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Everything's Negotiable

By: alexotic



"How much for a blowjob?" Simon asked.

We were sitting at a crowded, noisy bar on K Street. I'd known Simon for all of forty-five minutes, both of us having decided to stop at the same happy-hour spot after work. The conversation had started out innocently enough, a comment about something on the evening news -- amazing what people will do for enough money. This led to some open speculation about how much money we'd accept to do certain things: have a limb amputated, eat a live scorpion, play Russian Roulette, break up with a spouse, that kind of thing. Horrible, but innocent.

"I said a blowjob," he repeated now, raising his voice to be heard above the bar noise.

"I know what you said," I answered. "You mean how much to give someone a blowjob?"

"Sure," he said. 

"I'm not gay," I pointed out.

"Wouldn't be as interesting a proposition if you were."

I finished my drink and thought about it. If you treated it as something completely mechanical, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Kind of like giving someone a therapeutic massage, except the limb you're focusing on is a cock. And instead of using your hands, you're using your--

"Sorry, can't do it."

He laughed. "So you're willing to have your left arm amputated for, what, ten million dollars, but you won't let another guy place his cock in your mouth for any amount?"

"Tell you want," I said. "I'd do it if the alternative was having my left arm amputated."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Let's take it a little farther. How about if the alternative was losing just one finger? Think about it. Maybe you've been kidnapped by some crazy guy who gives you a choice. Lose a finger, or suck my dick. Nothing else will happen, just those two choices."

"Well," I said. Then I stopped. When he put it that way, it seemed... almost easy. "Okay, I'd do it then," I said.

"So you're putting a price on it already -- the price of one finger. A finger's worth less than an arm, and an arm is worth ten million to you, right? Finger can't be worth more than a million -- probably a hundred thousand at the most. And that's for a thumb."

I laughed, but then found myself looking around a little nervously. I hoped that anyone who was listening in on our conversation knew that it was a joke. The bartender looked my way and I ordered another drink.

"Now let's look at it another way," Simon was saying. "Let's say we're talking about a hundred thousand. Okay?"

"Sure," I said. It didn't mean anything anyway, and he was obviously enjoying the line of questioning. I wasn't completely comfortable with it all of a sudden, but I wasn't stopping it, either.

"Great," said Simon. "Now the thing is, that's probably never going to really happen outside of a movie -- no one is going to offer that much money for a blowjob. It's crazy. But in real life, you could be offered something. And we're not talking about losing a limb or playing Russian roulette here, so it's not like you're taking some huge risk. A thousand dollars is still a lot of money in the real world, isn't it?"

The phrase real world shocked me a little, but I didn't know why. I drank half my gin and tonic in one gulp, and felt better.

"Well," said Simon, "isn't it?"

"What?" Feeling a little woozy, now.

"A thousand dollars?"

"Sure," I agreed. "But..."

"But what?"

"Well," I reasoned, "it's still Russian roulette, kinda. Could get a disease. Could get murdered. Still a risk."

Simon took a long swallow from his glass of Scotch, then set down the glass and turned to me. "Let's assume, for our hypothetical situation, that there's no risk at all. Nice clean, disease-free guy. Someone you trust."

Maybe it was the liquor, but I blurted the words out before I could stop myself. "Someone like you?"

His smile was there and gone in an instant. "Like me," he said, "yeah."

"A thousand dollars," I repeated. I could almost see that, if I needed the money, maybe. Suddenly I wondered just how wealthy Simon was. "How big is the cock?"

"Seven and a half," he said immediately.

"Would I have to deep-throat it?"

"You'd have to try."

As ridiculous as it all was, I realized I was starting to get hard. I had to resist the half-drunken urge to put my hand over the bulge in my jeans. Even so, Simon smiled as if he knew.

One last question, then, so I asked it.

"Absolutely," Simon said. "Every drop."

"Twelve hundred," I said, and then I got up from the barstool and walked to the restroom.

* * *

I was still standing at the urinal when Simon came in and took the spot beside me. One other guy was in the restroom, washing his hands behind us.

I hadn't realized it when we were sitting at the bar, but Simon was a good four inches taller than me. He unzipped his pants without saying a word, and pulled out a very thick cock, even soft. I pretended not to see it.

The other guy left the room, and then Simon spoke, without ever looking at me. "Twelve hundred," he said. "There's a back door at the end of the hallway right out there. I'll be out there. Wait a few minutes and then meet me." He finished up, but didn't zip up his pants. Instead he held his cock in his hand and turned toward me. I was hypnotized. It already looked enormous.

When I looked up, he was grinning. "Think maybe I could've swung a better deal. But I'll keep my word. Will you?"

I couldn't say anything. I had no idea what I was doing.

With his free hand he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He placed a hundred dollar bill on top of the urinal. "I don't want to go outside and stand there like an idiot," he said. "I think you should show me you're going to keep your word." When he could tell that I didn't follow, he said, "Just get down and put it in your mouth for a second. Right now."

"Someone--"

"Someone might come in, I know. So make it quick and show me you're serious."

I felt drunker than I really was. He had a way of making it seem so natural, almost as if I was already obligated...

I got down on the men's room floor on one knee.

"Good," he said. He stepped forward and took my head in one of his hands, and with his other hand he brought the head of his cock, still slightly wet, up to my mouth. I opened my lips and let him slide his dick inside. My mind was racing. 

When my mouth was pressed against his balls, he held my head there for three or four more seconds, until I could feel the head of his cock start to swell and press against the back of my throat. Just before I started to gag, he pulled himself free, and I watched in amazement as another man's cock reappeared out of my mouth.

He zipped up and I got to my feet. "Five minutes," he said. "Go get some water. You'll need it." And then he was gone. 

I stood there for a minute, breathing hard, still tasting his salty meat in my mouth. I stared at the bill on top of the urinal. After a few more seconds, I put it in my back pocket and went to wash my hands.

***

I waited at the bar, drinking water as he'd suggested (ordered?). I wasn't thinking straight. But every time I thought about just taking off and disappearing, I remembered kneeling in front of him in the men's room. I'd already sucked his cock. The tough part, the part that it was hard to get past in my mind when we were talking about it in the first place, was already over. And Simon knew that. Once you step over the line, you can't go back and pretend it never happened. It was -- what had Simon called it? It was real life now. 

