A black Daddy's, white Punk

Introduction:

Master Tylor's other bitch-boy, Jim Rozewood, and his gang got tasked to beat-up Dylan Stockman. The homies jumped him, not knowing he was under the Master's protection. It turned out that Stockman was a tough nut to crack. The Master had taught the punk well. And used his newfound sexual skills to dominate the black alley cat in a gay leather club.
This 3rd Chapter is seen through the eyes of Jim Rozewood, Master Tylor's black bitch-boy.

Disclaimer:
This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.
Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication or use, or reproduction of this story, or parts of this story, is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Serve and Obey

"...Yo, What's up?... My name is Woody... Well, it's actually Jim Rozewood, but my posse calls me Woody... My mean 11-inch big fucking ebony dick is always ready to go... At college, I am mister bigshot, though in secret I am Master Tylor's bitch-boy... So now you know who I am, but what's it to you?..."

My homies and I liked to hang out during break-times in one of the bathrooms in the main college building. Talking smack and smoking weed between classes. Today we rudely discussed last weekend's gang bang. We had caught, bullied, and ass-fucked two virgin teens from the high school across the street. The tight assholes were bothering some of the female college students. The dirty talk worked us up into a nice horny frenzy again. 

Soon the smoke was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. This was the only bathroom in college where the smoke detectors did not work. Dex, one of my four best mates, had worked his electronic magic on them. Making them appear to function normally. The sensor was disabled, but the little light still blinked. And that was the only thing that the janitors actually checked. 

My posse and I liked to hang out and fool around together. We loved nothing better than to aggressively pray upon some unexpecting weak pledges. And if they had the balls to resist us, well, that's when the real fun began. We did not mind taking what wasn't given willingly. And that in more ways than one. Let's say that we did not only use our cocks for pissing. Apart from Dex, we were as hung as we were tall. Most of us were well over six feet tall and pretty fit. Even though none of us were on one of the stupid college sports teams. We could not stand those punks.

The only exception to that rule was Tex, or Tax-ass, as we liked to call the white queer fucker. Tex was the only white dude on my crew, 5'6" but pretty brought and well hung. An extremely rough bi-sex Texan mother fuck'n wrestler. Mean as hell too. He liked nothing better than to rudely rip a tight ass open. And he did not care if it was a woman or a man either. Actually, non of us minded that. He loved it when they struggled. Tax-ass was into rude shit like that. A hole, any hole, can do with a big black cock in it. The straightest guy in our group, Dex, however, preferred to watch. I think the dude was a little ashamed of his relatively small 5" black pecker. But he made up for that with his well-built butch 6'6".

Anyway, there we were, minding our own business spacing out on some spliffs when out of one of the stalls came a small cough. Before we could react, Dodge had already kicked down the door. Inside sat a small first years boy. The nerdy fucker had been listening in and getting high on our weed for free. We had not seen him when we checked the coast was clear. The fucker had pulled up his feet onto the seat. Tex pulled Dodge aside and ripped the door clean off its hinges. Exposing the little wanking nerd. He had his corduroy pants around his black polished shoes. Apparently, the nerd had been stroking one out, listening to our dirty talk. He was still holding his stiff little prick between his thumb and forefinger when Tex exposed him.

*Click*... went my phone instantly. Calling jokingly at our new pray, "That's one for the noticeboards, guys!... Tax-ass, your up!... Looks like he enjoyed our little talk... Show him what a real man feels like... Stuff his had down the bole and rip him a new one!" I rudely laughed as I smacked Tex on his ass, pushing him forward.

"Fuck yeah, Woody... I'll warm him up for you... Just what the doctor ordered... Take one tight virgin ass daily..." laughed Tex Cooper. He pulled the nerd up, grabbed him around the waist, and bent him over the toilet bole. Dodge had squeezed his 6 feet past the two and stuffed the nerds head down the smelly bole. Smothering the boy's screams by flushing it a few times. Tax-ass did not waste time either. Without any remorse, he dunked his 8-inches balls deep in the hole where the sun don't shine. Making short work of it. Tex plowed the nerdy boy so hard that the little fucker fainted before he could finish.

"Shit, Jim... I am sorry, man... Looks like he's done already..." said Tex Cooper with a disappointing sigh. "Next time, we will let you go first, Rosewood," said Ronald apologetically to me. Dex kicked the lad's legs back into the stall and hung the door back on its hinges. 

"No worries, guys... Enough asses to split around here... However, I need my balls drained badly before we go to that hag from English... I can't stand her!" I sighed, horny as fuck.

Just moments after we had hidden the evidence, in walked the goddamned fucking cheerleader queen, Emily Garcia. The Latina slut had a bad rap around campus already. Thinking she could wrap anyone around her little pinky. Granted, the Latina hoe was a pretty thing to look at. But her heavily made-up face, and the sexy clothes she wore, made her look pretty cheap as well. The bitch had an awful teasing attitude. Acting like she was all that, but she never put out. 

At the beginning of the school year, she had rubbed one of Tex's dorm mates the wrong way. Just because the cheap slut refused to go out with him. In revenge, he had wanted to fuck the floozy hard. While Tex watched, he had doped and ass-raped the unwilling bitch. Tex had been taking pictures of the two. Instructing his roommate how to split that doped Latina bitch open from behind. And that he did. I've seen the video. Since then, the bitch did half the campus, though. But she never let anyone near her tight ass again. I guess now she wanted to be done by us too.

"What the hell?... Wrong door, honey... This is the men's room... So, unless you're looking for a real man, get the fuck out!..." I grinned nastily to Emily Garcia, grabbing my crotch to show the outline of my horny cock and balls in my shiny basketball shorts.

"Yeah, right... Shut up... Is one of you called Jim Rozewood?" she asked boldly.

"What's it to you, Bitch?" replied Dodge in his deep booming voice.

