Not every client is a success, and Jacob gets caned for disobedience, but at least he learns a new skill.
Clients were slotted in two, sometimes three, a week, Marcus lining them up with a slap to my arse whilst I was in position, present standing. 'Got another punter for you, Jaydie. This one, says he likes it rough, bare, all the way. Don’t they all eh!’
The first few sessions after that initial one left me more sore psychologically than physically, each one leaving me with some bad feelings: ‘fuck, I’m being whored out, I’ve no choice.’ My arsehole lips tender from the pounding, mouth full of the taste of spunk and my own hole, but the mephedrone bumps made it so much easier. I looked forward to that high, more and more each time. And then the skunk, ‘feels right, doesn’t it? Any doubting thoughts, the bad thoughts, fading, breaking up, as I sank into the smoke. ‘Am I ok” Yeah, I guess, I’m ok, all good. All good.’ Then I’d feel my cunt lips, and the thought, ’yeah, made for it, my man-cunt.’
Eleven clients in total that month: suits like Steve, quick and insistent; a workman who gripped my hips, bruising; even a couple of younger South Asian blokes, both British-Bengali lads, nervous but eager, fucking me quickly while I smiled. They always fucked my arse, then made me lick them clean while I looked up at them with smiling eyes.
‘Told you, you’re a natural, boy,' Marcus said after the first few clients, counting the notes. 'Good boy, you're doing a good job, getting back to the rhythm.
Through the skunk my thoughts slowly started breaking up, like pieces of a jigsaw being taken apart ’ok? Dunno? Me? Earning my keep. Ok for spreadin’ my legs, better than scrubbing toilets at the rec centre. Love you Boss!’
The trouble came after midway, with client seven.
“Jaydie..” I knew that tone meant trouble.
‘Yes Boss?’
‘The client, you didn’t rim him when he wanted it.’
‘Er, yes Boss, but I don’t..’
‘What do you mean, you don’t? You fucking do it if the client says so, yeah. I had to give him some money back, you little fucker!’
‘But I’ve never..done that Boss.’
‘Bullshit Jaydie. Whore like you!! Get on the fucking bed now, all fours!! The position.’ Marcus was already reaching for the cane.
‘But Boss..please..’ But I knew that would only make it worse, so I knelt, knees spread wide, head up, hands on my ankles, arse presented, and waited. The mephedrone high completely gone now as the adrenaline surged.’
‘You fucking apologise, you disobedient little cunt. Six, count them, thank me!’
‘One, sorry Sir, thank you Sir..Two, sorry Sir, thank you Sir..Three..’
After the sixth stroke, I was crying but Marcus didn’t hug me, comfort me as he usually would. ‘Present!’ And I knew to immediately kneel by the bed, knees spread wide, hands behind my head, shaking with shock.’
Marcus stood in front of me and lowered his pants. ‘Kiss it, kiss my cock.’ Then he turned round, showing me his buttocks. ‘Lick it you little fucker!.’ I licked his left glute. ‘Fucking lick it boy, or you get another six. Lick it!’
So, slowly and very reluctantly, I pushed my head between the cheeks of Marcus’s arse and, with my tongue, found the hole. I could feel the hairs on my tongue, tasting another man’s arse hole for the first time, smelling it, tasting it. I licked it some more, finding the hole again, the first lick tentative, the taste! ‘Fuck, horrible,’ but it took my mind off my own glutes where Marcus had caned me. So I kept on licking it. Like I was eager for it, the taste. Like Marcus’s arse hole meant everything to me. It was the centre of everything. I could feel the cool of Marcus’s arse cheeks against my face, while I went deeper until I couldn’t breathe. Licking slowly, building a rhythm, my tongue finding the hole again, licking it.
‘You do now,’ I heard Marcus say, in a matter of fact tone. ‘You fucking rim them when they ask for it. Just like that.’ Then Marcus started directing me. ‘Tongue round the hole, that’s it, good boy. Lick it up and down, slowly, round the hole, fuck yeah! Good lad. Now put it in, put your tongue in, nice and slow, firm strokes, fuck, keep going, good lad, fuck!! You’re a natural little arse licker Jaydie, just like I knew you always were.’ Marcus then turned round again, his cock hard, ‘open your mouth you little cunt! He jerked a couple of strokes and then came, four big shots, into my open mouth, ‘leave it there, don’t you fucking swallow.’
Marcus left me alone for a bit, in position, in his bedroom. The smell of Marcus arse sweat, strong on my face. I could taste it. Mixed with Marcus’s cum in my mouth, which I hadn’t had permission to swallow. ‘Come here. Show me your mouth.’ The voice from the sofa next door. Marcus, sitting there, rolling a spliff. His legs were spread and I knew where to sit, what to do. Marcus folded his legs around me, no escape, safe. “Good boy, swallow it, say thank you Boss! You’re my boy, Jaydie.’
I nodded, ‘thanks Boss, I’m yours, all yours,’ tears on my face.’ The words settling warmly as he passed me the spliff. The first draw seemed to calm my burning arse cheeks, almost completely. In fact, I felt horny, my face smelt of Marcus’ arse, overwhelming, I could taste it again. I felt horny now, hornier than ever. My mind fracturing again, ‘yeah, I’m a good arse licker, the best..caned, I needed it..obedient..I need to lick arse every time.’
Marcus wrapped his legs around me, kissed my head and stroked my cheek. ‘You’re a good lad Jaydie, really, a good lad.’ The spliff deepened everything, like I was underwater. Then I felt safe again.
One evening later that week, after a football match where we'd won 3-1, and I had scored the winning goal, the vibe shifted again. Marcus doesn’t usually drink but he cracked open beers in the flat, then whisky, the bottle emptying fast as he ranted about a dodgy dealer. I sat quiet on the floor by the sofa, between Marcus’s bare feet, nursing my own energy drink, the skunk from earlier still buzzing softly. Suddenly Marcus's face flushed red, eyes glassy, and he slammed the glass down, looming over me, and smacked my head.
'You think this is easy, eh? Keeping you fed, lined up with punters?’
'Nah, Boss, I get it. I'm pullin’ my weight Boss.'
But Marcus wasn't hearing it. He grabbed my collar, yanking me up, face inches away. 'If you ever misbehave, Jaydie, if you so much as look at the door wrong, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Understand?' My heart hammered, the high souring to fear, but I held still, eyes down. Marcus shook me, his free hand balling into a fist. 'Remember you're tagged, you can't run, you can't escape me! You're my fucking property, Jaydie, my boy to use, to rent out. Got that? You little..’ Then he suddenly stopped. The rage seemed to vanish. Everything was still, just the sound of my breathing in the room. In a very low voice, a sad and emotional tone I had never heard from him, he said, ’I’ve been hurt before Jaydie. Before.’ Then his eyes flashed again, and spit flecked my cheeks, the threat hanging heavy, the waves of Marcus’s emotion hitting me again, shocking me, Marcus's grip bruising my arms.
'Yeah, I got it. Yours, Boss, always. Yours!’ The words seemed to defuse it. Marcus releasing me with a shove.
Later on Marcus snapped his fingers and pointed to the mat in front of the sofa, ‘Jaydie, sit, now! Time for smokes.’ And he rolled out a fat spliff, reeking of skunk. ‘Just you and me Jaydie, together forever, you at my feet. Forever boy!’
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