So if it was part of real life now... then what did I have to lose by going outside and meeting him? Nothing. In fact I had another eleven hundred dollars to gain.

I finished the glass of water, checked my watch, and got off the barstool.

*** 

The back door led to a dimly lit alleyway behind the bar. I stepped outside but didn't see anyone. I walked toward the corner and came to a narrower, darker alleyway that ran along the side of the building. At the end of the alley was K Street, busy with cars and pedestrian traffic now. Halfway down on the left, almost hidden in shadows, I could see a person standing up against the brick wall a few feet away from a dumpster that shielded him from the street.

A ghost of a hand waved me over. My heart thumping in my chest, I started moving.

"True to your word," Simon said. "And so am I." He handed me a thick wad of bills, which I tried to stuff in my back pocket, hands shaking. "That's half," he went on. "You'll get the other half at the end. Sound fair?"

"Yes," I said. I wondered exactly how many laws I was breaking by doing this. It didn't matter. Twelve hundred dollars. That's how much it was worth, to take a chance.

"I'll keep an eye on things," Simon said. "You just get to work." It was so dark I couldn't read his expression at all. 

I got down on my knees, trying to keep myself steady. I unzipped his khakis and slid them down. Though I couldn't see much, I could feel his cock behind the boxers, almost smell it. I pulled them down too. Then his cock was hanging there in front of my face.

Pretend it's just a mechanical thing, I thought. Like sucking a lollipop. I took his cock in my hand and put the head inside my mouth. It was fat and salty, and I ran my tongue along the underside the way my girlfriend does for me. Simon groaned and pushed himself in further, and then I started to suck, letting myself salivate to keep my mouth as wet as possible.

It wasn't difficult at first. I even found myself liking it in some strange way. Maybe I'm just a very oral person. But after a minute, Simon's dick was so big that I couldn't take more than half of it inside me. 

He wasn't happy. "Take it or I'll make you take it," he said. I tried harder but couldn't relax my throat, and the gag reflex was too strong. I pulled it out and said, "Wait, I can't--" and instead of waiting he grabbed my head and thrust his cock back inside my mouth, burying it in my throat.

I gagged but he held me there in place for another second, then he pulled all the way out. I had tears in my eyes.

"And one more," he said, and then he did it again, only this time he actually fucked my throat, pumping all the way in and out three times. I tried to stay upright on my knees.

"Good," he said. "Now your mouth will be nice and wet. Suck me for real, not like you're trying to get it over with. Make me cum."

It was crazy to feel guilty, but I did, because I had been trying to get it over with. But it occurred to me now that the fastest way to get it over with was to do the best job I could on him, so he couldn't last very long.

I thought about everything I liked in a blowjob, every trick my girlfriend knew, every porn movie I'd ever watched. What made a great blowjob? Technique was a lot of it, but some of it was just the idea that the person sucking your cock really, really wanted it, that they couldn't get enough of it. I didn't have any technique, but I could pretend that I wanted it, couldn't I?

"Can I make a request?" I said, looking up at Simon. When he nodded, I said, "Can I do this naked?"

I think I finally managed to surprise him. When he recovered, he warned, "No extra money for this."

I said I understood. I stepped out of my shoes, took off my shirt -- thankful for the mild temperatures this March -- and finally unzipped my pants. Then I slid off my underwear and put everything in a pile beside the dumpster. I could feel him watching every move.

"Thank you," I said. I got back down on my knees. The ground was hard and dirty beneath me.

I took his cock back in my mouth, and gripped its base with one of my hands. I held onto his balls with the other. And then I started to really suck him, the way I like to be sucked. While I slowly jerked him off, I started using short, slow, wet strokes with my mouth, swirling the head and the underside with my tongue. Every few seconds I took him deep and held his cock there, deep down inside, taking a little more each time I did it. Then I would go back to shorter, powerful sucking, and stroking him with my hand at the same time. I fondled his large shaved balls, and reached between his legs to lightly finger his asshole. 

He was groaning loudly now, so I knew I was doing the right things. And then I realized that the sounds weren't coming from him. I was the one who was groaning, with my mouth full of his dick. But every time I groaned I felt him shudder a little. And I wanted to groan. I wanted him inside my mouth. I wanted him getting harder and harder, and wanting to explode, because I was his cocksucker.

When I felt his balls start to tighten, I suddenly pulled my head back all the way. He gasped, and I said quickly, "Fuck my mouth, Simon. Please."

All part of the act. Except that just saying the words turned me on at least as much as it turned Simon on. And he responded. He grabbed my head in both hands and started thrusting his dick into me with slow, deep, powerful strokes. I felt myself gagging again but I tried to ignore it. I just kept moaning, whimpering by now, sending vibrations all through the meat that was filling my mouth. I reached around his hips to grab hold of his ass so I could pull him into my face harder. I pictured how we looked right now, him standing above me in an alley beside a dumpster, my naked ass showing, my head being forced up and down as he fucked my throat, and I almost wanted to cum myself. I sucked him harder and harder, and screamed around his dick.

The scream was what did it. A huge blast of cum exploded straight down my throat. I pulled back enough so I could take the rest more easily, still sucking Simon's dick as he came, wave after wave, the cum mixing with my saliva and building into a foam, which I slurped down my throat as I tried to draw every last ounce of fluid out of his meat.

I only slowed down when I felt him start to go soft. I stayed in place, though, letting him enjoy my warm mouth a little longer.

"God fucking damn," he said, breathing hard. He finally pulled his dick free from my mouth, and slowly pulled his pants back up.

I was still on my knees, and I didn't move. We'd both gotten used to the darkness by now, so I knew he could see me clearly.

"Oh, yeah," he said. He reached for his wallet.

"How much?" I asked.

He stopped, and waited a beat before responding. "What do you mean?"

I went down on my hands and knees on the ground. I reached back and felt my asshole, warm and moist, and let Simon watch me do it. I slipped one finger inside, and dropped my head down and moaned.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"How much would you pay," I said, looking up, "to do whatever you wanted?"

Again, he seemed startled for a second, but he recovered quickly enough. "Whatever I want?"

I slipped a second finger inside my asshole, and started moving my ass around in a circle, slow and easy.

"So one price for everything," he said. "And you'd have to do it."

Again, I didn't answer.

