Date: Mon, 6 Mar 2017 17:46:50 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Incest & Authoritarian: That Fucking Hooker

This story and its characters are fiction. If any character resembles you
or someone you know, I WANT DETAILS, you lucky fucker, preferably with
photos! It is, of course, copyrighted by the author with all rights
reserved and very, very negotiable. Also, keep the cum coming -- Donate to
Nifty **TODAY**! I'm an old guy. I know what it was like when you had to
BUY porn. 5 miles uphill both ways in the snow just to GET to the XXX
store. You whippersnappers don't know how good you've got it:
donate.nifty.org/donate.html

This involves sex between related, consenting adult males; if that is
illegal for who/where you may be right now, fuck off and get thee to a
monastery (where you might just find scenes similar to some below). Also,
please note that all my stories exist in a world where STDs are neither
common nor deadly. Don't be a fucking idiot; use protection. 'To die for'
sex should never lead to your actual death.

I like hearing from people but if you get off on flaming people, please
know that you will HATE the results. I will weave you and your missive into
my next story to the point that you cry like a little girl. Bullies get as
bullies give.

*****

That Fucking Hooker

by Bear Pup

M/M/M, incest, bondage, dom/sub

*****

I was gonna kill the bitch, no question. I'd use "Lady Darla" for two
years, starting a year or so after my wife died. She filled a void for
me. A void for hot, kinky, raucous, dirty sex. A void for getting my fill
of being a slutty bitch-boy used for nothing but her enjoyment. Maggie was
up for anything; more than anything, she invented some of the 'things' that
'any' referred to. She used me like a fuck toy and I lived for it. She'd
died nearly three years ago, leaving me and the about-to-graduate twins to
fend for ourselves. She was the light of my life, followed only by the two
young men we had made together.

They had been conceived just after our honeymoon, and they come out perfect
but ruined Maggie's chance for more kids. They were born at term, and both
were strapping babes. Thomas (Tom) and Timothy (Tim) were identical; we
used blue and green toenail polish to tell them apart for years. Tom was a
few second older than Tim, but we'd been careful never to let either know,
not matter how much then whined and wheedled. Maggie loved them to
distraction, even when (or perhaps because) the doctor told her that she
would never have another. She didn't care, and neither did I. Our family
was complete.

They were midway through their junior year of high school when Maggie's
headaches started. Various doctors tried a variety of migraine and "stress
headache" treatments, some more effective than others but nothing really
got to her pain. At the sixth doctor we'd seen, sitting right there on his
exam table, Maggie started to shake, then quake, then enter a seizure. She
died an hour later. An autopsy showed that a tumour at the base of her
skull had finally destroyed critical nerves.

The twins were destroyed and I was no better. My brother and his wife moved
into our guest room for a month while we grieved, and slowly pulled
ourselves together. Mark was the one who started looking back at the
various doctors' records, and it was he who took me to see a lawyer he knew
through his gym. The lawyer was a tall, creepy-thin and eloquent man. He
spoke to us for an hour, then said he'd be in touch.

Two weeks later, he called to bring us back in. He had four boxes of
paperwork and three files, each as thick as my thumb. They were labelled
with the names of the second, fourth and fifth doctors we'd seen. I sat
rather listlessly until Mark nudged me. "Ryan, are you listening?" I
admitted I wasn't and tried hard to focus.

"Mr Marcus, I sum up as simply as I can: All three of these doctors ordered
X-rays and one ordered an MRI. Every one showed the tumour that killed your
lovely wife. If they'd looked at them, even a cursory glance at the area in
question, your wife might be with us today. The surgery would have been
extremely dangerous, but nothing near as certain as leaving it untreated."

The fog in my brain burned away like mist in a desert sun. "Are... Are you
telling me that Maggie would be alive today if they'd, what, done their
JOB?"

"No, Mr Marcus, I'm telling you that she would have had a chance."

