A gay story: Men Go Their Own Way Pt. 03 As always, I went back to the meetings.
There was one guy in the meetings who seldom looked at me and never spoke to me. He had been fairly frosty even at the first meeting, but after all the weeks that I’d been showing up, he was positively icy. I got the impression that he was disgusted by my very presence.
It was a shame, in a way, because in the normal course of things, he was my type: tall, muscled, handsome, rugged; maybe not too bright, but that didn’t bother me. He was the kind of guy who would normally make me weak at the knees and dizzy. Yet, he clearly couldn’t stand me.
His name was Ron. He sat opposite me at the meeting, occasionally glancing in my direction and making audible little sighs of impatience whenever I said anything. It so happened that, that night, I got really impatient with the general cluelessness of the whole group that I got going on my favourite topic: their obsession with women, when the whole point of the group was to be going our own way.
Finally, Ron had enough. He interrupted me.
‘What would you know about women?’ he sneered. ‘You’re a faggot.’
‘Now, now,’ Phil said.
‘No, Phil, no, I’ve had enough,’ Ron said. ‘This was supposed to be a men’s group, for men to go our own way. But this little poofter keeps turning up as if he belongs here. We should we listen to the opinion of someone who prefers cock to pussy?’
‘I told you,’ I said, ‘I’m bisexual.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ Ron said.
‘There is,’ I said patiently.
‘It’s impossible,’ Ron said. ‘You can’t possibly like women and men equally.’
‘I never said I liked them equally,’ I said.
‘Oh, so you are a poofter?’
‘I’m attracted to men,’ I said, ‘but I wouldn’t want to date one.’
‘Why not?’ said Ron, affecting outrage.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘would you?’
‘No,’ he thundered, ‘because I’m not a fucking queer. I don’t want some other guy ramming his cock up my shitter. And I’ll tell you what else: anyone who does want that, is not qualified to talk to me about women. Because he doesn’t understand them.’
‘I think I understand more than you do what it’s like to have a man’s cock inside me,’ I said, smirking.
‘Well,’ Ron said, ‘I don’t give a shit what it’s like to have a man’s cock inside you! I put my cock where I want, and I don’t give a shit!’
‘Guys,’ Phil said, ‘this conversation is getting adversarial.’
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Ron barked. ‘I’m tired of this poofy little girlboy telling us all about what women are like from the depths of his oh so deep knowledge. When the closest he’s come to a woman is probably sniffing his sister’s panties.’
‘Now, Ron,’ Phil said warningly.
‘I don’t have a sister,’ I said.
‘Well, whoever’s, then.’
‘I learned everything I know about women from tonguing out your mom,’ I said.
‘You fucking little prick!’ Ron exploded.
‘That’s enough!’ said Phil with sudden force.
There was a silence. Phil was a mild-mannered guy, a bit of an idiot, but he hated people making a scene. I knew I’d gone too far.
‘I’m going to ask you both to go,’ he said, ‘and you can come back at the next meeting, when you’ve both calmed down.’
‘I’m calm,’ I said, which was almost completely true.
‘Nevertheless, we can’t have meetings breaking down like this,’ he said. ‘Out, please.’
I rose and picked up my jacket and bowed ironically. Ron, who was still fuming, strode for the exit. I strolled out with an apologetic nod of the head to Phil.
Outside, I decided to head for home, and started walking.
But then Ron emerged from the shadows.
‘Well, you fucked up the meeting,’ he said. ‘Well done. I hope you’re happy.’
‘Only because you kept insulting me,’ I said.
‘Because you’re a faggot,’ he snarled.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said. ‘That doesn’t work on me.’
‘You’re a skinny little bitch boy who thinks he’s a female,’ Ron said.
‘Hey, fuck off, man, come on,’ I said, exasperated.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll teach you some manners.’
‘I’m going home.’
I started to walk faster.
‘You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing in this group?’ Ron said. ‘Oh, I know. You’ve been giving your mouth to all the little beta males, like the whore you are.’
‘Your mom teach you that language?’
‘You come in here,’ he went on, half to himself, ‘you shove your “sexuality” down our throats, and you think we’re just going to put up with it? Who do you think you are?’
