The Prize Fighter
by Demi-X
It all started, when I woke up one morning hung over and hurting from
the previous night's bare-knuckled fights. The promoter of the illegal
contest was a slimy man I know only as Mr.Coleman. He had set the fight up
in payment for the extremely high gambling debts, that I owed to another
shark who was even meaner than Coleman.
Coleman had his finger in everyone's pie, including mine. When he saw an
opportunity to own another person, he took it.
Coleman owned many people, including my sister; luckily she paid her way
with the man by working virtually for free in his seedy pub, the "Dugout."
Last night, he had tossed me into a ring with a fighter who was clearly a
heavy weight, while I, no tiny man, made middleweight only. I took one look
at the guy and knew that I was going to lose, no matter how hard I fought.
Of course, Coleman wanted me to lose, so he could keep me further in debt
to
him. The way it worked was...He tells me he has bet big on me to win, and,
if I do, then he'll cut me lose from the indentured servitude in which I
seemed doomed to always be.
But he rigged the fight with the other fighter's trainer and set up an
improbable no-win situation for me.
Last night, as I stood in my corner wishing for a drink and hoping that my
eyes didn't swell shut for 4 days again after this, I saw the other fighter
eyeing me. I could tell that he felt it was beneath him to kick the shit
out of a smaller guy, but he'll do it anyway... I guess someone owned him
too.
To make a long story short, I lost the fight. Luckily, the fighter didn't
do too much damage before knocking me out. I came away in round five of
the
battle unconscious with a bloody nose and two beautifully matched bruised
cheekbones.
At least my eyes were still open and not too purple.
After I came too, Coleman gave me fifty bucks for the effort and then told
me that since I lost he had some errands for me to do for him tomorrow.
He
grinned at me like he knew something that I didn't- which he probably did.
Anyway, his walking -missing- link sidekick, a goon named Wallace, told me
to meet him in the morning at the club. Then they both left. And I took my
fifty bucks, bought a bottle of good tequila and proceeded to drink most of
it, alone, in my crummy two-room apartment, that Coleman rented for me.
I know I drink too much, but how else am I going to forget the misery of my
life? I can't do drugs like most people. I'm a fighter, granted a second
rate one, but still I fight. Drugs would diminish my body too much in too
short of time. I'm only twenty-five and as dismal as it may seem, I still
have rely on my fairly healthy body to get by.
Fighting is a tough way to make a living, but it's the only way I know how.
I spent the whole next day feeling miserable and sick. Coleman's right hand
man led the way and I followed him as we went from one lowlife to another
collecting money; debts owed to Coleman. Every time someone was way
overdue, and could not pay, I was called in to kick the shit out of him, in
order to encourage him to get some money together by the next visit or
else.
I did as I was told and my day ended with a tally of ten guys sporting
broken noses, black eyes or in one case, cracked ribs.
Missing link released me, finally for the day.
As soon as I got back to my place, I tried to wash off the grime of the day.
My knuckles where stained with other men's blood. Touring through the
empty kitchen told me that again, I'd spent too much on booze and not
enough
on food... again...
So, I drank what little there was left of my good tequila and rounded out my
dinner with a thick chunk of sharp cheese and a slice of plain, unbuttered
bread. I couldn't really eat anyway; hurting people on command all day
seemed to take away what little appetite I did have. I tossed on my
battered jean jacket, and the only clean pair of jeans in the drawer, which
were too tight. Locking up the apartment, I went to the dugout thinking
that, if Iris, my 28 year old sister wasn't on shift yet, I'd be able to get
another drink and put it on her tab.
I hated being broke and relying on my sister to take care of me. One day, I
kept swearing to myself, I'd return the favour. At the bar, I walked down
the stairs and as I passed a sign bearing the logo of a foreign brand of
beer, I looked at myself in the mirror portion of it. I had not shaved and
being dark haired, the dusk of a five o'clock shadow had just started to
darken my face. I was bruised and battered so what matter did a couple of
whiskers make anyway. Shrugging I grinned at my own reflection then
homed
in for the bar. I looked around and was pleased that I couldn't immediately
spot Iris. Her coat was hanging on the hook, so I knew she was here. I
decided to take advantage of the fact that she was busy elsewhere.
"Hey, Lani..." I shouted to the other waitress working. She turned and
looked at me, giving me a large smile. The waitress was in her middle
thirties and short. Not half bad looking for a woman ten pounds overweight
and nine years my senior; if that was your type.