"I can fuck you. Piss on you. Piss down your throat." He waited. I groaned and kept fucking myself. "Anything is big. Dressing you up like a little bitch. Making you blow me in a restaurant. Cumming on your face. Fuck, it's more than that. Anything is raping you with a baseball bat. Making you take my dog's cock up your ass, then making you suck it clean. You don't know what anything really means."

"How much," was all I said. I kept moving my ass.

He just stared at me for another ten seconds. Then he unzipped his pants. When he took out his cock, I could see that he was amazingly, completely hard again. He started walking toward me.

"How much," I said, louder. I dropped my head again, fucking my ass hard with my fingers.

"Ten thousand," he breathed, getting behind me.

"Every day for a month," I said. I was breathing hard too, now. "A month... anything you want. Everything you said... and more."

He knelt down on the ground. Lined up the head of his cock with my asshole, and dragged it around the edge.

"I'll cum in your mouth when I'm done," he said. "And I want you to beg for it."

"Tell me," I said.

"A hundred thousand," he said. 

I felt his cock pushing against me. "Simon," I said, arching my back and getting ready for him. "Please... fuck my ass, Simon... Fuck my little asshole..."

He put both hands around my ass, and pushed open my legs violently with one of his knees. "Let's get started," he said.

His cock slid inside me, tearing me open. I closed my eyes, and fucked. It was going to be a long, bruising month. 

Everything's Negotiable Ch. 02



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.

alex,

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, I 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, Alex," 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.




Everything's Negotiable Ch. 02



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...



Everything's Negotiable Ch. 03



The phone call came before I was even awake. I answered the phone, eyes closed and without thinking. "Yes, Simon?"

"Who's Simon?" 

"Dad," I said, sitting up in bed. "Hey, sorry. I thought-- never mind."

"He must be a tough boss," he said, thinking, I guess, that I worked for Simon. Which I supposed was true. "Are you around tonight? I know it's last minute, but I'm in DC for meetings this afternoon and tomorrow morning."

"Tonight," I repeated. I was picturing Eric's enormous cock sliding into my ass on the laptop screen, while hundreds of anonymous internet voyeurs cheered him on.

"If you have plans with Tracy, that's okay," he said quickly. "I can stay at a hotel. No big deal."

"No, no, it's fine," I told him. "She's out of town this week. You're welcome to stay."

We hung up. After I was showered and dressed, I sent Simon an email, explaining that my dad had come to visit, and that I'd be unavailable in the evening. I left open the possibility that I could carry out any requests during the day.

It was a busy day at work, and it was almost two in the afternoon before I realized I'd never heard back from Simon. Had I done something wrong, or disappointed or angered him, by taking off for an evening? Five o'clock rolled around, and still no email, no text. I left the office and drove back home.

At the house, I went through the refrigerator to see what the dinner options were. Dad's a red wine drinker, so I also took a nice bottle out of the rack and set it aside. Once I'd settled on a reasonably complete meal -- he always says he's happy with anything as long as someone else is doing the cooking -- I went to the bedroom and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and then checked the clock. It was almost six, so he'd be arriving soon. I stepped into the office to check my email. Nothing. 

And then as I was about to close the computer, just as the doorbell rang, a new message came in from Simon. I clicked.

Get him to spank you tonight.

I closed the computer quickly, and went to answer the door. No fucking way, I thought, as I greeted my dad. I'd just tell Simon that was out of scope, off limits. Or I'd make something up, and make him believe me. Not even a consideration.

My dad's a big guy, much bigger than me. Growing up, I kept waiting for my growth spurt, assuming I'd end up being his size -- six three -- but I never came close. He'd put on weight the past few years, becoming more sedentary after a knee injury had laid him up for a few months, but he still seemed healthy, robust, with a kind face beneath thinning, close-cropped gray hair.

He sat at the bar in the kitchen and we talked while I cooked. He asked about Tracy and filled me in on my older brother, who lived in Los Angeles now with his wife, and my mom's various hobbies. We talked easily, had really always talked easily once I left home to go to college. Before that we hadn't been as close, partly because of the age gap -- he was almost forty when I was born -- and partly because I was a pain in the ass growing up.

The wine bottle was already halfway empty by the time we sat down to eat. The conversation was light -- baseball and travel, mostly. Somehow two hours passed, and Dad was ready to open another bottle by the time I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

I found a game on television, and we sat on the couch to watch, wine glasses in hand. Maybe it was being on the couch with him, or maybe it was the wine, but for the first time that evening I thought about Simon's email. I put it out of my mind again.

A rain delay made us change the channel. I finally settled on a sitcom, one I'd never seen before, just to have something on the television while we talked. A group of women were sitting together at dinner. I was only half-listening to the dialogue, but I heard this line clearly: I still can't believe that he spanked me. And then more banter, reaction from her friends -- indignation, mostly -- followed by some complicated plot to exact comical revenge.

"You never spanked me as a kid," I said. Just as an observation.

"That's true," said Dad. "I spanked Danny a few times, but your mother always hated it. So by the time you came around I gave up on it."

"I know," I said, "Danny used to tell me all the time." I was silent for a bit, not really paying attention to the show anymore. The wine was making my head very light and warm. "I'll tell you something," I started to say, and then suddenly I stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing, forget it," I said quickly.

"Aw come on," Dad said. "It's just us, you can tell me." His words were a tiny bit slurred by this point.

Well, I thought, why not. "I kind of wanted you to spank me."

He laughed quietly at this. "I'm sure," he said.

"No, really. I always thought... I don't know, maybe you just didn't care as much about how I acted. Or else you would've done it to me, too." This wasn't quite true. I remembered Danny telling me about spankings, and about how lucky I was, and I remembered being curious -- had his pants been pulled down? "Besides," I added, "I figured it couldn't hurt that much anyway. You were never that much of a disciplinarian."

"Probably true," he said, after a moment. "It was never about hurting anyway. That wasn't the point."

"Right. What is the point, though? I guess... just to make it sting a little."

"Well, your mom..." And then he stopped, as if catching himself.

"Mom what?" Now I was intrigued. "Mom liked to be spanked."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Too late," I said. "Besides, it's just us, remember. You can tell me."

He laughed again. "Okay, all right. Just between us. Your mom did like it, back when we were younger. I was just going to say it isn't always about pain, or punishment. It's more like vulnerability, I guess. I guess it's supposed to be kind of... humiliating, maybe? Just because of the position you're in. Don't really need to spank too hard, as long as you teach the lesson."

