RUOK

[ashcub]

For Micky, wherever he may be...

Chapter 1

I knock on the door of room 230 as instructed and M lets me in. "Get in here then, we haven't got all day".

M is naked already, wearing his leather chest harness.

Businesslike, wanting to start the lesson.

If you saw us on the street together you'd peg him as my grandfather - white hair and beard, totally bald on top, weather-beaten face with droopy eyelids and bags under his eyes, super fat and sagging everywhere, short stubby cock. But you can tell he used to be something when he was younger, he still has a bull neck, hairy chest, massive shoulders and huge hairy forearms like Popeye. I mean his wrists are like beercans. 

The sling is set up by the bed. On the bed are laid out the dildos, the gags, the cuffs, the rope, the gaffer tape. The usual.

On the dresser are the drugs. A fresh bottle of poppers. A baggie of weed and some rolling papers. Some blue viagra pills. A plastic bottle of liquid GHB, and a dropper to measure it out with. Another plastic baggie of pinkish powder, ecstasy. Next to them, a baggie of meth crystals, a loaded pipe, and four loaded syringes.

"Right, get 'em off and come here," grunts M. I undress and stand naked in front of him. 

"Take two of those imodium and a viagra." I obey.

He leads me into the bathroom. He brings the meth pipe, takes a deep hit, then he puts the rubber tube in my mouth and warms the bowl with his lighter. "Suck." Then directs me to blow the smoke into the extractor on the ceiling. I feel the familiar butterflies in my stomach, the outside world disappearing from my mind.

He pushes me up against the wall. "Arse out", he commands. Then he roughly pushes an enema tube up my arse. He forces in water, tells me to push it out into the toilet, repeats the cycle until the water runs clear. Then he showers me down, towels me off and marches me back out to the sling.

"Time for some drugs". 

First is some ecstasy. M tips some of the powder into a couple of shreds of paper, and we down one each. I have no idea how much he's given me - I used to obsess over that stuff, now I just leave it up to him. 

Next is some GHB. "I want you more out of it than last time," he grunts. He measures it out with a dropper, two mil each, dissolved in a mouthful of ginger ale. That's more than I've ever taken before. The salty taste is strong, I know I will feel it soon. 

Then he lights a joint and feeds it to me until my head is spinning.

Then it's time to get in the sling. He spends ages adjusting the sling so my arse is presented to him at just the right height and angle. He straps my ankles wide apart, winds straps around my knees to pull them back so I can relax my legs. Once he's satisfied, he cinches more leather straps tight across my waist and chest and around my upper arms, then clips my collar to the sling so I can't move my head. 

Then he brings out the handcuffs. These aren't toys - they're proper heavy duty police-issue handcuffs, from an auction. He reaches under the sling and cuffs my wrists together with a metallic rasp that marks the start of the lesson.

"Try and get out of that." I wriggle but I'm locked in tight. He examines his handiwork. "yep, not going anywhere, are you."

He selects a cock gag, pushes it into my mouth, then stands behind me and straps it tightly around my head. The rubber cock pushes down towards my throat. I gag. Too late to complain now. No question of any "safe word".

Then he makes me wait while he gets all his porn running. Which means an age of messing about getting the wifi working and logging in and finding the right video and making sure there's a screen wherever he looks. While I hang there drooling, trussed up like a chicken.

M then sits down on a stool between my wide-spread legs and gets out the shaving kit. He lathers and shaves my pubes, cock, balls and arse, slowly and patiently until I'm his little boy. 

By the time he's done I can feel the drugs starting to kick in. Cold fire ignites beneath my skin. The air between us twitches and swirls. Red and blue fringes on the ceiling lights. The room is silent except for our breathing, the grunts from the porn videos, and the hum of the aircon.

He ties a shoelace around my hard cock, winding it around my balls. It takes him a while as he gets it wrong, unwinds and starts again, muttering to himself. It hurts, it's too tight. He likes to torture my cock and balls as he stretches my hole.

Somehow, M has become the center of my universe.

[SlampaBay]

And this story’s the center of my universe from the first word on.  Terrific hot af start.

[dazzasboy]

That’s a follow right off the bat

[Pnp-pig]

Hot story!  This has started close to one of my fantasies!  Please keep going!

