'That's two down and one to go.'

Hearing Zach's comment, I tore my worshipping gaze away from his still-stiff butter-stained cock and looked up into his hard but incredibly handsome face. The teenager's smug look told me that the boy intended to get off into me a third time tonight, just like he used to tell me he liked to do with the loose girls he fucked. Something about forcing his big hard cock into all of a girl's available holes and filling them with his hot teen spooge made the demanding young stud incredibly turned-on. Zach had already unloaded his cum into my face and up my ass. I didn't have a real girl pussy, so I wondered how the kid intended to use me a third time to get off.

My musing, though, was interrupted when Zach reached down to the car floor and picked up my shirt. He used the shirt to thoroughly wipe his dirty cock clean. Zach pushed his cock and balls back into his jeans and buttoned them. Then he reached over and pushed the soiled garment into my face, holding the odorous thing firmly against my nose. A moment later, my brain processed the strong combined smell of the butter, cum and shit that had been wiped from the teenager's cock. The aroma hit my brain like a powerful aphrodisiac. I sat there passively as Zach continued to hold the stinking shirt against my face. Each breath I took in sent a wave of erotic submissiveness through my mind and body. I dreamily closed my eyes and allowed my head to swim in lust. I could feel that my little queer dick had instantly sprung up hard in my crotch from the smells of the teenager's demanding use of my faggot pussy.

When I eventually opened my sex-glazed eyes, I found Zach glancing down at my crotch. The young stud took in the sight of my little faggot prick rock hard and throbbing urgently in my crotch. The young stud then looked me directly in the eye. He had the unmistakable look of disgust on his incredibly handsome face.

'Jeez, you really are one super fucked-up queer, man. Getting off from the smell of a real man using your fuckin' faggot pussy. How low can a guy get?'

As Zach held my gaze like some dominant wild animal, I felt my face flush with embarrassment at his cutting remark. The heat quickly spread throughout my face as the demanding teenager's eyes held my attention like a tractor beam. I felt humiliated, but totally under the young stud's control. I made no attempt to resist him and his rough treatment of me.

'Fuckin' sick faggot,' Zach finally commented, throwing my shirt to the floor. I took in a breath of fresh air and immediately began craving having the dominant teenager's smell in my face again. I looked down at the soiled shirt on the car floor, longing to have it back in my face. I seemed psychologically paralyzed, though, and didn't reach for it. Zach had taken control of my mind and body through his demanding treatment of me. Somehow his sexual domination had stripped me of the will to act independently of him.

I remembered the sweetly bitter smells of the teenager's crotch as I continued to fix my gaze on the soiled shirt. I noticed the sound of quiet whimpering in the back seat. I was startled a moment later to realize the person who was making the sound was me! I was desperately craving Zach's crotch smells, but my new emotional passivity prevented me from acting on the craving.

'Oh, man. You really are a fuckin' freak!'

Zach's voice interrupted my obsession with the smelly shirt. Looking into his eyes, my mind was filled with the need to submit totally to the young stud no matter what it took.

Zach stared at me as if contemplating how to handle the situation. Although the dominant teenager had no doubt bent many a person to this will through the assertion of his powerful mind and body, he apparently had never encountered another human being who had been rendered so totally submissive to his naturally dominant personality. The young man seemed to struggle to process how to take another being to a new level of subservience to his will.

I don't know how much time passed before I noticed a subtle change in Zach's facial expression. A moment later my face was covered with wetness as Zach's cheeks and mouth exploded with a thick spray of spit.

'Get dressed, dipshit!' Zach immediately yelled at me.

Startled by his spit spray, I sat frozen in place.

Anger flashed across Zach's face. In an instant he was across the seat and on top of me. He angrily began talking to me, punctuating each of his words with a hard slap to my face.

'[SLAP] You [SLAP] fuckin' [SLAP] queer [SLAP] will [SLAP] do [SLAP] exactly [SLAP] as [SLAP] I [SLAP] say!

With his last word he used his powerful right arm to administer a brutally hard final slap across my left cheek.

My face and mind were filled with pain and numbness from the young stud's physical outburst. I could hear him speaking to me through the ringing in my ears.

'Do you hear me, you goddamn fuckface?' Zach demanded angrily.

Although my face hurt so bad I didn't know if I could get my mouth to work, I knew I needed to answer or suffer even greater punishment by the dominant teenager.

'Yes! Please, Sir! Please don't hurt me anymore! I'll do whatever you say, I swear! Please, Sir!'

I'm not sure where the 'Sir' came from, but it seemed natural to use that respectful term of address for this dominant young man.

Zach seemed a little taken aback, but a moment later a smile broke out on his handsome face.

'You call a fuckin' teenager 'Sir'? Man, you are a fuckin' poor excuse for a human being, faggot. Now, get the fuck dressed before I pound the rest of the crap out of your sorry queer ass!'

Through sheer force of will, I managed to pull on my clothes. My face was still burning from the painful slapping the young stud had just administered to me. When I began buttoning up my shirt, Zach's crotch smell on the shirt again hit my nose and made my head swim, relieving much of the pain in my hard-slapped face.

'Your shoes, too, dipshit!'

Ignoring my socks, I quickly pulled my shoes on.

'Good asshole. I guess maybe I won't need to pound more shit out of you after all. Now, let's get into the fuckin' restroom. I gotta take a wicked piss.'

To be continued.


Pete Smith

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