"What position would you do it in?" I set down the wine glass. "I guess I just always figured you told Danny to bend over and swatted him."

"Oh, with Danny, yeah. "

"What about mom?"

He was blushing a little, but he kept talking. I wanted him to keep talking. "Over my lap, usually. Like this, on the couch. She'd, uh, put her head down at this end..."

"That's how I pictured it would be, if you ever spanked me," I said. "I imagined you making me lay across your lap. I guess you'd pull down my pants, maybe? Maybe not. Just how I pictured it."

Dad shifted a little on the couch. Was it possible that he was actually getting hard? "Well," he said quickly, "never did happen. Anyways..."

But I wasn't quite ready to change the subject. "Did you ever want to spank me?"

"Any time you acted up," he said, trying to make a joke of it. "Like now."

There was never going to be a better time. I got up and, before he knew what I was doing, climbed back down and laid across his lap. I could feel his dick through his pants, underneath my stomach. Not hard, but not completely soft either.

"Jesus, Alex, what are you--"

"Aw, just give it a whack," I said. Kind of bratty, which was how I was feeling at that moment. "Am I in the right position, or should I scoot up a little?"

I could hear him breathing harder, trying to sound normal. "Uh, a little up I guess."

"Like this?" I moved foward, so that my ass was directly on top of his lap. His dick stiffed inside his pants. "Besides," I added, "I think it's a very spankable butt, isn't it? Nice and round, anyways."

He laid his hand on my ass, barely touching it. "This is... Alex, get up."

"One smack," I said. "I bet it won't even hurt."

"Alex." Beneath me, I could feel his dick growing soft again.

I sighed. At least I had the wine as an excuse. "Fine," I said, and then I heard a loud whack as Dad's hand came down on the right cheek, stinging immediately. The shorts I was wearing were too thin to offer much protection, and I yelled involuntarily.

The next one was harder, his big hand coming down across both cheeks. I bit my lip and didn't yell, realizing that I'd pushed him too far. He was just angry, now.

Again he struck me, and again I didn't make a sound. I put my head down, trying not to tense up as I waited for the next blow. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Good," he said, and then he spanked me again. This time he let his hand rest on my ass for a moment, rubbing it where he had struck me. "Good," he repeated.

And then he pulled down my shorts.

I was too stunned to make a sound. I just let him push them down, just far enough to expose my ass completely. And suddenly everything seemed completely different. I felt far more vulnerable, and I also felt suddenly tiny, and young, stretched out like this over his much larger body. His dick, which had become completely soft earlier, was suddenly huge underneath me. I could feel his eyes on me, taking in the sight of my ass, naked and stinging from his hand. He put one palm over both cheeks. "Good boy," he said, and as if someone else was controlling me, I lifted my ass up very slightly, as if offering it to him, like a dog.

He slid one thick, meaty finger down the crack, barely touching me. I relaxed and let him do it. "Thank you, daddy," I said, and his dick jumped again. His finger slid all the way down, finally resting against my warm asshole.

"I know you're a good boy," he said, breathing harder. "But you need a few more. Do you know that, Alex?"

"Yes," I said.

"Yes what?"

I swallowed. His finger was still against my asshole, and now it slid inside. "Yes daddy," I said. "I know you need to spank me more."

"Good boy," he said again.

He removed his finger, and my body tensed as I waited for his hand to come down again. But when it did, he wasn't as rough as before. And each time he spanked me, he ended by running his hand across my ass, letting his fingers travel up and down the crack, before raising his hand to strike me again. He also started spanking me between the cheeks, slapping my asshole itself, and by then I was lifting myself several inches off his lap whenever his hand left my skin. After the tenth slap, he reached around my face and put his thick middle finger inside my mouth, and I sucked it without thinking. He pulled it free gently, spread my ass with his other hand, and guided the wet finger all the way inside my hole.

I groaned and accepted his finger. He moved it in and out, gently fucking me with it at first, but then with more force, so that the palm of his hand was smacking my ass, over and over. And I let him do it, let my dad fuck me with his finger. I said "Yes daddy, yes, thank you," panting now like a dog. He reached beneath me with his other hand and grabbed my hard cock, and I practically squealed.

"My good boy," said Dad. "Are you going to cum, boy?"

I could barely speak. "Yes, yes..."

"You learned your lesson, didn't you?"

"Yes, daddy, god... yes..." while he pumped my cock and rammed my ass at the same time.

Just before I came, he pulled his finger free from my ass, and gave me one last, brutal spank, directly on my asshole, tugging my cock hard at the same time. And finally I exploded.

He didn't let go of my cock, milking it, letting my cum spray all over the sofa. My head was down as I came, so some of it even landed on my face. I wondered fleetingly if he wanted it on my face.

Eventually I collapsed on the couch, face down, unable to move. He ran his hands across my back and my ass, but gently. Finally he said my name, softly.

"Yes," I said.

"You okay?"

"Yes," I said. And then: "Yes, daddy."

"Good, I'm glad you're okay. You ready to clean up?"

I pushed myself up, suddenly embarrassed by how exposed I was. I stood up and pulled my shorts up. "Um, yeah," I said. "I guess I should."

He shook his head, and nodded at the sofa, which was splattered with thick cum. "I mean, are you ready to clean up the mess you made?"

I stared at him, not sure what he was asking. "Sure," I said. "I mean, I can go get..."

He shook his head again, more forcefully. "Down here, boy. You wanted to be a little dog, didn't you? That's what you looked like, with your butt up in the air like it was." He pointed at the sofa seat again. "So show me what a good dog you are, Alex."

When I didn't move, he said, "And pull your pants back down. Now."

A jolt of electricity raced through me and I did as I was told. I stepped out of the shorts, and took off the shirt too. Then I kneeled in front of the sofa, beside Dad's legs, and started licking. Dad put one hand on the back of my head to guide me from spot to spot. When he told me I was a good boy, I could feel my ass heat up all over again. Finally it was done, and I'd gotten everything I could find.

"That's really good, Alex," said Dad. "Just one more mess, okay? Then you can go to bed."

I looked around, but didn't see anything I had missed.

