Gay-Authoritarian
All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Though this work of fiction may contain sexual situations and/or sexual acts between adults and minors, neither the author condones such situations and/or acts.
Comments about this story can be sent to garbossdanny@proton.me
Jake looked out over the estate, it was all his, on paper. Yet in spite of the lifestyle he had recently grown accustomed to, he still experienced lingering doubts that it was not for real. He recalled how some time ago, a drunken dare had changed his life in ways he would never have thought possible, except in the plot of a movie from the dank shelves of an adult store. That whole night had been fuelled by booze and the events that followed, led to losing touch with most of the people he had thought of as friends. That one night started a chain of events which led him into a world he had heard existed, though he could never have imagined himself being a part of it.
The slave crawled through the screen door, its leash trailing along the wooden porch; announcing its return. It held the leather gloves in its mouth as it made its way over to Jake, the serving tray rested on its back carrying Jake's usual; an expensive Cuban cigar, the custom-engraved cigar lighter, and the other smoking accoutrements Jake had become so familiar with. Jake took his seat on the porch and looked down as the slave carefully took its position beside the wicker chair.
Jake inhaled to bursting point, and slowly, deliberately; exhaled deeply. He knew the slave was eagerly awaiting being put to use for the next hour or so, but Jake had learned to take his time, to tease every drop of anticipation from the slave. Reaching down, he took the tray from it's back, setting it down neatly to his left on the small wicker stool. Without looking down Jake held out his hand, and the slave released the gloves from its mouth into his waiting palm.
The slave kept its head low as it waited on all fours, its cock strained against the steel cage it wore, though the codpiece of its jockstrap was darkened with pre-cum secretions, and it drooled from the taste of nicotine infused leather. Jake bent forward and slowly pulled on the spit slicked leather gloves only inches under the slaves bowed head; his own manhood beginning to swell in his jeans. The gloves conformed to his hands like a second skin; the strong odour of cigar tobacco mingled nicely with the scent of warm, moist leather, in the evening air.
Satisfied he was ready to begin; he snapped gloved fingers. The slave bolted up onto its haunches, its head bowed awaiting it's Master's word. Jake drew the cigar under his nose, the aroma so familiar to him, he knew the slave faggot would wait patiently until he required it. As Jake followed his usual evening ritual of preparing his cigar, he thought about how he had come to be in this position...
"Move your ass Jake, tables six, fourteen, and twenty-eight need service!"
Jake hurried out of the kitchen door to the restaurant floor, his mind running on autopilot. He'd been in the job for six weeks and already he hated his boss's guts. Like any manager they wanted everything last year, and treated their employees like personal servants; with disgust and contempt, but he needed the money. His past record meant this was one of the few jobs he could get. Every shift he begrudgingly swallowed his pride and went through the motions like a mindless automaton. His mornings were filled with intervals of channel surfing, and visits to the local gym here and there.
Jake did not have an athletic or muscular build, but he was fit as a result of his continued gym visits; standing 6' 3" he was the tallest member of the restaurant staff. In spite of his imposing stature, the other staff did not really take much note of his presence, seeing him as just another bus boy clearing tables.
When his shift had finally ended, he was ready to hit the bars with a few of his friends, going through the social norms of knocking back beers and discussing how shit their respective lives were. There was nothing very different about this particular evening; the usual crowd of faceless patrons at the bar, his friends around him clinking bottles, chatting about their latest work exploits, or discussing their current sexual conquests.
"Hows `bout we do somethin' different tonight?"
"Like what Zack?"
"How `bout truth or dare?"
Jake scoffed at the idea, "Are we back in high school?"
The others were divided in their opinions, a few muttered their agreement with Jake, though most seemed to side with Zack. After only a minute or two of snide jeers and jabs at his ego, Jake relented and started the proceedings. The game started as expected, the participants airing on the side of caution and choosing truth. Nothing revealed was of any real consequence, and the dares were tame at best. It wasn't until the group was expelled from the bar that things gradually escalated. As they all made their way through the streets and towards the rural neighbourhoods the challenges became more frequent and progressively more devious; as each tried to surpass the previous man's dare.
Zack's turn had come around again, as they had entered one of the more upscale neighbourhoods, and this time his target was Jake.
"Okay Jakey boy... pussy or man's choice!", Zack's feeble attempt at a veiled insult only served to inflate Jake's pride and ego.
"Dare me butt-fucker!"
The insult was all the motivation and inspiration Zack needed, even in his inebriated state, to give Jake an impossible dare, "I dare you to break in and butt-fuck the guy who lives in that house!" Zack pointed to the opposite side of the street.
Jake looked over, the house stood apart from the other buildings in the neighbourhood. The exterior appearance did not give any indication as to the owner of the property. The garden was ringed with a low brick wall topped with metal railings, painted black and tipped with ornamental spear heads, connecting to two bricked pillars, between which stood the tall, imposing gates.