"Tylor Rawley said that Rozewood could help me put the hurt on Stockman... And get that asshole kicked out of this school... Heck, beat him to a pulp for all I care!... I HATE HIM AND HIS FRIENDS!" called Garcia, outraged.

"Okay... Calm the fuck down, Bitch... I am Woody Rozewood... Who's the target, anyway?... And what are you willing to do for us?" 

"Ha... I'll do anything to get rid of him... But who the hell calls himself Woody?... MATÓN NEGRO!..." laughed Garcia meanly. Watching my bulge with a nasty mixture of disgust and intrigue. 

I whipped my 11-inch semi-hard black cock out, grabbed a fist full of the Latina's long hair, and shouted warningly, "What you just call me, BITCH?... You're gonna pay for that!... Now, get on your knees and throat this MATÓN NEGRO POLLA, PUTA!... Then we can talk, whore!... But it won't come cheap... I can tell you that much, slut."

Garcia took one long look at my black trouser snake. She grinned hornily up at me and dropped to her knees immediately. She willingly gobbled the 11-inch straight down her throat in an instance. The guys whooped and hollered as I face fucked that Latina floozy in her ridiculous white leather boots and white leather mini skirt. "Shout all you like, guys... This one is all mine!..."

"Fuck... mind those teeth, Slut!... Open wide and take it!... I said, throat that cock!... That's it... Now we are getting somewhere... Nice and deep... Swallow it... Take it all!... Guys, help her out... She keeps trying to push me away... Fuck yeah... Ram that face over my meat... Hmmm... Nice one... Little faster... Nearly done..."

"Yeah... Coat that throat, Woody... Right, give her a protein shake. The skinny slut can use one... Ha... good one!... Fuck that face, boss," called my guys as I face fucked the Latina bitch.

"I can't breathe..." mumbled Emily with a throat full of ebony cock.

"Do I look like I care, Puta?... Eat my cum... Swallow it down nice, or I'll pump it straight down your filthy throat, Slut!"

Just before the next school bell rang, I dumped my jissom over her tear-filled makeup plastered face. I told Garcia we would take care of the victim for 500 dollars. The shallow bitch said that she wasn't going to pay the five of us 100 dollars each. So we laughed hard. Telling her that we take 500 a man. Meanly threatening to expose her if she did not pay up before the end of the day. The guys pulled a thick wad of cash out of her small handbag. Handing the down payment to me. I kicked her cum covered face to the bathroom floor, and we laughingly left her there, trembling in fear. Taking a few of the incriminating pictures she had made to see if we could spot the intended target. 

The high gloss poster showed the dude that was the proposed victim. I had seen the freshmen punk Dylan Stockman and his stupid mates before swaggering around the college. Thinking that these popular jocks were all that. Dodge knew a lot more about him. He lost his pimped-out Dodge Charger to that punk a year and a half back in some illegal street race. So Dodge was eager to get his own back. I had a hard time convincing him that we would only torment the punk a bit at first. Dodge wanted to destroy the asshole as soon as he saw him.

The only thing I wondered was how Emily Garcia knew my Master. You see, outside the college, I wasn't this tough, dominant alpha top. I just acted like that for my homies. My Master owned me. He made me serve him. Having to obey his every command. Tylor Rawley, a butch and mean queer leather biker daddy, had made me his bottom-bitch after I sold him some bad nose candy in a gay club I liked to hang out in. Showing me all kinds of nasty tricks to torture and torment my victims. But hey, if Master Tylor gave me an order - any order - I would best obey. Or the next time I served him, there would be hell to pay.

Emily Garcia and her cheerleading squad had plastered the school with copies of the picture already. Showing how Dylan Stockman ass-fucked the doped-up Garcia. Nice picture too. It left nothing to the imagination. The text under the wanted poster read: "WARNING: Stockman is a sex offender!" It had the entire school buzzing like angry bees. She was really going to destroy him. Tex Cooper and I knew it was a fake. Heck, Tex had been taking the photo at the time. Making it look like a selfie. 

But it may as well have been that Stockman dude who was doing Garcia up the ass without her permission. I heard one of the Latino jocks say that Emily had broken up with the asshole the evening before. And that he had expected some retaliation like this. Imagine having a whore like that as your girlfriend. The only way I could make that work would be as her pimp. I would not have to paddle my coke or pot anymore if she wore my branding.

We skipped classes that day and ran into the asshole just outside the main gate. Stalking Stockman, we made him regret coming to school that period. Publicly calling him a rapist. It was surprisingly easy to get the entire college to join in humiliating him to the bone. The asshole was slick as snot and fast as water. So we lost track of him a few times. But once he got out the back of the main building, we caught up with him again. 

Stockman started to run toward the sports grounds. And that was his mistake. My posse and I loved nothing better than hunting our victims. The chase got our blood pumping, so to say. And that always made us horny as fuck. Near the groundskeeper's cottage, we caught him. We dragged him out of sight and into a nearby alley. There we pushed and shoved him around for a while. When he started to call us faggots for beating him up, Dodge got angry. He stuffed Stockman into the cottage, knocked him out, and taped his hands to the side of a large plastic barrel. We had played with a few people in that building before. It had a sling, an old mattress, and all kinds of useful stuff we could use as bondage gear.

Tax-ass ripped Stockman's sneakers and jeans clean off. While Ron bound a rough rope in an X-pattern around his back and underneath the barrel. Binding the asshole good and tight to it. Ready for us to go a few rounds on his bound hole. Dodge called dibs. He nailed the fucker rougher than I had ever seen him do. I think even my Master could take a leaf out of his book. Dodge even held a rusty chain around Stockman's throat like a harness to hang on to. When Stockman started to scream and shout, Tax-ass taped his trap shut. I checked with Dex outside to see that no one heard him call out. Dex wasn't up for games like these. So I let him stand outside as a lookout. 

