The Price of Everything

I don't know what I expected when I woke up the next morning. For a while, as I lay there in bed, I might have actually thought that the previous night hadn't happened at all. Except that my mouth felt worn out and my ass ached from being stretched by Simon's fat dick, and if that weren't enough to convince me, I could feel his cum inside me, slowly trickling out my bruised asshole to pool on the bed beneath me.

I had agreed to something, something ridiculous. Anything, I'd told him. I'm yours for a month. The sum I'd named was beyond ridiculous, and I'd only said it to goad him into fucking me even harder. Why that had seemed like a good idea, I couldn't say, and it was all hard to imagine or accept by the light of day.

Tracy had left a message. She was in Vegas with her friends, sounded drunk, so she must not have been too concerned that she hadn't been able to reach me. Five more days, the longest trip she'd taken, and the longest we'd been apart from each other. As I listened to the message I felt a surge of guilt, but I also remembered the ex-boyfriend she'd hooked up with -- for a blowjob, she said, that was all -- when we'd had a fight two months before. That had almost ended things, especially when I'd asked her for details, hating the questions but wanting the answers, and she'd told me about his nine-inch cock. I'd forgiven her, but I'd never forgotten the image of her mouth wrapped around a giant cock.

What would she think, if she knew that I'd done the same? And more?

After a long shower, I got dressed and made myself go in to work. The events of last night eventually faded as the monotony of the office kicked in, and by 11:30 I could've almost convinced myself it hadn't happened at all. Then at 11:45, just before lunch, I received an email on my work account. I clicked and the message filled the screen.

jordan,

I hope you've recovered well and you're ready to proceed with our arrangement. I've made a deposit in the escrow account listed below, as per the terms we discussed.

At 12:15 today, go out for a run and head east on the trail. Stop at the exact place you see on the attached map. Walk about fifty feet south into the brush, and take off your clothes and shoes. Get down on your hands and knees and wait there, and don't get up for any reason until 12:45pm. Do anything you're asked to do.

Your owner, Simon

I heard footsteps behind me and immediately closed the window. Foremost among all the thoughts in my brain was this: he knew where I worked. He'd sent the email to my work address. Knew my full name. What else had I told him? How stupid had I been?

When the footsteps had passed, I opened the email again. At the bottom was a P.S.: Just trust me.

As worried as I was, there was something else, too... Seeing the words, seeing "your owner" there at the bottom... it all had an obvious effect on me. And I realized, amazed at myself, that I was actually considering it. Not late at night, half-drunk, but sitting here in my office, completely sober.

If the email had come hours earlier, I probably would've thought about it too much and deleted it. Instead, I really had no time to over-think it. To reach the spot that Simon had identified on the map, I would have to leave immediately. I grabbed my gym bag and went down to the locker room, got changed quickly, and was out the door within ten minutes. My heart was racing.

I've run that trail hundreds of times. It's paved and gets a good deal of traffic from runners and cyclists and walkers, and many times I've passed my co-workers while they're out for a lunchtime stroll.

When I reached the spot that Simon had identified on the map, again I felt a jolt. He -- or someone -- had spray-painted a small red arrow at that exact spot on the asphalt, pointing to the south, into the brush. I looked up and around, in all directions, but at the moment I was the only one on the path. I couldn't see far enough into the brush to tell if anyone was waiting there or not.

I walked, counting steps as I went. Just before I reached what I guessed was fifty feet, I came to a small clearing. A red x had been spray-painted on the dirt and grass in the middle of the area. Again I looked around. My heart was beating so loud I wouldn't have heard a motorcycle approaching. But I was alone.

Don't think, a voice told me. My voice, trying to be helpful, or maybe something less than helpful. Just do it.

I obeyed. I pulled off my shirt, and then my shorts, and then the compression shorts underneath. Then I pushed off my running shoes and slipped off my socks. Finally, shaking, I got down on the dirt on my hands and knees. The breeze blowing against my naked body made me shiver. I tried to just concentrate on breathing, not thinking, not worrying.

Do anything you're asked to do.

What did that mean? I assumed Simon was nearby, watching. What would he ask me to do? And why would he have to tell me this in advance?

The minutes passed, and the only sound for a long time was the wind moving through the brush. I kept my body still, but I found myself pushing my ass up slightly, arching my back, as if... as if what? As if I wanted to give the best possible view to anyone who might be watching, maybe.

And then: voices. Coming up the path. At least two men, with thick middle eastern accents. I held my breath.

I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I did catch one word: arrow.