What ensued was a whirlwind of activity. Mark and Cheryl moved out, as the
paralysing grief had boiled away, leaving me and the twins more motivated
that we'd ever been. The boys threw themselves into their studies,
something Maggie had tried for years to get them to do; they took it as a
memorial to her. In fact, their senior year was spectacular enough to earn
them scholarships to San Diego State. Me? I threw myself into both my job
and the work on the lawsuits.

One doctor's insurance company, the one who ordered the MRI, settled
immediately and settled BIG. The other caved in less than a month. The
third made it to jury selection, heard the tack that our lawyer was taking,
and folded. From that last one, our lawyer got all costs and a staggering
settlement, almost as much as we'd been asking for in the suit itself.

It left the three of us set for life. Nothing could bring back my wife and
the mother of our twins, but none of us would want for anything if we were
frugal.

So that brings us to Lady Darla. Winning the suit left me with nothing to
fight. I sunk to a low that rivalled the original grief. After watching me
slip away for months, Mark suggested that I find a discreet professional
(he knew my & Maggie's level of kink) to get me out of my funk. Man, did
she ever! When the twins were home for holidays or the summer, I never saw
her. When they were at college, though, she was over at least once a
week. Always at the house; Maggie and I had taken enormous care (and cost)
to utterly-soundproof the room so the twins never heard our screaming-loud
session of fucking amazing dom/sub sex.

Lady Darla made certain that the last session before the twins arrived home
for any length of time was intense enough that it would carry me
through. Tim & Tom would be home for their Sophomore/Junior summer break
the next morning from when the story takes place; their campus was only
three hours from the house.

So I there I was, naked and painfully hard. wrists cuffed to the
headboard. Ankle-spreader keeping me exposed. Heat on enough to make sure I
stayed sweaty. Cock and balls locked in a thing that made sure I'd not be
going soft for a long, long time. Foreskin clipped back behind the head,
exposing the most-sensitive nerves on my entire body. A tiny vibrating ball
driving my fucking ass crazy. Blindfolded and in huge headphone that pumped
the sounds of sex. Men whining and begging and yelping as they were worked
over by their masters or mistresses. And endless soundtrack of needy and
naughty men squealing and moaning in ecstatic torment, each fuck noise
going straight to my balls as they churned, trapped.

It had started brilliantly. Alligator clips and a feather. Her long, sharp
nails on my inner thighs. A riding crops slapping playfully on my balls and
extremely sensitive head just to get me to squeal and whine more. Licking,
nibbling, gnawing my needy nipples. Then... nothing. One of Lady Darla's
specialties was making me wait and beg.

And I begged and pleaded and whined and pulled my bonds for an eternity
before I realised... the fucking bitch had LEFT.  I went ape-shit, trying
everything to wrench my hands free. All I managed to do was drive the
vibrator right up against my fucking prostate, making me even wilder. I
finally just laid there and cried in need and rage, noises of begging and
screams of pleasure rocking my ears, cock leaking a river of dogwater that
dripped down along my balls. How long? There is no way to measure time
without sight, but the fuck-track playing in my ears had looped at least
three times, so four, five hours?

I nearly launched to the ceiling when pressure moved the bed. I began to
cuss and curse, hurling abuse and demanding (then, belatedly realising my
subservience) begging for forgiveness and relief, torn between those twin
drivers, rage and a desperate need to reach completion. A soft, warm wet
touch to my cockhead made me moan. I hunched up desperate for its return
when she pulled back. Then an equally-teasing lick to my left nipple, then
my right inner thigh. Then my armpit. The quick, tantalising licks and
their randomness was making me insane. They were suddenly everywhere.

I twitched and jerked and squeaked, each move rubbing that fucking evil
buzz-ball harder against my love nut, pulsing out a new wave of pre each
time as my whole body yearned to come. I hollered when, out of nowhere,
BOTH my nipples were being sucked and nibbled. FUCK! The bitch had brought
help!

Oh my GOD! FUCK! I could feel the rasp of a five o'clock shadow from the
chin to my right. A wave of humiliation swept over me as I visualised my
hard, hairy body racked with waves of pleasure, tied and trussed and on
display. A grown man in a position of such abject helplessness in front of
*another guy*.