The guys and I started out by tag-teaming the white punk. Beating it roughly to a pulp while we were at it. Using all the nasty tricks I had learned from Master Tylor. Maximizing his pain while minimizing most of the marks. We spit lubed his hole before setting to work, ripping him a new one. Stockman took it surprisingly well up the back, though. As if he was secretly enjoying it. But we weren't done with him. These hardcore sessions could last a few hours. Making him regret the day that he ran into us. When it was my turn, Dylan Stockman had managed to free one of his arms. I grabbed the asshole by his coat to restrain it back down. That's when I saw it. 

The Stockman boy was wearing a leather wristband with Master Tylor's mark on it. I used to have one just like it. This nasty fucker was owned and under Master's protection too! Master gave all the slaves he owned his mark. I got mine tattooed on my ebony dick. I had dared to refused to wear his clothes or his padlocked gold chain. The Master had always strictly forbidden his boys from fucking each other. That was his job. He threatened us that he would cut our balls off if we did anything without his permission. 

So when he caught me fucking his main slave without wearing Master's mark, he got really angry with us. The other slave got the boot, and I got my dick tattooed. That long weekend Master Tylor's mate's gang fucked the crap out of me in anger. Master made me serve 2 dozen men the whole weekend long. Big, strong, scary, and mean leather alpha dominating men. Whipping and flogging my hide raw and abusing my ass on video. Emily Garcia's picture reminded me of those awfully rough 4 days.

Anyway, I wasn't going to make that mistake twice. I pulled out and called my guys to free Stockman while we scrambled to get away from the scene of the crime. Garcia's blackmail pictures would have to do the rest. I wasn't getting involved in her scheme anymore! For the next couple of weeks, I ignored school and Master Tylor. Convinced that the man had set me up for the fall. Feeling betrayed and hurt, I ignored his calls and texts.

A month or so later - summer was all but over - I sat in one of the reserved booths of my favorite gay leather club in town. It had a great view, overlooking the dancefloor, main stage, and the exit. I was hoping some of my regulars would join me for a bit of fun that weekend. Master Tylor had made me serve as a house slave whenever I went there. Serving the needs of the paying club members. Since the incident with Dylan Stockman, I had not been laid. So, I could do with a rough fuck down in the dungeon. That day I was feeling surprisingly guilty and very submissive. In the end, jumping Stockman's booty had made me feel rotten. Even though my guys and I had nailed many an unwilling ass or cunt before.

So, when Dylan Stockman walked in, I got the shock of my life. Dylan was with a butch Latino wrestler from college. Since the last time I saw these two, they had exchanged their flashy jock outfits for full leather gear. Heck, Dylan had even cut his hair. In a Brad Pitt style, the thick bushy brown locks were slicked back with a cool side parting and a few highlights. He wore an extremely macho leather biker jacket over a sexy white T-shirt with a dragon print. Under his leather jeans, he wore black and white sneakers. Stockman still wore Master Tylor's leather wristband around his right wrist. I saw it on his arm, hanging lovingly over Sanchez's shoulders. Before, I could have sworn that these two were as straight as an arrow. Yet, by the way they clung to each other now, there was no way that this was true. These cool young leather studs were obviously in love!

The good-looking black-haired Latino wrestling dude looked rather hot too. He wore a tight leather strap around his muscular upper left arm. And a cool leather biker vest over a gray and white polo shirt with a butch tattoo print. And the extremely tight torn gray jeans could not hide the fact that he came here for some hot and steamy action as well. Heck, I could have sworn I saw the outline of a spiked cock strap around his semi swollen bulge. And that is not to speak about the leather chaps he seemed to be wearing under those torn jeans. His tanned skin, sunglasses, stubbly chin-beard and mustache, and pointy ankle boots screamed hot Latino.

The two sexy-looking leather guys were greeted warmly by Chan Lin. The younger brother of the Chinese gay club owner, Tao Lin. Chan also went to my college. I think the Chinese stud was on the swim team. His brother, Master Lin, was a friend of Master Tylor's. Therefore, I was allowed to sit in the VIP booths'. As long as I served the paying club members every need. I did not complain. I earned my way through college this way. Selling my dope - as well as my cock and ass - to them. Not that this was allowed by Master Lin. Though it was his illegal merchandise that I was paddling. So he turned a blind eye. I never got the feeling that Master Lin liked me very much, though. So I always took great care not to get caught selling my stuff.

As soon as the two boys had walked in, Chan signaled to Master Lin in the private security booth on the second floor overlooking the club. He wanted his older brother to come down and greet the new guys. Sanchez started hugging and kissing him as if Chan was his best friend. When Dylan thought his buddy took a little too long, he tapped Chan Lin on the shoulder. Stockman grabbed the surprised Chan by the hand and whipped him around. Slobbering Chan's face as if he had not had anything to eat in weeks. Master Lin greeted Sanchez and squeezed Dylan's hand hard. Grinning at both young leather punks with delight. Dylan was still tongue fucking Chan hot and heavy.

Tao Lin greeted Dylan warmly once he reluctantly broke apart from the flustered Chan. Handing both young men a leather wrist strap with the club's logo. It depicted a golden dragon wearing biker boots. Granting the two full VIP access to the entire club. This was something normally only reserved for well-paying and long-term members. While the other men in the club ignored all of this, I watched it with shock and a little fear. Dropping down as low as I could in the VIP booth. Hoping neither Stockman nor Sanchez had seen me watching them enter in style.

Chan grabbed both Stockman and Sanchez around their middle and guided them to the stairs. He wanted to take the men up to the club member's second floor. But Dylan stopped him. He pointed to the booth where I was cowering. "Chan... Why don't we go and sit there?... I'd like a drink and a dance first." I heard him say over the bustle and noise of the busy gay men's leather club. As soon as the men came close, one of the bouncers opened the gate to the downstairs VIP booth.

"Woody!... Get out, houseboy!... Tonight the booth is for the friends of my bro..." shouted Master Tao Lin angrily as he preceded the 3 college studs into the booth.