More laughter. Their voices picked up, sounded closer. Had they left the path, and were they now headed straight toward me? I started to panic, but realized quickly that I didn't have time to grab my clothes and get dressed. They would catch me in the act, and somehow that would even be harder to explain. Better, safer, to just stay frozen as I was, ass raised high as if I were bitch in heat, and try not to draw attention to myself. As if that made any sense.

Do anything you're asked to do. Could he have meant this? Had Simon sent them here to find me, and fuck me here on the ground, out in public?

Their voices changed direction again, got farther away, and then nearer again. As if they weren't sure exactly where to go. I was torn between wanting them to disappear and wanting them to find me, now. Wanting them to appear out of the brush and find me with my legs spread and my asshole raised for their cocks, my head down, my mouth ready to suck one of them off as the other fucked the living shit out of me. I could feel my ass moving, grinding slowly as I imagined them positioned at either end of my body, stuffing me full of their cocks while runners and cyclists zoomed past.

I was breathing hard, almost panting. I wanted their dicks inside me. And I wanted Simon to be watching it all somehow, to see how obedient I was -- more than obedient, how much I was willing to beg for it. My whole body was shaking.

Another laugh, this time farther away. I listened. A minute later I could barely hear them, and I knew they weren't looking for me after all. I let out a breath, relieved but also, and obviously, disappointed. Worse than the disappointment was that, as the rush of sexual excitement passed, I felt suddenly humiliated and vulnerable, aware that I was just naked on the ground besdie a very public trail. Anyone could have found me out there, and it might not have been a game devised by Simon. I could have been arrested, or worse, much worse.

And yet, I didn't move. I wasn't sure how long it had been, but I wanted to keep my word, even if there was no way Simon could know that I was telling the truth. I closed my eyes and spread my thighs apart. Dropped my head low. And moved my hips from side to side, imagining... well, imagining all kinds of things. Being seen. Being an object to be taken, without consequence, by whoever might stumble upon me. The two men from the trail. Simon. One of the day laborers who rode back and forth along the trail during the day. A retiree out walking his dog. The dog itself...

I don't how long I stayed here. But my legs started to cramp, my knees stiffed up, and eventually I climbed to my feet. I brushed the dirt off me, put on my clothes and shoes, and then made my way back to the office.

I didn't respond to Simon's email. I wasn't angry exactly, only... strangely disappointed. Going out on the trail like that had given me a thrill, but only because I hadn't known what to expect. And even though I could now convince myself that I didn't want anything more to happen, I still found myself annoyed. I just wasn't sure why. Maybe it was that the goal had seemed merely to test me.

Well, if that's what he wanted to do with me, if that's how he planned to use my month of servitude, then okay. It seemed silly, but okay.

Just before I left work for the day, I received another email from him. I reacted to it like one of Pavlov's dogs -- my breath catching in my throat, my whole body heating up.

The entire email was two words long: Good boy. And below that, a link. I clicked on the link.

The page opened to an amateur porn site. Before I could close the window, a video started to play, and my hand froze on the mouse. In the video, I watched myself strip, and then get down on my hands and knees on the ground. The point of view was slightly higher than shoulder level, taken from behind me, so that my raised ass was the focal point. As if a camera had been planted on a low-hanging tree limb.

I watched for a long time, mesmerized. Watched my body tense up as I heard voices, and then my shoulders slump in what was clearly disappointment. And then my ass, grinding slowly before the camera. And then, amazed, I watched me slip a finger down the crack of my ass... had I really done that? I could see the sunlight glinting off the sweat that dripped down into my asshole. I could see my finger sliding across the wet hole, slipping inside. I could hear myself groan...

My face flushed, I scrolled down the page. Dozens of comments had been left, by anonymous viewers. Nice ass. Good little doggy bitch, getting ready for my dick. Love to see you stuffed with two dicks. Keep movin that butt, bitch boi. I'll give you some dick if you want it so bad...

"Hey, Jordan," my boss's voice coming up behind me, and I closed the window as fast I could.

"Yep," I said, not looking at him. If I looked at him, I might become convinced he'd seen what I was looking at. "What, um," I said, "is anything going on?"

"Just saying goodnight," he answered, with a little laugh. "Didn't mean to spook you."

I laughed too, or tried to. I mumbled goodnight, and then shut down my computer and left.

When I got in my car, my phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number. 4816 Williamsburg Blvd, 8pm. Shower before you arrive.

The address was only a few miles from where I lived, and I knew the neighborhood. My hands were shaking the whole way home.

The first thing I did when I got in the house was have a drink. My nerves were suddenly shot, and I was having misgivings about everything. I took a long, hot shower, put on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and sat down on the couch to watch television and clear my head. Another drink. I avoided looking at my phone. By the third drink, I was already writing an email in my head to Simon. Keep the money. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I'm sorry.