Her hair was dishwater blond hair and her eyes blue and the moment, she
was
flashing me a grin that said she found me attractive.
Being unscrupulous, I played the flirt card.
"What'll you have?" Lani asked demurely.
"A shot of Southern Comfort and a pint to chase it with." I blinked my eyes
at her and ran my tongue seductively over my lips. She made a face at me
then, and clearly, whether she found me attractive or not, she was not
going
to give me a drink.
"I meant a non alcoholic beverage, Rod."
That old bitch, suddenly, under her scrutiny, I was magically turned into
one of her bratty kids. "One shot. One." I spread my hands wide. "What's
the big deal?" One lousy shot?"
"Iris said no."
I gave the waitress another wide-eyed shit-eating smile and tried again.
"Oh, Iris says. Iris says no." I coughed twice and sniffed, "She's my
sister you know. Not my mother."
"It's her tab. She said food was okay; but no booze."
"Okay. Can I have a beer then?" If she was going to treat me like one of
her kids, then I thought I could at least act like one. So I gave her an
'I've been naughty' look after asking the question. I was close to breaking
Lani down when Iris showed up.
"Rodney we talked about it, come on." Iris said.
She tapped me on the back of the head then walked away. I refused to look
at
her. I was pissed off and took the opportunity to sulk a bit, before
growing tired of being ignored.
As I was leaving, Coleman stopped me on the way out. He instructed me to
take a few days to heal my face then to come to the bar around 8:00 on
Friday night. As he spoke to me, Coleman raised his hand and ran his fingers
provocatively down my stubbled cheek.
I mumbled that I would be there and tore my arm out of his grip. I heard him
and his goon laughing after me as I stumbled away from them. My face felt
numb where he had touched. The implications behind it were clear, and I did
not like them.
But I owed him. What could I do?
On Friday night I showed up on time as instructed. Wallace pointed up the
stairs, indicating that that's where I should go.
The second floor of the bar was off limits to the public. Coleman's office
was up there along with three small, out of the way, bedrooms. A private
bathroom, with a sink, toilet and shower, was also located upstairs. When I
entered the upstairs, I saw that Coleman was seated comfortably near a
private bar, smoking a very smelly cigar.
"You're on time. Good." Coleman said.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked him nervously.
He laughed at me then and after a pregnant pause in which he blew smoke
rings, Coleman answered.
"Now you're going to find out what it's like to owe money. What it really
means to do as you're told."
The way he was looking at me made me nervous, and I wished for a drink,
just
one little drink. But I knew that that was not going to happen.
"Right now, Wallace is telling Iris that I own your markers. To spare you
the humiliation, she'll do what ever I want her to. Which is to seduce
Sully's contender, George." From out of the shadows stepped the man in
question.
I looked over at him and grimaced. I didn't really know George or his
trainer Sully very well. But I knew enough to recognize that Sully had a
crush on my sister. He would not like George and Iris getting together.
George, it seemed was oblivious to that fact.
"You can't do this. Iris is a nice girl. Name something else and I'll do
it. Another bare knuckle bout, or some more strong arm tactics for
Wallace..."
"Shut up Rodney." Coleman said calmly. "You and your sister will do as
you're told. Now get out of here. Wait for me at the bar, I have something
I want you to do later."
Reluctantly, I turned and went back down the stairs. I stopped Iris at the
bottom and said, "Don't do this."
"It's okay." Iris reassured.
"No, it's not. You're doing it for me." I told her. I was genuinely sad,
for her, for me, and the piss- poor spot into which I had backed. She
stared at me dispassionately for a second, then turned, and ascended the
stairs. I could do nothing now but wait.
A few minutes later, the little guy named Sully and his fighter George came
tumbling down the narrow staircase. Sully was like a banty rooster; tiny
but tough. He was all over George, who obviously did not want to fight the
little man back. Coleman and Wallace in the meantime strolled by the fight
as the pub bouncers broke it up and they sat at a table in the back.
The smug look on Coleman's face pissed me off.
Obviously he had set up the whole scenario with Iris. His intention was not
in prostituting her out, but in provoking Sully into doing something
foolish. And typical to a hotheaded Irishman, Sully reacted exactly the way
Coleman expected him too. I was furious; he had no right to toy with people
this way.
