneered.

"I will do whatever you order Boss," the skin replied, looking me straight
in the eye. "I wanna serve a dom lad who knows what Ôe wants, and doesn't
care how Ôe gets it. I watched you and yer mate using that suit
earlier. You just eyeballed the fucker and took what you wanted offa
it. Looks like yer the kind of bad lad I need to serve. In any way you
want, SIR."

A bit of flattery ain't a crime is it? I liked the emphasis he had put on
his words. This cunt was ready to do anything. "Limits?" I said.

"None Boss. Anything. You jus' gotta say the word." He looked at me
intently, willing the young, dom scally lad in front of him to take him on
as a cunt. Time for a test.

I looked round the room then back at the kneeling skin. Smiling evilly, I
nodded to the other side of the room. "See the bearded cunt over there at
the bar? Crappy shirt. Sloppy lookin'" The skin looked over and nodded
once. "He's the fuckin' cunt who cracked on to me earlier. Get it in the
bogs, empty it's pockets and kick the living shit out of it." The skin
looked at me appraisingly, the over to the bar and back to me, before a
slow smile spread across his face.

"With pleasure boss." He got up and casually pushed his way through the
crowd towards his victim. I could read the conversation without hearing it
from the other side of the room. The bearded slob looked surprised at
first, then pleased, then a bit nervous as my skin suggestively put his arm
round his shoulders and pulled the beard in closer before whispering in his
ear and groping his ass. Pushing off from the bar, the skin confidently
threaded its way through the crowd towards the bogs next to my booth. The
beard gulped the last of it's pint and followed in the wake, breathing into
his cupped hand and surreptitiously sniffing it. What a fucking loser. The
beard nervously eyed me as he passed. I gave a mocking salute with my empty
glass. The door swung shut behind him.

I gave them 2 minutes. I could hear nothing over the noise of the crowd,
many of whom were on to their second or third drink thanks to my generous
tab at the bar. I took the time to put on my black leather cop gloves. I
always get fucking horny and hard putting them on before using a
faggot. Kind of a ritual. Finally I slid out from the booth to the door to
the gents, one hand caressing the wallets in the pocket of my trackies as I
pushed it open, by cock hardening in anticipation.

The first thing I heard was the crying and snivelling as I pushed open the
second door to see my pitbull skin standing over the floored, bearded cunt,
who was on his back, blood pouring from his nose and a black eye
forming. The skin's black, tall doc martin boot was planted firmly on the
faggot's crotch, and as I watched, the skin leaned forward, bringing
increasing pressure to bear onto the cunt's nuts. He cried out in pain as
the boot descended further and the door swung shut behind me. Both looked
up. The hope of rescue soon died on the bearded loser's face as he
recognised me, clocking my grin. The skin looked at me with his boot still
in place. "Boss?" he said. That one word told the cunt on the floor all it
needed to know. I wasn't here to rescue it. It shrank away as I stepped
nearer.

"What you got for me then you fuckin' wanker?" I asked it as I crouched
down next to it. It's eyes widened, then hardened in righteous anger.

"What the FUCK do you think you're fucking doin' you prick?" he
shouted. "Get this fuckin' twat off of mÉ" He never finished the sentence
as my black gloved fist smashed into his already bruised face. He howled in
pain, covering it's face as best it could. I looked up at my pitbull.

"No much Boss." He said, emptying it's jacket pockets and handing it
over. The cunt on the floor snivelled as I leafed through the cheap wallet,
looked at the crappy phone and shitty watch. I had suspected as much. I
pocketed the notes from the wallet before throwing it back at the
snot-nosed pathetic prick in front of me. The watch and phone I simply
dropped on the tiled floor.

"What the fuck made you think you had a shot at me, you fuckin' stupid cock
sucker?" I sneered. I slapped it across the face. Hard. It whimpered
weakly. "What the fuck made you think you should even TALK to me. You queer
SHIT?" I back-handed the prick as it whimpered again.

"Boss."

I looked up to see my pitbull with its hand outstretched. I took the heavy
metal object and slipped my gloved fingers through the 4 metal loops linked
by a curved bar of steel. My grin got bigger. "Nice knuckles skin boy," I
said, and looked down at the horror slowly dawning on the face of the cunt
who thought he had a chance with me barely an hour ago. I raised my hand so
that he had a close up view of the brass knuckles that I gripped
tightly. "Anything to say, faggot?" I sneered, grabbing a handful of hair
and pressing the underside of the knuckles firmly into the faggot's skull.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he whined. I pressed harder, enjoying the
pressure as my cock tented in my trackies again. Aggro. Add that to the
list of shit I enjoy.

"Sir. SIR. I'm sorry SIR!" His voice rose as the pressure increased. On the
last "Sir" I released my hold and shoved his head roughly onto the tiled
floor. I was rewarded with a resounding thud. The bulldog chuckled as I
stood up and pulled down the belt of my trackies, and hefted out my boy
meat. The floored faggot stared in horror as a thick yellow stream
descended onto its prone, whimpering form. My gloved hand waved my cock
back and forth, thoroughly soaking the cunt as it began to sob. It gave up
trying to squirm out of the way as I carefully soaked it's chest, crotch
and face, waving my meat enticingly, an evil grin on my face. Nothing like
letting a fag cunt see what it's never gonna fuckin' taste.

