Saturday, 1 March 2014

Cigar Time, Gentlemen #49

This posting is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.
It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

These are parts of stories that are still being written, its coming right off the paper no re-read. No editing. No checking.
This is something I wrote after reading Elliot’s War by Kim Dare—and I’m not saying this has anything to do with it, just that it got my writing again
NOTE: This story is up on my WIP here, check it out if you like, but first read the notes at the bottom of the short.
A 2,531 word short BDSM story
Desperate by Bronwyn Heeley
“Get on your knees, bitch,” Mark said as he grabbed a handful of Ben’s hair and pulled him down onto the ground. His knees stung as the hard wood grazed his knees; the twinge of pain from the hair pulling made every bit of arousal he’d managed to create disappear.
     Kneeling along with twelve other boys Ben waited, his left wrist clutching his right, a little bit of rebellion in him, to go with the sneer he pointed at the floor as he waited for the next batch of men to come in and buy the boys lined up.
     It was one of the bigger differences between him and the other boys were he stood a few inches shorter than the shortest, and he’s big blue eyes and soft blonde hair gave him the same sort of fake innocence as the rest of them. He was no a sub.
     Ben was one of the handfuls of men who walked into the wrong bar at the wrong time with a desperate need for money; he’d hoped a few blowjobs in the bathroom would give him enough for at least an hour in a pay-by motel down the road so he could have a quick shower and a decent nap. What he got was caught in Mark’s trap of human trafficking.
     At least that’s what Ben thought Mark was trying to do, instead he sold Subs—slaves—to ‘Master’, Ben new, from ears dropping, the Mark wanted teenage boys, young, but he didn’t have a clue how to trap them, didn’t want to just grab them off the streets, which was what he was going to have to do. Ben knew this, he knew it in a way that Mark was a soft bastard who vomited after ever conversation with the head boss who wanted him to do just that.
      The door to the left of this fine bunkhouse type establishment opened up, letting in a group of men with words and voices bigger than there dicks could hope to harden. 
     Ben looked up, challenged every man who looked down the line. He wasn’t a Sub, and if any of those men were really Masters he’d bite his own cock off, since each and every one of them leered a little longer at him, clearly caught in the wrong type of challenge.
     Ben knew these men. It hadn’t taken him a month on the street to realise that most people said they were Tops when they were nothing but greedy pain sluts. They needed someone to tie them up and make them beg, if only they were big enough to admit it. It’s the reason he ended up with a lot more money than the other boys lined up with him, but, unlike them, he’d never go home with anyone.
     If they weren’t sluts, then they were men who needed to feel superior for some unknown reason, Ben had never gotten the he-man ideal. He’d never understood why they needed to stand up straight and put a bite into their words, just because there daddies beat the shit out of them at home. Those were the men he hated the most. Those men fucked him with his head smashed to a wall, their fists locked hard in his hair, making him beg and scream the exact words they whispered in his ears.
     He’d never gotten off on those men, he barely got hard for the other type, but at least with them there was a whispered question, the need for him to tell them they were doing the right thing. He’d understood why, more than the guy fucking him did, simply because in that room he was there master, even as they were sliding there cocks into his arse.
     It wasn’t really their fault they didn’t understand it, and Ben had grown use to this type of man and the words and actions he needed to do, to not only get off, but to get a shit load of money.
     “Alright, gentlemen, you know the rules,” Mark said as he closed the door behind them.
     Ben had counted six men in the room, all large, buff and looking for a small man to tell them they were the best they’d ever gotten. It was hard for Ben to believe that those lies actually worked because how could a cock be any different from the one before when you’re forced to play a part. But Ben had seen the looks in their eyes, and in the eyes of the other men around him, the ones he knew were submissive in a world where a Master was someone who actually knew what the fuck they were saying, rather than how to put a dick into a hole.
     “I...” a man’s deep voice caught Ben’s attention.
     He was large, like they all where, six foot something, if Ben could guess accurately on his knees. He’s shoulder where three of Ben’s hole body width across, and he’s waist was thick and solid. However, they were nothing like the tree trunks he called thighs.
     Ben swallowed hard, his cock twitching as a vision of that man bent over a table, his massive thighs twitching as Ben slowly gave him what he wanted.