‘I’m a bi man,’ I said, and I started walking in a direction away from my flat, so as to tire him out. I was heading to the edge of the city, where it bordered onto the wooded hills.
‘There’s no such thing as bi,’ he said.
‘Why does it bother you so much?’ I said. ‘Why can’t you accept that some guys like men as well as women?’
‘Because it doesn’t make any damn sense!’ Ron said. ‘You can’t like both! End of!’
‘And yet.’
‘You can’t give yourself to some guy and then have some woman give herself to you! It’s cheating!’
‘It’s nature.’
We were off the street, by this point, walking in a path through the park with the trees on each side.
‘You’re unnatural!’
‘Lots of animals form same-sex couples,’ I said.
‘Oh, you’re an animal now. Not a human.’
‘Just, fuck off, okay?’ I was really annoyed at this point.
Ron shoved me. I stumbled backwards.
‘You don’t tell me what to do,’ he said, staring at me.
‘Fuck. Off,’ I said, slowly and deliberately.
He shoved me again. I slapped him in the face.
He stared at me in shock.
And then we started to fight–or try to fight.
We were rubbish at it. For all his size and muscles, Ron had no training, and I only had some very basic self-defence stuff. We were slapping ineffectually at each other, but the occasional blow to the face landed and stung, and it just made us both more angry.
Then we were grappling, each trying to push the other one over, and I was weakening, and I was preparing to just let go and run like hell towards home.
Ron was leaning over, forcing me backwards, and staring down at me.
And then he seemed to pause, staring at me with a distant look.
‘Had enough,’ I spat. My lip was bruised and split. I was furious.
And then he grabbed me and pulled me in and kissed me.
I was so shocked that I did nothing for a moment.
And then I wrapped my arms around him and stuck my tongue in his mouth.
The fight had been so sudden and so visceral that it had made everything else go away. I wanted only for him to enfold me in his big arms and take me.
He pulled away and stared at me with a mixture of horror and desire.
‘Oh god,’ he panted. ‘I’ve got to have you.’
‘I want you,’ I breathed.
And then my jacket was off, and he’d pulled my shirt and t-shirt over my head and had ripped open my jeans and I was kicking off my sneakers and he had pulled down my boxers, and suddenly, in seconds, I was stripped nude in the darkness, completely exposed on this path in a public park.
‘Oh, fuck,’ I gasped, as Ron turned me around and pushed me against a tree. I held onto it for dear life. He reached down and pulled off my socks, to complete my strip, so I was standing on the muddy path in bare feet, naked and shivering.
And then I heard him spit on his fingers and felt him rub it between my arse cheeks, and then I gasped with shock and sudden pain as he pushed his cock between my buttocks and forced himself inside me.
He grabbed my face and pulled my head back and began to pump into my rectum. I clung to the tree and made muffled whimpers. My stiff cock was rubbing against the bark, which was rough against my bare skin. Someone, anyone, could come along any minute and see huge Ron, fully clothed, fucking me, his skinny naked bitch-boi, against a tree. I would be seen in public, getting my ass fucked.
The police would be called. I would be arrested. My name would be in the papers. I would be The Guy Who Was Found Being Buggered Naked and Standing Up in a Park.
All of these thoughts passed through my head in a whirlwind, so that I hardly noticed that Ron was gasping as he came in me, because I was too busy squirting my semen all over the bark of the tree and making muffled squeals of arousal while doing so.
And then it was done, and we stood there for a moment, panting and stunned by what had happened. I felt the night air on my nude body and my chest rose and fell, and Ron clung tightly to my hips, his cock softening inside me.
He leaned his head forward and his face rested on the back of my head.
‘Oh, god,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ I panted. ‘It’s okay.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, and leaned down and nuzzled my bare neck. I sighed. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to himself.
Then his head jerked upwards.
‘Someone’s coming,’ he muttered. ‘Quick.’
He pulled out of me and leaned over and handed me my boxers and socks. I pulled them on, and in less than fifteen seconds, I was kneeling on the ground tieing my shoelaces, although my clothes were damp and dirty and my arsehole was still tingling.
Ron nudged me and I got up, and we walked forward.
