6 comments/ 40726 views/ 4 favorites Balham & The Wilde Angel By: SadieRose © Sadie-Rose Bermingham 2003 “Easy Money!” Rabid John told Ray in the pub. “Close yer eyes, spread yer legs, easy as fallin’ outta bed!” John was a skinny, bug-eyed Yorkshire exile, who made his money on the mean streets around Mile End. He might have been twenty or fifty, it was hard to say, and Ray did not ask. John had a temper, especially when he hadn’t scored. To him, Raymond Wilde was a means to an end. The lad was pretty for a start; he looked younger than his nineteen years and he was green as grass when it came down to business. Hadn’t a fuckin’ clue! That first night when Ray stayed at the squat on Canal Road, Rabid John had taught him the rules all right. John thought the kid was gonna cry his eyes out when it was patiently explained to him that he would be sharing his mattress, not just with John but also with his Dealer, a muscle-bound fellow known as Walthamstow Dave. God alone knew why, he wasn’t from the ‘stow and his name wasn’t David, as far as Johnno was aware, but that was just crack dealers for you. Little Ray figured it out quick enough though. It was a bloody cold night, even for November in east London; too cold for a skinny kid with no blanket and few enough clothes to sleep in a doorway anyhow. Certainly around these parts. And Dave quickly got a good sweat on him once they’d got Ray’s jeans down and his tight little arsehole lubed up nicely. He was a good little fuck too. Once Dave had shot his load (which never took him long) Johnno lined himself up for a good hard poke while the Dealer cooked him up the goods over a Bunsen burner in the corner of the squalid room .Ray whimpered a little but he didn’t fight too hard. Dave had warmed him up nicely and it went in kushti – lovely and smooth. John gripped the lad’s skinny hips in both hands and gave young Ray’s snug, spunk-lubed hole a good shafting. His knob was long and lean like the rest of him and it felt good up the kid’s tight bum. John took his time; let the chicken know he was getting a thorough buggering, and Ray huddled under him on the filthy mattress, pushed forward on his shoulders and knees. He never uttered a word, god bless him, not even when Johnno’s crack-veined balls tightened up and he filled the kid with cum. Gorgeous little whore, he was. And tonight he was going to earn his keep well and truly. He looked nervous, but bloody gorgeous, all made up, a bit of shimmer on his pouty, choirboy mouth and dark pencil around those big, moody, ice-green eyes. He’d gone blond for a trick a few nights ago and it looked good on him. Made him look like a schoolgirl. The punters loved it. It got Jonno pretty hot as well. Rabid John struck the deal in a pub called the Rat and Ferret, down in Southwark. The punter wasn’t a regular but he was paying up front and that was good enough for Jonno. For three hundred and seventy five quid he went with Ray and the geezer from the pub to a warehouse in Balham where the guy owned a boxing club. A group of bruisers were hanging around the locker room when they came in and Rabid John was glad he’d taken the precaution of stashing the cash with a mate at the pub before they got down to business. His punter took Ray by the arm now and led him out to the boxing ring, illuminated by arc lights running on a generator. The motor cackled and rattled like a witch with consumption in the large, cold, echoing hall. A patched, leather vaulting horse with four metal legs stood in the centre of the ring and Ray was led up to it and quickly undressed by the guy from the pub and one of his burly friends. He was easily lifted astride the horse and his wrists and ankles were now tied firmly to the legs, his cheek pressed against the leather, head turned to one side. He never said a word but the look that he turned on Johnno was filled with silent reproach. “Bonny little bugger, in’ ‘e?” remarked the bloke from the pub cheerfully as if he was discussing a dog show. He pulled Ray back towards him, positioning the young man so that his thighs and small firm buttocks spread wide, showing off his clean-shaven crack and balls. “He’s got big nuts. Is ‘e virgin?” asked the camera operator sceptically, unbuttoning his fly. “What? For seven monkeys?” Rabid John made a rude noise through his nose. