DUDE'S GOTTA PAY HIS DEBTS - PART 13
I am 32 years old, British/Australian living in London and working as a high street solicitor. If you'd like to read about my first sexual encounter with a bloke, check it out here: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/dirt-in-the-dunes
This full series, "Dude's gotta pay his debts", can be found on Nifty here: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/dudes-gotta-pay-his-debts/
I am 29 years old during this chapter.
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The month of November 2021 drew to a close, and my second term of service with Cerberus Productions would be up in only a few days. One Friday evening when I got home from work, Erich supervised me undressing and then accompanied me to the communal shower block, removed my chastity cage and butt plug, stripping off his own tracksuit and sliders, and joined me for a long, hot shower, mutual scrubbing session, and an ass clean-out for me. After we'd finished our ablutions, Erich put the heavy steel chain choker around my neck and fastened it with a padlock; he told me to dress in a fresh suit and put on the new jockstrap that he'd left on my bed - he put my old one, unwashed for three months, in a ziplock bag and took it away with him.
Suited and booted, the top three buttons of my white shirt undone to show off my padlocked chain, finally ungaged and unplugged, I accompanied a similarly attired Erich as we climbed the stairs to the first floor bar and restaurant. It was full of occupied tables, the room buzzing with conversation. Erich and I sat at a table with Pieter and Abe, who greeted us with hugs and toasted my birthday with champagne after Erich had presented Pieter with the ziplocked bag containing his prize. He unsealed it for a deep sniff, smiling as he tucked it away inside his jacket. During the four course dinner, we were served by assorted jockstrapped performers and escorts hired in for their waitering experience as much as for their looks, while the Director moved between the tables, greeting, chatting and networking.
At about 10PM, the Director stood at a microphone before the curtained-off podium and called me up to stand with him in front of the clapping audience. "Gentlemen, Dave X has been one of our most popular and versatile performers for the last nine months. Please raise a glass to toast his recent 29th birthday" - cue cheers and the clinking of glasses - "but also his final peformance as his contract with Cerberus Productions has reached its end" - cue a chorus of loud boos. "But you are in for a treat tonight my friends, some entertainment as David performs his swansong and you enjoy a range of very special cocktails."
With that, the curtain around the podium was drawn back. In its centre was installed a vertical steel beam. On the back of the beam were rungs for climbing. Halfway down the front at about 5 feet off the podium was a gleaming steel dong with a bulbous tip, curving upwards. Camera crew adjusted lighting and started to film as Erich led me up onto the stage, smiling broadly, and directed two hunky jockstrapped waiting staff to slowly, methodically strip me down until I stood completely naked on the podium, my cock slowly pulsing to a semi-hard state. Erich and one of the crew picked up lengths of thick rope and tied tight loops around each of my thighs, through the creases of my groin, around the base of my cock and balls, around my abs and chest, under my armpits, and finally terminating the ropework around my neck. The cunning ropework formed a harness, evenly cradling and supporting my 82kgs, as the ends were passed to a crewmember who climbed the rungs to thread them through the pulleys attached to the ceiling beams. I was steadily winced up off the floor, my bare feet and stiff cock waving in the air, as Erich generously lubed the dong with petroleum jelly, then I was lowered slowly. Erich and his assistant grabbed my feet to guide my descent, as I reached down and spread my glutes. I felt the cool greased metal at my asshole, and then I was lowered an inch or so - gravity did the rest, and the hard bulbous tip popped through my tight ringpiece. I grunted with the sudden sharp ache, and moaned as I was lowered another few inches until the dong was deep inside me and pressed against my prostate. At this point the pulleys were locked so the ropes took my weight, not the dong, and Erich and his assistant finished the job, crossing my wrists and ankles back behind the beam and binding them tightly in position with rope. The crew member up the back of the beam tied a leather collar around the beam and my throat, and then fitted me with the dong-and-funnel gag, the dildo filling my mouth as the funnel was hooked higher up the beam, connected to my mouth by a flexible tube.