[ashcub]

Chapter 2

This is the one we call the "black mamba" - about nine inches long, and thick enough to hurt if you aren't experienced. I first mastered it successfully about three months ago, after almost six months of trying.

Now it's my starter dildo. M lubes it up and places it on my belly while he works his lubed fingers up my arse. He likes to use only the smallest amount of lube possible.

M then walks over to the bed and picks up the dildo harness, steps into it, tightens it up, and spends a while fixing the black mamba into position. He takes his sweet time. My eyes are swivelling as the drugs accelerate.

By the time he's ready, I'm almost screaming for him. He takes up his position between my legs and teases my wet hole with the blunt end of the dildo.

He takes a roll of toilet paper and slowly makes a wad of it. Then he soaks some poppers into it.

"This is what you want isn't it," he says, and holds the wad of poppers-soaked paper over my mouth and nose. 

He's rough, the fumes are way too intense, I can feel the chemical burn on my skin. I yelp and try to jerk my head away, but he's way too strong for me. 

He likes to hold me down and force me to take whatever he decides to give me.

"I'm going to hold this here until you stop fighting."

It's no good, I can't hold my breath, I'm forced to just breathe in the fumes until I'm flying high as a kite.

"Relax. Or this is going to hurt," he says keeping the poppers pressed over my face as he slowly works the dildo into me. The pressure increases until the bulbous head breaks through my arse lips and I buck with the sharp pain. He pauses for a second and barks "relax!". I try, but it hurts, and I cry out as he pushes it further in.

"You took this easily last time," he grumbles. He keeps pushing.

He looks like a kindly old man but there's no mercy from him. He isn't one of those considerate types who hold still waiting for you to "get used to it". He just keeps pushing it slowly further and further into me.

He is in control of my body, there's nothing I can do to get away. I know I'll just have to take it. But I can't do it, I can't relax.

Then I realise ... this is what I wanted. All those weeks and days and hours of waiting, this is what I was waiting for. And now I'm getting it.

So then I just stop fighting. I close my eyes and relax into the intense pressure. The fat dildo just keeps stretching my insides wide open, deeper, deeper, and I breathe in the poppers, and I let it in.

"That's better," he says looking down intently at my stretched hole.

At some point the tip hits something deep and tight, and I tense up and cry out in pain again, but again he just barks "relax!". I try to explain that it hurts, but the gag muffles me. He slaps me roughly on the face, "shhh". He keeps pushing.

Eventually he settles for a slow, shallow fucking rhythm. He lets my insides rest for a while, and the pain eases and I relax a bit. 

Then he suddenly rams it deeper again without warning, I cry and tense up in pain, he barks at me and slaps me. "Quiet. We'll have security knocking down the door."

Then we repeat the cycle all over again. 

Gradually I get used to the intensity of the sensations. Eventually I'm open, enough so he can ream the black mamba all the way in and out without pause. I still feel the intense pressure but no pain, I'm used to it now. It's part of being fucked.

It always takes work like this to get opened up. It isn't "fun" at all. But once I'm open and taking that dildo easily, M pats my head and says "good boy", and I feel stupidly proud of myself. 

I don't understand why I keep wanting to be subjected to this torture, the pleasure is intense but so is the pain and suffering.

I also don't understand why M keeps typing stuff into his phone the whole time. 

At least, I don't figure it out until later.

Edited February 11 by ashcub

[dazzasboy]

Thanks another great chapter, this is so close to what I want it is unreal

[ashcub]

Chapter 3

Today is to be my first attempt at a new dildo, the Atlas XL, a totally different beast to the black mamba.

The Atlas is a Popeye cartoon of a rubber cock, thin at the root, then widened to its fattest near the center of the shaft, then tapered down to the blunt head.

The widest part is too wide for me to get my hand around. There's more than an inch between my fingertip and my thumb. That's an inch more than the black mamba.

M and I looked at it together online and agreed it was ideal for my next challenge; and a week later, here it is.

But it's much too big for me to take sober. To take this new dildo, I'm going to need a slam.

There's this whole ritual of kettles and spoons and cotton buds and straps and alcohol wipes and cushions and "clench your fist". That's M's department. I just focus in on his eyes, do what I'm told, and try and ignore everything else.