I went right up to Coleman, breaking up his chat with Wallace. I said,
"You've gone too far this time." I shot a quick look at the missing link,
just to make sure he wasn't going to take my head off for speaking my
piece.
Coleman moved over in the booth, indicating that I should sit next to him.
"Did you say something?" Coleman asked, his tone mocking.
"You. You can't use people like this."
"I can't?"
"No." I interjected quickly.
"Why? Because you're going to stop me?"
That bastard was tripping on the power he had over people, myself included.
He dropped his hand to my lap and squeezed my genitals. I squirmed and
tried to get up but Coleman cupped my basket fully and that held me in
place. Wallace leered at me from across the table, like I should have known
that this is how I would really have to pay my debts.
Using me for muscle was just an excuse.
"Come on Rodney." Coleman said, "Pretty man like you, you don't think I'd
waste those good looks on a thug in the ring do ya?"
I stared hard at Coleman, braving his clutching fist. "What do you want?"
"Family like yours... you're all good looking.... Iris knows the score, now,
so do you."
He let go of my cock, and laughed. "There are a couple of men who have
seen
you fight. They want you to come to a party they're throwing...tonight, in
their hotel room."
I didn't like the look on Coleman's face. It was too relaxed, like there
was a catch. So I asked him. "What kind of party? What kind of men."
"Very rich men who pay well for an evening with a handsome..." Coleman
ran
his fingers softly over my jaw as he spoke,"...rugged man. They want
someone who wouldn't normally screw a guy." He ran his fingers through
my
short, greasy hair. "I know what you did when you were younger, Rod...I'm
sure you can still remember how to suck a cock..."
Coleman was talking slowly, like he was picturing me on my knees swallowing
down some old geezer's dick. He probably was... and I was sure it was his
cock I was sucking in his fantasy.
"So I expect that you will remember what to do when the time comes."
Well, partying with men for money wasn't something I hadn't done before.
But I had to try to get out of it one more time. "Don't you think I'm a
little old to be a whore...why don't you hire a street hooker for them?"
Coleman held my jaw tightly between his fingers and said sharply, "Because,
I told you already... they want a man... not a boy... they're not frigging
perverts you know."
"I don't want to be your party boy Coleman. I'll get in the ring for you;
I'll beat up anyone you ask me too. But please..." I didn't want to beg,
but my voice was whiny, I couldn't help it. I'd done enough whoring in my
life; I'd thought that being in my twenties would have changed all that.
I despised having to do it back then, still hated the very thought of it
now.
"Rodney, face it. You're a beautiful man; those big green eyes of yours
draw admirers to you. You're body, keeps them interested."
Now I knew why Coleman had me partake in the bare-knuckle fight. I had
been
wearing a tight pair of warm up shorts, similar to bicycle shorts, and that
was it. I may as well have been naked in that ring. Bastard, he had this
set up for longer than I had assumed.
"Besides... Rod... If you don't do this, I'll send your sister instead. Some
guys and your 100 pound sister... maybe I'll do that anyways...."
"NO!" I shouted jumping up. There was no way I wanted Iris alone with any
men. Wallace leapt up when I did and grabbed me by the neck and forced me
down so that my torso and cheek were pushed against the dirty tabletop.
He
had my left armed pinned against the middle of my back. I had to hand it to
him, for such a big guy, he was quick. No wonder he was the only bodyguard
that Coleman needed.
"Then you'll do as I say if you don't want Iris to go in your place. Now,
there's a bag under the table. Take it to the bathroom and change into the
clothes. Comb your hair. Wallace will drive you over to the hotel."
Coleman leaned down, close and spoke directly to my face. "Do a good job,
and after a few more parties, I'll consider you and Iris to have paid your
debts. Don't embarrass me, Rodney..." He warned. "Wallace will come back
for you after a couple of hours." He patted my ass and laughing, went back
up the stairs.
Bastard, I thought. Threaten me by threatening Iris. He knew how to get
me
to play his game, his way.
Wallace slowly let me up. I glared at him and he at me. Then I grabbed the
plain brown paper bag by the jute handles and went into the men's room. I
shucked my clothes quickly and put on the ones provided. I did up the
plain, faded blue jeans; they were a bit too tight for me. They cupped my
jewels and showed them off, rather than flattened them out. There was a
frayed tear in the denim just below my right ass cheek, every time I moved I
could feel a puff of cold air on the exposed bit of flesh.
