#111b

“Right, now hit him!” John said.

Brian gave a wicked grin, then removed his cock ring, then crunched his knuckles, then pulled his arm back and slugged me square in the ribs. If I hadn't been tied to one of the kitchen chairs I would have probably fallen forward. Still, at that point I thought it was a joke, a game which had gone too far and gotten out of control. A game that John would steady up and bring back to a safe place. But he never did... au contraire.

“Now hit him again, only harder... I want that cunt hurting for his pain!”

Hurting for my pain??? I didn't know what that meant. All I could do was ponder its significance as Brian put in punch after punch, and John got all agitated in his chair. He was like a spectator who couldn't quite see the action of the match. At one point I even thought I saw him standing.

After a dozen or so whacks the chair toppled over and I fell sideways on the floor. Without my arms to protect me, the last sound I heard was skull slapping off stone tile and then my lights went out.

When I came around I was upright again. I could feel blood trickling down from my eye and my nose felt all blocked and mushy. In front of me, a little out of grabbing distance, were a pair of arse cheeks and a hand. They belonged to the same body. In the hand was my big black dildo. Brian was slightly on tip toes and working it up into his arse. To either side of his parted legs was a large wheel, and sticking out from between them (Brian's legs) a pair of familiar veined, size 10 feet. It was John and he was bobbing and slurping around behind Brian. Sometimes he would stop and use his hand. I'd catch brief glimpses of the tip of Brian's cock as John furiously wanked it off to the left. That seemed to aggravate my bleeding nose. Three drops of blood per second hit and burst open on the floor.

“Fuck, Christ! Look who's back in the world of the living!” said John, peering at me from around Brian's waist. Brian kinda gave the black dildo a little shove with his finger tips then turned around. He had a huge, hard, glistening wet cock. It was curved and bent in a weird way, but huge. Quite impressive really and indistinguishable from the one he had fucked me with. It looked like a porn dick, one that could fuck forever. He waddled over to me and started whacking me in the face with it. Then he removed the dildo from his arse and forced it into my mouth, nearly choking me as he unrelentingly pushed it in. It was only John powering over that made Brian stop his torture and step aside. In his silk Chinese robe, John sat in front of me. He looked me over as if he was there to pass some kind of judgement. Then he said: “Brian! Kimono!”

At John's side, Brian reached down and undone the quick release knot in John's silk gown. For the first time in almost five months John was sitting in front of me naked. His dick wasn't erect but you could tell it had been. Then he said: “Brian! Cock!”

Brian took hold of John's cock. He sort of flickered and massaged the head a little with his index finger before slowly pulling the foreskin back over the helmet. John's cock hardened into a proper semi and then he started pissing. In my face, over my chest and belly, then all over my paisley pyjama bottoms and back up. It was like he was hosing down a tramp. When he finally finished he just tied closed his dressing gown and calmly reversed. But that wasn't the end of my shower, next came Brian.

Before emptying his bladder, Brian first stunned me with a unexpected jab to the jaw, then with the same hand he held my nose closed. When I opened my gob for air he shot a streak of piss so hard into my mouth that I thought it had taken my tonsils out. But Brian's piss isn't John's piss. This stuff was yellow and stale and strong like Parma ham. And as it filled up my mouth and made me gag my head rocketed forward and I upchucked all over myself. Brian just giggled as he continued peeing down my neck. When he finished, he lifted my head up by my urine drenched hair and gave me a couple of bitch slaps. Then he left my head slump down, patted me on the back and said “Good Boy, Tristy... you've earned yourself a breather. Me and Master John need some time alone, hee hee.” Then he shoved the black rubber penis back in my my mouth and half rocked and half slid me down the hall and into the living room. “See you soon, Pissy Tristy Spencer” John shouted “not too nice being in a chair all fucking day, is it!”.

Leaving me alone in the living room with a dildo shoved in my mouth was a blunder. Of course I had thought of escape before that point, but couldn't really see a way out. Now I did see an emergency exit and I took it. I rocked over to the phone and with the 'Sex Aid' I knocked the receiver off the handset and poked down on redial button No.2. When mum answered and said: “Tristram, Dear?” I spat the dildo out and started sobbing.
“Mum” I bawled “I need help! You need to get here quickly... It's no joke, I'll either end up covered in shit or dead, maybe both! You've gotta save me! ...please!” I didn't hear her response, at that moment the door burst open and Brian pushed John in.

Brian was still naked, only now he was wearing black boots and had refitted a cock ring. I say 'a' cock ring because it wasn't the same one which he had been wearing earlier. This one was extra small and crunched and swelled his balls up so they looked like a birds breast. He also had some strange home made knuckle duster wrapped around his right fist. It was all bizarre, because from knowing him he was not into this – dishing it out at least. This guy was a sled dog, not a master. But then again, maybe this was part of his own enslavement at the hands of John. So what the fuck did that make me? The slave of a Master's slave? Brian picked up the receiver, listened, shook his head at John then walloped me. As my head spun around I saw the door, then John, then Jaws, then the clock: 15h46. With any luck, in nine minutes my ordeal would all be over.

Those nine minutes were neither painless nor easy. They involved a knuckled duster to the ribs, my toes being trod on and Brian fitting me with one of his special latex masks: half a litre of cum ejaculated over my face. As the eighth minute ticked by I started rocking and swivelling in my chair,  making for the hall. Brian made to get me, but John said: “Leave him! He won't be hard to track down!” Then he flicked a cigarette butt and it sizzled out somewhere near my ear. Brian, God Bless him, pulled my right arm free, “'av a wank while you're waiting,” he said “hee hee... hee hee hee!”

And then the nine minutes were up and I was at the door. I leant forward and pulled the catch. The door swung open and the fresh air and light blinded and confused me. I rocked and inched and urged my chair on, and then I snagged on the draft protector and the chair went over. Drenched in piss, vomit, cum and blood I tumbled out into the yard.

It was strange, but as I went over I kind of heard Brian rushing down the hall and screaming something like “he's loose!” For one moment I even thought he was nearing in to kick me in the face. I threw my hand out and grabbed at the incoming leg, but it was not the leg of Brian. This one was wearing a soft, clumpy, flat-soled shoe and the ankle was springy and swollen triple. It was Mum. For once in this life she had turned up trumps.

1 comment:

 
Waiting for John. Citrus Pink Blogger Theme Design By LawnyDesignz Powered by Blogger