You Asked For It!

[billy88666]

A 5 week wait before meeting... we all know where this is going ... and I can't wait :@)

[bocini]

This is a sensational start story.

Perfect.

 

[bluecollarfun]

Damn, this is how I imagine it happening to me.

[MartyHVL]

Cant wait for more!  🙂

[leatherpunk16]

Since you freaks can't wait, I'll put in the 2nd part now.

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Part 2

Rick led me down the narrow steps into the basement of the brownstone, still grasping my dick. I could smell a little mildew and the remains of a recently-burned cigar. The beige-carpeted floor seemed unusually stiff under my feet. To my great surprise, we encountered no cobwebs that basements are known for growing. Rick opened a door on his right, which led to an enclosed room with the furnace and water heater, and another door beyond them. Rick unlocked this door, finally releasing my throbbing cock (which was begging for release at the anticipated event). He went into the lightless room, flipped a switch on the wall, and it was suddenly illuminated in dark red. 

I could make out a sling, shelving on one wall with a variety of bottles that I assumed were either lube or alcohol, a large number of small identical cases that were probably porn DVDs, and an odd-looking chair in an opposite corner. The details of the room were not immediately clear to me, and the deep red of the lights confused my view. Rick closed the door, and ordered me to strip naked. As I did so, he stood silently against the wall and watched me. I gathered up my clothes, which he took and placed somewhere on the other side of the dungeon. 

“Hop in the sling,” Rick ordered. “I’ll be just a minute.” 

I did as he instructed, and climbed into the sling. The springs squeaked under my weight, and I began to put my feet through the holders. As I was doing this, Rick was doing something that I couldn’t clearly see, and I heard movement, but my activity with the feet kept me from focusing on whatever he was doing. I heard a drawer open, a little rustling, two sharp snaps, and the drawer closing. I had my feet elevated fairly quickly and awaited his return. I heard a metallic “click”, then the hiss of a torch. The sudden illumination allowed me to see that he was lighting not one but TWO thick cigars. He got the cherry burning in each, and the room was suddenly fragrant with the odor of sweet tobacco. Rick walked over to me and stuck one of the cigars in my mouth.

“We’re going to blacken your lungs, faggot,” he said with a shift in his voice. I started to protest, “I don’t smoke, buddy,” but he stuck it in my mouth mid-sentence. 

“Trust me, you do now. You wanna be a poz pig like me? This is part of that. Optional, but much better if you give in to it. Let me know if it’s too strong for you.”

I took a draw on the stick. The acrid taste of burning tobacco filled my mouth, and although I expected it to be akin to a mouthful of fire, it was not. Not one bit. Smooth and cool, and actually quite flavourful. It was clear I had no say in this matter, so I at least gave it a chance. I stuck the big thing in my jaw, and just got used to the feeling. I think I like a cock there better, but whatever. 

Rick walked to the shelf with the bottles and kept his back to me. I had correctly guessed they were lube bottles. He took one down, popped it open, and turned it upside down to pour into his hand. He might have been checking the thickness of the lube because he closed it loudly, put the bottle back on the shelf, wiped his hands, and got a different one. Rick opened the new bottle, poured some into his other hand, and closed the lid. “This’ll do.”

He returned to the sling and placed the bottle in the holder. I tried to regulate my breathing, but between anxiety and the unexpected cigar, it resulted in a lot of loud exhalations. Rick noticed the gar burning in my jaw, and with annoyance, he said, “Hey, those are expensive. Smoke it right or die.” I took the burning rod in my hand and let instinct guide me on smoking it, though I had no idea what I was doing.

Rick placed his own cigar in a nearby ashtray, and began to undress. His body was almost totally white as if he had never spent an hour in the sun in his life. The frame was just as I remembered - slender with no muscular development, and a bit of a paunch at the bottom of his abdomen. His dick was a sight to behold - a good eight or nine inches with no foreskin, average thickness, and curved slightly upward. I didn’t get a good look at his ballsack, but I remember they were not particularly droopy. A brown mole sat on the right side of his pelvis. And then I saw something new -- a small but unmistakable biohazard tattoo on the opposite side. Why had I not noticed it before?

“Oh, right”, I thought to myself. “He was wearing a jockstrap that night in the bathhouse. The waistband probably covered it so it would be a surprise for anyone lucky enough to remove it.” Rick took the lube bottle in his hand and slicked himself up. Then he brought the bottle right to my butthole and squeezed it hard to get the lube inside me. He began to push hard on the bottle as well, and I felt the breach of plastic in my sphincter.