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me! But ‘e’s young and ‘e’s fresh. ‘asn’t taken a lot o’ cock yet.” John knew there was little point lying to seasoned gang-bangers like this bunch. They’d know as soon as they breached him that Ray wasn’t untouched. The cameraman seemed happy enough though. He had dropped his pants now and was stripping out of his jacket and t-shirt. Ray’s eyes watched the bob of his half-hard dick as he walked back across the ring, accepting a tube of vaseline from one of his companions. The other guys were unfastening their pants but they didn’t strip just yet. John couldn’t blame them. It was a cold night and he was shivering even with his clothes on. Ray must be fucking frozen, but they’d warm him up soon enough, that was for sure. The procurer now checked that the camera was running and the naked guy spread Ray’s legs a little further and parted his creamy, white cheeks with the fingers of one hand. The pretty little whore closed his eyes as a liberal glob of lubricant was squeezed down his crack and rough fingers wasted no time rubbing it into him. Crude comments were exchanged as his assailant worked one finger into him , then another... “Get out the way, I can’t see it…” muttered the fellow behind the camera as a third digit probed his ring, pulsing deeper. Rayne Wilde sucked in a gasp of astonishment and closed his eyes tightly. His teeth were clenched behind slightly parted lips as the nude man ejected another stripe of lube onto his own cock. He handed back the vaseline so that he could pump his cock vigorously with his free hand, working it quickly to full, slippery stiffness, Now the encouragement gained a voice. “Go on Mike, mate. Give it to him good!” “Fuck the fairy slut!” “Give the dirty little fag something to moan about!” The thrusting fingers withdrew at once from Rayne’s arsehole, with a slurping sound and his hips were gripped in strong, sticky hands as a swollen, purple cock-head replaced them at the entrance to his rectum. His sphincter tightened defensively but was no lasting barrier to Big Mike’s four and a half inch diameter, vaseline and spunk-lubed bell end. Rayne yelped and struggled as the muscular boxer pumped him hard; ramming his cock deeper with every thrust. His mates cheered him on. A couple of them were already lubing up and wanking themselves hard as they eagerly watched Big Mike in action. “Fuck ‘im good Mikey!” “Show ‘im what a real man’s dick is fer!” Each furious stab elicited a short, sharp exhalation of protest from the naked blond boy astride the horse. Rabid John had been selling his arse for nearly a month now but Rayne had not experienced anything like this in the short time he had been Jonno’s tart. Mike’s tool was the biggest he had felt inside him in a long time. Every thrust seemed on the verge of ripping him open and he exhaled a little sigh of short lived relief when one of the masturbators tapped the big man on the shoulder and reluctantly Mikey pulled out. John swallowed, watching from the shadows, discreetly rubbing his dick through his pants. They were going to make this last. He had heard about Tag-Shagging before but never watched or taken part. Mikey wasn’t even close to spurting, but that was the point. They would take turns to fuck their victim, and all of them would get at least a couple of turns on the lad. The first one to cum was out. The last one to shoot his wad was the winner. John had heard of these sessions lasting for days. Three hundred and fifty nicker had bought them two and half hours up Ray’s arse but even Jonno was not sure how he was going to stop them if they wanted more. “Shag the little fucker, Popeye!” “Make ‘im bleed!” Ronnie–‘Popeye’-Doyle wasted no time mounting the kid once Mikey was out. He was no fag, but he had seen the videos O’Toole made and sold under the counter. O’Toole said that young lads were even tighter and better than virgin lasses and he was not wrong there. Popeye had a long, narrow, crooked cock and it had not seen much action since his old bitch of a wife upped and left him for a younger tool. The little queer boy was pretty as a girl too, and his hole was warmer and wetter inside than the older guy had expected. He had been going to wait; just watch and pull himself off, but now he was eager for some action. The skinny little faggot was struggling underneath him as he clambered up on top of the horse, pushing the boy along it to kneel between his legs and force his prick up that hot, tight hole. “Oh yeah!” It felt good around him and he clung on tight, pumping it for all it was worth. So what if this was his only stab at the kid? Popeye was going to enjoy every minute. He grunted his approval incoherently and the boy panted rapidly underneath him, little squeaks of sound driven from his throat by every thrust. His struggles only excited the older man even more and within minutes Doyle had cum hard up his arse to cries of “Shame!” and “You dirty old bastard!” from his companions. Even as Popeye slipped down from the vaulting horse, another competitor was waiting in line and Rayne closed his eyes and chewed on his lower lip, fending off the sick anticipation of yet another rough and ready buggering. He had counted seven men; seven eager faces around the ring, watching him take it. One of them Jonno, whose expression was no less fevered than the rest. He knew that even once the punters were satisfied, his work for the night would not be over. One of these days he was going to get Rabid John on his own, up a dark alley and put a loaded gun in his mouth. Then the fucker would get what was coming to him. “Let it be soon…” he breathed, barely audible over the laughter and shouting from his attackers. “Bob the Knob!” someone yelled and there was another burst of laughter. “Fuck the little poof, Bob!” “Make him beg!” ‘Bob’ hauled Rayne's bared arse back to the edge of the vaulting cushion and onto his cock in one long slow movement. His grip on Rayne’s slender hips was tight and the lad gasped for breath as he was quickly penetrated and mounted for the third time in rapid succession. Mikey was back behind the camera, having wriggled quickly into his jeans and a sweater and he moved in close for a good shot of Bob’s long, fat hard-on pushing deeper inside the blond boy. Rayne swallowed a moan of astonishment as the punter’s tool just kept coming. ‘Bob the Knob’ was well named. He was not as chunky as Mike but he was easily longer than both his predecessors and that slowly pulsing, rock-hard penis entered Rayne like a nuclear submarine coming back into harbour. He felt his own cock getting slowly harder against the warm, red leather. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes this happened to him when he was with a punter; even when he didn’t fancy the guy he found himself inexplicably getting off when they began to fuck his arse. The heat rose to his cheeks as Bob tooled him harder and faster. His own prick nudged its way up between the worn leather covering of the pommel and his naked belly. He could feel the hot wet head just above his navel, trickling a slow trail of cum down onto the horse. Bob was bent over him now, grunting urgently, his breath hot and harsh against the back of Rayne’s neck. He had let go of the younger man’s hips and was holding onto the rings to either side of his body, pulling himself in deeper. Just as Rayne began to experience the first trickling sensations of pleasure in his colon, the fellow let go with a gasp and pulled himself out. His cock made a wet, sucking sound as it withdrew smoothly from Ray’s spasming rectum and the young prostitute exhaled rapidly, uttering a little groan of disappointment. “’e likes you, Bob!” someone observed. “Wonder why!” There were a few muted snickers. “C’mon Tool! You’ve been waitin’ in the wings too long!” Mike the camera man urged. “Get it in ‘im before it wilts in the friggin’ cold!” The procurer, the man they called O’Toole, grinned now and took his place behind Rayne and the vaulting horse. He took the precaution of rolling on a ribbed, pre-lubed, black condom as he approached. His companions teased him about this but he took it in good humour. “Dunno where ‘e’s been,” he laughed back at them, then nodded towards Rabid John in the shadows; “but I’m takin’ no chances!” In spite of his caution, he was an experienced sodomite and got his sheathed erection into Rayne quickly and relatively painlessly. His fingers kept the youngster’s buttocks spread firmly and within moments he was fully inside the blond’s well fucked hole and giving it another rapid-fire pounding. He pumped away hard for no more than a couple of minutes then yanked himself out. Rayne uttered a drawn out; “Ohhhh…” as that ribbed tool pulled out of his anus and his own balls tightened with pain and pleasure and released a wad of pearly spunk that trickled down the flanks of the horse. “Fifty points to the Tool! He made the slut cream ‘imself,” Mikey laughed crudely. “Maybe ‘e likes the feel of a bit o’ rubber up ‘is arse!” “Must be a fuckin’ novelty for ‘im!” O’Toole panted. Rayne was beginning to feel sore and stiff, not to mention bloody cold, by the time the fifth and sixth members of the tag team had fucked him. His wrists were chafed and his sphincter felt uncomfortably loose. Jonno always administered a thorough enema before he was sold to an important client, so he was not too concerned about losing control, but all the same his stomach hurt nearly as much as his anus. Number six had injected a second spurt of cum into his alimentary canal as he was pulling out, so it was a simple, if slippery, matter for the last of his clients to get up his bum. The guy had a gruff, Scots accented voice (‘there was an Englishman and Irishman and a Scotsman…’ said a small, cynical voice in Rayne’s head) and a small, meaty prick which was rammed in and jiggled urgently inside him for what felt like an age. “D’ye like it, pretty lad?” he kept grunting. “Tell me how ye like it!” “C’mon, Jocko! Get a move on!” the others chided, obviously sharing Ray’s opinion that he was taking far too long. It was a blessed relief when finally he yanked it out with a little groan of reluctance. If Rayne had harboured the idea that this was in any way the end of his ordeal, he was to be disappointed, however. There was one small pleasure to be had, in that he was finally un bound and lifted from the horse. Mikey and O’Toole rubbed his arms and legs until he began to feel warmer, then refastened his restraints in a different manner. They tied his wrists together behind his back and he was made to kneel in the middle of the ring. Once in this position, his wrists were bound to his ankles so that he could not rise. He looked up at them a shade indignantly, his blond forelock flopping down into his fierce, pale green eyes. “What now?” he asked, sounding resigned. It was the first coherent thing he had said since