"Actually, mister Lin, I got a bone to pick with that dude first... A few weeks ago, his homies tried to rape my ass at college... for breaking up with my girl..." 

"He did what?..." called Tao, Chan, and Samual out in unison. 

"Yep... they beat me up... Dragged me down some dirty alley and did a number on my ass... Just after I had turned 18 and got my first real gay experience... My neighbor, Tylor Rawley, had shown me what it was like... He roughly fucked me... He was my first leather daddy... And I loved it!..." said Dylan, looking proud and somewhat apologetically to Sanchez. By the stunned look on Sanchez's face, I guessed he had not told this part to him before.

"So why don't we go and sit here... Have... what's his name?... Woody?... Ha... Yeah, he was very woody back there... Splintery even... Mean fucker... Let's make this houseboy show us he can play nice too..." said Dylan squinting particularly mean, calculating, and above all masterful at me.

"John..." called Master Lin harshly to his bouncer, "Strip the asshole of his club card... After tonight he is banned for life!... But first, these boys are going to have some fun at his expense!" I was forcibly stripped of my club card by the bouncer. While Sanchez held me in a headlock from behind. Choking me half to death. 

When John the bouncer handed the card to Master Lin, he pulled out a huge knife. And sliced the card brutally in half in front of everyone. Telling me, "I'll call Master Tylor and discuss what will happen to you, boi... If you don't do as mister S tells you... Well, then this knife my chop something else tonight!... Catch my drift, Slave?... Serve as if your life depends on it... BECAUSE IT DOES!... Have fun guys, this bitch is on the house!..."

"Oh?... Thank you, Sir!... He will serve us like he served his Master... Heck... Later he can serve the entire club bare, in the middle of the dance floor for all I care... Making him a propper skinny black cum-dumpster." Laughed Dylan Stockman in thanks to Master Lin.

Sanchez sat on my right in the booth. Glaring meanly at me. While Stockman and Chan Lin sat on my left. Making sure I could not escape them, even if I had wanted to. But these three butch leather-wearing studs intrigued me. As much as they scared the crap out of me. I was sure I was done for, and my ass would regret it in the morning. If there was a morning for me. I had never heard Master Lin threaten someone like this before. He sounded like he meant business. And that was without considering what Master Tylor Rawley would do to me once he found out I had brutalized one of his boys at school. Granted, I did not know it at the time. But Master Tylor would certainly not take that into consideration.

Dylan's dangerously squinting eyes looked me up and down for a bit. I wore my leather bomber jacket, a thin full-body harness with cockring, black sweats, and my favorite hightop sneaks. My gold chains and rings and leather baseball cap completed my look. The hat had a gold plate that said FUCK in bold black letters. But I was properly scared of these three intimidatingly looking studs. So for once in my life, my dick wasn't hard. Heck, I could have sworn the thing was trying to shrink in fear and shame of the whole situation.

I woke up from the trance that Stockman's dark squinting eyes had put me under, once one of the half-naked muscular waiters asked, "Hi, my name is Doug... I am your waiter for tonight... How may I serve you?... Would you like something to drink?" He had addressed Stockman directly. Seeing as he was clearly the alpha of the two.

"I'll take a Snowball, Doug..." replied Dylan looking lustfully at the spiked leather codpiece of Doug's tight leather briefs with kinky lace-up sides. Chan laughed hornily and ripped the codpiece right off. 

"I bet you will love these snowballs too, hey Dyl?" grinned Chan cupping the plum nuts. Doug's dick reacted instantly to his touch. 

"Ha... Nice drinking straw, Doug!..." Dylan smirked and looked past me to Sanchez. "What about it, Sam?... Will you join me for some Snowballs?" 

Samual Sanchez winked back at his horny lover, "Sure I will, but only if Doug will stir mine with that big thing..." he replied, slightly flustered. Doug was indeed a well-hung dude. The slender but 10-inch long slong was the perfect tool for the job.

"That will be 3 Snowballs for us then, Doug... And put the drinks for these guys on my tab..." called Chan Lin to the waiter with a grin.

"Hey... I'd like one too!" I called in a reflex. Instantly knowing I should have kept my trap shut.

Again Dylan squinted dangerously over at me. Then looked back to the excited waiter and said, "Three with metal straws... and piss in a small glass for this rapist..."

I started to protest, but Samual Sanchez put me in a headlock again while Chan Lin drove his fist in my gut. "How dare you make demands?... Hasn't your Master taught you anything, Slave?..." shouted Chan Lin in anger.

"Well, well... Little Woody wants a little drinky too?... Poor baby is thirsty..." laughed Stockman humiliatingly. The guys laughed hard as the waiter left to get the order. "Chan, buddy... check Slave's small leather backpack for any illicit stuff... Chan... do you have a collar and chain for this dawg... And perhaps a hard flogger or a mean whip to keep it in check?... The bitch is ours now..." said Dylan meanly. He looked over at Sam and ordered him, "Sam... Pat him down for weapons... Don't be too soft on him, Jefe!... He wasn't when he nailed my ass in the groundskeeper's cottage..."

Chan Lin turned my backpack inside out. Finding my stash of dope, a bong, and some syringes. After Samual Sanchez had patted my pants down, he ripped my jacket off my shoulders. Gruffly removing my long switchblade, nunchucks, brass knuckles, and spiked leather gloves from my coat pockets. Dylan divided the loot. He pocketed the knife and knuckles and stuffed the nunchucks in Chan's breast pocket. Chan knowingly grinned at him. 

Chan wore a cool dark camo polo shirt with a leather lace and short leather sleeves. They made his muscled arms stand out even more. Chan also wore sexy padded leather pants and heavy biker boots. He looked particularly hot tonight. But still, my dick refused to get hard. Dylan also stuffed two crisp hundred dollar notes in Chan's pocket, saying, "I did not like it when Master Tylor bought my servitude by giving me his leather clothes... And I don't want to be in debt by anyone!... I am my own man... So take this as a down payment for the club membership, Chan."