Jake scoffed at Zack, "are you on something man? I'm not gonna do that!"
Zack grinned inwardly, "Don't be a pussy now Jakey boy. I know the place, guy who lives there isn't married. Name of Gambi, he's part of the network that supply me with my shit,"
"I don't give a fuck if you are butt-buddies in the shower. Not happening, bro!"
The others snorted and gave stifled laughs as Zack taunted Jake; "You scared of getting caught, or scared you're too drunk to get it up Jakey?"
Ordinarily Jake would have flattened Zack, but those that had not broken away to head home were all ones who had sided with Zack back at the bar, and despite towering over all of them, Jake still had enough drunken sense left to realise that lashing out would only lead to him being beat down by the group.
"I'll make it easier for you Jakey. Like I said the guy ain't married, no kids, or extended family, just him. And, I know he enjoys taking it up the ass, so he'll probably beg for more," Zack laughed, knowing from Jake's history he had fucked men in jail. "Come on pussy boy, if I'm lyin' I'm dyin'!"
Jake knew he would never live it down if he chickened out; in a last attempt to force Zack to relent, he countered, "You gonna come with and watch, huh? Zack!"
"Why the fuc...."
Jake cut him off; "You want proof right butt-fucker?" The others murmured and grunted in agreement, Jake thought he had won out, but Zack only pressed further; confirming he would follow Jake to make sure he delivered on the dare.
Moments later the two were on the porch, Zack held open the screen door with his elbow while Jake was knelt working on the lock. In his youth, Jake had been involved in petty crimes of breaking-and-entering and, despite his drink addled motor skills; was still able to pick the lock. It was thanks to the innocuous items he always had on him that he was able to form a makeshift lock-pick. Despite the alcohol, Jake had taken the time to put on his sports gloves which he usually wore to workout, but in this situation; they would at least prevent fingerprints.
The lock finally gave and Jake stood up as he slowly opened the door, stepping cautiously over the threshold. The interior of the home did not correlate with the outward appearance. The exterior was wood panel and gave the impression the interior would be small and rustic. Even in the dark, Jake could see the staircase in front of them was white stone or marble, the floor appeared to match, but as Jake took a few steps further he realised the floor was parquet tiled, not stone as it first appeared. As they reached the top of the staircase, Zack motioned Jake to the right, along the hallway towards a set of double doors; immaculately white and plainly visible in the dim light.
Jake's pulse picked up as he carefully pushed the door handle down, letting out a silent sigh as the door opened without any sound to give away the presence of intruders. The bedroom, like the entry hall seemed to defy the exterior dimensions of the house, the bed was enormous, and yet there was still a surplus of space in the bedroom for the other furniture. Small chests of drawers at either side of the headboard, a small doorway to the left led to an en-suite bathroom with an opulently sized bathtub. Jake stood just inside the room, surprised at the level of indulgence demonstrated by the furnishings.
"Well?" hissed Zack in a whisper, "Come on Jakey boy, lets see the show!" Jake snapped back to the reality of his surroundings, turning his attention to the figure sleeping on the bed. Despite the lavish, all-white bed sheets, the man was laid faced down on the mattress; the duvet in a heap towards the foot of the bed. From his time in the clink Jake was not unfamiliar with penetrating another man, though he had loathed the act every time circumstances demanded he perform it.
Zack waited just inside the door as Jake gently approached the bed. Assessing the situation, Jake carefully removed one of the numerous pillows from the side opposite the sleeping man, moving into position, he carefully laid it on the bed as he prepared himself mentally for the deed. Thinking back through his past sexual encounters, he forced his manhood to stir and swell. Pulling down the zip of his pants, and pulling out his member, he slowly stroked himself to full erection; turning his head to make sure Zack had not chickened out. Sure enough, Zack was stood in the doorway, watching as Jake stood there holding his hard cock in his hand, Zack jerked his head slightly and gestured a fist bump; egging Jake on.
Taking time to silently slide a condom over himself, and take out his pocket knife, Jake picked up the pillow with his other hand and resigned himself to carrying out the dare.
With brute force, Jake slammed the pillow down over the sleeping man's head, and jabbed the pocket knife to his throat.
"Make a sound and your dead faggot!" Jake growled, as the man's body jerked in alarm at the rude awakening. Keeping the knife point pressed against the side of his victim's throat, Jake climbed onto the bed and straddled the man.
"Don't fuckin move bitch!" Jake pricked the skin with the knife, and the man's hands jerked up, fingers spread widely in fear and surrender.
The man's word's were inaudible due to the pillow covering his head, but Jake pressed the point of the knife in harder, "Shut up faggot, and maybe you'll see the sun later!"