A new flush of horror swept me. I'd been begging with loud, desperate pleas
for release. Promises to my mistress-master to do anything. Abasing myself
in my desperate need. Crying and pleading for mercy. He'd heard
*everything*, every word, every whine, every plea. My mind reeled but, if
anything, my body revelled in it! I was leaking a near-constant stream at
this point.

The mouths moved south now, suddenly accompanied by teasing hands and
fingers, stroking, pinching, scratching along my sides and inner though,
making me crazy with need. They reached my balls and went to town. Not
enough to make me cum, but enough to have me screaming in pleasure once
again. Then the fingers found my exposed cockhead, teasing and scraping
those torturous nerves exposed by my pinned-back skin and I howled.

That was nothing, though, to when all four hands moved to my hole. The two
lifted my knees and pinned them to my chest and resumed licking and
nibbling at my churning balls, but now poking, teasing and diddling my
asslips. They pulled the vibrating ball out... almost. I wailed when they
got it lodged between my inner and outer ring and LEFT IT. The sensation
was unbearable, pain from the stretching driven to the background as my
exquisitely-sensitive sphincter was buzzed, their fingers never ceasing to
tease and pinch the lips and their mouths chewing, sucking and licking my
desperate nuts.

And again, NOTHING. They both pulled away. I gave up on begging and went
straight to loud and fervent prayers. I offered my lifelong service, my
body for any pleasure they desired, my soul if only they'd let me finish. A
shriek cut me off mid-declaration as a crop or thin paddle smacked HARD
into my tied and abused nuts. The pain was... perfection. So sharp, so
intense, it was almost an orgasm itself. Pleasure/pain. Agony/ecstasy
washed through me and I nearly did cum at that point.

Abruptly, I felt something at my lips. I opened to accept the kiss and
nearly choked when it was not a tongue but a dick in my mouth. I'd once
before had a dick there. I was 15 at camp, and did it on a dare. A few
sucks and it was over (I ended up getting head from the kid later; he was
very, VERY into it). That was decades ago, and shock rocked through
me. Disgust, humiliation and shame rushed straight to my own cock and a new
rush of dogwater spurted out.

I dove onto the cock, inexpertly but with real need and passion. The dick
pulled back and there was a pause. All I could think of was the taste of
that dick raping my mouth, demeaning me whilst I listened to a never-ending
soundtrack of abasement, abuse and fulfilment in the headphones, and the
infuriating, itching buzz trapped between my ass-rings.

The touch was back at my lips and I lunged forward, only to choke.

There were two dicks there. TWO GUYS! I wept in humiliation and cursed Lady
Darla over and over for the new low that she'd brought me to. I let them
plunder my mouth, trying to capture as much of the salty leakage as I
could, even as my mind quailed at the thought. Suddenly they were taking
turns to go deep, making me gag over and over and over and I found myself
begging for more, for deeper, for harder; to be used, to be debased, to be
ravished. Crying throughout but loving it as well.

And back to nothing but the noises and the buzzing. And the
increasingly-desperate begging. My legs came back up and I felt one of the
guys insinuate himself between my legs and inside the ankle-brace which he
rested behind his hips. He reached down and unceremoniously ripped the
vibrator out, bringing a yelp from me. He placed it back, no longer buzzing
and curiously warm.

The reality of it dawned on me less than a second before the guy pushed his
dickhead into me. Nothing, EVER, had been up there other than Maggie's or
Lady Darla's toys. I was about to be fucked, a thought that echoed through
me and shook me to my soul. Short of cutting off my balls, nothing could be
more emasculating, more debasing, more horrifying. I howled... and just as
abruptly went silent and rigid. Something warm and slick was at my own
cockhead. It dawned on me that I was also about to fuck my first guy,
double-raped, helpless to stop and unwilling to do so even if I hadn't been
tried and trussed.