Sam had put on my fingerless gloves and forcefully fixated me to the bench by wrapping the fingers tightly around my throat. Breathing into my ear, he whispered, "So Bitch?... You and your boy's tried to brutalize my man?... Wrong move!... I'll ram these spiked gloves up there if you don't do everything we tell you to do!... Feel me, maricón puto pendejo?... Now, Get on the table and strip!... You don't deserve to wear clothes, Puto!" Sam stood up behind me. Lifting me up by the neck, he placed me onto the table. The man had it in for me. 

But this was my chance. I could make a break for it now. I would have if it wasn't for the fact that Chan had grabbed hold of my harness, just above my ass-crack. Pulling on it hard, he yanked my ball's back. I cringed in pain as I slipped and dropped to my knees on the table. Chan yelled something in rapid Chinese to the bouncer. And moments later, one of his colleagues rushed some bondage gear in a large black plastic tote to the booth. It had all kinds of BDSM tackle in it.

"Let's take his shoes and pants off too... He won't be needing those tonight!" called Stockman to his friends. Grinning nastily from ear to ear. Chan undid my left shoe while Samual removed my right. My ass was pointing toward Dylan. The sucker pulled down my sweats a bit and flicked my knife open. He grabbed hold of the shiny black sweatpants at the crotch. Splitting it right in two with one swift move of the blade through the cloth. Exposing my still limp dick and balls. Stockman made sure I did not resist them because he perilously teased my black booty with the razor-sharp tip of the switchblade. By now, a small knot of horny man had gathered near the VIP booth. Watching the proceedings and egging the 3 butch leather punks on. Telling them to do a number on my black ass.

I saw Samual Sanchez grab a paddle out of the toy tote. When he examined it for a while - Hitting the palm of his gloved hand with it a couple of times - he looked questioningly over to Dylan. "Go for it, Jefe... Use the spiky side if that pleases you, bro... Make him scream!... He deserves it..." 

Well, scream is what I did! I felt the sharp needle-like spikes penetrate my sorry ebony buttocks. The first whack was the worst. After that, he used the smooth side. This to the great pleasure of the horned-up onlookers. I had tried to shield my ass with a hand. But Chan had quickly snapped a pair of cold steel cuffs around it. He yanked my other hand away from under me. Making me face plant on the glass-topped table. Chan also twisted my other hand painfully onto my back. Binding both my arms with the handcuffs. He grabbed a long black discipline cane out of the toy tote. Warning threateningly to keep my mouth shut. Poised to lash out as soon as I made a sound or moved. Master Tylor had flogged me plenty of times before. But these three scared me much more than Master had ever done.

While Sam worked on my buttocks. Dylan had fastened some leather cuffs around my ankles. They had a short heavy chain between them. So, even if I wanted to make a break for it, I could not get far now. There I lay, my breast on the table and my naked ass in the air. With my left cheek on the glass table, I kept a close eye on Samual Sanchez. Out of the three, I distrusted him the most. I flinched when he looked down at me. Showing me the next hit of the heavy leather flogger would be with the spiky side again. He pulled back and whacked down hard. Much harder than the fucker had done before. Stroking the spot where the spikes left their marks. Scratching my back and ass with the tiny needles for a while. The crowd of onlookers went berserk. Wanting the three masterful men to give them a full floor show. Nailing my booty hard. Chanting, "Fuck him... Fuck him... Fuck him!"

Stockman stopped Chan and Sam. "Guys... Let's tone this down a little... We are causing a commotion on the dancefloor..." Dylan looked around the Chinese gay club for inspiration. Thinking hard about what to do next to me. He took a dive in the toy tote again. Pulling a thick leather slave collar out of it. The thing had a heavy handle on the back, black spikes, and three attachment points for ropes or chains. The leather-covered handle could be used by any fucker riding my ass. Chan yanked my head up off the table while Stockman put the thing around my throat and neck.

Still, the crowd expected me to get brutalized by the three college punks where I lay. However, Dylan had something else in mind for me. Making me face him, he fastened a thick leather dragon mask on my head. The imposing-looking thing had rough scales around the cheeks and back. The snout of the dragon even had soft rubber fangs. And on the top of the full face mask, two firm pointy silicone dildos were shaped like the dragon's horns. I had been treated like a bitch-dog in some puppy role-play games before. But this was something else.

"Turn around, Bitch... Time for a tail!..." ridiculed Dylan. Again squinting dangerously at me. By now, I knew this look boasted nothing good. I hesitated for a single moment. And regretted that instantly. Chan Lin's cane whistled as it flew through the air. He smacked my back and arms three times hard. I scrambled around as fast as I could. Just to stop him from hitting me again.

"See, Slave is learning to obey already..." laughed Chan meanly to Dylan and Sam. "When in doubt... Hit harder!"

"Calm down, guys... The night is still young..." smiled Dylan up to Chan and Samual. "No need to work up a sweat just yet... Let Slave do his job... He's here to please us... Let this alley cat do the work for once!"

Dylan pushed my knees apart. He took a gentle and loving approach. Rubbing first one, then both hands over my back and tied up arms. Ending up on my buttocks. Stroking my ass, he asked, "We haven't been formally introduced... Have we, Slave?" This stunned me as much as it did his mates. "What's your name, boi?"

"My name is Woody... Well, it's actually Jim Rozewood, but my posse calls me Woody..."

*Whack*... My ass got smacked so hard by Stockman that tears sprang into my eyes. My butt was still sore from the beating I had gotten already. "Bitch... The first and last thing you say to your Master is SIR!... You'd do well to remember that!"