they brought him into the hall. “I was beginnin’ to think you was a mute!” O’Toole chuckled. “Think again.” The young whore glared back at him defiantly. “What happens next?” “Down to five players now. We’re gonna play a little game called Doubles,” the older fellow told him, taking his coat off and removing his jeans again. “Maybe you can tell me how it works!” Rayne rolled his eyes wearily. O’Toole laughed some more and looked around; “Who’s comin’ in with me?” The fifth man, a circumcised Skinhead whom O’Toole identified as Jake, unzipped his flyer and pulled out his cock again eagerly. He did not strip, and had not done so previously, but this time as he stepped forward it was to take a handful of Rayne’s bleached blond hair in his tattooed fist. He pushed the boy’s head back until he cried out and immediately Jake’s stiffening member was urged between his lips and into his mouth. “Don’t even think about biting anyone,” O’Toole whispered in his ear from somewhere behind him. “Or we’ll have to spread your legs and take a belt to your balls. And don’t think we won’t do it!” His rough fingers gripped Rayne’s slim thighs and pulled the lad back onto his rubber-ribbed hard-on. Jake knelt down as O’Toole began to shaft the whore’s arsehole as vigorously as he had before. The muscular Skin pushed Rayne’s head down into his crotch forcing him to swallow the six inch length of his fat, cut cock. The skinny boy tart gagged and struggled for a while but quickly figured out how to deep throat him without choking. Jake had spent only a couple of minutes up the kid’s arse but he lingered over this, holding Ray’s hair with one hand and leaning back to pump his sex between the boy’s lips. Mikey crouched down for a better shot. The cameraman had his jeans undone and was wanking with one hand, watching saliva and pre-cum running down the blond boy’s chin as Rayne sucked Jake’s knob obediently. O’Toole was panting as he pulled out, controlling his climax, and Bob the Knob took his place between Rayne Wilde’s firm, white cheeks. He hauled the skinny, struggling rent-boy backwards slowly onto his cock, impaling him as he had the first time with one long, smooth stroke. Jake was observing all this as he pumped away vigorously in the pretty boy’s mouth. “I wanna watch him eat my cum,” the Skinhead panted at last. Mikey rubbed his cock faster. O’Toole said; “You know you’re out of the game if you spill your jizz?” “I know,” Jake huffed, his face turning slowly redder with the effort. “I’m not that keen on anal, mind. I wanna make ‘im neck my load! Get it on camera, Mikey. Get the little fucker takin’ a face full!” Rayne had his eyes closed. If there was one thing he knew he could do well it was sucking cock. He had been blowing older men since he was at school, for money or for drugs and this was second nature to him. He wrapped his lips around the meaty cock, running his tongue up and down the shaft and teasing skilfully as Jake thrust deeper and faster into his mouth. His pre-cum tasted sour and salty but Rayne did not mind. If he blew Jake now it was one less to take next time. Bob’s huge prick was fully inside him from behind and amazingly, that felt good too. The persistent friction against his prostate gland was getting Rayne unbearably hard and horny as Bob fucked him faster and less gently. Jake gripped his hair in both hands and began to grunt profanities at him, bucking his crotch into Rayne’s face and releasing a flood of hot semen into his mouth and throat. The lean, blond prostitute also jerked, tensed, and uttered a bubbling, strangled groan of satisfaction as a double jet of ejaculate pumped out of his balls, spattering the knees of Jake’s jeans. “Fuck it, yeah!” Jake panted appreciatively. “Best blow job I’ve ever ‘ad!” “Looks like ‘e enjoyed it too, mate!” someone remarked. Jake cursed at the state of his pants but already his place had been taken. O’Toole had commandeered the camera once more and Mikey was kneeling in front of Rayne, his trousers and briefs pushed down to his knees. A rough hand snarled in the blond boy’s unruly hair and as Bob fucked him hard and fast from behind, Rayne’s mouth was pushed down relentlessly onto the erect dick of his first assailant. He gagged initially, but quickly mastered his breathing and was able to suck and swallow without choking. “Tha’s it… suck it, Blondie,” Mikey urged huskily. “Suck it good!” For a moment, Rayne felt that he was no longer physically connected to the earth. He was transported back in time and just for a second or two he was in New Romney again, kneeling on the living room floor at Uncle Brian’s house, stark naked, with two strangers raping him orally and anally, whilst other men watched and laughed and Brian took polaroids. Perhaps Brian had been right; this was all he was good for, satisfying the darkest desires of his fellow men. Balham & The Wilde Angel “Oh, dirty boy.” That was Bob, grunting softly as he began to pull out, too close to climax to risk any further pulsation. “So pretty. Such a tight hole!” “You wanna get him to suck your