Keeping the knife pressed cruelly at the neck, and carefully taking his other hand from the pillow, Jake let a thick glob of spit drop onto the rubber sheathed head of his prick, moving it to a good angle to force himself inside his victim. At the time Jake did not dwell on it, but his dick easily entered all the way to the base, and the muffled groans of the man beneath him; sounded the same as the other times Jake had been forced to rape another man.
Wanting to complete the deed and get out, Jake took hold of the man's shoulder with his free hand and proceeded to withdraw his cock, before thrusting savagely back all the way in. From past occasions of the same, the savage merciless persona he had been forced to cultivate asserted itself; as he repeatedly withdrew all but the tip of his manhood and thrust its full length back in without remorse.
"Fuck yea, that's daddy's good girl!" Jake grunted as he thrust harder and faster, "Make daddy feel good princess!"
Jake remembered the feelings of excitement accompanied by sex, and of self revulsion at fucking a guy; but he continued to focus on the task of fucking, ignoring that he was fucking a man's ass hole, rather than a woman's vagina. Feeling his balls drawing inward, Jake tightened his grip on the shoulder, keeping the knife point held firmly in place, "Here it comes precious, daddy's special sauce!"
Jake felt the hot fluid of his sperm squirting out and covering his shaft inside the rubber he wore. Breathing heavily, he released his grip of the shoulder, and turned the pillow to expose the back of the victim's head, whilst still keeping his face covered. Still deep inside, Jake leaned forward and instinctively planted a wet, sumptuous kiss on the buzzed head of his victim. Turning his own head slightly towards the ear he gruffly whispered, "That's a good faggot. Sweet dreams bitch!"
Quickly, Jake slammed the side of his balled fist into the base of the man's skull; the body jerked in spasm, and fell limp beneath Jake. Waiting only briefly to ensure he was out cold, Jake proceeded to pull out and stepped off the bed. Zack was still standing in the door way, gesturing silent applause; though it was unclear if he was sincere, or mocking him. Jake shot a glare at Zack as he pulled the condom from his cum smeared cock; hurling it in his direction. Forcing his still stiff manhood back into his pants, he watched as Zack carefully crept forward into the room, "Fuck Jakey, you are a mean sonofabitch!".
Jake did not respond, turning to look the room over once more. Zack finally reached the same area of the room, his question whispered with a mild tone of curiosity and alarm, "What you doing bro?"
Jake again ignored Zack and took the watch and wallet from the night-stand. After pocketing the watch, he proceeded to remove the bills from the wallet and throw it on the bedroom floor. Turning to Zack he explained, "I'm making it look like robbery dumbass!"
"Okay, okay! Damn, didn't know you call girls were so hormonal bout getting paid!"
Jake snapped, swinging a back hand blindly behind him. He heard the crunch as his blow connected squarely with the centre of Zack's face; breaking his nose.
Zack cried out in pain as he stumbled back holding his face, "Jesus Christ Jake! Fuck you! I'm outta here!"
Jake turned, catching sight of Zack just as he bolted out of the room. Grunting at his so-called friend's cowardice; he turned back to continue searching the room. There was nothing else of value on the bedside tables, so he turned to look elsewhere. A dark wood box caught his attention on the large chest of drawers beside the bathroom doorway. Jake inspected it closer, believing it to be a jewellery box due to the ornate, yet puzzlingly blank plaque on the edge of the thick lid. Opening it, Jake was surprised as the strong smell of tobacco drifted into his nostrils. Peering into the interior Jake realised he was looking at a humidor full of cigars. The deep brown cylinders were stacked neatly on top of each other, some still in their cellophane wrappers. Sitting in a compartment within the lid were a few other items; the one which caught Jake's eye was the gold lighter. On impulse Jake removed the lighter and decided to grab a few of the cigars. Pocketing the items Jake made another cursory inspection of the room, before finally deciding to leave. By now the effects of the beers he had consumed were all-but worn off, and his savage rape of the homeowner had served to make him more alert. Jake's post-coital high was shattered as he approached the top of the staircase. Patches of red and blue light flashed just around the corner; there were cop cars in the driveway of the house. Franticly, Jake looked around, seeing a door on the opposite wall as his only means of escape, he carefully entered; closing the door behind him as a voice called out, "Police! Show yourselves!"
They would soon be entering, and Jake was panic-stricken; in the past he had been busted for petty theft, breaking-and-entering, and criminal trespass, but now he had committed assault, sexual assault. Jake swiftly surveyed his new surroundings; the new room was only slightly smaller than the bedroom. The room was a home gym, weights stacked neatly on shelving, a bench press, a treadmill, and a mirrored wall. Jake could hear the muffled footsteps of the officers ascending the staircase as they called out again, "Police! Come out with your hands where we can see them!"