Penthouse Slut Slave

“Hold that lift!” The voice boomed through the deserted foyer. Automatically, I stuck my hand out to cut the beam so the door would remain open, but as soon as I saw who belonged to the voice, I regretted my politeness. Ever since the asshole had moved into the penthouse apartment above ours, we’d had nothing but aggravation.

He beamed as he shoved his way into the elevator, knocking me to the back wall with his body. Fucker!

“Thanks, faggot!” he spat as he poked the button for his own floor before I had a chance to press ours.

My boyfriend, Carlos, gripped my arm as a warning not to start a fight.

“Oh, ain’t that sweet, the faggot’s little fuck boy doesn’t want any trouble.”

He chucked Carlos under the chin like he was some kind of animal. “What’s the matter, fuck boy? Scared of a real man?”

He flexed his arm, his bicep expanding like a small mountain, almost ripping his muscle T-shirt.

“Have a feel. That’s real solid muscle. It’ll make your little boy cunt juice up. Go on, put your hand on it.”

I could sense Carlos wanted to take the dare; he’d always had a thing for muscles, something I’m rather scarce of, but his fear of the skinhead from upstairs and of my reaction made him hesitate.

“Don’t be frightened of what Mr. Flabby here thinks. This is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get up close to a fuckin’ honest-to-god piece of real man flesh.”

When Carlos still looked indecisive, Bull grabbed his hand and placed it on his bicep, flexing again. Carlos squeezed it timidly.

“Put some force into it, sweetheart. I’m not fragile like your boyfriend there.”

Carlos squeezed again and I could see Bull’s mouth form into a sneer.

“If you like that, babe, then you’re gonna love these.”

He lifted his T-shirt over his head, lodging it behind his neck so that his chest and abdomen were shown off to great effect. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from gasping.

“That’s it, baby. Have a good feel, store up those sensations so next time your piss weak shit of a lover is fucking his teeny weenie in that nasty little ass of yours…” To emphasize his point, Bull squeezed Carlos’s butt making my boyfriend squeal. “Good little faggot fuck pig. I’ll let you dream it’s this body pressing against you.”

Bull ran Carlos’s hand across his hairy pecs, and then down over his chiseled abs. Carlos was having problems controlling his breathing. The bully took his hand off Carlos’s just as it reached the waist band of his slung-too-low gym shorts so my boyfriend was free to move it any which way he desired. There was a tense stand-off. The atmosphere in the elevator was ripe with testosterone. Sure, I could have wrenched Carlos’s hand away from the skinhead’s body but I was rather intrigued what he would do next.

Bull was so supremely confident. “Go on, I know you want to. You won’t get another chance like this, fag boy. Your last chance to feel a real man’s cock.” He began to move slowly to remove my boyfriend’s hand from his body. At the last possible moment, Carlos slid his hand beneath the shorts and down to the creep’s cock letting out a gasp of surprise as he obviously found more than he’d expected.

“Feel something you like?”

He didn’t need a reply, it was all-too-obvious that Carlos had found something very much to his liking.

“Bet you’ve never had one as juicy as that before,” Bull teased, attempting to humiliate me further. “Why not have a little taste. That’s it, rub your fingers around the head, get all that drooling pre-cum on your fingers.”

There seemed to be a lot of movement in Bull’s shorts before Carlos withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening. He stared at them for the longest time, the humiliating silence broken by the snapped command, “Go on, you know what to do with it.”

Carlos pushed his fingers into his mouth and sucked, his eyes closed as if in hog heaven.

“You’ve got a cute ass, fag boy, and my cock ain’t always fussy. Especially if there’s no pussy around. Any time you want some action from a real man who knows how to treat a filthy fag slut, come on up, the door’s always open if I’m home.” He turned to me, then grabbed my crotch in his powerful hands, squeezing until my balls felt fit to burst. “Yeah, I thought so. Fuckin’ turns you on. Who knows, I might even let you watch.”

He laughed like the devil as we reached his floor and he got out. In the brief seconds before the door closed, he turned to look at Carlos, sneering as he said, “Think about it, boy.” It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a command.

The lift went back down to our floor below. When we reached our apartment, I was shaking so badly Carlos had to help with the key. He seemed much less fazed by the confrontation with our nemesis than I was.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” I asked Carlos. I felt pretty confident because the guy was as ugly as a hatful of assholes and I was pretty sure of my own good looks. I just needed to hear Carlos’s assurances, particularly as I felt vulnerable in the cock size department and in my ability to protect my boyfriend in a face-to-face fight with Bull.