cock, Bob!” Jake was leaning on the ropes watching with a shake of his head. “He’s somethin’ else. I totally wanna watch him deep throat ‘you’.” The wiry little fellow they all called Jocko mounted Rayne again as Bob’s cock plopped out of him and bobbed upright against his belly. It was as easy as being fingered after taking the long, hard shaft of his predecessor for five minutes. Jocko didn’t last nearly as well however. One fuck had been enough to get him primed and it took him only a couple of minutes to pump himself to climax after watching the slut take it in both ends for the last half hour. His jism trickled down between Rayne’s cheeks as he retired to the jeers of his fellow competitors. Moments later, Mikey pulled out, still hard and dripping pre-cum onto the whore’s pretty face. “Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he panted. “That’s good!” Rayne crouched before him, still on his hands and knees, head lowered like a beaten horse, panting quietly. His lean young body was soaked with spunk and sweat and he was half-hard in spite of his own exhaustion. As Mikey zipped up and took the camera back, O’Toole gently encouraged the blond boy to lie down on the canvas. “We’re gonna have a little interlude before the play-offs,” he said with a grin. “Time for you to get a little satisfaction while we get our breath back, know what I’m sayin’?” Rayne stared up at him uncomprehendingly. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he lay sprawled between the remaining competitors. Now, the procurer reached for a leather kit bag which had been sitting innocuously by the ringside since they began. He had initially produced the cuffs and fetters from it and now he unveiled a new set of toys. Releasing the cuffs on their sex-toy’s wrists, he made the young man lie down again and showed him a leather strap with an attachment that was a cross between a child’s pacifier and a short, fat, black-rubber dildo. Rayne eyed it with some resignation. When O’Toole told him to ‘open wide’ he parted his lips and let the client press the rubber cock into his mouth, fastening the straps of the ‘gag’ behind his head. Next he produced a cock strap, which he fastened securely around the base of Rayne’s semi-hard prick, beneath his balls, pulling it tight until the little whore uttered a muffled yelp and his dick stiffened some more. O’Toole nodded to his companions and two of them moved to take hold of the slut’s ankles as his wrists were once more cuffed, this time in front. Roughly they spread his legs and lifted his knees to chuckles of appreciation from those who were watching. Mikey knelt between the blond boy’s feet with the camera as O’Toole withdrew a long, chunky, black vibrator from the bag and lubed it’s twelve inch shaft liberally with KY. Rayne struggled and tried to protest through the rubber pacifier in his mouth but his knees were lifted higher and spread wide apart. Bob crouched over him and applied two lubed fingers to his rectum, getting him good and slippery. He pulled them out as O’Toole turned on the vibrator and pressed the throbbing latex head against Rayne’s vigorously buggered hole. He yelped as the big bell end popped into him and he felt the oscillations quiver up his colon and into his belly. His prostate was tingling urgently as the huge dildo pulsed deeper and deeper inside him until the whole foot of trembling latex was up his arse, almost splitting him open. The groans continued to issue from his throat as his dick and balls responded to the violation of his anus in the only way they knew. The strap kept his climax in check, but it would not do so forever. “Rub your cock,” O’Toole told him, with a glint in his eyes. “Wank it hard, queer boy. Wank yourself off for the camera.” Rayne whimpered, but he did as he was told. His cock ached to be touched and responded as soon as his fingers curled around it. A stream of pre-cum leaked out over his sticky hands. He rubbed and squeezed the sensitive head and stroked his fingers up and down, slowly and nervously at first but with increasing enthusiasm, fisting one hand around his shaft and caressing the bell-end with the other, teasing the serpent’s eye as he masturbated for his eager audience. “Oh you beauty!” “You dirty little fucker, whack it hard. Go on!” “You like that, don’t you, faggot?” He closed his eyes, rubbing harder and faster until he was barely able to breathe. As the first hot squirt of semen burned out of his cock head, he groaned more urgently, struggling against the hands which held him. It was agony and ecstasy combined; he was forced into a desperately uncomfortable pose and impaled fiercely upon the pulsing dildo but the need to cum was primal. He could not stop, the jism just kept pumping out of him, until it felt like a warm, wet lake on his chest and stomach. When he felt as if he could not possibly squirt another drop, they finally relented and let him stop wanking. They tied his wrists to the corner post now and the dildo was removed slowly. His insides felt wet and loose as it was pulled out of him but he was