Shaking my head at Coleman's lack of originality in clothing choices, I
pulled the shirt out of the bag, and like the jeans, it was fairly simple
cut. It was an indigo blue Lycra and cotton mix T-shirt that hugged my
body. The material fit in such a way that rather than covering up my pec
and abdomen muscles, it clung to them.
The shirt was so snug that it looked like I had painted it on.
Last was an ordinary jean jacket. I shrugged it on and then faced the
mirror. I splashed warm water over my face, and studied it in the mirror
for a few seconds. Both Iris and I had our father's eyes, much to my
abusive mother's chagrin. The bruising was mostly gone around them now
and
a shadow of whiskers darkened my face. For a fighter I had gotten off
easy.
I'd had plenty of bloody noses in my time but never a broken one.
Remarkably, my nose was still straight. I did have many small scars around
my eyes however, but I guess that's what Coleman meant when he called me
rugged. The nicks were small and not that noticeable, unless you were
looking for them. There was a comb in the pocket of the jacket, so I pulled
it out and combed my hair, brushing my short bangs up so that they stood
straight up, away from my forehead.
I looked good. Too good. I thought glumly. Sick of my own image, I
turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.
I passed Iris on my way to Wallace and, after a quick double take; she
grabbed me by the arm and stopped me.
"Where are you going... dressed like that." She said.
Obviously I looked like a whore. "To a party." I said dully. There was no
need to explain what kind of party it was. She knew.
"Don't go Rodney. Don't. We'll think of something else."
"There's no other way." I said.
"Don't..."
I cut her off. "You want to go instead of me?" I asked her, my voice
cold and distant.
She hesitated for a second, like she was going to speak, but in the end she
said nothing. Just looked at me sadly then let go of my arm and back away
a few steps.
Of course she wouldn't want to go. Who the hell would?
"I'll be all right." I said, giving her a small, encouraging smile.
Wallace and I were standing at the door of penthouse suite number 3,
waiting
for the door to open to let us in. "How many other... guys... like me will be
there?" I asked. On the drive to the posh hotel, neither one of us spoke
to the other.
Smiling cruelly, Wallace replied, "Just you Rodney."
"What?" I said. "Me and four guys?" The way Coleman talked, there would
be other whore's there to entertain the revellers.
The door opened then, and Wallace gave me a bit of a shove through it.
"I'll be back in two hours." He said, reaching out to slam the door behind
me. The man who had let me in was either in his late thirties or early
forties, I couldn't be sure. He was blond and blue eyed, and thankfully,
not that ugly. He pulled a key from his pocket and locked the deadbolt from
the inside, then pocketed the key again.
"You're ours for the next couple'a hours." He said with a leer.
I turned to and looked at the closed door, my exit to freedom, cut off from
me now. I was trapped in the penthouse until they decided to let me out.
Blondie grabbed me by the back of the neck and guided me down the hall and
into the living room of the suite. Three men, all around the same age as
blondie, turned away from the wet bar and looked at me.
None of the other three men were ugly, neither were they extremely
good-looking. In fact, they were all rather ordinary. Bland was what came
to mind.
Blondie pulled off my jacket.
"Rod. This is Mr. Black, Mr. Brown, Mr. Red and I'm Mr. Yellow." He
pointed to each man as he said his 'name'. Obviously they had picked those
monikers because of their hair colour. Mr. Black did in fact, have short
black hair, and so on.
Mr. Red gasped when my jacket had come off. I guess he approved of the
shirt.
"Rod. the bod..." Commented Mr. Brown, whose hairline was receding
slightly.
Rod the bod... not very original, I'd heard that one before. Many times—too
many.
Red turned back to the bar and poured me a drink. "Good." I thought to my
self. I was going to need something to help me get through the evening. He
fiddled around for a second, before facing me again, with a strange grin
plastered on his face.
I had never felt this on display, even when fighting in a ring with nothing
on but a pair of shorts.
Red held the drink out, and I readily accepted it. I swallowed down the
three ounces of good scotch in swallow. I had no pride left. Red took the
crystal tumbler back and filled it again. And again, I drank the contents
up immediately. Six ounces of good booze would do for a start.
At least it would take the edge off.
Red, Brown and Black sauntered over the large couch and sat themselves
down.