Carlos snorted, “Of course not. He’s an animal.”

We’d had problems with him since the day he arrived. Then he had looked an unlikely tenant of the luxurious penthouse on the eighteenth floor that overlooked the park and had a spectacular view of the mountains in the west. It had taken every penny we possessed to snag the apartment directly below, the one above with a price tag of at least two million was way more than we could afford.

That first night, Bull threw a housewarming party and as his sundeck was directly above our bedroom ceiling there was no chance we’d get any sleep until it stopped. The whir of his Jacuzzi, the tramp of shoes across the wooden floor planks, the shrieks of boozy laughter, and the whoomph of the bass beat almost drove us mad.

Earlier that day, we’d watched the removalist’s van deliver high end furnishings leading to expectations that a successful IT nabob or a company CEO had taken up residence although the removal men themselves were a rag-tag bunch, especially the shaven-headed foreman whose frequent use of the foulest expletives turned the air blue. When one of our women neighbors stuck her head over the balcony to remonstrate with him, explaining she didn’t want her children to hear that sort of language, he called her a ‘cunt’ and told her to mind her ‘own fuckin’ business.’

She informed him she was calling the company to complain.

“You do that,” he called up to her.

He either didn’t care about his job or else was indispensable to the company. We found out later which it was when we took up a hamper of goodies as a welcome to the neighborhood when we heard the new owner moving about on the sun deck later in the day.

As his is the only residence on the eighteenth floor, we were unsurprised that his door was wide open, revealing the normal clutter of someone who has just moved residences. The apartment itself was eerily quiet so we knocked loudly.

“What the fuck?”

The voice and tone were all-too-familiar. Carlos clutched my arm, trying to pull me back to the lift, but before he could make his escape the skinhead removalist came striding toward us, his lace-up bovver boots, clacking across the floor’s marble tiles.

“Oh,” he muttered when he saw we came bearing gifts. “Are you the official welcoming committee?”

“No, we’re just being neighborly.”

“You’re the two fags who live beneath me.” He laughed. “Just my little joke. Fags are always beneath somebody.” He looked at our grim faces. “Not funny? Who gives a shit?”

“We were hoping to greet to new owner,” I said. “We’ll come back some other time when he’s home. Sorry to disturb you.”

“You’ve met him,” he sneered. “I’m not good enough for your pissy little neighborhood, is that it?”

“No, it’s just…” I stopped. He was right, I’d made assumptions. Just like I’d assumed he was a skinhead because his scalp was clean shaven, he wore his jeans tucked into his ass-kicker boots, and he had military-style tattoos on his upper arms. One or two of them looked suspiciously like Nazi iconography. But it was his head, tattooed with bizarre symbols that made him appear really evil. In fact, if you stared long enough, they took on the appearance of a satanic face. As well, he had symbols down one cheek. He definitely looked like someone we didn’t want in our building.

“To save you wondering, I sold my soul to the devil when I was ten. This was all he asked when I was sixteen. He’ll do anything for me. How else could I afford to live here?”

“Come on, let’s go,” Carlos looked petrified.

“So the nasty little fuck toy can actually speak? For a moment I thought he was just a realistic-looking blow-up doll. Well, I guess he is. I bet the whole faggy area has blown up his ass one time or another.”

“Just a minute,” I said, drawing myself up to my full height which still only reached his chest. I was prepared to fight for my man, but I knew I’d be the very sore loser. So did Carlos.

“Come on, Liam, It’s not worth it.”

“You think not, fag boy.” He grabbed a handful of his own crotch. “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

Of course, since the more recent incident in the lift, Carlos did know how wrong he was.

Those first few weeks after he moved in, the noise drove us both spare as did the constant taunting of Bull’s mates who seemed to come and go with monotonous regularity. We tried complaining to building management, among the many to do so, but they maintained it wasn’t their job. The woman I spoke to sounded scared to even discuss the topic. The police, when we’d finally had enough and called them, were openly bored. “Look, mate, we get so many complaints like yours from all over, I can sprout the usual bullshit that I’ll send someone around but chances are the noise will have stopped by the time one of our cars gets there.”

I was not about to be fobbed off so lightly, insisting it was the duty of the police to protect innocents like ourselves from bullying. I threatened to take out an apprehended violence order which would make the cops’ job even harder.

“Okay, give me the address.” When I told him, he said, “Oh, we’ve had lots of complaints from there.” He sighed down the phone which seemed to imply that he’d have to do something about it.