‘So I think basically we’re in a good position,’ he said in a reasonable voice. ‘It all depends on what happens with the guys in Antwerp.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. A figure came around the corner, an old lady walking a small dog. We walked past her, talking made-up rubbish about non-existent jobs, and then Ron turned to see that she had gone, and he stopped and looked at me.
‘Thanks,’ he said, again, looking… actually, I’d never seen that expression on a man’s face before. A mixture of sheepishness and gratitude.
‘So all that,’ I said, ‘all that “faggot” stuff… that was just, what? Foreplay?’
He stared at the ground, then up at me once more.
‘I’m just really fucking confused,’ he said. ‘I wanted you, but…’
‘You had to be mean about it.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, thinking about how intoxicating our brief, sizzling fuck had been, how excited and scared I’d been to have my clothes plucked off and be fucked up against a tree by this hunk of prime rib.
He looked up at me hopefully.
‘Just,’ I said, ‘… don’t do it again. Ever. Be who you are.’
He nodded. We stood there for a moment.
‘Give me your number,’ I said. ‘If you want to talk about stuff, talk to me. Just don’t trash-talk guys like me.’
He nodded and gave me a phone number. I entered it on my phone.
Then we looked at each other again, and to my surprise, he hugged me.
‘You’re a good guy,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ I said. I was not going to return the compliment, because he wasn’t one. Yet.
We disengaged.
‘Bye,’ he said, and turned and walked off.
I turned and headed for home.
***
After that, I had had enough of the MGTOW group.
Or so I thought.
But we’ll get to that later.
I went on the apps, and I found myself being chatted up by an older guy, about sixty, whose pictures showed that he was the kind of grey-haired, muscular stud that could make me melt.
‘What are you into,’ he typed.
‘This and that,’ I said. ‘I like receiving anal. A little BDSM here and there.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘I like to be confined. I like to be tested and pushed to my limits.’
‘I can do that for you.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I have a dungeon. It’s quite well-equipped. I would be happy to host you.’
‘Interesting.’
‘You’re not one of those bicurious guys who just wants to talk and then doesn’t arrange a meeting, are you?’
I laughed to myself at that.
‘I hate those guys,’ I said.
‘Good. What do you say?’
‘Sure.’
***
So we arranged to meet.
He gave me quite strict instructions. I was, he said, to lose five pounds; apparently I wasn’t svelte enough for him. I was to shave my body hair, including my groin and crotch and ass crack. I was to be clean inside and out. And I also had to be willing to sign a release form, saying that I didn’t object to video of me being posted on the internet, on the understanding that my identity would be obscured.
I consented to all this, after he posted me a link to his videos of treating other men, and some women, in his dungeon. He was a good cameraman and you saw enough of people’s faces to be able to read their emotions, but not enough that you could have recognised them. They were all wearing broad black sleep masks, anyway.
I showed up at his house at 6pm in the evening. He answered the door in a t-shirt and running shorts and smiled at me. He was bearded, with brushed-back silver hair, and fit-looking.
‘Are you ready to have a bit of a workout?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, smiling nervously, ‘am I?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘All the rules apply.’
The truth was that I had never really done BDSM, beyond a little blindfolding and spanking, and I was truly nervous. But we arranged a safeword: ‘orange’, hardly the kind of thing I was likely to say in the normal course of arousal.
Then I followed him down his basement steps into the dungeon.
It was warm but not hot, and there was a variety of pieces of equipment, few of which I recognised directly. There was a door to another room, which he didn’t go near.
‘All right,’ he said softly, and stepped up to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me hard on the mouth.
I made a small sigh and opened my lips, and he thrust his tongue inside. Already he was claiming possession of me.
I didn’t move to touch him. I sensed he didn’t want me to, not yet.
Then, to my surprise, he stepped back and took off his t-shirt and pulled down his shorts. He was naked, I was fully clothed.
He had the longest cock I had ever seen. I stared at it.
It was a power move: he could afford to get naked at this stage because he knew that I knew I couldn’t touch him. He smiled at me and grabbed me and kissed me again, grinding his cock into my groin.
Then he lifted my t-shirt and I raised my arms and he pulled it off me. Then he knelt and unlaced my sneakers, and took them off with my socks, then he opened my jeans and pulled them down. I stepped out of them.