All three had their eyes on me. Yellow was standing behind me still. I
ignored the seated men and looked around at my surroundings. The
penthouse
suite was huge, bigger than my crappy apartment by about 500 square
feet. A
four-poster, king-sized bed sat in a small well-lit alcove of the room. It
rested on a raised dais that was about two feet in height. Spotlights in the
ceiling shone at the end of the bed, I studied the bed, realizing that the
sheets were made of blue satin.
How totally tacky.
After a few minutes of looking around, I started to feel dizzy. Turning
toward the couch, the three men seated suddenly multiplied into six.
"Shit." I muttered.
Those bastards had drugged me. Probably slipped something into my first
shot of scotch. "What did you give me?" I said, slowly, turning toward
Yellow. He gave me a merciless smile in answer to my question. And I knew
right then, that this was not going to go as easy as I thought it would.
All of a sudden, Yellow and his cohorts looked like predators.
"Don't worry Rod." Yellow said.
He ran his fingers over my chest and raised my nipples.
"It's only a couple of tabs of ecstasy."
I tried to pull away, determined to leave the room, not caring what I owed
Coleman.
Yellow wrapped his fingers around my throat and squeezed. He moved so
that
he was standing behind me, giving the men on the couch a perfect sight line
in which to watch me. I brought my hands up to try and break the grip, but
between the weakness from the drugs and my lack of co-ordination, I could
do
nothing to stop him.
I felt helpless.
Coleman probably told them that they would have to do something
incapacitate
me. Under normal circumstances, I could kick the shit out of each and
every
one of these men. Then again, perhaps they were simply four hyenas taking
pleasure in tearing a part weaker prey. Maybe Coleman never told them a
thing about me, knowing all along what these four degenerates liked.
Numb. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thanked god that Iris had not
come
here in my place.
Yellow let up, and I gasped for air. He laughed harshly, "Don't worry Rod.
You only have to let one of us fuck you. The rest you can blow."
Yellow reached around front of me and fondled my balls through the jean
material while he kept the other hand on my throat. He spoke directly into
my ear.
"We won't hurt you, too bad." The three on the couch chuckled at Yellow's
comments.
Even though I was trapped in a fog, I could focus enough to see their
erections through their $2000 suit pants. Suddenly, I had to get out of
there. I brought my elbow back into Yellow's stomach, pushing the air out
of the snooty bastard and doubling him over. I pushed my hand into his
pocket and came up with the key before the others could react.
Surprise, for the moment, was on my side.
"Get him!" Yellow ordered, still in pain from my elbow digging into his
guts. He was lucky, if I hadn't been drugged, I could have split his
fucking spleen for him had I been so inclined. Which I was, I just didn't
have the strength behind me at the moment.
I staggered to the door and actually managed to get the key into the lock
before one of the cowards zapped me in the back of the shoulder with a low
current tazer. I remember screaming, but that was it.
I woke up a few minutes later with my shirt off, my jeans still on and my
hands cuffed behind my back. I was wearing a thick choke chain, the kind
used for training dogs, around my neck. Attached to it was a thick leather
leash, which Yellow held the other end. I was laying face up on the blue
satin sheets, which were strangely enough, cold.
"Fuck." I swore loudly.
I had really done it this time. I struggled to get up but Yellow yanked the
leash and the silver chain choked the fight right out of me. As soon as I
stopped struggling, he eased off of the tension and my air and colour came
back to me. I stared up at him with defiant eyes, glaring at the deviant as
best as I could.
Unfortunately, this only encouraged he and his partners in this crime.
"Fuck, Coleman was right! He's perfect." Black said from the other side of
the bed, where he, Brown and Red stood watching Yellow mistreat me.
I swung my eyes over to the others and glared hard at them. Bastards got
off on seeing me this way.
Brown rubbed at his crotch while Red unzipped his pants. Presumably, Red
was going to get his rocks off first.
"Sit up." Yellow instructed.
He yanked and pulled the chain taught, forcing me to do what he said.
Brown settled himself comfortably on a chaise lounge, on the other side of
the room. He sipped his rusty nail calmly, and watched the proceedings.
Black perched himself in a black leather chair, not to far from where Brown
was sitting, and worked on his drink. Red, nude from the waist down, sat on
the end of the bed and waited for me.
"Get over here and suck me." Red commanded.
"I won the card draw." Yellow hissed into my left ear. "You'll blow them
three and then I'm going to fuck you raw..."
Without warning, I jerked my head to the left and smashed into his
cheekbone.