The messing about goes on forever, and I'm terrified the whole time, fighting to keep myself calm, concentrating on my breathing. The needle gets stuck once, didn't work, twice, didn't work. I have difficult veins, apparently. Didn't drink enough water or something. Like nine or ten jabs before finally "ok it's in" and he lets me look down and the plunger is in, point three grams of crystal methamphetamine now in my bloodstream.

He pulls out the needle and we lock eyes, silently saying "see you on the other side". I slap on the plaster, lift my arm up, make my peace with the world I'm about to leave behind. Buckle up. Close my eyes.

Because sidling up on me now, nice and slow: here it comes. The first prickles are like distant trumpets over the horizon, outriders heralding a stampede towards me, little waves of butterflies in my stomach, flickering across my skin, growing. Here it comes.

The room shivers, snaps into three dimensions, like I've been living in a comic book up until this moment. Then, shockingly quickly, I'm accelerating up towards the ceiling. And the ceiling is accelerating with me, and the floor and the walls and the door and the windows. The room is a spaceship powered by this river of electricity coursing through me, pure humming pleasure, smooth as a limousine.

Somewhere far away, M is slamming himself, and then he is up here with me. 

We have just this one moment, this one last chance, to act out our most secret and terrible desires, confess our deepest, most shameful secrets. All the time in the world.

But we're in a waterfall and we're being swept away. And M is cuffing my wrists together behind my back again and then there's a wad of cloth in my mouth, "keep your mouth closed" and then he's wrapping gaffer tape around my face. The brakes are off.

I breathe, I go under, I see light, I hit the bottom, I tumble, I swim, I float, I sink again, I struggle, but eventually: I submit. I feel the impossibly wide head of the Atlas pressing up against my hole. There is no way I can take this. Too bad. It's coming in.

 I don't understand, is my last coherent thought as I look up at his wrinkly, pouchy face, his gaze intent on my hole. 

And then I lose myself in him.

From this point on, everything feels pre-ordained, like the most natural thing it could possibly be, no words required, no thought. His aggression rises gradually but inexorably, and my appetite rises to meet it. 

When the Atlas goes in all the way, I want more. When his fist goes in, I want more. When he alligator-clips my nipples, I scream and cry but I want more. When he tortures my cock and balls, when he spits on me and slaps me, the pain turns into waves of pleasure rushing through me, and I want more. When he feeds me more GHB, more poppers: I want more. When he chokes me or clamps my nose shut until I'm about to black out: more. 

Even when the G overcomes me and I wake up, unmoored from time, to find his cock exploring my throat, I want more.

And then there's a knock on the door.

[dazzasboy]

Love it cannot wait to see who is at the door

[billy88666]

Now I want more 😈... much much more 😈

[ashcub]

Chapter 4

At this point it dawns on me that I'm in what might be described as a bit of a pickle. 

High as a kite, tied up, cuffed, and suspended from a sling in a room at a Travelodge, which presumably isn't entirely unfamiliar with such activities. The bed strewn with all manner of sexual paraphernalia. Not exactly the image of the upstanding citizen that I've been cultivating.

The real issue, though, is the plastic baggie on the dresser containing ten grams of methamphetamine crystals. A stupid, ridiculous, unnecessary amount. What we're doing now, sharing drugs, counts as supply: easily enough to put us both in prison for a life-fucking amount of time. This was not part of the plan for this evening's entertainment.

More knocking, a baritone "Police. Open the door please sir."

We are so fucked.

M freezes, then raises his fingers to his lips: keep quiet. Then he's gone, moving towards the dresser and the door. I try to twist my body round so I can see what's happening, but that just makes the sling clank loudly, so I give up and just stare at the ceiling.

I hear the toilet flushing and pray it's M getting rid of the drugs.

The door cracks open and light from the hallway floods into our dark little hobbit-hole. I hear M's voice, low almost to the point of whispering, and the deeper voice of the interloper. But I can't make out the words.

Then there are two uniformed police constables standing above me. Big guys, maybe in their forties. Looking down at me with expressions of amused disgust.

"You're under arrest for the possession and supply of class A drugs," says the bigger one. And some legalese about anything you say in a court of law or whatever it is, I know the words but right now they're not sinking in.

"He's off his face," I hear M's voice behind them and then he is standing next to them. "But feel free to give him some more."