"You're not my master!..." I said stupidly, defying Dylan Stockman. The crowd of onlookers turned silent and started to listen. Even the DJ started a soft rhythmic song. You could hardly call it a song. It was more to enhance the show if anything. The entire club watched the VIP booth now. I was lying on my chest on the glass-topped table. Dylan Stockman was half-standing between my legs. Flanked on either side by his boyfriend, Samual Sanchez, and the younger brother of the club-owner, Chan Lin. All three looking as if they wanted to feed me to the dawgs.

After what seemed like minutes, again a heavy *Whack*... This time Dylan used the paddle Samual had left on the table. He had timed it perfectly with the growing sound the DJ was playing. Even the gathered crowd cringed when the pregnant wait was over, and the leather paddle spanked my ass-cheeks. The hit reverberated throughout the club. As I howled and looked up to the second floor's security booth for support, I saw Master Lin give Dylan Stockman the thumbs up. 

The houseboy that was serving him had taken his mouth off the club owner's cock for just a moment to watch us too. Tao Lin stood half-naked in front of the window. Looking pleased with what his younger brother and the new members were doing to me. He grabbed his Slave by the hair. Shouted at him in Chinese and started to face fuck the man ferociously for all to see. Blasting his load directly into the guy's throat. Tao Lin kicked his slave to the ground in disgust. Ordering two of his security guys to grab the houseboy and drag him away. They took him down the stairs into the club. Rounded a corner and hauled him - kicking and screaming - down into the dungeon. I had seen that happen once before. That guy was found - day's later - in a dumpster on the docks.

"You were saying?... Slave?... Want to end up like that houseboy?... YOU DEFIANT LITTLE WHIMPERING SHIT!"

"No!..." I replied in an instant.

"Excuse me?..."

"Oh... Fuck... Ummm... Sir, sorry, Sir... No, Sir, I would not like that, Sir... You're my Master, Sir... You can do whatever you like with me, Sir."

"Fucking right, we will!..." 

If anything, I could see Stockman had a flair for the dramatic. Chan handed him a very large and painful-looking buttplug. The thing had an 18-inch silicone tail with dragon scales. But that wasn't my biggest worry. The plug itself was so thick, long, and wide that it scared me out of my wits. My head shook no, but Sam, Chan, and Dylan said yes. Lubeless and without any remorse, Stockman rammed the foot-long plug into my ass. Once the thing was inside me all the way, my sphincter clamped painfully shut around its wide base. There was no way I could push it out without some help. And even that would hurt like hell. Samual Sanchez laughed meanly while Chan Lin whacked the soles of my feet with the cane. 

Sam called to me, "Don't be such a Putito, Woody... I am sure your Master has stuffed much bigger things in there..."

The black tail cowered disgracefully between my legs when the guys took turns hitting my butt-cheeks. Dylan Stockman pulled my knees off the edge of the table. Sliding me toward him. And the crowd dispersed once Dylan gestured to them that the show was over. I let out a sigh of relief. The dragon tail buttplug smacked against my balls when my dick slid past the edge of the booths' table.

"Hey, Dyl... Did you mean to put that plug in upside down?" asked Chan tentatively.

"Yup... This sorry, good for nothing Puto will walk around all night with a tail between his legs... Like the stupid alley cat he really is... I'll feed him to those Dawgs when I am done with him... Sorry... When we are done with it!... Don't give me that look, Bitch... You raped the wrong guy!" barked Stockman to me when I looked at him in surprise.

"Aren't we going to fuck him then?" asked Samual, equally surprised.

"Ha... You can if you want... I am not stooping to his level... Besides... Gents... I much rather have a nice horny threesome with you two..."

"Huh?... What?... Really?..." asked the stunned Chan Lin of Stockman.

"Ha... Chan, as soon as I fell for Dyl, this was the first thing he confided in me... Dylan wants to try a threesome so badly... Fuck... I would not mind you have some fun with us later..."

"Cool, it's a date! Guys..."

"Fucking hell, yeah... I always wanted to fuck someone while my ass gets split in two at the same time... I'm already hard thinking of it..." cheered Dylan. Laying his arms around his fuck buddies.

"Kid... Tonight's your lucky night... I'll make all your dreams cum true..." smerked Chan naughtily as he grabbed Dylan by the side of his face and drove his tongue into Stockman's mouth. "The moment I saw you join our swim team, I dreamed of jumping your bones, Dyllie..."

"So... Ummm... Slave... tell me... Why did you and your fucking homies jump me at school?... What the fuck did I do to deserve that?..." asked Stockman sternly. Pushing me to my knees between his legs. The sole of his sneaker pressing my back to the table's edge. "Go on...  TALK, Bitch!"

"Ummm... Sir... Emily Garcia paid us to humiliate you... But once you started to run... Well... Things got a little out of hand... Dodge wanted to..."

"Ha... that slut... She did everyone at school but left her boyfriend to rub one out by himself... By the way... Did you like face fucking the bitch?" called Dylan.

"Huh? ... Sir... I... I... Did not... I... How did you know?"

"Next time someone fakes a faint... Make sure he's really out for the count... Or you may end up getting filmed... And before you ask... I got a copy of the entire vid!..." Dylan squinted down at me. Kicking my nuts with his sneaker. I toppled forward, and my mouth ended up in Dylan's crotch. "So one last question... Slave... Who's your Master?..." 

"You are, Sir!..."

"Okay... I meant, who's your other Master?... Who's bitch-boy are you really?"

"Ummm... I don't want to..." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stockman draw his arm back. So I quickly answered, "Tylor Rawley, Sir... He's into leather-wearing punks like us... He branded me with his mark... And you're wearing his wristband... When I saw it, I knew I was in trouble... I am sorry, Sir... Sir, please don't hit me anymore..."

"True, I spend a nice afternoon with him... Discovering my true self... But he never was my Master... Well, maybe for one evening..."

"Can I go now?" I asked. Looking submissively up at Stockman and his buddies.

"Go?... Where do you think you can go after tonight?... Master Lin is pissed off at you... Master Tylor won't take you back... And you bore me... You got nowhere to go, Slave... I've got half a mind to show the video of you face fucking my ex to the cops!"