By the time I hung up I’d received assurances that, barring a terrorist attack on the city, the cops would be there within two hours. I knew from experience the party noise would not have died down by then and the constant ebb and flow of unsavory characters visiting the penthouse would not have slowed.

Carlos and I were watching from the balcony when the police car pulled up in the street below and two young cops swaggered to the front of the building. I heard the squawk of the buzzer as they pressed for admission to the apartment upstairs, the sound of loud music ricocheting across the street from the intercom.

“It’ll be over soon and we can get some sleep,” Carlos smiled, patting me affectionately on the back because he knew how wound up I was by the disturbance. Fifteen minutes later there was no change to the relentless sound of partying, in fact I thought it had increased in volume so that I almost missed the knocking at our apartment door. I didn’t for a minute believe that Bull and his mates had waylaid the cops and chopped them into tiny pieces and that he was now outside our front door about to wreak his revenge for our complaints, but the thought did flitter across my mind.

I opened the door on the two police who had the decency to look embarrassed.

“We asked him to tone it down, mate,” one of the cops said. “He just told us to fuck off.”

“That’s it?” I asked, scarcely containing my disgust.

“Look, we’ve had so many complaints about the noise, and his personal behavior. Some people in the building have tried to take out an AVO against him.”

I waited for him to go on but he just stared at me as if he’d said all there was to say. When I just looked at him blankly, it must have registered that I expected more. He looked surprised. “Don’t you know who the guy is?” My open-mouthed stare must have told him that I didn’t. Before he and his fellow cop turned on their heels and went back down the corridor leaving me bewildered, he mentioned a name which meant nothing to me, then added, “You’re on your own, mate.”

Carlos and I logged on to Google his name, discovering there were enough references to our irritating neighbor to fill an encyclopedia.

Sal ‘The Bull’ Santi.

I yanked my fingers off the keyboard as soon as the first hit came up on the screen, followed by thousands more. Shit! My heart sank, along with the value of our apartment, as I read up on his history. At least now we discovered how he could afford to buy the penthouse apartment, plus why the police had been too timid to do anything about him.

Sal Santi was known as a major crime figure but had managed, through the connivances of smart lawyers as well as corrupt cops and court officials, to keep out of prison. He’d been harassed by the law and even been arrested on drugs charges after huge quantities of heroin and cocaine had been discovered in one of his warehouses. The gleeful cops had been rather too rash in arresting him, and a little too brutal in their interrogation. They were also much too lax in allowing the closed circuit surveillance in the cop station to capture their rather unusual interview technique which strayed so far outside what was acceptable to their departmental superiors that a number of officers were demoted or dismissed[DC1] .

Naturally enough, Sal screamed harassment, police brutality and wrongful arrest. Once a young cop rolled over for the Police Integrity Commission in exchange for clemency and revealed the drugs had been planted on Sal’s premises by the cops themselves, the shit really hit the fan. The ultimate pay-out, once Bull’s lawyer’s had finished shredding reputations in an effort to make his client sound like a second cousin to Mother Teresa, was rumored to be in the range of seven figures. The judge in the case was particularly scathing at about the rogue activity against such an upstanding citizen who was a generous supporter of various charities and youth sporting organizations.

No wonder no one was prepared to risk a charge of harassment, the police department keeping him at arm’s length from that time on. It looked as if that was our only course of action as well. We’d just have to put up with it.

Climbing the stairs to avoid Bull was not an option as we were too high up, so occasionally Carlos or I would run into him in the elevator, like the occasion on which he invited Carlos to ‘feel him up.’ We also had the misfortune to run into his mates, a rowdy bunch of faggot baiters who were even more aggressive and loathsome than even Bull, probably because they spurred one another on to grosser insults. Carlos, in particular, was at their mercy because he used the underground car park more than I did, I used public transport more frequently than my car, as well as popping down to our storage cage for items he suddenly needed for various functions around the apartment.

I found out just how gross their actions were one evening when Carlos came home obviously distressed and disheveled, his face plastered with slime.

“They cursed me,” he groaned. “Called me all sorts of filthy names. One of them even took his cock out and waved it in my face telling me to ‘come and get it.’ They laughed at me, forcing me down onto my knees. He hit me over the face with his cock, sneering at me for being a weak faggot.”

Carlos’s voice became heavy and breathless as he told me of his humiliation at the hands of Bull’s buddies. I knew he was on the verge of tears.