He stood up and went behind me, and then I felt him grab my wrists and pull them behind me. The cuffs went on.
I was very exposed. He came around me again and looked me up and down, then he twisted one of my nipples, hard. I gasped.
He grabbed both of them and twisted them. I gasped with pain. I don’t like having my nipples twisted, it does nothing for me sexually, but it certainly put me in my place as regards the power balance.
‘Do you like that,’ he said.
‘No,’ I panted.
‘Do you want me to stop?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think I care?’
‘No.’
I eyed him as he stood before me, looking me up and down, and then he seemed to think that it was time to move on, because he leaned over, picked up his shorts and put them back on. Then he went behind me again.
And this time, I felt the broad sleep mask slip over my forehead and descend over my eyes, the padded interior forcing them shut. I made a slight whimper.
‘I’m going to turn on the camera now,’ he said, ‘all right?’
‘I can’t stop you,’ I said tensely.
There was a pause. Then he slapped me on the ass, through the fabric of my boxers. I gasped.
He did it again. And again. And again. It stung. But I stood there and took it.
Then he pulled them down at the back, exposing my buttocks, and did it again, harder. This time, it really stung, plus he was now claiming more ownership of me by exposing me.
He grabbed my shoulders and made me turn around, giving the camera a view of all sides of me. My genitals were still barely covered, but that was all.
‘You know everyone can see you,’ he said.
‘Yes…’
‘Everyone can see the bitch-boy in the dungeon with his master, ready to be used. You want to be used?’
‘Yes…’
There was a pause, and then I felt something sharp and metal gently push at my skin.
I sensed it was a knife, although from the way the pain vanished as soon as he took it away I could tell must be a pretty blunt one, not capable of easily piercing my skin.
Still, I stood there trembling gently for a few moments as he prodded my body all over with it: my belly, my chest, my shoulders, my neck, my thighs, my buttocks. It was a pure power move. If I made a false move or jerked suddenly, I could get cut. It was intoxicating. I felt light-headed.
‘People want to see you naked,’ he said. ‘Do you want them to see you like that?’
‘Oh…’ I panted, ‘no… please…’
‘You realise that you can’t stop me from stripping you? That if you become naked that means that we have to go a lot further?’
‘Please, no,’ I whimpered.
‘I don’t think you have a choice,’ he said, and he firmly dragged my boxers off me and down my thighs, so that I was finally naked. He took them away from my feet.
I stood there, blindfolded and cuffed, and breathed steadily, awaiting his next move.
He uncuffed me but then raised my arms up and I felt them being cuffed again to a rope hanging from the ceiling.
‘Oh, god…’ I said.
‘Now you need some more pain, I think,’ he said, and I felt the first stroke of the whip.
It wasn’t really all that painful, just a brief sting, but it was humiliating to be naked and blindfolded and dangling helplessly from a rope while an older man whipped my buttocks and belly and groin. The groin especially stung, and I would make shaky whimpers and twist on my rope every time he struck me there.
After a long time, my body was blazing and I was damp with sweat. He stopped whipping me and I hung there, blind, breathing heavily.
And then it hit me: cold water. He must have flung a bucket at me.
It wasn’t icy cold, but the shock took my breath away, and I made shuddering moans as I twirled on the rope.
And then his hands were stroking me, inside furry, warm gloves, massaging me, drying me. My tingling body was soothed and I sighed.
Then there was a pause, and then I felt the sting of the whip on my bare buttocks again, and I gasped.
We went around like that a couple more times, until I was begging him to let me down. He uncoupled my hands from the rope and I sighed as my arms came down.
He took me by my arm and led me slowly across the room.
‘I won’t let you bump into anything, don’t worry,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ I panted.
‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Stand there.’
He let go of me, and I stood there, aching slightly, feeling very alive.
‘Put your hands out,’ he said, ‘and bend over slightly.’
I did so, and I touched what felt like a leather-covered padded bench.
‘Get on,’ he said. ‘Face to your left.’
I carefully felt it until I knew where it was, then I lifted my leg and got onto it.