Dad laughed. Then he unzipped his pants, and took out his cock, already fully erect. It was uncut, which surprised me. Pre-cum dripped from the hole. 

"This will be easy to clean up," he said, guiding me over so I was between his knees. "You'll make sure everything stays in your mouth, won't you? Won't you be a good boy and do that, Alex?"

"Yes, daddy," I said. 

He took my head in his big hands. "What are you going to do now, boy? Tell me."

"I'm going," I said, very slowly, "to suck daddy's dick, and clean up the mess, with my mouth."

"Good. Now do it," and he brought my head down. And I sucked, letting Dad fill my mouth with his hot, sweet dick. 

Within seconds I had it all in my mouth, holding it there with his balls pressed against my skin. Showing him how good I was. If I was happy, yesterday, to show Eric that I could take his cock deeper than Tracy could ever take it, then right now I wanted more than anything to show Dad that I could suck him deeper and better than Mom ever could. I gripped the shaft and stroked him while I sucked, letting go now and then to take him deep, each time hearing him gasp as he felt the head slip past my throat. 

I knew he wouldn't last, not after everything else. I took his cock out long enough to thank him again, and then to run my tongue along his massive balls. He quickly shoved his dick back into my mouth and pumped my face hard, and then his cum was everywhere in my mouth, and I swallowed and sucked at the same time, letting him drive it into me with terrible force, and building up a thick froth of semen that allowed him slide in and out of my throat with ease.

He sat back on the sofa, keeping my head in his groin. I swallowed everything in my mouth. And I stayed there between his knees for a long time, keeping his soft meat inside me.

Some endless time later he pushed me off. He stood up and then helped me up. "Such a good boy," he said, and patted my naked ass. He smiled. "I need to get some sleep. I won't wake you in the morning when I leave. But thanks for everything." And another smile.

"You're welcome, daddy." I couldn't stop saying it.

As he headed toward his bedroom, he said, "Oh, and I'll be back in a few weeks. I'll make sure I have a full load for you to suck out of me, Alex. Does that sound good?"

"Yes, daddy," I said. And I meant it. It sounded perfect.

"Okay. Night, Alex."

-

Before I went to bed, I checked my email one last time. There was another brief message from Simon.

Who's daddy's good little cocksucker?

I am, I said quietly. And then I went to bed.



Everything's Negotiable Ch. 04



I found myself sitting on my dad's lap like I was a young boy again, except that my clothes were off and my ass was impaled on his enormous cock. The house was crowded with guests and no one realized what was happening. Dad whispered for me to be quiet, and told me to just squeeze his cock until he came inside me.

"Okay," I said, and then someone knocked on the door and the dream blew apart. I checked the clock, saw it was way too early for any reasonable visitor. 

Expecting Simon, I threw open the door, half-dressed. I found an older, mild-looking guy with a camera slung over his shoulder and a bag of equipment in his hand.

He was past me and already inspecting the apartment before I could even ask his name.

"Not important," he said. "I don't have a ton of time, so let's get started."

"With?" I asked.

"Strip," he answered. "Let's set up here by the window for now, some good natural light. On the floor, hands and knees to start."

I reached for my pajama bottoms but hesitated, suddenly nervous.

"Simon told me you just sucked your father's dick," he said. "It's a little late to be inhibited, guy."

He was right. I stripped down and got on my hands and knees on the floor while he threw open the curtains and then set up the equipment. "Just be discreet," I said. If Simon wanted naked photos of me, that was fine, but I didn't want to be exposed to everyone I knew.

He didn't answer, just started walking around me with the camera. "Keep your head down," he said, "and be a good boy. And lift your ass."

Somehow that's all it took -- him telling me to be a good boy. I posed for him for the next hour, spread myself for him and crawled along the floor for him, let him move my body around in any way he wanted. It was getting late and I had to get ready for work, but I knew better than to interrupt him.

I was in a particularly exposed position, one leg pulled up on the sofa like I was a little boy trying to crawl up, and he'd snapped a couple photographs after telling me to hold still. Almost a full minute later, I asked if I could move.

"Just grind your butt a little," he said. 

He hadn't said or done anything to make me think he found me or the session erotic, so I didn't think anything of this request. "Like this," I said.

"Good," he said. "In a circle like that, yeah. And groan a little. Like you're imagining a dick inside you."

That gave me a little jolt. I moved my ass slowly, the way he wanted, and groaned. Thinking about Simon's dick, about Eric's dick, about my father. About the photographer, too. I wanted to him to at least be turned on a little. I knew he was a professional, but I do have a pretty nice ass. Even a "not bad" or a "great angle" would be nice.

I couldn't see him because my face was pressed into the cushion. But suddenly it became quiet behind me, and then I heard his zipper come down.

"Keep moving," he said. "Simon wants a couple action shots too. You okay with that, son?"

It was maybe a dirty trick to call me "son," but it had the desired effect. I said yes, and kept moving, even more sensually. A few seconds later I felt his cock sliding up and down the crack of my ass, using my sweat to get nice and slick. I waited for him to pour some lube down into my crack, but instead he shoved himself straight into me with brute force, and made me gasp.

I could hear the camera shutter flying as he fucked me. He didn't go deep, just deep enough to make it hurt and -- I could tell -- to show my asshole being stretched open by a pretty thick cock. It was everything I could do not to scream into the cushion.

And then as suddenly as he'd started, he pulled out. 

"Now in your mouth," he said. All business.

I was still shaking, but I got down on my knees and took him in my mouth. "Do a good job," he said. "He wants to see that you like it."

I gave him a few long, deep sucks, keeping my eyes closed at first as the shutter clicked again and again. Then I opened them and stared up at the camera, and brought his cock into my mouth all the way down to his balls. Gagging a little but not breaking eye contact with the lens. So much for discreet.

I thought he'd pull out as soon as he had his pics, but he had other ideas. He set the camera down on the coffee table and grabbed my head. "Now finish," he said. He held my head tightly and started face-fucking me, as impersonal as ever, just a professional taking his payment.

Finally he pulled out and held his cock head against my face and let it explode all over me. I closed my eyes but kept my mouth open as he shot everywhere -- in my hair, my eyes and nose, my neck, a big glob dripping straight into my mouth.

"Thanks," he said. He pulled up his pants and was out the door in minutes.