“Ouch,” I said. “Take it easy.”

“I thought I told you to smoke, fucker.” This guy had flipped a switch since we were upstairs. I was no longer with a trusted friend, but a guy bent on doing some damage to me for the fun of it. I found myself holding my breath a bit while this passed through my mind. Then Rick replaced the bottle in the holder, crossed the room again, and after wiping his hands, took up his cigar again. He pulled hard on it, and turned back to me. His nose jet resembled a dragon, ready to spit flame and fire at me. It was fucking hot. 

I was now more acclimated to the cigar, and the room began to get a little foggy. Rick returned to me, and bent over my waiting form in the sling. He got right in my face, and said, “This is your last warning. Are. You. Sure. Because when this train begins, there is no stopping it until you are bred.”

Again with the doubt! I trusted him, and while I was enjoying the dominance he was displaying, his demeanour was not something I had mentally prepared for. My mind screamed, “Do not do this!” But I brushed it away, and all hope of reversing this scene was lost when I answered him, “I have to know. I want to be a poz pig.” He weighed my answer with no change of emotion or expression, and without warning, he rammed his cock into me. I winced in surprise, almost burning my chest with the lighted cigar.

“Then welcome to hell,” he growled in a low voice. “You’re going to die today. But don’t forget - you asked for it!!”

[bluecollarfun]

So fuckin hot!

[myDNA4u]

Excellent start. Don't sell your writing skills short. I'm bone waiting for more. Hopefully several chapters. 

[Justaholeff]

OMG!!!!......my dick is like I'm a teenager all over again....hard as a fucking rock and throbbing!

[pozpopperpig]

Fuck yeah!

[dazzasboy]

Love where this is heading.

[Farmboync]

i hope he takes him out after for a front and back set of biohazard tattoos.

[Guest]

Fantastic story so far.

[leatherpunk16]

Note: I introduced a couple new elements I have no experience with, and I hope I got them mostly right. If they're wrong, I'm sure you'll tell me, and accept that THIS part is what makes it fiction. LOL

-----------------------------

Part 3

The hips began to thrust, and I felt every inch of him inside me. His balls were smacking against mine - there was no warmup to this at all, not even a courtesy finger - and Rick fucked like an animal. It was everything I dreamed it would be. I found it hard to hold the cigar while we rocked back and forth, so I wedged it back in my jaw. Rick did likewise with his own, and continued to nail me.

“You’re a filthy chaser, aren’t you,” he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Mm-hmm,” I said, gasping for air. Man, this sensation in my ass was incredible! I thought it would hurt without the warmup and relaxation of the hole, but there was indeed enough lube to keep his dick from burning me from the inside out. I could feel it running down my buttcheeks on occasion. I drew hard on the cigar as best I could; being a novice with it, I was not successful. There was far more suck than there was smoke, and Rick said surprisingly little about it after the last command about it.

Rick slowed down his strokes, and began to pull nearly out before thrusting back in. My hole loved this sensation. “Yeah, take it, you fucker,” he whispered. “This is… what you… goddamn bugchasers… deserve! I’m … gonna poz this hole… so fucking hard… you will never… want to chase… AGAIN!” 

I answered him not, and just let him do what he knew how to do best. At length, Rick removed my feet from their suspensions, and placed them over his shoulders. I held on to the straps of the sling for support as he pulled me deeper toward him. This was either heaven or hell, I couldn’t tell which.

“Ugh… I came off my meds for this,” Rick said. “You better appreciate what I’m giving you.”

That got my attention. “Was he…? No, he wouldn’t! This is just fantasy, this is just fantasy, part of the script, he’s not toxic…” I was mentally trying to convince myself that I was totally safe, and it was all talk. Part of the experience. I tried to not tighten up in reaction.

Rick grew bored of this position quickly, finding he had nowhere to thrust to, so he stopped momentarily. “Get up, and go get in the chair,” he said with an effort. His breath was definitely shorter, and I could see already a sheen of sweat glistening. I pulled myself to standing, and instantly felt the lube run down my right leg. While getting my balance, I looked at the small puddle that formed on the mat beneath us. The lube was there, certainly, but something else. It looked a little red. “Must be a trick of the lighting,” I thought. I definitely didn’t FEEL like he tore me open.

I turned round in the small chamber, and saw what he wanted. The leather chair I spied when we came in. As I got near it, I could see it was no ordinary seat. It looked… different somehow. It had a flat back, straps all over it, and two hard-looking footrests. “Is this a Lucifer chair?” I asked with interest.