It was indeed some kind of bench, and he took my hands and cuffed them one by one to metal bars, so that my arms were stretched out before me and to either side. Then he raised my ankles and cuffed each one to metal bars behind me. I was securely in place, shackled on my belly on the padded bench. I couldn’t see and I couldn’t get off. He manoeuvred me and my cock and balls fell into a gap in the bench so that they dangled underneath it.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘your reward.’
‘What are you going to do to me,’ I said, dry-mouthed.
‘You thirsty?’
‘Yes.’
Water was tipped into my mouth and I swallowed.
‘I think you know,’ came his voice.
Then I heard a click, and the whirr of a motor.
‘Oh god,’ I moaned.
I felt him smearing lube over my asshole, and then sliding some of it inside me. I gasped.
I had never been subjected to a fucking machine before. I felt a thrill of nervousness. I hoped he knew what he was doing.
I felt the slick rubbery tip of the dildo nudging me, and I whimpered. It was poking my arse almost mischievously. Fortunately it wasn’t moving back and forth too far, or too fast.
He moved my hips so I was at the right angle, and then he turned off the machine and moved it so that it was pressed lightly against my arsehole. Then he turned it on again.
The steady pulsing of it against my anus soon became the only thing I knew. I was shackled and blindfolded and whimpering, and I was about to get buggered by a machine.
Slowly, its pushing pressed at my anal muscle, and I made myself relax, and then it was going in and out, in and out, just at the tip, and I was panting.
And then it slowed down and pushed deeper, and I gave a shuddering ‘AaAAAHH!’ as it opened me and went inside.
Slowly it went in and out, in and out, while I was forced to lie there and submit to it. I knew that he was watching all this, and so was his camera, drinking in the sight of the young naked man on the bench, whimpering as he was anally penetrated over and over again by a dildo on an electrically-operated piston.
There was nothing I could do. I knew that people would be viewing me and jerking off at the sight of me being fucked up my ass by a machine. And the more I thought about the idea of people being turned on by seeing me helpless and blindfolded and sodomised, the more aroused I got.
My cock was stiff beneath me and I had stopped even being aware that I was whimpering helplessly. I was just a piece of meat on a bench, being fucked relentlessly by a machine that didn’t even know I was alive.
I barely heard the panting of my master as I lay there, half-senseless from the relentless fucking I was being subjected to, but then I felt his cum spurt in my face and over my lips.
And I submitted completely, and without even needing to touch myself I felt my own orgasm build up in my loins and then surge up through me, and I came, moaning.
… But the machine didn’t stop.
I was dazed and disbelieving, but I realised that he had no intention of letting me go with just one orgasm.
I lay there, my body shaking, sweat pouring off me, as I was buggered for another ten or fifteen minutes, the dildo on its piston pushing between my naked buttocks again and again, the camera taking in my whole body as I lay there, immobilised and helpless, moaning incoherently as my master subjected me to the machine.
And the more I thought about it, the more I could visualise what people would see when they watched the video: my naked body, strapped down, my arms and legs spread, half my face covered by the broad black mask, my mouth hanging open as my body jerked and shook from the machine that went on relentlessly, unstoppably buggering me.
I was a blind and moaning slave, a naked toy for people to jerk off at the sight of, nothing else. The thought of people drinking in the sight of me, naked and humiliated and being sodomised, made me go back to the space where I had been, and to my amazement I felt the feeling rising again, and my control slipping away from me, abject slut that I was, until finally and half in disbelief, I came once more.
By then I was half-conscious and limp, and hoarse from moaning. The machine slowed, and I felt it move out of my ass.
And then it was gone. And I sagged there, my chest rising and falling.
I felt him unshackling me, and then he gently guided me up so that I sat on the bench, and then he put my arm over his shoulders and walked me away.
I felt cool, wet tiles beneath my feet, then at last the blindfold came off.
We were in a shower room. My vision was blurred. He unhooked my arm from his shoulder, patted me on the back and said ‘Get yourself cleaned up.’ Then he left.
Aching and tingling, I turned on the water and washed off the sweat and my secretions, and then stood under it for a full five minutes, my eyes closed, coming down from the most strenuous fucking of my life. No man had ever had enough stamina to make me cum twice without at least a rest in the middle.