I went to clean up. At first I avoided my reflection in the mirror, and then decided I'd better look. If I'm going to be a whore, I figured, I should accept that sometimes I was going to look like a whore.

I looked at myself a long time before washing his cum off me. Then, finally, I sent a text to my boss, Scott, to tell him I'd be in late -- an emergency dentist's appointment, I said -- and I went to get in the shower.



* * *



I'd missed an engineering meeting and Scott wasn't happy. Being late for anything was a problem for him, something he'd explained on my first day at work. A holdover from his military days, he said. It was a sign of disrespect and there were few things that upset him more.

He stopped by my desk just before lunch and I braced for a lecture. Instead he asked me how my mouth was doing.

I felt dizzy and my face must have turned bright red. My mouth. I pictured my face in the mirror that morning, thick cum oozing down between my lips. How could he know... Oh. "Fine," I said, recovering. "Not always easy to get an appointment but they, uh, were able to squeeze me in."

"Good," he said. "One-on-one at two thirty. A few things to go over."

"Sure," I said. "Great." I hated one-on-ones. They just seemed uncomfortable for both of us, with Scott going through his checklist of Manager 101 questions and me feigning interest the whole time.

No emails the rest of the morning, no texts from Simon. I assumed I was done for the day, that my photo session was enough to satisfy him for now, but it was unusual not to hear anything at all from him. At least a quick note to call me a cocksucker. If I were being honest, I was starting to like him calling me that, which worried me a little.

I was about to delete a piece of spam -- a message from some random address that contained only a link -- when I noticed something odd about the link address. It was for a blog, "onecreamybottom," followed by a long string of characters that seemed random at first, until I saw that it ended with "alexs-ass-and-mouth."

I clicked the link.

Too shocked to remember that my screen was visible to almost everyone in the office, I scrolled down with my mouth hanging open. Large, high-res photos from his morning, my naked body filling the big monitor. The photos were clear and professional and shocking. My ass, lifted like a whore's ass in photo after photo. My asshole, tight and puckered for the camera. My face, Jesus Christ... half the photos showed my face. I kept scrolling. There they were. A fat dick sliding into my ass while I bucked against it -- he'd made it look as if I couldn't get enough. And then, finally, his dick filling my mouth, my big eyes staring up at the camera like a child asking for approval.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I closed the window and tried to slow my heartbeat down. Then I looked back at the email. The sender's address meant nothing, again just a random string of characters. But I noticed that I was BCC'd on the email. The "to" line just had the name of a distribution list: "Friends."

I sent off a quick email to Simon, asking who he'd sent the link to. Not part of the deal for him to plaster my face on the web and share it with half the world.

At two-forty, still distracted and angry, I noticed the time and said, "Shit," then took off for Scott's office.

He didn't look up at me as I entered, never a good sign. "You seem to be having some problems today," he said.

"Just some personal things," I said. "I mean it's fine, under control. I won't be late again."

"Hmmm," he said. "I still need to put it in your file. Understood?"

I sighed and said, "Sure, fine."

"I'll print it out for you to sign. Wait here." He got up and went down the hall to the printer. From where I was seated, on the loveseat, I couldn't see much of his screen, but I could see the document he'd just sent off to print, titled DISCIPLINARY WARNING. 

And beside that, a small email window, nearly blank. Except for a single blue link.

I only had a few seconds. I went behind his desk and closed the window, then deleted the email completely. Fucking Simon. Scott walked into the office, folder in hand, just as I slid back into the loveseat. Crisis averted, at least for now.

He closed the door. Instead of sitting down, he leaned back against his desk and looked down at me, the way he does when he has particularly bad news. I wondered if I'd been late once too often, and I was getting the boot.

"So let's see what we have here," he said, and opened the folder so that the contents spilled out onto the floor. Full-sized color photographs were printed on every sheet. I found myself staring down at my asshole stuffed with the photographer's dick, next to the close-up of my mouth in action.

I couldn't speak. Instead I got down on the floor and gathered them all up as quickly as I could, not really thinking, just trying to get them back in the folder and out of sight.

"Alex," Scott said, "this is serious. We can't have... material, like this, in the office. Do you follow?"

"Of course," I said quickly, sitting back down. The folder was back on his desk, safely closed.

"It could cause serious problems for you. Could get you fired pretty easily."

"I know, I get it, I'm sorry, it's not, I mean I didn't intend to -- "

He held up a hand and said, "Relax. I'm not going to fire you. Your girlfriend's father and I are old friends, and I take that seriously. Neither one of us wants her to learn of this. Isn't that right?"

"That's right," I say, trying to understand.

He picked up the folder and opened it, searching apparently for one particular photo. It was the one with my right leg bent and pulled up on the sofa, asshole clearly visible, taken right before the photographer shoved his dick inside me. 

"This one," he said. "Let's start with this."

I blinked up at him, confused.

"Alex, I don't want to have to explain again. I want you in this pose. Now. Unless you'd like me to walk out there and start handing out photographs. I'm sure your colleagues would love to see you with a cock in your mouth." He unzipped his pants and stood up. "Take your time deciding."

My brain wasn't working too well all of a sudden. Everything was getting out of control, way too fast. Scott reached down and pulled out his cock and stroked it in front of my face, the thick mushroom head already dark and menacing. 

I stripped out of my clothes and got down on the floor. Then I took the pose he requested, one knee up on the leather loveseat.

"Move your butt," he said. "Keep your head down and move your sweet little butt. Like a whore. That's all you have to do."

For the next hour, he fucked me. The head of his cock felt as big as an apple as he drove it into me, and whenever I stopped moving, exhausted, he threatened me again. So I moved my ass for him, sucked his cock with my ass, exhausted my muscles to massage his thrusting dick and get him off. 

I couldn't believe his stamina. I wasn't going to be able to walk when we were through, so eventually I tried other things, anything to get him to cum. I begged him, told him how big his dick was inside me, how much I'd always wanted it. I promised to suck him off beneath his desk whenever he asked. 

Scott laughed and kept fucking me. "Of course you will," he said. Without warning he pulled out of me, and I was finally able to take a breath, but it was short-lived. He shoved three fingers into my ass, driving into me so deep that I thought he was trying to fist me. After leaving them inside me a moment, he pulled them out and replaced them with his cock, which immediately went back to battering me like a piston. He reached his hand around my head and yanked it back, thrust his fingers in my mouth.