"Yeah... but you said you did not want to screw me?" I said, somehow hoping that they would let me go.

"No, alley cat!... Tonight your ours... So shut up, and suck Chan Lin off... Worship his leathers... Take him deeply... Then you can serve and obey my Jefe... If you do a half-decent job, then I'll maybe throat you for a while too... Get your head under the table and lick Chan's boots clean... Let us sip our Snowballs in peace and enjoy the music..." Dylan grabbed the snaps on the side of the mask. Removing the dragon's snout. Using the handle on my slave collar, Dylan roughly pressed my face to Chan's boots. His booming bark ordered me to lick them clean. The half-naked waiter Doug finally delivered the three cocktails and a small glass with an amber drink. The three college punks toasted each other on a wonderful evening. Raising their glasses to the second-floor security booth. Master Lin was in deep discussion with Master Tylor Rawley there.

I swirled my tongue from one heavy biker boot to the next. Then up to Chan's padded leather pants with the double zippered front. Dylan was fooling around with both men at the same time. Kissing and hugging the guys. While they stroked his well-defined chest underneath the extremely cool leather biker jacket that he wore. Dylan unzipped one side of Chan's pants, and Chan undid the other side. Exposing the Chinese firecracker framed by a thick black bush. Chan wore an inch-wide metal ball stretcher. It whacked me on the head a couple of times. My tongue licked between the leather-clad thighs for a while. This took Chan a little too long. He was rock-hard already. So he grabbed the handle on the back of my neck and repositioned my face. Slamming my mouth to his balls deep over that fat Chinese swimmer's cock.

I heard Dylan whisper after a while, "So, buddy?... Is Slave any good?..."

"Yeah... But I much rather have your mouth on there, buddy..." said Chan before spitting straight into Dylan's open mouth. Who promptly shared the spit with Samual Sanchez on the other side of him. Chan grabbed the sides of my face. Riding my mouth in time with the music, the club's DJ was pumping through the sound system.

I felt that Chan was getting warmed up nicely. But before he came, he ripped my face off his delicious cock. Way too soon for my liking. My dick was finally getting harder. Dylan's mate had removed his torn gray jeans. He was sitting in the booth wearing nothing but his leather chaps, vest, and pointy ankle boots. Sam kick my face as I tried to lick his pointy cowboy boots. "Don't waste time, Puto... Suck me deep!..." he called harshly. Yanking me up with the handled collar. Slamming his smooth 8-inch cock straight into my throat. Making me gag and sputter without remorse. Holding me down over it. Forcing me to deepthroat the fucker. I felt it twitch as the dickhead lodged itself in my throat. "Teeth... Mind those fucking Teeth, Bitch... Or I'll knock them out!" warned Samual Shanchez threateningly.

After a few minutes, he allowed me one short breath and then rammed it in again. If it wasn't for Dylan, I think he would have surely smothered me. "Looks like fun, Jefe... But save your seed for us..." Stockman made me lick his trainers. And Sanchez meanly kicked against the dreadfully vibrating buttplug, stretching my hole so wide that I feared it would tear me open. The guys really enjoyed them selfs. That much was clear. 

After a few more beers, the dudes made the butch waiter Doug ram his 10-pounder up my ass in front of them on the table. While I was made to drink the glass of piss that he had brought me. I thought it was bourbon or whiskey at first. But shit, no! It was actual lukewarm piss. While he yanked the huge plug out of my hole, Doug hissed, "Drink my piss, Bitch!... I've never liked you... I'll piss straight in your ass... Then fuck you so hard the piss will drip out your ears!..." 

He wasn't joking either. The butch macho fucker tore me a new one, while the three punks casually watched him do it. "Fóllalo mucho más fuerte, Jefe," called Sam in Spanish. "Yeah, fuck him much harder, Doug... Don't hold back on that filthy alley cat... Use him, as you've always wanted to do!" cheered Chan. Sipping their beers and stroking each other's cocks. 

Doug didn't hold back after that. He bred my ass while Chan spat some of his beer into Doug's half-open mouth. After Doug pulled his 10-inch cum-dripping dick out. Stockman slammed the huge buttplug tail back in. Gruffly saying that I would need the cum-lube for later. He turned his attention to Doug, stuffing a twenty behind the bowtie and giving him a warm kiss. 

He gestured to Sam, and both young men went down on him simultaneously. Licking his sweat-dripping torso. Gagging themselves onto the filthy dick. Doug got cleaned up as the horned-up twinks ravaged his cock and balls. Doug loved all the attention the men gave him. Stroking their hair and moaning loudly. Dancing on the spot on the pounding music the DJ was playing. All I could do was hang over the edge of the glass-topped table. To pooped too pop, with an ass full of vibrating dragon tail. This time the thick black silicone tail stuck out my ass, pointing upward. Happily waggling whenever I moved.

"How about we share the alley cat with the Dawgs down there?" asked Chan, stroking Doug's nipples from behind. Watching how Sam and Dylan sucked the last remanence of cum and ass juices from his still semi-hard cock. "Not you, Doug... That filthy slave-boi... You've earned your pay tonight, Dougy..." laughed Chan at Doug's bewildered look.

Chan fastened two metal leashes on the thick leather collar I was wearing. And handing Sam a leather jock to hide his exposed man meat. The only one whose cock had not seen any action was Dylan's. But that could not take long, I thought to myself. Sanchez and Stockman got a leash each. They pulled me up off the table and down the stairs from the VIP booth. 

The bouncer guarding the gate at the bottom stuck out his boot, making me trip up. Meanly laughing as I toppled off the steps. Dylan squinted his eyes at the bouncer, who took a step back from him. However, Samual pushed him forward again. Making the bouncer John and Dylan face off for a second. Dylan grabbed the Chinese brick shit house - without a sense of humor - by the throat and moved in. 

