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I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Every time I turned away, such as to check that my new bride was still asleep next to me, I would find myself turning back to gaze at him. What was happening to me? Well, that I knew just fine, having been working hard to suppress many things and live how my father wanted me to, but still, I never usually struggled this much to keep a lid on it. Maybe it was just because he was so bold about everything he was in how he presented himself, looking the way that I secretly wanted to deep inside. Well, dear readers, how did he look? I could do my best to describe it, but a picture says a thousand words: Quite the sight, isn’t he? Perhaps you can see why this closet case’s gaze was always on him as he lounged around on the beach by himself. That body. That chain. The cigarette. Oh, and the tattoos. I knew what they meant, and my stomach was churning as I realised how turned on I was by them. My parents hated tattoos and so did Hannah, so my lean and muscled body remained untouched by the needle despite my desire to get inked. My only act of rebellion against the conservative views of those around me had been to get myself what I thought at the time was a pretty hefty bit of neckwear, something Hannah hated but had learned to live with. However, it was nothing compared to what the current object of my obsession was sporting. Anyway, this is me: The Beach God hadn’t been by himself the whole time, having had a couple of friends with him when he arrived. However, they had soon taken off, albeit heading for the dunes further down which suggested to me that they were getting up to no good. They too had caught my gaze, but with Hannah being awake at that point I had needed to be more discreet. Here they are: Back to the God. So far I had watched him do some yoga or something, then he’d rested for a while, and now he was back on his feet doing some stretches as though he was about to go for a run . It was during one of the moves that we made eye contact, and I hurriedly looked away. However, I once again could not keep from gazing back at him, and I found that he was still looking at me. When we made eye contact again he smiled and gave me a nod, before turning his head to look up towards the trees. He then turned back to me, and just stared at me for a moment. I could not turn away, and it felt like our expressionless staring at one another went on for hours. He then looked down as he fished a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his shorts, lit one, then gave me a brief look again before he turned and started walking uphill off the beach and into the trees. As I watched him go my stomach went into overdrive. That was an invitation. He knew what I wanted deep down, and in just a couple of moves of his head he had said “well then, come and get it”. I was newly married and sat beside my sleeping wife. Yet, and perhaps finally after all these years, my suppressed desires got the better of me. I quietly shuffled myself out from under the umbrella, got to my feet, and followed in the direction he had just gone… (to be continued)
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“You really fucked up Dylan!” he yelled. “I know” I said, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry.” “Sorry isn’t gonna cut it!” he bellowed, glaring at me. I couldn’t think of anything else to say other than another apology, so I just stayed silent. “You know” he said, a little more calmly, “if this was any other outfit you would be getting whacked right now.” I nodded, fighting against the urge to let my eyes well up. “You’ve cost me a lot of dough” he continued, “and there’s going to have to be consequences.” “I know” I mumbled. “So I’ll give you two choices” he said. “The first, I can take back everything I’ve given you as payment for your mess. The house, the car, the bling, everything.” I stayed silent. “You will then need to work to cover the rest of your debt to me, before I let you go.” I nodded. “I think you know what the second option is” he said. “So which is it going to be?” “I, er…” I started mumbling. “I can’t hear you!” he bellowed. I looked up at him, and took a deep breath. “Two” I said. “Option two.” “Thought so” he said, with an evil smile crossing his face. “You sure you wouldn’t rather just go back to living in the Y?” “Option two” I said again, maintaining eye contact with him, trying to make myself look confident despite the knots my stomach was twisting itself in. “OK” he said, “your choice. Go home then and I’ll send more instructions later.” I turned and left his office, making my way out to my car. I got in, gripped the steering wheel, and then started to cry uncontrollably. This was it. I had made my choice, to keep all the trappings of this life that I had worked for, but pay for them with my body. I sort of knew it might come to this some day, given the number of fuck-ups I had somehow got away with before, but actually facing what was to happen to me for real was overwhelming. —— Two hours later, while I was out on the deck nervously smoking a cigarette, my phone buzzed a few times as a series of messages arrived from Frank. I took two more deep draws of the cigarette to steel my nerves, stubbed it out, and then opened up my phone. I read the instructions a few times, before shutting off my phone and turning my head up to look at the few wispy clouds overhead. I stood like that for a while, and then got myself together and went inside to prepare. —— An hour after that I opened the heavy door of the warehouse Frank had sent me to, stepped inside and then let it slam behind me. I stared into the building for a moment, and then started walking further inside. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but when I rounded a corner I came face to face with him. I stopped in my tracks. “You Dylan?” he asked. “Yes sir” I said, with a tremor in my voice. “You know why you’re here?” he said. “Yes sir” I repeated. “OK then” he said, before turning round and walking off. I nervously followed, and we headed into another section of the warehouse. Round another corner we came upon a second man. “This is Dylan” the first man said. The second man looked me up and down. “Boy” he growled, “you’re lucky Frank owes us. From what I hear you should be at the bottom of the lagoon by now.” “Yes sir” I said, looking down. “Well, let’s get this done” he said. They both walked through a doorway, and I followed them into what turned out to be a large internal room with no windows. There was some dim light from a weak overhead lamp, which was enough for me to see the contents of the room. In the centre was a frame holding a leather sling, and either side of that were a padded leather bench and a mattress. Round the walls of the room were shelves filled with various dildos and buttplugs. “Frank been fucking you?” the second man asked. “Yes sir” I quietly replied. “Anyone else?” “Men paid me before I met Frank” I said. “Condoms?” the first man asked. “Sometimes” I replied, the memories of my days as a rent boy flooding back to me. “You gay?” the first man asked. “Bi” I replied. “Openly?” “No sir” I mumbled. The truth was, in my world most guys running jobs had at some point been turning tricks to make ends meet, and particularly as one of Frank’s boys you had to endure his ‘tests of loyalty’ every now and then. But to actually enjoy being with men was crazily still [banned word], and I had never told a soul before this moment that I was that way inclined. “Well” he said with a grin, “you can forget women. Once we’re done with you here, you’ll be working for us as well as Frank, you understand?” “Yes sir” I replied. “Men will be paying, but you won’t be seeing a penny of it” he said. “Just like your friend Leroy.” Leroy. He was the reason I knew what option two was. After that sale had gone badly and he’d only just managed to escape from the cops, he had disappeared for a while before returning with new tattoos and a lot less spare time. He also seemed to walk and sit funny some days, but never told me what was going on. When Pascal had got drunk and told me all about two men to whom Frank owed a debt, and these men just happened to run some kind of specialist escort service, I had come to the conclusion that Leroy had been sold into that outfit as his punishment. I confronted him about it, and while he initially denied it, over time he did let slip a few things that confirmed it for me. A few minutes on Google to see what his tattoos meant had filled in the rest of the blanks for me. Now I was standing here about to have the same thing happen to me. “Yes sir” I replied. “Get naked” the first man said. When I hesitated, he followed up with a stern “Now!” I pulled off my shoes and then quickly stripped down, so that I was just wearing my chains. “Get on the bench” the second man said, nodding towards the padded leather piece next to the sling. I walked over to the bench, and after briefly examining its strange shape, I got onto it on all fours as that looked like what it was designed for. A moment later the two men were next to me, attaching leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles which they then secured to the bench. The first man then opened a small bottle of poppers and put it under my nose, while the second disappeared from my view. Just as I inhaled from the bottle, the second man jammed his fingers into my hole which caused me to yelp. He roughly thrust them into me a couple of times, and then pulled them out only to replace them with his cock a second later. I couldn’t even get any sound to come out of my gaping mouth as he buried himself to the hilt in one rough thrust, such was the pain of the intrusion despite me opening myself up at home before I had set out. I mean, my hole had seen plenty of action over the last couple of years, but I had never been taken like this straight off the bat. He brutally fucked me for only a few minutes, and then slammed into me and unloaded. He yanked himself out, but I had no time to recover as the other man went round and quickly inserted his own dick. This too was a brutal reaming, followed by the second load being dumped in me. I was left strapped to the bench while they both lit up cigarettes, which they smoked without either of them saying a word. When they were done, I heard some moving of items on a nearby shelf, followed immediately by the stinging whack of a paddle on my buttocks. I yelped, and then was hit again. This carried on until I stopped yelping, taking each whack through gritted teeth. “You understand it now boy” the second man said. “Take whatever is given without protest.” “Yes sir” I whispered. One of their cocks was then thrust back into me, beginning my third pounding. The fourth followed shortly after, by which time my cum-filled hole was aching like a motherfucker. When I had taken that load, a big buttplug was pushed into me and the men left the room. I had no choice but to just remain there, strapped to the bench while their toxic cum festered inside me. A while later the men returned, paddled me a little more to make sure I took it silently, and then removed the plug to fuck loads five and six into me. I did indeed endure all without a sound, gritting and grinding my teeth as I suffered the relentless assault on my rear end. When they were done, the plug was rammed back into me and then they undid the cuffs to let me up. “Good boy” said the bigger man. “We’ll let you rest up on that mattress for a couple of hours until the guests get here.” “Thank you sir” I mumbled. They marched out of the room and pulled a metal sliding door over. I hobbled to the mattress, where there was a bottle of water, a packet of cigarettes and a thin blanket waiting for me. I gulped down half of the water, and then lit up a cigarette that I smoked while stretching my legs out. After stubbing out the butt on the floor, I lay down on the mattress on my side, curling up a bit as I pulled the blanket over me attempting to get comfortable with the huge plug stretching me out. I reached up and gripped onto my chain, needing something to hold onto for comfort as the full reality of my situation hit me. I was locked in a room in a warehouse, my innards were coated with six loads of toxic cum, and more men were on the way to use me. Not only did I have a lot more in store today, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how my life would now be. I eventually drifted off to sleep, awaking when the heavy metal door was loudly slid open. “Round two boy” said one of the men. “In the sling, now.” —— It’s been twelve months since my fuck-up, and I have adjusted to my new life. I spend less time on Frank’s projects these days, though he still has me involved in some of his dealings when he needs an extra body. Most of my time is instead spent serving the clients I am sent to, for whatever they require. Usually it’s my mouth or hole, but some want to submit to me and take what I have to give as a top. I know at least two have been seeking conversion, but I don’t know whether I have actually pozzed anyone myself yet. Life is definitely different, but I am actually more relaxed as I have fewer chances to make a mess of Frank’s business dealings. I’ve come to like and even be proud of my tattoos and what they symbolise, though they do cause some people to cross the street to avoid me. I chose option two, I chose this life, and I have no regrets.