"Suck your ass off my fingers," he ordered. 

He didn't give me a choice. My mouth was stuffed with his thick wet fingers, probing for my throat, so I licked them as well as I could. Meanwhile I kept pumping my butt, grinding back against his dick. And I realized that I loved his fingers in my mouth. I loved their thickness and manliness, and I loved knowing he was forcing himself into me like this. It was as if I was a doll he was using as roughly as he could, and the harder I sucked his fingers the more excited I got. In moments I was cumming all over the loveseat.

He laughed again, seeing what he'd done to me. "You like being stuffed," he said.

"I do," I panted.

"Good, that's good," he said. Now he was starting to pant, too. "I'm going to fill your cunt up now, Alex."

"Yes," I said.

"Beg me," he said. Slapping my ass now as he drove into me.

"Please," I whispered. I was shaking. I could only say it again, over and over, in time with his thrusts.

He grunted and squeezed my hips as he came, with his balls slammed against my asshole and the head of his cock buried far up inside me. Pulse after pulse of hot jizz fired into me as if I'd been stuffed with a fireman's hose, his juice flooding me so deeply that I could feel it in my stomach.

He pulled out roughly, leaving me gasping, then immediately came around to sit in front of me on the loveseat. His cock was still hard, standing up with like a monster in his lap, covered in cum and ass. Without saying a word he grabbed my head and pulled it down, and I swallowed his dick to the balls. When I gagged he let go, but only long enough to let me take a breath. I took the hint and deep-sucked him good, devouring our juices and bobbing my head up and down in his lap until he finally softened.

Seeing my cum splashed over the couch, I remembered what I'd done for Dad and didn't wait to be asked. I licked it all up while Scott held my head and guided me from spot to spot.

"Good boy," he said. He finally stood backup, but kept his pants around his ankles. "Just so we're clear," he went on. "You'll take whatever I stuff you with -- your mouth or your ass -- with no complaints. Or everybody gets to enjoy your little photo spread. Understood?"

Staring down at the floor, I said, "Fine."

"Look at me and say it."

I looked up at him. "Understood," I said.

He grinned. "Not sure what you're involved in, Alex. But I think we're going to have a great time working together from here on out. Now, open your mouth."

His cock was still soft, but I opened my mouth and waited for him to slide it in.

"Close your mouth tight around my dick," he said. "Make sure you don't spill any."

Just as I realized what he was doing, warm piss shot into my mouth. I swallowed it without thinking, and then it was too late to pull back without him splashing all over me. I locked my lips around the base of his cock and closed my eyes and took it straight down my throat. And when the torrent finally slowed, I sucked the last of it out of him, and flicked my tongue against his wet hole.

"Good boy," he said again. Some evil glint filled his eyes. "Now get back to work."

I pulled on my clothes and went to open the door.

"Alex," he said, "one last thing."

"I know, I won't be late again," I said.

"Not to worry. I'm sure I'll find a way to punish you if you are. Actually, I was going to say that we have clients coming in from Amsterdam later this week. Important clients."

"So?" I asked.

"So I want to welcome them in style. You're going to blow them in the conference room before our meeting."

I said nothing, just barely nodded my head.

"And then go back with them to their hotel room. I'm sure you'll do a great job keeping them happy," he said. He stepped forward and reached down, squeezed my ass with one hand, hard. "I hear they like it rough. Just say yes," smiling once again, "to everything."

When I got home, numb and exhausted, there was a package waiting for me on the front step. I opened it to find a dog collar and leash, and a note.

I'm sure you've had a long day, little doggie. These are for tomorrow. Be ready for your walk at six.



Everything's Negotiable Ch. 05



The first thing I saw when I woke up the next day was the dog collar on the bedside table. 

Be ready for your walk.

Meaning... No, I knew better than to try to guess what Simon had meant. And someone was already knocking on the door. I threw on some clothes and then put on the collar, trying to tuck it down inside my shirt so it wasn't as obvious. Then I went to open the door.

Again, it wasn't Simon. This time it was a young Hispanic guy who was standing in the hallway. He had two pit bulls with him. 

He stared at me without expression. "Pedro. Here to walk you. For Simon."

"Not sure I follow," I told him.

"I walk all his dogs," he said. "You got the leash?"

I went and got him the leash ("fetched" is what I was thinking). "I still don't..."

"You gotta strip down," he interrupted. "Come on, man."

"These are my neighbors," I said. "I can't -- "

"Shit, man, it's early. We'll be back before anybody gets up. Now fucking strip."

"And if I don't?"

Pedro shrugged. "He said you might not. Said I could fuck you up a little if you didn't. Up to you."

One of the two dogs growled at me, while the other yawned.

"Fuck," I said. It was just past six, early enough that almost none of my neighbors would be awake. I stripped out of my clothes, and then slowly got down to my knees. "This can't even be legal," I said.

"Simon'll bail you out," he answered. "But you probably get raped a little first, huh?" And he slapped my face gently a few times, then tossed a pair of knee pads down on the floor. "You'll need these," he said. 

When I was ready he tugged tightly on the leash to yank me toward the door. The dogs -- the "other" dogs, I was thinking -- sniffed me and seemed a little too excited to have me down there with them, but Pedro kept them in line.

He walked the three of us out into the hallway, then down to the elevator. On my hands and knees, I could barely keep up with them, and he yanked me again when the door to the elevator opened.

"Sit," he said, and the two pit bulls immediately sat by his side. He swatted me in the face again and said we were gonna have problems if I didn't listen to him. I sat back on my heels, facing the door. When it opened a moment later, Pedro put his boot under my ass and lifted me up, and shoved me out. "Let's move, let's move, bitch," he said.

The lobby was thankfully dark -- Courtney didn't come on duty until seven, thank god. I walked as quickly as I could beside Pedro as he led all of us out the door. For a moment I was completely exposed as early rush hour traffic flew past, my back instinctively arched and my ass lifted high as Pedro guided us along the sidewalk toward the little courtyard behind the building. It was as if I couldn't keep my ass from sticking up anymore, like I'd been trained to be on display.

The courtyard was, again thankfully, still fairly dark. We walked the length of the courtyard, the two pit bulls stopping now and then to sniff things, and then he brought all three of us toward a little strand of trees near the south entrance, beside the rear gate.