Yellow bellowed in rage and punched me back, right in the face. The blow
hurt, but, being used to getting hit in the face, I shook it off. The
bruise from the impact was already starting to form; I could feel it.
Pulling on the chain and leash violently, Yellow forced me off the bed like
a naughty yellow lab who had snuck onto his masters feather duvet. Having
no arms, I landed hard on the carpeted dais, grunting on impact. I glared
up at my 'master' and started struggling to my feet.
"No." He said pushing me down. "Crawl, on your knees."
I obeyed his command, and as I silently swore to kill Coleman for putting me
up here in this hotel room, I made my way to where Red sat on the bed.
Yellow, stuck close, holding the leash, ready to control me if need be.
Red's cock was small, but fat. It was crimson red, very hard and jutted out
proudly from his orange-fringed lap.
His cock dripped with anticipation of what I was going to do for him.
I told myself that this was something I could do... To just close my mind
and think about sparring in the ring instead. I knelt down in front of the
first 'customer' of the night and searched his bright blue eyes, just to see
if he held any sympathy for me at all.
He didn't. His look was predatory bordering on psychotic.
I bent my head, but before my mouth made contact with him, Red grabbed a
handful of my hair. He yanked my head back, pulling on the roots of my hair
painfully, "Do it right or I'll kick the shit out of you." He laughed and
released me. Bastard, the only way he could beat me up was to have me
drugged and cuffed. Which of course, I was. I took his threat seriously...
Now, I all I wanted to do was get through these for guys and get out of
here. Wallace was coming back; he had said so. So I knew that though
these cocksuckers could hurt me, bad, they couldn't at least, kill me.
And getting gang-banged and beat up was still better than being dead.
The next half hour passed in a hazy blur.
Thank goodness.
I remember crawling on my knees and I remember how each and every one
of
those men's' cocks tasted in my mouth, but not much more.
I also vaguely recalled puking after Brown forced me to swallow his spunk.
But, after that, my head swam and I mercifully passed out. Between the
ecstasy and the tazer, my body could take no more abuse.
When I came to again, I was back on the bed. I wasn't sure exactly how long
I had been unconscious, but it wasn't that long.
Red, Black and Brown were back on the couch, sitting shoulder to shoulder
and sipping what looked like fresh drinks.
Yellow was the one who had revived me. He put down the cup that had held
the ice water that he tossed in my face and smiled at me evilly as I
fluttered my lids open.
My jeans and underwear were long gone and I was no longer cuffed behind
my
back. I had been placed face down, on my belly.
Oh, I was still handcuffed, but now my arms were pulled up and held captive,
the cuffs were threaded through the wrought iron headboard. I still wore
the choke chain and the leash was tethered to the iron as well.
The pillow below my face was replaced with a dry one. And as I lay there,
trying to figure out what was going to happen to me next, Yellow slowly,
removed his expensive shirt and pants.
"If you're going to fuck me, why am I still restrained?" I asked, knowing I
couldn't change what was going to come next.
"Because, pretty man." Yellow caressed my cheek, then my bare back as he
spoke, "It's the way I like things done."
I shifted my focus to just beyond his nude frame, and saw, to some relief,
on the nightstand, a condom, some lubricant and a small bottle of
coconut-scented oil.
Yellow climbed onto my back and moved around so that he was settled right
on
the backs of my thighs. Reaching out, he plucked the bottle of oil off of
the stand and then dripped some onto the small of my back. Then, he
proceeded to give me a gentle, almost loving massage. I found this to be
most puzzling, and at the time, I thought perhaps, despite the brutality he
really wanted to make love to me, not just fuck me.
However, Yellow was very Jeckyll and Hyde-like. Right after the soothing
massage, he leaned down and bit into my shoulder hard enough to break the
skin and draw a good amount of blood. I hollered in protest, but he only
laughed and slapped my ass cheek hard. When he leaned over for the
condom I
could feel his erection jabbing right at my ass. That was when I clued in
to what he was really about.
Yellow needed the gentleness of soft caresses, of running his hands over
my
slick flesh to give him the hard-on, and then he needed the harsh slaps, the
rough trade play to maintain the erection.