At 7:30, I went upstairs and took another shower. As the hot water ran down my back, I remembered Simon taking position behind me in the alley, running the head of his dick up against my asshole. I opened my legs a little, without even being aware of what I was doing. Put my hands against the wall of the shower, let the water strike my back and my ass full force. I thought about the comments on the video, and about the video itself. It really was a nice ass, I thought... Probably more feminine than masculine, a lot of shape to it, but muscular too... I thought about how much they lusted for it. How much they wanted it wrapped around their fat dicks, feeling my muscles tighten around them. Or having it pinned on the ground by their dicks, a perfectly round butt for them to fill as deep as they could, to fuck with no hesitation, not having to be gentle or to hold back, the way they might have to with their girlfriends...

Fuck, I whispered. It was like a fever.

I turned off the shower, and got dressed. It was 7:45. I'd had a little too much to drink, I knew that. The house was no more than two miles away -- I could get there on my bike in less than ten minutes.

The sun had gone down and it was getting cooler as I made my way toward Williamsburg Boulevard. The cool air helped to lower my body temperature: I felt as if I were about to burst into flames. By the time I was within a block of the house, I was almost back to normal, except that nothing was normal anymore.

I stopped the bike outside house number 4816. The house was empty, no cars in the driveway, a builder's sign in the front lawn. New construction, but from the outside it looked complete. Trying to control my heartbeat, I walked from the bike to the front door, and after one quick glance to either side, I turned the knob. The door opened to semi-darkness, with only a single light from the stairwell leading to the upper floor.

The house seemed to be empty. I didn't know what else to do, so I walked to the stairwell, and went up. At the top of the stairs, I followed another light, this one coming from a bedroom facing the rear of the house.

A neutral carpet filled the empty room. Empty, except for one thing -- a long sheet of drywall had been propped up, stretching almost from one side of the room to the other, and dividing it roughly in half. Someone had cut a round hole, about eighteen inches in diameter, about a foot from the bottom of the drywall sheet. And that same someone had marked two spots on the floor, directly in front of the hole.

It took me a minute to understand. The spots on the floor were for my knees. I was supposed to put my arms and head through that hole, so that the whole bottom half of my body was sticking out into the room. My knees on the carpet, my legs spread. Like a glory hole, except that instead of offering an anonymous mouth, it was to be my ass that was offered.

Was this another game? A test, to see if I was really following instructions? Or was this real after all?

I realized that it didn't matter. Either way, I was going through with it now. I stripped out of my clothes until I was completely naked. Then I checked the hallway and listened for sounds one last time. And then I walked back in to the room, got down on all fours, and pushed my arms and head through the hole in the drywall. The hole was so small that I almost got stuck, and it wasn't until I'd finally pushed through that I realized it might be difficult for me to get myself out...

A laptop had been set up on the floor, not far from my face, but out of my reach. Another video feed was on the screen, but this time it was live -- I could see my ass sticking out of the wall from a camera positioned in one of the upper corners of the room. Next to the video window was a chat window, and I understood that this was a webcam. Simon was broadcasting this live, and I already had an audience.

Beneath me, the front door opened.

I thought: holy... fucking... shit. Because I understood something extraordinary in that moment: that I was either about to be arrested for trespassing, or Simon was about to walk in the room and fuck me. And there was nothing I could do about either one.

Nothing I could do. Somehow, amazingly, that made things easier. I let my body relax. My breathing slowed.

Heavy footsteps came up the stairs. If it was a cop, wouldn't he have called out by now? Not a cop, then. It had to be Simon.

I kept my eye on the video, waiting for Simon to appear in the room.

He stepped inside. "God damn," he said quietly. "Fucking god damn..." Even before he started to unzip his pants, I knew it wasn't Simon. He was black, for one thing, and he was too tall, too built, a football player's build. He pulled off his shirt, and then started removing his pants.

And I realized that he looked familiar.

I assumed that he didn't know there was a camera on him, but once he was naked he stood and turned to look out the window, and his whole face and body were momentarily on camera. Even if I hadn't recognized Eric's face -- from a few old photos that Tracy had kept around, and from the one time we'd met accidentally when Tracy and I had gone out for drinks -- I would've known him by the size of his cock. It hung down between his legs like a python, the giant head easily the size of a small apple. Still not knowing he was on camera, he took a bottle of lube from the floor and stroked the length of his meat, and it grew absurdly in his hand. I watched on the video, paralyzed, as he knelt down and took up position between my legs. My eyes didn't leave the screen. I was hypnotized.

On the screen, Eric laid his enormous cock along the crack of my ass, and simultaneously I felt its weight on me. I groaned involuntarily. The chat window exploded with activity.

