“I did enjoy today, Sir. It was really unexpected and I don’t do things like this normally. I certainly don’t offer to suck off strangers. But I did today.” As I got into my stride, the pace of my words quickened: “I enjoyed being helpless and tied, I enjoyed submitting, and I enjoyed the intense fucking, the smell and taste of cum and piss. I really enjoyed sucking the cocks that had just fucked me, and rimming, both things I had never done before today. I enjoyed being called a faggot. I enjoyed being used. I enjoyed you laughing at me and treating me so low, being used for pleasure.” I gulped: “And I enjoyed not being allowed to cum.”
I swallowed hard. It was all true, but I hadn’t really meant to go quite that far in my admission.
Sir appraised me, rolling his cigarette between his thumb and finger, using it to think with almost. I was being judged, which was fair enough, given what I had done and the nature of my confession. He nodded, firmly.
“You get some choice now, and you can think about it. Don’t answer now,” he said, blowing a funnel of smoke upwards. “Only action does talking.” I watched as the solid stream thrust upwards then dissipated on the gentle breeze, disappearing into air, dissolving into dust. I was trying to listen, trying to comprehend. I remained silent.
“First you can get dressed and go and we won’t stop you. No photos or anything about today. Only us four know.” I nodded. “We leave you here. You are maybe one kilometre from the river, down that track. I want you to walk so you remember the way and know how to get back here again. We are not far from where I picked you up.”
His voice now changed tone, being more direct and authoritative than before. “I enjoyed using you today. You are proper faggot. If you had put what you did today in advert, I would not have believed you. You are rare. Rare and good.” I felt an absurd surge of pride.
“But you could be more. I want you to come back to this place next Saturday — six days from now. If you come back then you will be here until Sunday. There will be photos and videos. There will be more men here. I do not know how many but you will be used by everyone. We are a group and we share. You will get used hard. I guarantee you will be set free on Sunday, if that’s what you want.”
I looked at him sharply. English was his second language but it was still an odd choice of words. He seemed to understand my unspoken look: “Everything is possible so think of next week as audition.” He smirked to himself and gave that derisive laugh again. My cock swelled in its prison. “Your choice though. If you no come back then that is end of it.”
He came over to me and stroked my face and head gently. “You look cute in cock cage. I leave it on. You come back to me desperate. And you lose hair. Shave chest, armpits, legs. No body hair. You come back looking like faggot.”
Pavel said something to Sir who replied tersely. He turned to me, explaining: “My friend says you no come back but I think you do. I think you will come back for hard use. This who you are.” He placed both palms on my cheeks, leaning in and looking into my eyes. “You. Are. Faggot.” I swallowed, saying nothing.
And then there was activity. Erich was putting on a crash helmet and Pavel was putting things away and I was getting dressed. It didn’t take long. I was outside the shed and Sir and Pavel were closing the doors. Erich’s bike roared off. They told me to start walking down the track. I obeyed without a further word. I had reached a gate when their respective cabs pulled up. Sir got out but Pavel drove on. I watched Sir close and padlock the gates and then drive off. Nothing more was said.
I looked around, committing my surroundings to memory. I could see the river and set off down a track towards it. I ached and I was exhausted. I looked at the scenery while my mind wrestled with what the hell had just happened. It was scrubland, desolate and a little foreboding; the kind of place where you’d half expect to come across a corpse in the marsh grass. I got to the river path and knew where I was. I turned back towards the train station, knowing I had no energy left for proper walking. It wasn’t conscious, but in retrospect I was ticking off landmarks so I knew which track to take coming back. There was a makeshift swing on a broken ladder by the river wall, dirty and grey, and some graffiti saying, “Kez power art”. To make sure, I dropped a pin in the maps app on my phone and starred it. I could get back here. If I wanted to. If…
My mind churned. I felt the cock cage and was aware of a little clanking sound as the padlock hit the metal bars when I walked. I was convinced everyone would be able to tell my cock was locked. It was only a mile or so back to the fort and another mile to the train station. It still took me nearly an hour. I was exhausted. I didn’t have to wait long for a train and then I was speeding back to London, sound asleep.
Author’s note: There will be a short break before the next chapter. Thanks for reading and for your comments and feedback, which are appreciated. M4U.