I thought once again of all the people who would be watching me on their computers and phones and tablets, and the thought made my cock get half-hard yet again. But I was longing only for a cold drink and a hot meal.
I finished washing and turned off the water. In a corner, on a chair, there was a neatly folded towel on top of my clothes. I dried myself, got dressed and walked out of the shower room.
I was back in the dungeon, but the lights were fully on, and the place was quite a bit less mysterious and full of sexual promise and menace that it had seemed before. Now it looked more like some guy’s black-painted cellar full of gym equipment.
A light flooded down the stairs, and I walked up them.
I was standing in his hallways. It was twilight outside–I’d thought it must be hours later but on looking at my watch, I saw it was not quite eight o’clock.
He came into the hall from the kitchen, smiling at me. He was dressed in a bathrobe.
‘I hope I gave satisfaction,’ he said.
‘You did,’ I said. ‘Send me a link?’
‘Naturally.’
We stood there nodding at each other for a moment, and I wondered if he was going to give me a kiss goodnight, or whatever, but he didn’t.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘well… bye, then.’
‘Bye bye,’ he murmured.
I turned and walked to the front door and left.
***
He was as good as his word. When I saw the video I knew that I could recognise myself, but he’d skilfully made it so maybe only people who’d seen me naked would recognise me. I was impressed and appalled by how long I’d been on that machine.
I decided I would go back to the group, one last time.
***
It was just the same as always: the bad-tempered bitching about women, and the occasional potshot at me, for somehow ‘betraying’ the cause of men going their own way by sleeping with men.
I didn’t care. I was over it all by now. I had worked my way through nearly every guy in this group, and none of them had the nerve to admit it.
As the conversation went around and around, I thought that I really had to have more of a social life. I wasn’t doing myself any good hanging around with these losers.
Of all of them, I’d only had genuinely pleasurable and satisfying sex when Jonathan had made me role-play as his nurse, and had then blinded me with shaving cream and fucked me standing up in his shower.
Richard had scared and thrilled me, but I was still uneasy about the extent to which I’d consented to it. Daniel had come in my face. Pete had got his rocks off, and then darted away into denial. Bryan had treated me like a slut and then blamed me for that. The kid by the sea had almost raped me. Malcolm had forgotten all about me.
Ron had realised what he wanted, through me.
I sat looking at them, thinking about how much I disliked them. How much I disliked their dishonesty about what they really wanted: a willing hole to fuck.
Then Bryan, staring straight at me, said ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘Huh?’ I said.
There was silence in the room.
‘I said, you’re very quiet.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Guys… I don’t think I’m going to come to any more meetings.’
‘Is that the way it is,’ said Daniel, scowling at me.
‘I don’t think that this kind of thing is good for me,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it’s good for any of you, to be honest, but it’s certainly not good for me.’
‘So you took what you wanted from us and now you’re done,’ said Pete.
‘I didn’t take anything from anyone in this room that he didn’t want to give me,’ I said.
‘That’s all you do,’ Bryan said. ‘You take, take, take. You never offered yourself.’
I stared at him.
‘Hey,’ I said, ‘I never pretended I’m not queer. But I didn’t come here to get laid. You all came to me about that.’
‘And you never took the hint,’ said another guy, ‘that maybe you should have been a little bit more generous?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We mean,’ said Bryan, ‘that we’re awfully tired of you not sharing.’
I looked at them all. They were all looking at me; they weren’t all smiling, but they all had the same thing in their eyes.
Hunger.
They wanted me.
I turned to Phil, to tell him that I was leaving, and I stopped, because he had the same look.
‘What is this,’ I said, feeling my stomach tighten.
‘You need to come with us,’ Phil said.
I grabbed my bag and stood up.
‘Okay. See you.’
Phil grabbed my wrist. I made to pull it away but then someone else was behind me, grabbing my arms.
‘What is this?’
‘We thought you might want to leave,’ Bryan said, ‘and we can’t let you go without a special goodbye.’
‘You’d better not touch me,’ I said, my mouth dry. I thrust my hands into my pockets.
‘We’re going to do a lot more than touch you,’ Bryan said.
‘Get the fuck off me,’ I said as they came towards me.
‘Don’t make this difficult,’ Pete said.