Yellow donned the rubber, and instead of using the lube or even the coconut
oil, he scooped up some of the warm blood that was dripping from the bite
on
my shoulder and rubbed it over his cock. I looked back over my shoulder
and
watched as Yellow stared down at his red covered dick, mesmerized by the
sight of my blood on his organ. I cast a quick glance at the three amigos
on the couch. All of them sat forward, mouths open and breaths coming
rapidly at the thought of watching their friend screw me.
Useless Pricks. They were nothing spectators in Yellows bizarre fantasy.
No
wonder they had to pay for sex.
Two thick pillows were propped up under my belly, raising my ass up in the
air; inviting Yellow even more I suppose. Strangely enough, I had remained
fairly calm and absolutely silent after the biting incident.
I'd been screwed before, a very long time ago.
But I still remember what that felt like, so I knew what to expect. Yellow
spanked my buttocks again, bringing up the redness. He drew some of the
oil
off of my back and smeared it at my opening. Then he parted my cheeks
and
slowly worked the head of his cock in. During that, I tensed up tight and
he pushed on the bite mark threateningly with his thumb, silently telling me
to 'loosen up'.
To which I tried to do, but when your restrained with an audience its hard
to grow comfortable enough to relax.
Once I was ready, or rather he felt that I was ready; Yellow buried his cock
inside me in one thrust. I yelled again, at the top of my lungs but that
did not stop him from pushing in and out of me brutally.
Eventually, the burning and ripping numbed enough for me to bear the
reaming
I was receiving and I quit fighting him. I tried not to incite his arousal
further, so I simply lay there limp. But He was to far gone by then to
notice what state I was in.
The peanut gallery cheered Yellow on by saying things like, "Fuck him
hard..." and "... hurt him... make his ass bleed."
Well, I knew from the minimal preparation on my part that there would be
blood, how much? I wouldn't know the answer to that question until he let
me up.
Those vultures on the couch just wanted to see me subjugated, and Yellow
had
certainly done that. In a matter of hours with a little help from some
drugs, I had been reduced to an object; a thing to be toyed with then
disposed of, like unwanted trash.
I felt Yellow's sweat hit the back of my neck, and then came his hot breath
in my ear.
Whispering so his friends couldn't hear he said, "I'll give you a thousand
dollars if you meet me again. No restraints... no audience. Just you and me
making love..."
I immediately shook my head no, afraid to answer him for fear of pissing
him
off again. If Yellow actually thought that I would fall for the just you
and me bit he had another think coming. These men had found it necessary
to
drug me, tazer me and tie me up... and there were four of them against
one... Fuck, there would be no telling what Yellow would do alone... murder me
even?
Then again, perhaps he really did want to be alone with me.
But a grand for a fuck or ten thousand it didn't matter. He was never going
to find out because after I left here, I was going to kill Coleman, and then
I'd never have to look at one of these diseased bastards again.
"Fine then!" Yellow hissed, punctuating his angry words with another deep
thrust. "I'll leave you something to remember me by."
While wildly jamming into me, Yellow yanked back my head by pulling my hair,
the choke chain tightened, and I began to gasp for air. He covered my
mouth
with his own and stuck his tongue down deep. I tried to avoid his molesting
tongue but could not, and suddenly I was beginning to feel light-headed from
the lack of oxygen.
Yellow, sensing this pulled away and bit the side of my mouth and part of my
lower lip, at the same time. The bastard had broken my skin again. Getting
a lip split, or bitten into, has got to be one of the most painful things
ever, probably because the nerve endings are so close to the surface.
Yellow hurt me by biting me there and hurt me bad.
His mouth smothered my screams. He resumed his previous position and
then
climaxed inside of me.
Finally, the sex was over and I barricaded myself in the posh bathroom by
locking the door and pushing the chair that was in there underneath the gold
coloured knob. I showered away the stink of the four men's cologne and
rinsed as much of the aftertaste of their spunk from the lining of my
mouth
as I could.
I was battered and bruised and bleeding, but alive. And in the end, that's
what mattered.
The bruised cheekbone and the raw red ring around my neck would
eventually
heal, I could only hope the memories of the night would disappear with the
marks. There was a knock on the door and one of the men, I didn't know
who,
announced that Wallace was waiting for me.
Finally, I could escape the nightmare.
In the car, Wallace commented with a callous laugh that I looked 'well
used.'
I ignored him and stared out my window; all the way back to the bar. Visions
of the most painful ways for Coleman and Wallace to die, pirouetting around
in my head.
End...
My day was done. Finally. Two men were dead, and I could have cared less.