given no time to rue it for the gang-bang began again in earnest. There were only three left now but all of them had decent sized cocks and clearly planned to use them for they left the gag in his mouth to keep him quiet. He was bound in the corner of the ring with his ankles strapped to the middle ropes on either side of the corner post, lifting his knees and spreading his legs and arse cheeks wide. “Five minutes each,” O’Toole told them grimly, unzipping and whipping out his stiff cock. “Hard and fast, no breathers. You spill your load and you’re out. Last man hard gets to take him in the showers freestyle.” He rubbered up and took first turn, and he was not gentle. Rayne bucked and struggled, pulling on the ropes to no avail as the burly fellow crouched over him, raping him vigorously. Five minutes was a lifetime lying on his back with his legs forced wide. He closed his eyes on the treacherous tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. He would not cry. There was no way he’d give them that satisfaction. He bit down hard on the rubber dildo in his mouth and concentrated on the money. He would make a fortune out of tonight’s experience, even after Rabid John had taken his cut. O’Toole was sweating copiously and panting like a winded dog as his sheathed hard-on pumped away between Rayne’s naked, spunk-spattered buttocks. Just before he looked set to keel over, exhausted, Jake called; “Five minutes!” and the puce-faced Irishman pulled out abruptly. Rayne took a short sharp breath through his nostrils and whimpered incoherently. Mike handed the camera to Jake, dropped his pants, lubing up briskly, then stripped out of his shirt and tee shirt, and knelt down between the whore’s slim thighs. Rayne yelped as the big, bearded fellow bucked his way in, then sank down on top of him. Mike reached down beneath his wide-spread legs and gripped his bum, rutting away like a horny dog. His beard was rough and scratchy against the young prostitute’s neck and shoulder and his breath was hot and foetid as he panted obscenities in Rayne’s ear, humping him relentlessly. ‘Cum, you bastard!’ Rayne tightened his ring as fiercely as he could, resisting every thrust and milking his attacker vigorously, determined that this would not go on longer that it had to. Mikey bucked harder, trying to split him open with every stab of his cock. ‘Oh… come on… come on…” Rayne sank his teeth even deeper into the rubber, eyes closed tightly. As if in answer to his prayers, on four and a half minutes, Mike the cameraman jacked off into him with a groan of mingled pleasure and disappointment. Rayne uttered a little huff of relief as he felt the slow, wet heat of the big man’s climax spreading through his innards. “Ohh yeah! Hot stuff! Hot stuff!” Mike panted, taking his time to pull out. Bob the Knob was on him almost at once. He took advantage of Mike’s recent spillage and pumped his way deeply into the pretty little whore. Rayne started off fighting him but just as with the previous times, he was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer length and bulk of Bob’s erect cock. He found himself crying out for it long before the five minutes was up. Bob was not what you would call a conventionally good-looking guy, but with a dick like his it hardly mattered. Rayne was rock hard and climactic again within a minute and half of Bob entering him. The others were cheering Bob on as he pounded away. It was like the penultimate stage of a boxing match, only Rayne was taking all the punches. His teeth were clenched fiercely on the dildo in his mouth but he let out a savage, throaty groan of acknowledgement with every thrust of Bob’s mighty hard-on between his legs. Then suddenly it was gone. Bob pulled out of him as abruptly as if his arse was on fire (which was how it felt). “Five minutes, honours even,” someone said. “One more round. Tool and Bob.” ‘No!’ He wanted to groan. He wanted to beg them to stop but he could not even speak. They untied him and he was rolled onto his belly and lubed thoroughly. His wrists were tied to the strap behind his head, securing the gag in his mouth. Rayne felt weak and shaky. He just wanted to lie down and have them leave him alone but he was roughly manoeuvred onto his shoulders and knees, his left cheek flat to the canvas. O’Toole mounted him and fucked him again. That rough, ribbed, rubber-clad cock slipped vigorously in and out of him. The Irishman’s balls bumped incessantly against his crotch as he ground away inside Rayne, grunting with increasing satisfaction. Their victim felt as if his insides were loose and weak enough to pour out when Tool withdrew. He felt sick and sore. “Five!” Jake shouted triumphantly. Money changed hands. Tool pulled out and Bob was on him again. Rayne closed his eyes against the tears as Bob the Knob raped him hard; naked, on his elbows and knees on the canvas. All around him at least five strangers masturbated as they watched his humiliation and bet on who could last the longest with him. When Bob’s enormous cock stoked him to an involuntary climax there was a