     Ben mentally shook his head, there was no way he was going to draw attention to himself, in his tiny shorts and his semi-hard cock, then he needed to, just looking was enough, and most of them wouldn’t even understand what he was seeing.
     “Com’on Thomo, mate, It’s all good fun,” one of the other men slapped him on the back, as he laughed.
     Fun. Ben’s cock shrivelled, hell if he let it, he was sure it would find a way to climb back up inside him so it wouldn’t be touched. He’s cock hated this life they’d fallen into more than Ben’s mind did, but he was a smart, he knew he’s size made everyone automatically think he was a little bottom bitch, and his circumstances hadn’t been ideal for him to set them straight. At least this way he got a scrap of money and a head game created to please his head.
     Whore. The word caught in Ben’s head and had him sitting up a little straighter. He was here as a whore tonight, not a sub waiting to be bought by a master, interesting. His eyes swing back to the group of men, seeing them, maybe for the first time.
     They were all young. Maybe not just hitting eighteen, since most of those boys didn’t like to think they should actually pay someone to suck there cocks when they could walk into any bar of George street and get it done for free. These boys would have to be a little older.
     They all had that sport look to them. Football, maybe, AFL, NRL? It didn’t fucking matter, though clearly these men came from there. either ither it didn’t really matter more than just a passing curiosity to Ben as he settled himself for a night of men trying to be harder than they were to impress…well, a whore?
     “But…” the deep word was said so softly Ben didn’t think he’d have heard it if the man—Thomo wasn’t standing a whore away, his hands fiddled with the button on his jeans as the rest of his party were already lined up and flopped out.
     “Come on, Thomo, it ain’t fucking hard,” a different guy from the first said, in a near stage whisper, he knew something about Thomo that the rest of them didn’t, as he turned the man around to stand in front of Ben.
     Looking up, not threw his eyelashes as the other boys along the podium had been, he wasn’t anyone’s bitch, just a man caught in a trap he wasn’t rich enough to run from.
     Thomo wasn’t looking at him, so Ben took the moment to look at him. Letting his eyes roam down that tight t-shirt chest, over his big breast muscles and tight, rippled abdomen. Ben’s leg’s shifted, opening slightly to give his growing balls some breathing room. The thick fabric of the other guys jeans held a tight pouch that Ben knew held a flaccid cock behind tighty-whities. This was not a situation the man wanted to be in, so why the fuck was he here?
     Everything about him, to that tight body, and shifty, almost scared shift of his shoulders, showed Ben a very different man than he’d ever come across. This wasn’t a guy that wanted to look tough and toppy when his true desires were to lay down and get reamed. No this man wanted nothing of this, but was it the idea of flopping it out in front of his mates that had him nervous, or something altogether different?
     As he watched the guy next to Thomo, the one that spoke slowly and gave Thomo to Ben, reached over and popped the button open on his jeans. Ben watched as he then fondled slightly with the other man’s cock and balls.
     Ben flicked his eyes away from the action, as something sparked inside his chest, he didn’t want to see it, and he didn’t want to feel it — feel anything, if he could help it. He’s eyes, however, turned to the guy next to him as his own cock was sliding in and out of the whore next to Ben.
     A slap of skin on skin had Ben looking back at Thomo, his eyes were locked onto Ben’s face, and there was a hesitant flush to his skin. Did he do that for Ben’s benefit, had he seen Ben’s reaction to the other man touching him and put a stop to it? Was that also shock? Had he not understood why he did that, especially for the sake of a whore?
     Their eyes locked, Ben’s head tilted knocked off guard by the feelings and Thomo’s reaction, he flicked his eyes down to a still flaccid pouch of fabric. Then back to Thomo’s where he made a motion, a look that spoke words Ben wasn’t able to say, not in this setting.
     “Come on then.”
     Thomo blushed turned brighter, seeable now by anyone who cared to look. He fumbled with the fabric as he fished his rapidly growing cock out from all that fabric and presented it to Ben.
     Oh good Lord. The man was a fucking sub, or at least leant that way. It took one look at him, with one hand on his thigh, fingers dancing out his nerves, a quick shuffle to have him close the gap between them, while three thick fingers held the base of his cock, holding so Ben didn’t have to do anything but open his mouth and take the head in deep.