“They called me a ‘fuck toy’ and told me I was theirs to use if they ever ran into me again. All faggots are good for is a hole to dump cum and piss in. Then they forced me…”

He was so distraught he couldn’t go on. He looked at me with horror in his eyes.

“What must you think of me, Liam?”

“What’s the slime on your face, Carlos?”

“Ah…they spat on me. They all stood around me and…spat on me. Then the leader made me open my mouth and he…spat on my tongue, telling me to hold it there then he forced his…he pissed in my mouth and made me swallow it. Then they all…um…spat on me.”

Carlos covered his face and ran to the bathroom in shame.

My blood boiled that they could do such a thing to my darling boyfriend. I gave him his privacy, waiting until he emerged from the bathroom, his face now clean of his submission, his spirits much less the worse for wear.

“What are we going to do, Carlos?” I asked.

“Nothing at all,” he said calmly.

“There must be security footage of the attack, after all the car park has a number of cameras. We could take it to the police. I’m sure they’d love to have evidence against Bull’s lieutenants.”

Carlos appeared panic-stricken for a moment, as if he hadn’t thought about his brutal subjugation being captured as evidence. “We don’t want to antagonize them further,” he said. “That would only bring Bull down on our heads. He’s not a man to be messed with.”

“I’ll make sure I come with you if you ever need to go down to the car park, okay?”

He looked aghast at the prospect. “What sort of signal does that send?” he said. “That will just confirm that I’m scared and what a chicken shit little faggot I am.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” I snapped.

“There’s no point in stirring the pot. There are more of them than there are of us. They didn’t actually hurt me,” he said, attempting to placate me. “I’m all right, honestly.”

But he wasn’t all right. Any time I attempted to instigate lovemaking after that, Carlos would plead that the scars of his humiliation made it impossible to give me the full attention that I deserved. I knew he was raw psychologically, even suggesting that he seek counseling, particularly after he became obsessive about clearing out our storage cage so he would not have to go into the garage except to get his car. He began to spend up to an hour at time, sorting through the collected detritus of our life together, neatly boxed and labeled in storage.

I was pleased because it was a task we’d both put off in the years we’d been in residence and it was helping Carlos confront his fears. He’d also begun visiting the gym and even though he was still untouchable to me because of his psychological bruising, his body took on a definition it never had before. I could scarcely keep my hands off him, wanting more than anything to sink my cock in his increasingly bubbly butt. When it all became too much for me, he would take me in his warm mouth, deep throating me with a skill I had not known him to possess before.

When I complained I needed more, he would just suck deeper and later whisper, “Soon, Liam. Very soon.”

Soon seemed to be a subjective term as he spent longer periods in the storage area. He also spent what I considered an inordinate amount of time in the car park washing and polishing his vehicle which was nothing out of the ordinary – he’d bought it second hand.

Sometimes he’d come back to the apartment and I knew he’d had problems with Bull or his mates as he’s have strings of slime across his face where they’d obviously spat on him and he hadn’t cleaned it off carefully enough. I realized he was attempting to spare me his humiliating experiences in a futile attempt to keep the peace, but my heart broke when I saw my man treated with such contempt. One day I would fight back, then watch out.

For all his trouble, Carlos blossomed, becoming more confident, more forgiving of our upstairs neighbor’s transgressions, while I brooded, ready to explode at the most trivial provocation.

He shrugged it off when Bull used the Jacuzzi but the vibrations down our walls, sent me mental. “We’ve got to get used to it. No use getting all uptight about something you can’t control. Don’t fight it. If you don’t let it worry you, then it’s not a problem.”

“How very Zen,” I replied with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

He started wearing ear plugs to bed to block out the noise of any partying but I found doing the same was disorientating and mucked up the rest of my day. As Carlos developed an ability to cope with the increasing provocation I began falling apart.

It all culminated one Saturday night after I’d had the week from hell at work, brought on to a large extent by my obsessing over Bull and my lack of real sex from Carlos. This had become months of solo wanking in the shower and I was edge the whole time. I was ready to snap, so when the shouts and yahoos from upstairs were joined by the sound of the hot tub throbbing down the wall next to my pillow, I screamed.

It penetrated the foam earplugs that Carlos swore by, waking him. He could see the anger and despair in my eyes which he attempted to soothe with a mug of hot chamomile tea. It did the trick for about five minutes. It calmed me enough that I didn’t march right upstairs and attempt to rip Bull’s head off. Still, we were no closer to a solution to our problem.