spontaneous cheer from the watching men and his ejaculation was videoed in close-up for them to watch and wank over later when their wives were in bed. Five minutes came and went. Bob withdrew and O’Toole remounted. He buggered the blond boy violently for almost three minutes then slumped over him with a little moan of astonishment and anguish. There was an almighty roar of appreciation. People began to slap Bob on the back and more money changed hands than before. Rayne sank down on the canvas, just relieved that it was over. But of course it wasn’t over. Not yet. They gave him ten minutes to rest and even untied him. It felt good to get the gag out of his mouth, though he could still taste rubber on his teeth and tongue. Skinhead Jake and the Scottish guy then helped him to his feet and walked him through to the showers where they washed him down. The water was hot and it felt good after all the exertion out in the ring. Once he could stand unaided they left him and Bob walked into the shower room, completely nude. His hard-on nodded knowingly at Rayne, the bell-end purple and swollen, leaking a pearly dribble of cum. Rayne caught his breath. At once the big man reached for him and pulled him close under the drizzle of steamy water. He stroked one hand between Rayne’s legs, caressing and groping then pressed his mouth onto the blond boy’s lips and kissed him clumsily. With his tongue in Rayne’s mouth he molested the skinny young rent boy urgently, squeezing and fondling his balls then easing the other hand down between his buttocks. Rayne felt one, then a pair of fingers explore his sore, stretched ring, then push deeper into his anus. “You’re such a dirty boy,” Bob panted into his mouth. “I love doing dirty things to boys like you.” Rayne swallowed dryly, breathing hard. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement and saw Mikey, naked, with the camera, still filming from the edge of the cubicle. “Get on your knees, dirty slut boy,” Bob said with a slow smile. For the first time, Rayne wondered if he was not actually a bit simple. His speech was slow and awkward like his huge, bulky frame. “Get on your knees and lick my thing nice and clean.” His big hands moved up to Rayne’s shoulders and urged him downward. It was easier to yield than anything else and he found himself doing as he was told. The sooner he complied the sooner he could get the hell out of this. He found himself on his knees, facing Bob’s hairy crotch. The head of his vast, pulsating dick moved up and down just above the bridge of his nose. Heavy, hirsute balls dangled down in front of him. Bob’s hand urged his face closer and Rayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He ran his tongue over Bob’s sac and took those huge, hot, hairy bollocks in his mouth one at a time, sucking and licking his client’s family jewels. “Oh yeah!” Bob panted eagerly. “Yeah. You’re a good little faggot! I liked watching those guys doing you. That got me hot! I like watching them do you in your mouth and your dirty hole. I bet you love having hard cocks in your bum hole, eh?” Rayne was silent, he just kept sucking and licking. Bob gripped him by the hair. “Tell me how much you like it.” Cold green eyes met maniacal blue grey ones. “Tell me. Lick me clean and tell me how much you like getting bummed.” Rayne’s tongue traced the length of Bob’s mighty wiener and circled the swollen, sweaty head. He wrapped his lips around it and suckled the glossy, purple bell-end like a baby at the tit. Bob’s fingers tightened in his wet hair and pushed his head down slowly, forcing him to take every last inch of cock. He gagged as it hit the back of his throat but kept swallowing the salty-sour, musky flavour of Bob’s sweat and pre-cum, mingled with his own anal fluids. Bob pumped it steadily in and out of his mouth and grunted with satisfaction. “Mmm… hot, dirty boy! Feels good in your slutty mouth! Do you like eating spunk, dirty slut? Nod your head harder if you like it.” The lean blond prostitute nodded urgently. He was kneeling with his legs slightly spread and the camera could pick up the fact that he had an erection. Sucking cock always gave him a hard-on. “Good.” Bob nodded too. He gripped Rayne’s hair in both hands and fucked the whore’s mouth hard. When he struggled, Bob backhanded him roughly and pushed him up against the wall, ramming his sex urgently down the boy’s throat. “Ohh.. ohh!” he grunted and pulled back, spraying semen into Rayne’s open mouth and over his face. Mikey got closer, filming this as he rubbed his stiffening penis. “You like eating it, don’t you?” Bob said gleefully. To Rayne’s dismay, his erection did not even wilt. Bob made him lick the head of it until he was just oozing pre-cum again. “Say what a dirty boy you are. Say what things you like having done to you.” Rayne looked balefully at the camera, “I like sucking cock,” he said flatly. “Yes, yes! Dirty boy! You like it up your bum as well, don’t you.” “Yeah.” Rayne said it unenthusiastically. “Say it. Tell me you want me to bum you hard. Say dirty slut words.” Rayne