"Nice easy score, thanks very much," says the first copper. He bends down close to me, so I can smell his breath.

"Dirty little bumboy," he half-whispers, half grunts. "Think you can wander around doing whatever you like and get away with it."

I hear the sound of a zipper.

"You're about to get a lesson, boy," he pants, grabbing my throat and forcing my head back. He jams his fingers into my mouth and forces it open.

I moan in protest but all I get is a slap for my trouble - a hard slap that makes me see stars, and sends a rush of panic and pleasure down my whole body. That was no love-tap, the way M slaps me when he fucks me.

He means business.

Then his blunt, smelly, spongy cock head is pushing into my mouth. He pushes into my throat so fast I don't have time to get away. His fat shaft fills my throat, pushing my nose into his hairy balls. I try and breathe in but there's no air.

Instinctively I struggle and squirm to try and get free, to be able to breathe again. But he's holding my throat in a vice like grip, squeezing down tight and fucking into my throat.

I panic and buck even harder, fighting for air. But there's no quarter. I can feel blackness rising around me.

Suddenly he pulls out, looking down contemptuously as I gasp to fill my lungs.

"Want some air, do you boy," he snarls. "Too bad."

The poppers-soaked towel is held down on my nose and mouth again.

And with that he plunges in deep again, this time choking me even harder, balls deep and then all the way out, I'm just about managing to gasp in a bit of air now and then, but I'm gagging and retching with how deep his cock is going down my throat.

I'm panicking again as I run out of air, but he just keeps fucking into my throat, grunting things like "fucking take it".

I can feel the other constable move between my outstretched legs and grab my thighs. The sound of a zipper again and now I can feel a cock head at my arse, pushing insistently at my arse lips.

"Buckle up son, it's going to be a long weekend."

[PrisonbaiT]

Hope there will be more

[themiraclebox]

hot… i hope the cops would double slam him on the sling and pimp him out…. cops and gangsters DP him and flood him with their pozz cum cock afte cock 

[Pnp-pig]

Fucking amazing chapter 4 has precum dripping from my dick.

[Njn0mc]

On 2/14/2024 at 1:47 AM, ashcub said:

Chapter 4

At this point it dawns on me that I'm in what might be described as a bit of a pickle. 

High as a kite, tied up, cuffed, and suspended from a sling in a room at a Travelodge, which presumably isn't entirely unfamiliar with such activities. The bed strewn with all manner of sexual paraphernalia. Not exactly the image of the upstanding citizen that I've been cultivating.

The real issue, though, is the plastic baggie on the dresser containing ten grams of methamphetamine crystals. A stupid, ridiculous, unnecessary amount. What we're doing now, sharing drugs, counts as supply: easily enough to put us both in prison for a life-fucking amount of time. This was not part of the plan for this evening's entertainment.

More knocking, a baritone "Police. Open the door please sir."

We are so fucked.

M freezes, then raises his fingers to his lips: keep quiet. Then he's gone, moving towards the dresser and the door. I try to twist my body round so I can see what's happening, but that just makes the sling clank loudly, so I give up and just stare at the ceiling.

I hear the toilet flushing and pray it's M getting rid of the drugs.

The door cracks open and light from the hallway floods into our dark little hobbit-hole. I hear M's voice, low almost to the point of whispering, and the deeper voice of the interloper. But I can't make out the words.

Then there are two uniformed police constables standing above me. Big guys, maybe in their forties. Looking down at me with expressions of amused disgust.

"You're under arrest for the possession and supply of class A drugs," says the bigger one. And some legalese about anything you say in a court of law or whatever it is, I know the words but right now they're not sinking in.

"He's off his face," I hear M's voice behind them and then he is standing next to them. "But feel free to give him some more."

"Nice easy score, thanks very much," says the first copper. He bends down close to me, so I can smell his breath.

"Dirty little bumboy," he half-whispers, half grunts. "Think you can wander around doing whatever you like and get away with it."

I hear the sound of a zipper.

"You're about to get a lesson, boy," he pants, grabbing my throat and forcing my head back. He jams his fingers into my mouth and forces it open.

I moan in protest but all I get is a slap for my trouble - a hard slap that makes me see stars, and sends a rush of panic and pleasure down my whole body. That was no love-tap, the way M slaps me when he fucks me.