Sighing deeply, I said, “Why don’t I just go upstairs and admit defeat. See if there’s some compromise we can hammer out. See if we can make a deal whereby we can live in some sort of truce, if not harmony.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Carlos agreed. “But I don’t think it’s wise for you to go up there tonight. You’re all wound up and just as likely to make the situation worse. Wait until your mind is clearer. Better yet, why don’t I go upstairs and see if I can negotiate?”

“I don’t like the idea of you going alone. We should both go,” I said.

“Why don’t you take one of your sleeping tablets, get a good night’s sleep. It’ll do you the world of good.”

Carlos went to the bathroom, returning with two of my little pills and a glass of water. “Here you go,” he said.

I didn’t like the idea of having to rely on medication to get what should, by rights, have come naturally but for the excessive noise from upstairs. [DC2] Carlos had picked the less severe tablets that gave me a few hours’ sleep rather than the stronger ones which laid me out for around eight hours. The only downside to the pills he’d given me was the groggy and disoriented state they left me in when I awoke.

Carlos kissed me, squeezing my cock affectionately. The last thing I remember is him putting in his ear plugs and lying beside me.

It was 2am when I awoke, startled by screams from the street and the slamming of car doors which meant the party upstairs was winding down. Rolling over to seek solace in a cuddle with Carlos, I was surprised his side of the bed was empty. I wandered groggily through the apartment searching for him, expecting that he’d got up to use the toilet or to watch a program on early morning television because he’d run out of sleep. He was nowhere to be found.

Sly dog. He must have gone upstairs to complain, his results much better than mine would have been. He has a more amenable manner, compromising when he has to while I’m more like a bull at a gate. The noisy revelers had quieted but the hot tub still vibrated down the walls although I expected that to cut off shortly. I brewed a pot of Carlos’s favorite coffee so he could tell me all about his journey into the lair of the skinhead upstairs, but when he hadn’t returned twenty minutes later and the vibrations down the wall were threatening my sanity, I decided enough was enough.

Screwing up my courage and swathing it in anger, all the time wondering what had become of Carlos, I stormed out to the lift, jabbing the button as if it were my enemy. When it took too long to get to my floor and frightened my resolve would wither and die, I slammed through the door to the fire stairs and taking two steps at a time made my way to the floor above. I admit I was trembling, hoping nothing had happened to Carlos, if he was even up there, and that I had the balls not to capitulate to Bull’s threats.

As he’d once told us, the door to his apartment was wide open although there was no one around, the party obviously having disbanded.

Do I knock? It’s difficult to make an aggressive entrance when you knock on an open door. Do I storm in? I may end up looking like a knob. God, I was so indecisive. 

Plucking up my courage, after all I could come out of this with broken limbs and a black eye or two if Bull took exception to my complaints, I strode into the apartment determined to stand my ground. The apartment itself dazzled. I hadn’t been up here since the ill-advised welcoming. Bull had exquisite taste and, in my admiration, I almost lost my impetus, until I heard the sound of laughter and the whining buzz that did my head in.

Gritting my teeth, I ignored the furnishings and art that normally would have occupied me for hours. Summoning up determination, I burst from the living area onto the sun deck, now illuminated by strings of subdued lighting strung along beams over the party area. Bull was lounging in the hot tub, beer in hand, guffawing at something his companion must have said. I was distressed to find that companion was none other than my own beloved, Carlos, who had the decency to look shocked to have me catch him fraternizing with the enemy. How could he be so chummy with the man who constantly belittled us as faggots and whose mates had abused him physically?

Before I could let fly with my accusations, Bull motioned me over. “Come on in and join us.”

I was in no mood for his sneering put-downs but Carlos’s eyes pleaded with me to be nice. I don’t like being on unsure ground and there was nothing more treacherous than the ground upon which I now stood. I decided discretion was better than temper, walking to the edge of the tub wondering what the hell people wore in a situation like this.

“Hop in,” Bull invited.

It did look inviting and I noticed the calm look on Carlos’s face even as his cheeks were flamed red, which I put down to the glass of white wine he was imbibing. “I didn’t bring—” I objected.

“None necessary,” Bull said, standing to confirm it, his cock bloody impressive at half-mast. No wonder Carlos had been impressed. Against my average-sized cock, Bull’s was a Nobel prizewinner.  He shifted closer to Carlos to give me room. Much too close to my boyfriend for my liking.

