Date: Tue, 09 Nov 2021 11:47:33 +0000
From: ^sharper <sharper.inorbit@protonmail.com>
Subject: STORY : RICK HOWMAN - PART FOURTEEN

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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