He means business.

Then his blunt, smelly, spongy cock head is pushing into my mouth. He pushes into my throat so fast I don't have time to get away. His fat shaft fills my throat, pushing my nose into his hairy balls. I try and breathe in but there's no air.

Instinctively I struggle and squirm to try and get free, to be able to breathe again. But he's holding my throat in a vice like grip, squeezing down tight and fucking into my throat.

I panic and buck even harder, fighting for air. But there's no quarter. I can feel blackness rising around me.

Suddenly he pulls out, looking down contemptuously as I gasp to fill my lungs.

"Want some air, do you boy," he snarls. "Too bad."

The poppers-soaked towel is held down on my nose and mouth again.

And with that he plunges in deep again, this time choking me even harder, balls deep and then all the way out, I'm just about managing to gasp in a bit of air now and then, but I'm gagging and retching with how deep his cock is going down my throat.

I'm panicking again as I run out of air, but he just keeps fucking into my throat, grunting things like "fucking take it".

I can feel the other constable move between my outstretched legs and grab my thighs. The sound of a zipper again and now I can feel a cock head at my arse, pushing insistently at my arse lips.

"Buckle up son, it's going to be a long weekend."

Holy shit that's hot!

Need more!

[ashcub]

Chapter 5

"Let me explain something to you, son," says the older and larger of the two cops. He's stripped down to a white T-shirt now, a tuft of hair peeking out above the neck. For some reason I focus on this detail.

He nods over towards the dresser and the plastic baggie.

"That there, you're looking at ten years in Wakefield, any time we say" he said. "Cute little boys like you are popular in there."

As he says this he brings his face up close to mine for emphasis.

"You think your arse is hurting now? Two weeks in there and you'll be shitting through a tube for the rest of your life, you understand?"

Through the gas mask I make eye contact with him, and see no compassion there, only disgust and contempt, drilling down into my soul. There's nothing to breathe but poppers, poppers so strong that I can see a huge dark yellow spot in the center of my vision, pulsing and drawing me towards it like I'm moving through a tunnel.

He flexes his fist and punches it forward. My insides squeeze around it, my arse lips clamp down on his thick hairy wrist. I can't help it, my body writhes like a thing possessed, I'm trying to relax but there's no way, not with this information coming at me. My entire fucking life is about to be over.

The burn from the booty bump he gave me a few seconds ago is still strong, but starting to give way to a deeper, spreading warmth in my guts. I have no idea how strong it was, but if the electricity starting to course through my nervous system is anything to go by, it's a lot stronger than that first slam. But it's coming on slow, slow, slow, like it's teasing me.

I'm praying for it to come on faster, and sweep me away from this hell.

"So what that means, son," he says, punching in and pulling out for emphasis, "is that we fucking own you now."

He starts a slow, deliberate fist fuck, rotating slowly, opening and closing his fist to work my arse harder. It's not getting any easier - when you're getting fisted you're supposed to be completely relaxed. A good fister will take their time, calming you down and waiting until you're ready for each further penetration. But this isn't fisting as a loving, intimate act.

This is fisting as pure domination, pure punishment, to show me he's the boss.

And it hurts.

"Any time we call you, you drop what you're doing, you go where you're told and you do what you're told, no questions." he says.

His forearm forces its way deeper into me, then slowly out to the wrist again.

"You serve us, and whoever else we tell you to. However they want to use you, however long they want, no limits, no stop words. You understand?"

I look into his eyes dumbly.

"I said, do you understand?" he reaches forward and grabs me by the throat, squeezing so hard my eyes almost pop out of my head. As I struggle for air, pleading silently for him to let me live, for this to be over, he punches his fist even deeper into me, even harder. He must be up to the elbow by now. The sudden, intense pain causes ripples of even more intense electric pleasure to surge through me, stronger and stronger.

"Do. You. Understand" he says in almost a whisper, his face right up against the gas mask, his eyes boring into me.

Looking deep into his implacable eyes, I finally understand what he wants from me. I can feel the human part of my mind starting to slip away as the booty bump starts to reveal its true power.

Slowly, never breaking eye contact, I nod.

This is the contract. I am now just an animal.

These men are my new owners.

Now if only they would just let me breathe...