“Come on, Liam. It’ll relax you after your bad week at the office,” Carlos cajoled.

What did I have to lose? Just a cock comparison, muscle comparison, but each of us already knew that. I shrugged and removed my clothes, folding them over the metal chairs of the sun deck furniture and then slid into the warm bubbling water, seating myself on the small wooden ridge than ran the circumference of the tub.

“Isn’t that better?” Carlos said cheerfully.

I had to admit, if only to myself, it was. The tension slowly seeped out of me, my shoulders relaxed, the terrible crick in my neck slowly unknotted as the water in the tub seduced me, making me even more sluggish in my reactions.

“Get your boyfriend a white wine, Carlos,” Bull commanded, and soon enough I was sipping a very superior chardonnay. I asked for the bottle and was impressed that it was the Lane RG Vineyard 2009. I topped up my glass before handing the bottle back. Under normal circumstances, Carlos and I could never afford wine of this standard. Perhaps I had misjudged Bull. Taking another sip, I slipped further into the warm comforting embrace of the tub.

“Shit-hot booze, eh Liam?” Bull smiled.

It was not a convincing smile, looked more like the toothy grin of some vicious creature that was about to devour you. That should have warned me but what with the warm seductive embrace of the water and the almost lethal combination of sleeping tablets and booze, I was well on the way to oblivion.

We exchanged pleasantries about nothing in particular although I’m afraid I gushed over his good taste.

“I presume you got decorators in?”

It was a nasty putdown but I simply couldn’t imagine the huge tattooed hulk having the capacity for such refinement. He didn’t flinch, so he was either more stupid than I gave him credit for or else he was saving it up for later.

“No, I chose all that shit myself, all the furniture, all the art. Plus this wine. Of course, it helps to have money when you have expensive tastes like I do. Plus a fine eye for beauty. Like young Carlos here.” So saying, Bull wrapped his big beefy arms around my boyfriend, pulling him closer.

I expected some sort of remonstration from Carlos but there was nothing except a sly smirk at the compliment.

I was about to object that he was pawing my boyfriend but as Carlos himself was not objecting it seemed petty. Besides, Bull got in first. “He tells me you’ve been neglecting him of late. What’s the matter with you, mate, leaving your little faggot boy to get his pleasure elsewhere?”

I should have known the truce wouldn’t last. I stood up to grab Carlos and leave but in my wobbly state it was easy for Bull to push me back down with his foot. “Sit down and shut the fuck up.”

I waited for Carlos to come to my defense but he merely stared at me as if interested to see my reaction. My head was fuzzy, my body felt like lead, I was having difficulty focusing.  What did he mean by ‘get his pleasure elsewhere’?

I didn’t have time to ponder it, as Bull turned his vindictive personality on me full force.

“Stand up, Carlos,” Bull commanded. “Show Liam what a hot little body you have. It’s been so long he’s probably forgotten what it’s like.”

How did Bull know how long it’s been? And it was hardly my neglect, it was Carlos’s reluctance. Carlos had obviously been discussing our private life. That was unforgiveable.

I was about to protest but Bull said, “Carlos, bend over, show Liam what he’s been neglecting.”

As my boyfriend stood to do as Bull demanded, I snapped, “Carlos!”

They both ignored me.

“Pull your cheeks apart, boy,” Bull said.

Carlos reached back and squeezed his butt open so I could see his beautiful anal bud.

“Kiss it, Liam.”

It was a breathtaking sight, the hot moist hole I’d been denied for so long. Without thinking, I kneeled and ran my tongue up that amazing crevasse then licked down again until I reached the hole, poking my tongue into the sphincter to lube it so I could slip inside. I chewed the puckered lips, wetting them with my saliva until Carlos was groaning, forcing his butt harder against my mouth. I sucked his asshole until he was loose and sloppy, until my tongue forced its way into his bowels and I tasted…what was that? No, it couldn’t be. We’d both sworn at the beginning of our relationship that if we ever slipped up in our troth of monogamy, we’d play safe. I sucked his ass again. Although there was a pungent taste I knew it couldn’t be what my paranoia was suggesting.

“I see you like that, Liam.”

There was no use denying it as my rigid cock gave me away.

“Squeeze some more out for your boyfriend, Carlos. Looks like he’s hungry.” Bull was obviously enjoying himself.

I’d felt Carlos attempting to clamp his sphincter closed even as I was invading him with my tongue. He had something to hide and I’d tasted it. Now that he’d been given the all-clear, he relaxed and I felt man slime ooze into my mouth. I spluttered as I swallowed, frightened I would throw up.