Rick didn’t answer the question, but gave a low, throaty chuckle. I climbed in, and continued smoking quietly. I wasn’t going to ruin the scene with a lot of chatter, or show any kind of uncertainty by babbling. Rick took away my cigar, strapped me in, and spread my legs. He then turned away, and his movements suggested he was putting something on his dick. My mind initially registered it as a cockring or maybe a shaft extender, but when I actually saw the weapon coming at me, it was wrapped in … chainmail? I looked at him quizzically but didn’t form a question.

Rick saw my expression, and read it instantly. “This is a special kind of condom,” he said venomously. 

I was taken by surprise yet again. “A condom? That wasn’t what we agreed upon.”

Rick pulled the cigar from between his teeth, and said fiendishly, “You’ll see.”

As he came at me with this thing around his cock, I started to wonder what I got myself into. “Holy fuck, he’s serious,” I thought. “But that goes against... “

My train of thought abruptly ended there as the weapon now brushed against my hole. It was cold to the touch, and I felt something quite new rubbing against me. Before I could respond or even form a question, Rick was pushing into my hole, and it hurt like hell. I cried out and tried to back away from it. But back away to where? I was in a corner and seated with no clear exit, and strapped to the chair.

“Shhh…” he cooed. “Just relax. This is supposed to hurt, and it’s part of the scene. Trust me.”

From nowhere, he whips out a small brown bottle, uncaps it, and shoves it into one of my nostrils. I recognized it instantly. Poppers. And they were fairly new - still strong and heady. I inhaled deeply, knowing that it was beyond my control to do much else. Within seconds, I was flying. Rick at once detected it, grinned wickedly, and took a hit of them himself. He quickly recapped the bottle and flung it away from us.

“That’s your only anesthetic,” he growled. And my hips began to rock again. I didn’t even notice him finish his entrance, and I just let him do the work, wincing all the while. Now that I knew what he was intending, I just laid back and let it happen. In between his grunts, Rick said something that sounded like, “Just open yourself up to all the pozzibilities I will show you.” The poppers made it sound distorted, so I wasn’t sure if he actually said it or whether I imagined it. I didn’t respond to it, lest it be the latter and he starts yelling at me again for talking out of turn.

Rick continued to plow. His look was a mix of disgust and sheer ecstasy. “You dirty bugchasing fuck. I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” By now, the poppers had completely worn off, and I was feeling the full force of the thing inside me. And boy did it hurt. This was suddenly not fun for me.

I needed to move my arms and legs. I needed that tearing up inside me to stop. I suddenly needed water. The room had grown unbearably hot between our activities, the humidity, and the smoke, and I needed a break. At last, I said, “Rick, I need … ow! You to stop --- fuck!”

He considered this, and slowed his motions, then instantly began jackhammering my hole. “Nope! You’re done,” was his swift response. I couldn’t bear it anymore as I felt him rip me open from stem to stern. I had no coherent thoughts by this point, except an inward wish that he would cease his movements and I could die in peace. All I could do was cry out.

But then his mood changed. He suddenly pulled himself out of me, and my hole welcomed the release. I put my head back as far as it would go, and just shut my eyes. "Shit, I was about to cum," he hissed. "I want this to last as long as possible." He pulled the strange device off, and I heard it hit the floor. Rick got down in a crouching position, and gently poked me with a finger. After a couple seconds, he took back his finger, and held it up before his eye. “Yep, as I thought!” He raised his open palm to me, and ordered, “Look. I’m showing you something.” I carefully opened one eye to see.

His whole finger was a bright red colour, and this time, I was sure it wasn’t the light of the room. I suddenly remembered what this was called, and why he was doing it. The phrase “cruel condom” ripped through my brain, and now I had to accept it. He was genuinely pozzing me. That, or a damn convincing scene, I wasn’t sure which. And I wasn’t about to ask. All I could think of was the pain I was feeling at the moment. I returned to closing my eyes and feeling only pain.

Rick only stood there over me, studying me, and letting his dick deflate a little while he hauled away on his cigar. He let me sit there, motionless, and just bleed. “This is all part of the process,” he said slowly. “It hurts now --”

“I want out of this chair,” I interrupted.

“There, there, you sick fuck, it will all be over soon, and you will be free.” There was something cryptic in that statement, but it was just talk. Just talk. The fantasy, right. “When he’s done fucking me, we’ll go upstairs, he’ll put an ice pack on my fanny and bandage me up, and all will be well,” I told myself. 

Alas, this was not to be.

[Justaholeff]

......D.A.M.N!

[myDNA4u]

More please. So incredibly fucking hot.