‘Don’t do this,’ I said, panicking. ‘Please.’
‘Too late,’ Phil said, and then a bag went over my head, and it was tied around my mouth with some kind of cloth, and they started to hustle me across the room.
***
I couldn’t see and I was gagged, but I knew I was in some kind of van. I was on the floor, my hands tied behind my back. My feet were free, but I could hear from the others talking and laughing that there were a lot of them in the van.
We drove for maybe about half an hour, forty minutes, and then we slowed. I was picked up off the ground, the cloth was taken away from my mouth and the bag was pulled off my head.
‘No, please,’ I begged them, blinking, but their faces were blurred. But it didn’t make any difference, because then I was blindfolded with a piece of cloth and they were hustling me out of the van and across some gravel-covered ground: my feet crunched on it.
I heard the sound of an aircraft getting louder and louder and realised we must be near the airport.
Then we were indoors, and even as they pulled me across the room, they were taking off my shoes and socks and my jacket and my shirt. I was pushed forward and landed on a mattress.
‘You’d better not fucking bite,’ said a voice, and a cock went in my mouth. I knew that I would get the beating of a life if I hurt anyone. I sucked.
I felt my jeans sliding down and off my feet, and then my boxers too. I was naked. Blinded, lying on my stomach but holding myself up with my hands, I let the guy fuck my mouth, and then my knees were being shoved forward and my legs parted and another guy was behind me. I made a muffled scream, and my bare ass got slapped hard.
I squealed as his lubed-up cock entered my ass, and then it started, it was underway, I was naked on a mattress in some building with a bunch of men and two of them were spit-roasting me and the others were waiting their turn. Two men grabbed my wrists. My cock was bouncing beneath me.
There was nothing to do but pretend that I had allowed this. If I fought them, I didn’t want to think of what they would do. I desperately tried to convince my body that I had consented to all this, as if I were the centrepiece of some PornHub gang bang video–and then it occurred to me that they probably were videoing this. It would be all be on record, amongst them. Men going their own way by finding and gang-fucking the queer guy in the group.
The guy in my mouth pulled out and I gasped ‘Oh fuck, you’re raping me.’
‘Shut up,’ came Bryan’s voice. ‘You’re a slut. You don’t know the difference between rape and real sex.’
‘Why are you doing this,’ I whimpered. ‘Phil… please…’
‘Don’t use my name,’ Phil snapped. ‘Don’t use any of our names.’
‘Why,’ I gasped, my body jerking as the guy buggering me pistoned harder into me.
‘Because then we have to edit the video,’ Pete said.
‘Pete,’ I said, ‘you’re a cute guy, just… ahhhh… just a-admit you like guys, and… oooh, fuck…’
‘He said don’t use our real names!’ Bryan said, and I got my face slapped.
‘Fuck you, Bryan,’ I gasped.
‘Right,’ said Bryan, and then I felt another cock enter my mouth and I gagged.
Bryan was careful after that. He didn’t want me throwing up over him. But he forced me to take him, and when the guy behind me pulled out without having come, Bryan pulled out of my mouth and I felt him moving around behind me and, none too gently, he pushed his cock up my arse.
I squealed again, and whimpered ‘Oh FUCK! No! Please!’
‘Take it like a man,’ Bryan said, and the others chuckled.
‘You have to let me go!’
‘We’ll let you go, but first, we’re gonna drown that pretty face of yours in spunk.’
‘Oh please…’
Bryan’s cock was having its effect on me. My eyes were shut, my mouth was hanging open and my own cock was stiff.
‘How many more of you,’ I whimpered.
‘Nine to go,’ said someone, and someone else shushed him.
In truth, the next while passed in a blur as Bryan made his point and then pulled out of me, and then the next cock was inside me, impaling and humiliating me, and then the next, and then the next. Soon I was dripping with sweat, and hoarse.
Someone poured water into my mouth and I swallowed, pathetically grateful, and then the cock inside my ass pulled out and I was flipped onto my back.
An ass lowered itself onto my eyes, still in jeans, and a cock went into my mouth. My legs were lifted up and pushed back and another man was entering me. I was helpless: naked, blinded, gagged with a penis and being rhythmically fucked up my arse with another one. I was making muffled, incoherent moans. I had totally given myself over to my role as a victim.