He laughed a quiet little laugh. "Yeah, that's a good boy. Tell daddy you like this. Tell daddy you want his dick..."

Was this really happening? But I heard myself saying the words: "I want your big dick... daddy..."

"Say please," he said. "Say please put it in my bitch cunt..." Eric's voice was still quiet, not threatening at all. Just insistent.

He pressed the slick head through the cheeks of my ass, opening me up, getting me ready.

"Please," I whispered.

He eased the head inside, and I shuddered. "Please what?" he said.

I did everything I could to relax. I knew I had to. But oh, didn't I really want it, too? And didn't I want to see it -- that massive weapon thrusting into my round white ass, while dozens -- no, hundreds, now -- watched online? I did want that.

"Please," I said, "please fuck my bitch cunt..."

Eric grabbed my hips, and groaned himself as he guided his meat inside another inch. I gasped, and closed my eyes, so I didn't get to see what happen next on the screen. But I felt it. He didn't take his time. Holding my ass close, he moved all his weight forward onto me, and his horse-sized cock drove straight up inside me, carving into me like a hot knife.

I yelled "fuck" and then couldn't say anything or do anything. The pain was sharp and immediate, and for the next few long moments I thought I would pass out. I almost wanted to pass out.

When I could open my eyes again, I saw Eric's hips moving as he built up a good rhythm. From the camera angle I could see everything. He pulled his cock out almost completely each time, making it even more shocking to see it slip all the way inside with the next thrust. It looked, and felt, as if his cock was filling me all the way up to my stomach, and the brute force of his fucking made me wonder how he wasn't just splitting me in half.

"Damn," he said, and I realized he was saying it over and over, staring down at my ass while he drilled me. "Nobody ever took all this," he said, breathing hard, and I felt warmth spread through my whole body. I liked knowing I could take his dick, even though it hurt, and even though it was only because I was captive and anonymous that he was making me take it all in the first place. Had he ever fucked Tracy like this? Had he ever tried to fuck her ass with this brutal cock? I pictured his cock inside her now, her mouth wrapped around it, her sweet ass pounded by it. But it was my ass that he wanted now, and it was my ass that he could take deep, that would accept every inch of him.

And god, I started to love what he was doing to me. I loved watching it, seeing his black skin against me, watching his big hands digging into my ass. I bucked against him a little, lifted my ass higher to change his angle of entry, and he said, "Yeah, baby, that's it." He slid down lower, almost getting underneath me as he pushed my legs open wider, so that my ass was propped on his lap, impaled on his dick. He spanked me once, hard, on the right side. "Now move," he said.

He was so much bigger than me that my legs were barely touching the ground now, but I did as he said. I raised my ass up, and then brought it down in a slow, grinding motion around his thick cock, before letting myself rest on his lap and against his balls. Then I was back up, and he used his hands to guide my butt. The head of his cock was so thick that I could tell when it was close to my asshole, as if I were being knotted by a dog. When I felt the head stretching my hole, I grinded back down on him again.

Each time, we both groaned. Each time, all I could think about was getting him back inside me. I wished he was twice as thick, twice as long, so that I could feel him going through my entire body with his dick, as if I was a pig on a spit.

"Work that ass," he said, "good bitch, work that ass and show me how much you want daddy's cum."

And so I worked. I rode his dick until my legs were exhausted and my body was covered in sweat, until every muscle shook.

"Beg me," he said.

I pressed down on him and squeezed him tight. "Please daddy," I said. "Please cum..."

That extra squeeze seemed to make his dick grow another inch inside me, but I was too exhausted to move any more. That didn't bother Eric. He began rocking up and down on his bent legs as he held onto my hips, fucking me almost into the air before violently yanking me back down onto his lap. I looked like a doll riding on top of him, my bubble ass bouncing up and down, again and again, as he brought himself to orgasm.

Finally his hands clenched tightly around my hips and he pulled me down hard, and a long, hot pulse of cum shot up the length of his amazing dick and into my body. I could feel it spreading through me, unbelievably deep, followed by three more strong bursts, and still he wasn't done. I squeezed my ass around his erupting cock, and he groaned, before sending another wild stream of cum into me.

I closed my eyes finally. My ass was numb, and I barely felt it when Eric pulled his dick free. By the time I was able to look up at the laptop screen again, he was dressed and gone.

I carefully extracted myself from the drywall sheet. My entire body ached from the savage fucking I'd just received. I pulled on my clothes, with great effort, and then I went outside. The night air felt good.

Inside my body, Eric's cum was everywhere.

Riding the bike was never going to be an option. I lifted it off the ground, and began the long walk home.

An hour later, when I was finally able to crawl into bed, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Simon, short and direct as always: Not bad for Day 1. Get some rest...