The pitbull's boot that had been pinning the fucktard's dick and balls to
the floor, moved out of the way of the steady stream of slave champagne,
but not before I had splashed some onto the shiny black leather, just to
remind the cunt who was the fuckin' boss. Looking down I noticed a swelling
bulge in the beard's piss soaked slacks.

"Fuck me, you sick piece of shite, you're fuckin' getting' well turned on
by this shit aintcha?" I laughed. The bearded cunt's face started to
redden, tho' out of fear or embarrassment I didn't know. Like I gave a
fuck. I turned to my pitbull skin. "Your turn. Piss on it." As the skin
grinnrd and unzipped it's tight bleacher jeans, the beard started to
scramble to it's feet with a muttered, "No fucking w..." I grabbed the cunt
by the scruff of it's shirt before it was up from it's knees, and swinging
by fist high, slammed the brass knuckles across it's jaw and chin, sending
the fucker sliding backwards to slam against the wall. Both of us strode
over as the faggot piece of shit cowered, curling itself up like a fuckin'
child. Enraged, my foot powered into it's face, snapping the head backwards
into the wall with an audible crack. FUCK that felt fuckin' good. The beard
slid to the floor, whimpering as I towered over it. I could feel the skin
looming behind me.

"Soak the fuckin' cunt." I sneered, stepping to one side, as the skin
stepped forward, cock and bollocks hanging outside his jeans and proceeded
to dowse the snivelling, broken form on the floor. I walked back and
retrieved the phone from the floor. Flipping it open, I went into messaging
and wrote, ÔI am a fuckin durrrty cock suckin fag piece o shit. I love
piss.' Turning, I found the camera option, and taking a picture of the cunt
being pissed on to add to the message, I clicked on ÔSend All'.

Still smiling to myself, I picked up the wallet and watch and went back to
where the skin was just finishing relieving himself. I towered over the
piss-soaked mess on the floor, dropping the watch in front of it. It's eyes
looked uneasily at the cheap timepiece, as I glared down at the cunt,
relishing the next moments. I turned to the skincunt zipping up his
fly. "Stamp on it." I said. "Crush the fuck out of it."

The doc slammed down hard, smashing the glass into fragments. The pit bull
raised his boot higher and brought it down harder, as the casing
cracked. Twice more the heavy steel-toed tips did their work, reducing the
watch to a broken mass of metal as the owner stared still nursing it's jaw,
bloody nose and swelling eye. "On yer fuckin' knees faggot." I grinned,
rubbing by knuckle-duster suggestively with my other gloved hand. The cunt
scrambled onto all fours, snivelling and dripping snot and blood onto the
tiled floor. "Clean my superior piss off my slaves boot, faggot."
Hesitantly, the faggot lowered it's face to the skin's boots and started
lapping the piss off with it's tongue as I took a second picture with it's
own phone. Adding the caption ÔI am a cleaning fairy.' I clicked ÔSend All'
once more. I actually laughed this time. Fuck it was good to be
me. Checking that the messages were sent I snapped the two pieces of the
phone apart. "Oops" I mocked as I dropped them onto the broken remains of
the watch. The beard whimpered as he eyed the 2 pieces, still tonguing the
skin's boots.

"Now my trainers ya fuckin' poof. Clean Ôem!" The cunt transferred it's
attention to my blood and piss spattered trainers. I nodded at my pitbull
skin, who was clearly enjoying himself. "Boots. Phone. Now." Grinning, the
skin lifted his doc martin boot hig and slammed it down again and again on
the 2 pieces of phone, sending cheap plastic and metal skittering across
the floor. The foot slut on my trainers whimpered but didn't dare stop
licking.

Hooking my trainer under the cunt's chin, I lifted up it's face to stare
into mine. One eye was swelling almost shut, and blood and snot mingled
around it's mouth and chin. What a fuckin' mess. I held up it's wallet so
that it could see. "This yours faggot?" I murmured, a sadistic smirk on my
face. Fearfully the cunt on the toe of my trainer nodded slightly. "Got a
little present for ya fairy boy," I said, lowering the waist of my trainers
once more. The fag winced, expecting another pissing. "Oh no fairy boy,
this is a little present for ya, an the closest you're ever gonna get to
tasting my fuckin' superior cock." Still smirking, I opened the cheap
wallet, slipping my rapidly swelling cock into it before firmly gripping it
in my gloved, knuckled hand and starting to slowly stroke myself. The slut
on the floor watched transfixed, as I worked myself to a frenzy of
completion, tensing and closing my eyes as I shot a load of sweet boy cum
into it with a muffled grunt of satisfaction Relaxing, I flipped the wallet
closed with a practiced hand and casually tossed it at the cunt's head. It
rebounded and landed in it's lap. The cunt stared it stupidly.

Grabbing the cunt by the hair, I crouched down once again beside the
stinking form, eye to eye. "Remember this day ya fucking queer piece of
shit," I snarled, " and don't ever come on to fit lads like me again. You
are one sad, sorry, old piece of queer shit, and no fukker is ever gonna go
home with a fuckin' pathetic excuse of a fag cunt like you." Grabbing it by
it's collar, I hauled the bearded cunt up on its knees again, and punched
it in the gut with the brass knuckles. It cried out and doubled up in pain
as I stood up. The skin made to follow me out of the door. I turned to face
him. "Make sure that," I indicated the curled up thing on the floor, "licks
all that fuckin' shit off your boots before you leave. Use it how you
like."

"Yes Boss." Came the reply. I heard the first kick connect and the first
howl of pain as I went through the doors.

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