I screamed in despair and joy as both men plunged, one up and one down. I
was stuffed in a way I'd never known, and simultaneously deep within the
tightest, smoothest, hottest, silkiest, squirmiest hole my dick had ever
known. NOTHING like this had ever even touched my consciousness. NOTHING
like the pleasure, discomfort and debasement, all wrapped in one
unimaginable and irresistible package.

Far from cursing Lady Darla, I was now screaming my thanks and begging
these studs to fuck me hard and deep, to ride me without regard for myself,
to use me for their pleasure. This was the most extreme, most humiliating,
most fulfilling things that ever had or every could happen to me. Harder
and harder and harder, bringing me closer and closer to completion as I
bucked and hollered, shouting the filthiest things that I could imagine.

...Until the headphones and blindfold were ripped off. The bright light
blinded me and the change in sound left me dazed, both slowly resolving and
leaving me speechless. Hovering over me was the face of Tom, and behind him
the rougher, unshaven face of Tim. I was fucking and being fucked my... my
twins. That image sunk in just, JUST as we all three reached nirvana --
explosively, screamingly, exultantly erupting, Tim filling my ass, me
filling Tom and Tom flooding my face and chest with his seed.

They left me tied, and used me through the night. They whipped me softly
until I begged for more, then hard until I begged for mercy. They fucked my
face, my ass, my mind and my soul. The fed me load after load and, more
often than not, denied my own release time and again until I was a
quivering mass of desperate need. For the first time since Maggie died, I
was absolutely content, at peace, fulfilled. And the twins didn't seem too
unhappy either. They finally untrussed me and we snuggled for a long sleep
with them to either side, occasionally waking for another round of whatever
one of us wanted most right then.
   
Lady Darla was paid handsomely by my sons for setting this up. My boys had
been each other's passionate lovers since they'd reached puberty, and had
always fantasised about me. When Maggie died and we grieved together, we
were closer than we'd ever been, but when I went on grieving, then raging
during the lawsuit then sinking back to depression, theirs hearts were
breaking.

They found the payments to Lady Darla after that first year and tracked her
down, recruiting her and getting her truly-expert advice on what I needed
most. And what I needed was to surrender control, to be owned and put
myself in the service of someone who could guide, correct and fulfil my
life. The three of them spent the time between Spring Break and Summer
plotting with her for the perfect setup.

That was six years ago, and I haven't seen Lady Darla since... other than
once to thank her. My masters decided that I needed to close that emotional
loop. I saw my masters through their college years and helped them found
their successful company using seed money I'd set aside for their
education. They'd never touched it as both got and maintained full-ride
scholarships.

The business caught the wave of the neoprene revolution for exotic and
sexual play. It's called Daddy Dog Dares Ya, specialising in the opposite
of pup-play, where a big, hairy masculine guy is in the mask, tail and
leash (guess who gets to model every fucking new line?) led and trained by
lean, smooth, young guys (guess who's on the other end of the leash,
rolled-up newspaper or dogwhip?). Last quarter, we earned enough that we're
getting nibbles for offering an IPO. My masters are right, though; we'll
never need the money so why risk any loss of (their) control?

In all that time, the frilly pantries were the only thing I balked at. They
itched like a motherfucker! We compromised on a locking jock strap. I get
to cum when I do something extremely special. You can bet your balls that
there have never been two young men as pampered and loved, or as
shockingly-pleased at least once a week...

Master Tim and Master Tom instructed me to sign this the same way that I
acknowledge all of their commands.

-WOOF!

<eof>

This is a one-off. There will *not* be future chapters. If you like longer
stories, here are the ones that I have active on Nifty, all at
www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...

Karl & Greg: 18 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/
Canvas Hell: 15 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 8 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Mud Lark Holler: 7 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/
Babe in the Woods: 2 chapters .../rural/babe-in-the-woods/
Off the Magic Carpet: 2 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/

Let me know what you like and don't like, whether in my stories or
not. That is the only way I'll get better or my stories will get
hotter. orson.cadell@gmail.com