I couldn’t show any sign of weakness to the skinhead.

“Come and sit on my lap, fag boy,” Bull commanded.

Carlos turned to look at me. I must have been a pitiful sight kneeling in the hot tub, my mouth shiny with the slime from his ass. If he was waiting for a sign, my obvious submissive posture probably gave him his answer. He shrugged and moved over to Bull who grabbed his waist to guide him down.

“Hey, faggot,” Bull called to me. “Get your flabby ass over here.”

I crawled across to where Bull was seated.

“Hold my cock steady and guide it into your boyfriend’s fuck hole,” he ordered. 

I baulked, about to refuse, but his hand shot out grabbing my throat in a powerful grip. “Unless you want to end up at the bottom the harbor, faggot, you’ll do as I say. Understand?”

I couldn’t speak, so I nodded my head.

“Good faggot.” He patted me on the head to show his complete domination of me.

I reached over and placed my hand around Bull’s substantial prick as Carlos lowered his body toward it. Feeling for his butt hole, I guided the cock to it and felt it sink all the way in to the balls. My boyfriend grimaced for a moment, I heard his intake of breath, then the pain must have subsided.

Bull addressed me as Carlos bobbed up and down impaling himself on skinhead prick. “Pity you turned up, faggot. You’ve spoiled a good thing. You probably thought that was my spunk you tasted in your slut boyfriend’s ass. Not this time although he’s been draining my balls on a regular basis like a good cocksucking fag slut should. You know all those nights you grizzled about the hot tub? That was my signal to your fag boy to get his ass upstairs. Me and my buddies have been tagging him at both ends for weeks.”

What could I say? My mouth opened and closed without uttering a word. I was too numb to comprehend everything just yet. “It was me who insisted Carlos stop taking you in his ass. I didn’t want to stick my cock where some putrid weak fag like you had dumped his load. We worked him over in the car park a couple of times. I made sure he wore some of my cock snot proudly on his face when he went home to you, pussy.”

Carlos’s eyes were rolling back in his head which meant Bull’s cock was hitting all the right spots.

“You like watching your sweet little slut take a real man’s cock in his tight butt? Yeah, I knew you would. If you’re real good, I’ll let you watch me and my mates fuck the shit out of your little boyfriend here. When we’ve finished with him, you can have him back. Of course, he’ll be all fucked out and his hole will be gaping because we have a few ideas about what we’d like to see shoved up there.” To emphasize his point he held his fist up. “Now wouldn’t that a sight? Little Carlos’s ass muscles wrapped around my bicep. Fuck, eh?”

I felt so helpless watching Bull ram his cock in and out of the ass that had been exclusively mine until recently.

“You want my cock, boy?” Bull asked.

“Yes, sir. I love the feel of your hard cock in my tiny hole.”

“Is my cock better than your boyfriend’s?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Carlos said, looking at me piteously. “Your cock is the best ever, sir. It’s like I’m being fucked by the devil himself.

At that moment the lights seemed to fade and Bull stood up in the hot tub, Carlos carried aloft by his thick, hard cock. The man was pure evil. I saw the veins in his head pulse, the tattoo on his forehead took on a ghastly appearance, I could have sworn I saw a horned face when I stared at the pattern long enough. I put my wine down, my mind was playing tricks on me. There was the sound of guests coming from inside and soon three of Bull’s homophobic mates spilled out onto the sundeck.

“Hey, you started without us,” one of them said.

Another saw me. “Shit, what’s he doing here?”

“Don’t worry, guys, the faggot loves to see his cheating slut boyfriend with foreign cock in his ass. Don’t you, fag?”

What could I say? I nodded my head.

“Can’t hear you,” Bull chanted as he pushed Carlos over the edge of the tub. “Len, fill his mouth, mate.” Then he turned back to me, “Still can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Oh, oh,” one of the other mates muttered. The hand was around my throat again before I even saw it coming. “You will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘master’ in future? Understand?”

“Yes…sir,” I said, my humiliation complete.

“Good fag. How about you help my mates out while I finish off in the little fag’s blow hole. Nick, Reg, use the fag boyfriend’s mouth any way you want. Choke the fucker for all I care.” Bull turned back to Carlos. “Sweet baby fag, your ass is on fire.”

Nick shoved his cock down my throat without any preliminaries.