closed his eyes. He was beginning to get a headache. “I want you to fuck my arsehole, Bob. I want your big hard dick up my arse.” “Good, good!” Bob was wanking. “Stand up and turn round. Show your hole. Put your finger in it! Show and tell how you want me to do you.” Rayne sighed but obliged. Mikey was almost apoplectic, only able to watch but not touch. He was rock hard. The blond boy rubbed his penis and slipped wet fingers into his crack, teasing his sore anus gently. “For god’s sake, fuck me, Bob! I need your dick. Fuck me up the arse and fill me with your hot spunk.” He felt the hot head of Bob’s cock between his cheeks. Insistently he guided it to his rosebud and Bob panted; “Are you a dirty boy?” “Yes, Bob! Yes, I’m a dirty, hot slut. Just fuck me, for crying out loud! I need a good hard fucking. I’m such a horny, nasty, dirty boy. Ram your tool up my arse, Bob. Please, I need to feel you in me… Ohhh!” He caught his breath as Bob grabbed hold of his lean hips and pulled himself smoothly in. Rayne snatched at the pipes and clung to them as he was sodomised vigorously against the tiled wall. Bob might be an imbecile but he was enormous and he knew how to fuck without a shadow of doubt. That hard, swollen organ pumped in and out of his tender anus like a greased piston. Rayne’s balls were pulsating with pleasure. Already he was on the verge of another climax. “Nasty, nasty boy. So good!” Bob was panting in Rayne’s ear. “Dirty and nasty, putting your hard thing up a boy’s bum. But it feels so good. So good. And it’s okay if they’re dirty, slutty boys. They like it in and out of their bums. You like it going in and out don’t you?” “God! Yes!” Rayne was breathless, all the energy fucked out of him. “I know you do, because I watched. I liked watching you naked, letting those other men do you. It made my thing hard. But they said I wasn’t to spunk off in you or I couldn’t put my thing up your bum any more, not until the end. But now I can spunk off in you as much as I want.” Rayne swallowed hard, panting for breath. “You like having men’s spunk in you, don’t you?” He nodded wordlessly. “That’s very dirty. Only really dirty boys like that. You’re making my thing really hard. I want to spunk off in your bum!” “I want you to fill my arsehole with spunk as well,” Rayne whispered huskily. “Please!” “My thing gets hard a lot. I wish you lived with me. I wish I could take you home and tie you to my bed with no clothes on. I’d tie you up tight with your legs open and I’d put vaseline on my hard thing…” Bob was pounding harder and harder. Rayne whimpered, rubbing own erection against the tiles as the bigger man fucked him. “And I’d put it up your tight hole again and again. Tell me you like it.” “I love it, Bob!” 'Please... please finish!' “Say ‘I’m a nasty dirty slut’.” Bob laughed like a child and fucked him like a rutting stag. Rayne gasped the words on autopilot; “I’m a n-nasty, dirty slut, Bob. You’re making me cum… omigod!” Rayne convulsed, pressing himself against the wall as his balls tightened and emptied. Bob bucked into him deep and hard, one last time and Rayne felt the gush of his hot semen deep inside. He groaned with pleasure and Bob just kept panting; “Yes, yes, yes… hot and dirty! So good! Want him again!” “Bob, you’ve gotta let him go. We’ve only paid for three hours,” Mikey pointed out. He had lowered the camcorder now that Bob was pulling out, filming that massive tool as it emerged, hot and steaming from Rayne’s arse. “Not fair. I won. Tool said I could put my hard thing up his bum as much as I wanted!” “You’re wearing him out, Bob. You’re not normal! Look at the poor little bugger, he’s completely fucked.” For the first time that evening, Rayne felt gratitude towards Mike the camerman. It was an utterly unexpected emotion. He closed his eyes to keep himself from crying. When Rabid John touched him lightly on the shoulder he realised that he had drifted off, on his knees in the showers. Johnno wrapped him in a towel and led him wordlessly out into the locker-room to get his dry and dressed. Rayne let him do it all, too numb to move or even speak. His whole body hurt. It took twenty minutes to make the slow, stumbling walk back to Balham Tube station and Rayne felt as if he dreamed the entire journey. Johnno seemed quietly solicitous, as if what had been done to him tonight had shocked even the normally unflappable Yorkshire pimp. On the train, Raymonde Wilde stared blankly at his pallid reflection in the darkened glass, wondering if the rest of the Friday night travellers in this carriage could tell what a crack-addled whore he was. The tears had hardened to crystal quartz behind his eyes. He felt sick, cold, and utterly dehumanised. Balham & The Wilde Angel On the long escalator up to the Central Line at Bank, he broke the silence. “I need another career, John.” “You’ll be all right, Ray. I’ll take care of you.” Johnno squeezed his arm, sounding as if he did not convince himself. Rayne closed his eyes again, sinking into a bottomless sense of calm. 'Not if I take care of you first, you bastard!'