Rather than headbutt the dude, Dylan planted his lips on him. Giving John a hot sloppy wet kiss in thanks. Stuffing a tenner into the dude's black linen pants and stroking his cock-bulge a while. John's muscles were twice as thick as Stockman's. So when he grabbed his hands around Dylan's back, he lifted the leather punk clean off the floor. Slobbering the VIP hard and fast. Saying that he would take extra special care of Stockman.

The three guys dragged me onto the dancefloor. The DJ started some heavy trance beat. Whipping the entire club into a frenzy. By now, most men in the gay leather club were either pretty drunk or horny as fuck. And although the dress code was leather, not everyone was wearing the proper gear. The older daddies had retreated off the dance floor when the DJ started his trance session. Leaving the hipper younger crowd to go loose. Many a filthy hand grabbed hold of my 11-inch prancing dick as Sam, Chan, and Doug paraded me around. Heck, as soon as my ass got in reach of the biker's, Dilf's, punk's, and skinhead daddies along the side of the floor, my silicone dragon tail got yanked hard too.

I guess this is what gave Dylan the idea for my next torment. He whispered something to Chan, who promptly left to go downstairs with John the Bouncer. Stockman ordered me to my hand and knees. Forcing me to waggle my ass for the dawgs and dragons. The dragons were the card-carrying paying member of the Boots. The dawgs were everyone else. 

Samual and Dylan guided me alongside the booths next to the dancefloor. Offering my mouth as a cum-dumpster to them for a small clean-up fee. As Dylan euphemistically called it. Man, I had never sucked so many dirty, smelly, ugly dicks off in my life. Stockman and Sanchez knew how to humiliate me to the bone. And my ass had never been slapped and kicked this hard either. The men enjoyed seeing the dragon tail plug wiggle hard.

Suddenly Dylan Stockman got tapped on his shoulder. Annoyed at the queue jumper, he shouted, "Wait your turn, Fucker!..." He turned to look the man in the face and shouted at the guy with his dick standing proud, pointing at Dylan, "Dad?... Fuck... Hi, Sir... Shit... I had not expected to see you in a joint like this, Charles... Sam... Come meet my father's meat..." Giggled Dylan as he shamelessly shook his old men's stiff cock by the head.

"Looking good, boy's... Is this your boyfriend, Dyl?" asked Charles while he bro hugged Samual Sanchez. Slapping a hand on his naked ass. "...Nice jacket too, Dyl... Suits you!... Very butch... I've had one made just like it... But I got detained and wasn't able to pick it up in time... When I did, they told me some young college punk had just bought it a few hours earlier..." said Charles Stockman, proudly looking his son up and down. Stroking the butch black leather biker jacket the boy was wearing. Letting the fatherly hand come to rest over his boy's throbbing leather cock bulge. And Dylan - proud as a peacock - just let it all happen. Hardly taking the time to let it sink in that his father had turned queer too.

"Oh shit... Yeah... that sounds about right... Mister F Leather, downtown, right?..." asked Dylan of his old man.

"Yeah... But I didn't know you were into gay shit like this?..." replied Charles, a little flustered but still stroking his boy's stiffy.

"Neither did I until recently... But such a jacket can do wonders for your self-esteem..." said Dylan to his dirty grinning father.

"Too true, boy... Too true... But it looks much nicer on you, buddy... So, you can keep it... I'll have another one made... This is my present to you, Dylan!... For all the birthdays and holidays I missed... Fuck, it's nice to see you again, Kiddo... And in a cool club like this too... Guess we both made some earth-shattering life changes..." winked Charles Stockman hornily to his son. "How's mom and Tiny?..." he started to ask. But the two Stockman men got interrupted by Chan Lin. He pointed Dylan to the dancefloor, where a fuck bench had been placed with permission of the club's owner Tao Lin.

Let's feed this alley cat cunt to the dawgs and dragons... I am done with it... I much rather have you two!" said Dylan to Sam and Chan. They had placed a two-level leather-covered fuck bench in the middle of the dance floor. Someone finally removed the chafing metal handcuffs from my wrists. But they got attached to the front legs of the metal bench with leather straps. My lower legs got tied to the benchs' lower level. My torso got fastened onto the top with a thick belt around my back. It, too, had a handle on it for leverage.

Dylan got handed a microphone, and the music stopped.

"Ladies... Listen up for a moment, if you please..." he announced butchly, "This naughty black alley cat has been a bad dawg... He took what didn't belong to him... I had my fun... Now it's your turn... Fill this cum-dumpster... Club members can use him for free... Dawgs, the rest of you need to buy a ticket with John, the bouncer near the DJ booth... His sloppy hole is well worth the price of admission... Or so I am told... Have fun... The line starts here!"

Dylan put the mic near his pants as he stepped between my spread-aside legs. We loudly heard Dylan Stockman unzip his leather jeans. I screamed as he ripped out the dragon tail butt plug with a mighty mean plop. And felt how the white punk Dylan slammed his 8-inch fat cock deep inside my black hole. Stockman rode his boner deep up my gut without the slightest trace of remorse. Moaning and grunting into the microphone. Smacking my ass so hard, even the dragons in the dungeon came rushing upstairs. 

Master Lin and my Master Tylor were next. The daddies tag-teamed my sorry black ass. They were followed by the meanest Trio, Chan Lin, Samual Sanchez, and Charles Stockman. Dylan, Charles, and the other two young college punks got out for a reunion of their own. None of these guys, nor my former Masters, had actually come inside me. But that could not be said about the rest that followed that evening, night, the next morning, afternoon, and following evening. I don't know how many men bred my ebony ass on that dancefloor in the next 24 hours. But I think I must have set a record that weekend.

- Continued in Part 4 - (maybe)

Thank you for reading this story. 
Please, give it a Like or a Comment if you are so inclined.
That is always much appreciated! ;-)

(C) StrykerJ - 2021-05