“You know,” Bull crowed, “You would have enjoyed watching your little boy here take on the guys at the party. Insatiable little slut, lay on his back in the living room so we could use him as our pissoir all evening. Right, Carlos?” The subject of his story had no hope of answering because Len had skewered his throat so that tears and puke were streaming from the corners of his mouth and out his nose as his breath was choked off.

“His mouth was our trough. He drank us down until his stomach was so distended he looked like he was fuckin’ pregnant. What a sight that was, eh guys?”

They all mumbled their agreement.

“Of course, we didn’t neglect his asshole, not like you have been. Hell, no. We know your little fag likes nothing better than to have cock shoved up his ass. Am I right, Liam?”

I did my best to say “Yes, sir,” which enabled Nick to push his cock so far down my throat I thought I’d never survive.

“What do you think of your boyfriend now, baby fag?” Bull asked, nodding at Len to remove his cock from Carlos’s mouth.

Ted pulled his cock out of my mouth, pulling my hair so that I looked into my boyfriend’s eyes. I was horrified to see the contempt there.

“Show him how much you despise him, baby fag,” Bull encouraged.

I heard the tell-tale sounds of Carlos hawking up his saliva in a ball. He sneered as he blew the wad out his mouth and straight onto my cheek.

The men applauded his aim.

“What do you think of your boyfriend now, slut?”

Carlos spat at me again. “Useless fuckin’ faggot. You’re like all faggots, just a hole for real men to stick their cocks in.” Bull was milking Carlos’s cock while he had his own buried to the hilt in my boyfriend’s ass. “You thought you were so bloody superior when you fucked me with your puny prick, but I always dreamed of a real mancock like Bull’s. He can make me beg just by slamming his prick in my guts. You never made me scream. I faked it most of the time. Weak fuckin’ faggot.”

Bull nodded at his offsiders who grabbed me, wrestling me onto my back on the wooden slats of the sun deck, hoisting my ass into the air.

“Show him, baby fag,” Bull said.

Carlos seemed like he was mesmerized as he stepped from the tub, his cock now rampant. He eyed my butthole which he’d never shown any interest in fucking before. I struggled, because it was not something I enjoyed, but there was no escape.

“Show him, fag boy,” Bull encouraged.

Carlos was like a man on autopilot. He spat in my ass, pushing it in with his fingers, burning my sphincter with his intrusion. A little more saliva was all the lubrication he allowed before he thrust deep inside giving me no time at all to adjust to the searing pain.

The guys surrounded us, chanting “Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!” as my boyfriend pounded my shit chute like a man possessed.

“How do you like it, slut?” Carlos spat at me. “Feel good having a cock buried in your fag cunt? We’re gonna breed you, make you a fuck toy for all master’s men. They’ll love how tight you feel. They'll love choking you on their strong, hard cocks. You’ll love it just like I love the feel of cock all over my body. The feel of warm spunk covering your face. You’ll beg for it, baby.”

I no longer recognized the man who was pounding into me as Carlos. Saddened as I was by the loss of my mate, I was getting excited by the dick wedged in my ass, his breath labored as he neared his peak. “I’m gonna slime inside your ass, mate. Feel me blow my load, breeding your ass.” He grunted to the applause of the men watching. I couldn’t hold off any longer and squirted my juice all over my chest and stomach.

Carlos pulled out. “Wow, the fucker’s tight. You’ll enjoy him, master.”

“Okay, boys, he’s all yours,” Bull said, his mates crowding around for a turn at my mouth or my ass. I was a leaking cum dump by the time they’d finished with me, spurred on by a vindictive Carlos. Then it was Bull’s turn and I was grateful for his henchmen opening me up and lubricating me with their spunk before he stabbed his huge cock into my guts. I screamed but it did no good because Bull kept right on fucking me, his hideous satanic face poised over mine as I begged for mercy. He showed none, branding me as his possession with his scalding sperm.

It was morning by the time Carlos and I crawled back to bed in our apartment downstairs, sleeping in the slime cover as instructed by Bull. Of course, there was no way our relationship could survive but it limped on for a few weeks until I came home one day and Carlos’s possessions were all missing. I thought he may have moved upstairs but I was soon disabused of that. No matter, I felt nothing for him anymore.

Eventually, my life assumed its mantle of normality again, except now I worked out at the gym as much as possible to keep my body toned. I’ll never be as built as Bull but it’s something I can aspire to. I got used to the noise from his parties and now even the vibration of his Jacuzzi starting up is music to my ears. It’s my signal from the master to get my ass upstairs.