The two pit bulls immediately lifted their legs and unleashed a long, hard stream of urine toward one of the tree trunks.

"Let's go," he said, tugging on my leash again.

I realized he expected me to do the same. I shouldn't have been surprised. Making my way over to another tree, I started to lift my leg just as a man I recognized -- my bartender neighbor from the floor below, a young guy who shared a gym with me -- stepped in through the rear gate. He saw us and froze.

"Morning," nodded Pedro. To me he said, "Finish up, bitch."

I lifted my leg, eyes locked on my neighbor's, and peed.

He stared down at what I was doing as if he couldn't help himself. And then, finally, he broke free and walked hurriedly toward the building.

The other dogs were getting restless so we got moving again. Pedro took us around the block, returning just as the sun was rising. By then I was ignoring everyone and everything, focused on making it back to my apartment as quickly as possible. No other neighbors noticed us, as far as I knew, but I wasn't sure it would even matter now that I'd been seen. 

We made it up the elevator and back to the apartment without any other incidents. I started to unbuckle the collar when Pedro slapped my hand down.

"I'll take that off, bitch," he said. "Just one more thing, then we're done. Got it?" And he walked into the kitchen while I stayed in my spot by the door, still attached to the leash. 

A minute later he came back with a jar of peanut butter. He dipped a finger inside and then held it to out to one of the dogs, then offered another scoop to the second dog. Finally he reached in for a third scoop, and held his finger out in front of my face. Like a good dog, I licked his finger clean.

"Yeah, that's good, huh."

He set down the peanut butter on the floor and snapped at the other dogs when they tried to sniff it. Then he unzipped his pants.

Of course, I thought. I opened my mouth and waited.

He laughed and swatted my face again, almost with affection. "You think I let a dog suck my dick? Nah, that's not for you man."

He picked up the peanut butter and the leash. Reaching into the jar, he came out with a big palmful of peanut butter. I hoped he didn't expect me to lick it all out of his hand.

He didn't. He told the other dogs to sit and then brought me into the living room. Then he got down on his knees facing the couch, and reached back to smear all the peanut butter into his muscular ass, up in the cheeks and all over his asshole.

"A little extra treat for the good doggies," he said, and laughed. He spread his legs and then pulled the leash hard and down so that my face was buried in his butt.

I'd never licked a man's ass before. He had a scent, not totally bad but I could tell he hadn't showered in a few hours. I didn't try to be sensual. I was a dog, not a person, so I went after his ass the way I thought a dog would go after something delicious. I buried my nose in his asshole and licked him roughly, long hard strokes to lap the peanut butter out of his hole and off his hairy, meaty balls. From his noises I could tell it felt good for him, but I focused on my reward, getting all the peanut butter. He pulled harder on the leash. I attacked the crack of his ass in a frenzy, and when that was clean I went back to his hole, forcing my tongue into him to get the last of it, suddenly needing it more than anything I'd ever needed before. I kept licking even when it was gone, all of it, and realized that I'd been whimpering against his asshole the whole time I ate him.

"Damn, damn," he said, laughing. "You really liked that, huh. Maybe someday you come home with me and we let the dogs really play with you." And another laugh. He pulled up his pants and then finally took off my leash.

"Simon said to keep the collar on," he said when he was at the door. He shrugged. "Maybe like a reminder or something?"

I closed my eyes as he shut the door. As if I needed another reminder.

* * *

Coming home from work that night, I ran into the bartender getting into the elevator. I nodded but tried not to make any eye contact.

As the door opened to his floor, he said, "I like the collar. Good look for you."

When I got to my place I finally took it off. My neck was sore. The peanut butter was left on the kitchen counter, yet another reminder of the things I'd done for Simon.

No more emails tonight. I lay down on the sofa and tried to relax. Below me, the bartender had turned on some music, so I listened, not thinking about anything. My mouth was sore, my ass was sore, my neck was sore. It was nice to just be left alone for a bit. To feel normal again.

A few minutes passed.

I sat up slowly. Not really thinking exactly, just considering. The music drifted up from the floor below. I got to my feet and walked to the kitchen, picked up the collar from where I'd tossed it. I buckled it back on, grabbed the leash, and left.

"Hey," he said, when he opened the door. Big guy, nice-looking in a bland sort of way. Thick ropes of muscle in his arms.

I held out the leash. "I need someone to fuck me," I said. "Like a dog. Can you fuck me like a dog?"

Maybe he was used to hearing people say crazy things from being a bartender. He blinked, and said, "You suck my dick first?"

I almost laughed. Instead I stepped inside and took off my clothes while he quickly got out of his jeans. He snapped the leash onto the collar and brought me back to his bedroom.

"Hold the leash tight," I said. He threw open the curtains and brought me down to my knees. For the next twenty minutes I sucked his beautiful dick -- it really was beautiful, curved and harder than anything I'd ever seen -- and licked his balls in front of the open balcony doors, while he gripped the leash in his hands and signaled roughly whenever he wanted more pressure or to get deeper in my throat.

Finally he pushed my head off him. We went onto the balcony and he had me grip the bars of the railing. Then he tied my arms in place and stuffed something in my mouth that I realized was one of his jock straps, securing it with tape. I didn't care what he did. I wanted it, whatever he was going to do.

Finally he kicked open my thighs and picked the leash back up. Music played behind us in the apartment, muffling his groans and my whimpers as his cock slid into me, curving painfully up into my ass. He wrapped the leash around his hands like he was holding a horse's reins, pulled back sharply, and then he fucked me. Like an animal, like a dog, driving into me again and again, his dick huge and throbbing like a living thing taking over my ass, possessing me.

I could barely move any part of my body except for my ass. But I moved my ass, bringing it up to meet his thrusts so he knew how much I wanted it.

"Perfect little bitch," he moaned, and he shuddered on top of me and yanked the leash even tighter as he blew his load inside me. 

Finally he let go of the leash, and I crumpled to the balcony floor, my mouth still stuffed, my hands tied to the rail. I barely noticed when he untied me and pulled the jock free. All I could feel was my ass, accepting his cum inside me.

As I left his place, not long after, he said, "Let's do this again sometime."

"Any time," I said. Just a figure of speech, but as I said it, I knew that Simon had conditioned me well, because it was true. Any time, anyone, anything. I was ready to do it.