And then, cruelly, as I lay on my back with one guy fucking my mouth and another up my arse, I felt a hand grasp my cock and jerk it. I realised that they were going to make me cum so that I couldn’t even have that to look forward to.
I tried to shake my head no and shout it, but it came out as ‘MMMM! MMMMM! MMMMM!’ And such was the pressure of whoever’s cock it was in my rectum that after only a couple of minutes, I was spurting semen over my bare stomach.
That seemed to make them more excited, because then I was up on all fours again and, by turns, one, two, three more men were inside me and then out.
Aching, trembling, limp and dripping sweat, I was only whimpering as yet another cock went inside my arse, but I heard the men’s voices shouting encouragement to each other, this time from in front of me, and I guessed what they were doing.
They were standing in a half-circle around my head, jerking off. The man behind me was kneeling, gripping my bare hips and buggering me hard.
I made higher and higher-pitched whimpers, making myself sound more and more feminine, and I shut my eyes tight behind the blindfold.
‘AAAHH! AAAHH! AAAHH!’ I moaned, and I heard the men shouting.
And then, as I thought would happen, the blindfold was whipped off, and the first jets of semen splashed over my face.
And then, they all seemed to cum at the same time. I felt spurt after spurt of warm liquid splashing over my eyes, nose and mouth and I couldn’t stop some of it from getting inside my mouth. I just stayed still, on all fours, submitting to it, panting, my chest rising and falling, as they came in my face.
And then the guy behind me let out a shout and I felt him cum up my ass, and I made a pitiful ‘Ooooh…’ as he did so. The semen hitting my face seemed to be unstopping.
Then he pulled out, and the only sounds were our deep breathing and my choked sobs.
My face felt like it was masked in the stuff. I didn’t even want to open my eyes. I let it dribble from my lips to the mattress.
They had had me. All of them. I had been comprehensively face-fucked and sodomised by every member of the group.
I didn’t move. I sensed that they didn’t want me to.
I listened.
I heard their footsteps receding. They weren’t talking any more.
A door slammed.
I waited, still there, naked and on all fours, my face thickly coated with their semen.
Then, slowly, I straightened so I was kneeling, and I reached up and wiped my face.
I opened my eyes carefully. It was an empty warehouse. I heard the distant roar of another plane landing.
I leaned down and wiped my face on the mattress. Then I stood up and looked around.
I was cold and naked. The floor wasn’t too dirty, so I stepped across it and towards a door which opened. As I entered a corridor, the motion detector made the light come on.
I walked down the corridor and came to a door marked LADIES.
I went in, and again, the light came on. I passed a mirror and looked at my reflection.
I was naked, dirty, covered in secretions, my knees red, my buttocks red from being slapped. My eyes had dark rings around them and my face, too, was red. I looked back at myself. I looked at the sink. And then I thought, hard, for some moments.
I walked back into the warehouse and over to the mattress.
I picked up some of the semen I’d smeared on it, and rubbed it onto my face. I got as much of it as I could.
Then I walked over to where my clothes had been dumped on the ground.
I crossed my finger and reached into my pocket and took out my phone.
Voice Memo was on. It had been recording for nearly eighty minutes. I pressed Stop, then Play.
The voices were muffled, but intelligible.
We’re going to do a lot more than touch you.
Get the fuck off me!
Don’t make this difficult.
Don’t do this! Please!
I went through it, making sure I’d recorded the whole thing, and then I slowly got dressed, and limped out into the night.
As I began to walk back into the city, I dialled 911.
***
‘Is that the conclusion of your statement?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
The woman cop nodded, and made a note on her laptop.
‘Okay,’ she said, and she addressed me by my name. ‘Thank you very much for being so helpful. I think we have everything we need from the serious crimes unit, but do you have any other concerns?’
‘No.’
‘Okay. Would you like any help getting home?’
‘No, thank you. I’m okay. And I’m good to have a shower, now, and everything?’
‘Yes, you’re fine. Just look after yourself. We will take it from here.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
She stood up, as did I.
‘Good luck,’ she said with a tentative smile.
‘You too,’ I said, smiling back.
And I walked out.