     Thomo had a beautiful cock; it wasn’t like a lot of these big boys, all shoulders and thighs in compensation of a little, or misshapen penis.
     Thomo’s cock could be copies, turned into plastic for the amusement of woman, and bottoms the world over, it was spectacular, thick and long, it had a soft looking skin that Ben was sure would highlight the vein along the underside when he became desperately hard. Foreskin cut, showing a plump, perfectly pink head.
     There was something still, a little soft about the whole look, maybe the wiggle to the flesh as he held it here in a shaking hand, but defiantly hard, the man wanted Ben to suck his cock, that was obvious, so what was holding him back?
     Licking a wet line along the underside of Thomo’s cock-head, he slowly engulfed Thomo’s cock, letting it sit on his tongue as he waiting for Thomo to get a clue.
     The man didn’t, he stood there, shaking slightly as the cock in Ben’s mouth got fatter and harder and dumped a few drops of pre-come onto his tastebuds.
     Rolling his eyes, Ben realised he wasn’t wrong, this guy was a bottom—no he was a sub, just as Ben had first figured and nothing was going to make this man anything but what he truly was.
     Taking Thomo further down his throat, Ben started working a cock in a way he hadn’t wanted to since he’d had to sell himself for his next meal. He worshipped the Thomo’s cock in a way he’d never done before, taking him to the top only to bring him back down, making Thomo linger on the brink of coming.
     The man stood and took it. He didn’t make much noise, seeing to hold his tongue when all he wanted to do was beg for more. Ben got that, you can be a bottom but it didn’t mean you wanted your buddies to see you fall to pieces.
     Only once had Thomo tried to take liberty of the moment, fingers had brushed his hair, meaning to card in and grab hold, but a growl around his cock had snatched those seeking fingers back. Ben was in charge of this moment.
     Thomo’s thighs shook against Ben’s chin as he took him in deep.
     The sudden grunts and shouts of the other man brought Ben out of a fantasy he’d created where he’d been alone except for Thomo, which had been some sort of miracle considering where he was, and the fact that he still hadn’t taken his hands out from behind his back.
     Pulling up to the very end, Thomo’s cockhead laying on his lips, his mouth open around it, allowing for the view, he looked up. The man was red; Ben suspected that flush would cover his chest, which made Ben’s mouth water. He saw the desperation in those eyes, and he figured the best plan for the bigger man—something he’d never considered before—would be for Ben to get the guy to blow while everyone else did.
     With a look and a hum, Ben figured if the man was as good a sub as Ben suspected him to be he’d understand, he took that cock back into his mouth and swallowed.
     The body in front of him tightened and sperm landed on Ben’s tongue. Fresh, oh, Gods it had been a long time since he’d tasted come that didn’t have an acidy flavour to it, this boy was clean, and not just of disease, at least, clean of drugs and heavy alcohol use.
     Ben’s balls pull up tight to his body, something else that was completely new to the situation he had been in for nearly a year. He wanted to come, wanted to reach for his cock and pump it until he spewed his own sea of sperm.
     “Alright, gentleman, whose your pick?” Mark said shattering Ben’s need to calm himself down, but unlike every other time the man spoke it didn’t diminish his hard-on. Interesting…
     “I want this one,” Thomo’s deep voice said in a tone that held absolute authority in this situation, he wasn’t going to be led elsewhere; he wasn’t going to leave, until he got Be—or at least, until Ben gave him exactly what he wanted.
     Ben let his face drop, a smile too big to hide pulled at his lips. God, the man was everything he wanted, right this second. Imagine what he’d be like when Ben had a bit of freedom.
End Note: this is just an outline of the story. Yeah, the elements of what it will be are there, mainly freeing Ben and love, but things will change when I write the whole thing out.
One, the idea of him kneeling there, with the boys will be more solid, and his attitude will be a little sharper, if not angrier, bitter. It will take longer to say the same, and more.
The talk between Thomo and the other guys will be better, along with Thomo, most likely getting his own voice. So it will have a bit of his back story.
If you like this story and would like to see it made bigger, write a comment on this, or here, and I’ll put get on to it

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