I was as steel-hard as the dong that was up in my guts carressing my insides, and I started to move my hips to maximise the stimulation on my fucknut as the cocksnot drooled from my cock and made my PA glisten. Erich laughed and slapped my bouncing cock. "Cool down Dave, its going to be a long evening". I watched as a gleaming aluminium urinal trough was set up on one side of the room, connected by a hose to a large open-topped cannister into which it would drain. The guests started milling around, chatting, getting drinks from the bar, gazing up at me with undisguised lust. Time passed by. Erich stood guard over me, occasionally teasing and tickling the soles of my feet that were tied at the ankle behind the beam, playing with my nipples and tickling my ribs, even just holding my hand for a bit, but leaving my dancing, leaking cock well alone. I was regularly fed water down the funnel, and soon enough I needed to piss. Erich seemed to sense my need and gestured for a server - the jocked young man awkwardly pointed my stiff cock into a carafe and I released my piss into it. He ferried the carafe of my urnine to the bar, where guests enthusiatically paid for cocktails and long drinks to be made up with it. The guests themselves used the urinal, and periodically a jug was dipped into it so some of its warm, pungent contents could be poured down my funnel. The cycle of piss drinking and piss producing continued, soon enlivened as some of the guests had their servers get to their knees and suck their cocks. The servers took the loads in their mouths obediently, spitting them into water tumblers which were passed up the beam to be poured down the funnel as well. I was being well fed, my cock was aching with the need for release, and the cameramen captured everything.
Eventually, Erich took to the microphone. "Gentlemen, we will shortly start the milking. Only a precious few doses of Dave X's extremely valuable seed will be available, and they will be sold to the highest bidder - only one lot per bidding guest." Pieter looked disappointed at that last bit. "You may do what you wish with them, but our barman has some excellent cocktail suggestions that will make the most of David' precious fluid." At this point, Erich took up a large roll of black industrial plastic film and started to wrap it expertly around the beam and my calves, leaving only my bare feet exposed. Methodically, he worked his way up my thighs to my abdomen, working around my rigid cock and balls to leave them jutting out. Up my abs, around my chest and arms, my neck, and finally he got to my head. I couldn't see Erich at this point as he had climbed the rungs behind me; he fitted wireless buds in my ears through which ambient electronica played, then I couldn't see anything at all as he wrapped my face and head. I was completely mummified, only my bare feet and straining cock and balls exposed to the air, my feeding tube now a breathing tube.
Then the lubricated milking sleeve was fitted to my cock, and the process began. It was a slow, steady sucking action, but my first giant cum arrived quickly. My ears plugged, fed music and covered by plastic, I couldn't hear a thing and all of my senses became focused on my body and the waves of tortuous pleasure that rippled through my flesh from my ass and cock. I drifted, moaning around my breathing tube, as three more orgasms were coaxed out of me over the next... well, I don't really have any idea how long it took. Maybe I slept, maybe I was in some kind of trance. Images of all of the exotic, outrageous sex I'd indulged in over the last 18 months danced before my mind's eye as I hung suspended in space. At one point I felt fingers tickling my bare feet, bringing me back to partial awareness. The milking machine had long since been removed from my limp, exhausted penis, and I started to work my prostate against the steel dong as the merciless tickling of my clean, sweaty white soles continued. I screamed around my dildo gag, but I don't know if anyone could hear me. Then waves of orgasmic pleasure cascaded through my body as I achieved the anal orgasm I needed and a last trickle of thin fluid drooled from my jerking semi. I kept wriggling my hips and forced the first orgasm to seque naturally into a second spasm of orgasmic pleasure. Then, I definitely passed out.
I revived with a moan as the wrap was removed from my face, leather collar and earplugs removed, and the gag taken out of my mouth. Erich - now dressed in a pair of joggers and a Cerberus Productions sleeveless tshirt, barefoot - stripped off the wrap and he and the crew untied the knots binding me to the beam. I blinked as my eyes adjusted, noting that the restaurant was empty, the chairs upended on the tables, cleaners doing their work. God knew what time it was. The crew winced me up until the dong slipped from my ass, then I was lowered to the ground. Erich supported me as the last of the ropes were untied. "OK Dave?" he smiled, and I nodded, exhausted. He threw one of my arms over his shoulders, and a muscly cock-caged twunk took the other. They led me carefully up the stairs to a suite on the second floor; Erich unlocked and removed my chain choker and then laid me face down on a massage table; the skilled twunk gave me an hour's deep tissue treatment as the hot tub in the ensuite was filled. I was then sunk into that hot, soapy water for a long relaxing soak before drying off and falling into a coma, truly naked (the first time I'd been 100 percent naked in nine months, not even a collar or choker) and face down, on the soft bed.
The next day was Saturday. No one woke me, no one whipped me to a weights session. I had no collar, no chastity cage. I woke naturally in the late morning and lay there, dozing, until the service phone rang and I was called to the Director's office. It was just down the hall, and I padded naked to the office suite, dozily rubbing sleep out of my eyes and running my hands through my wild birdsnest of hair and tangled beard. Knocking, I entered at the Director's invitation and he gestured for me to sit and help myself to coffee, juice and pastries. My hair was still a crazy mess and I must have looked half asleep, for which I apologised, but he just laughed. "I will always be grateful for the day Big Bad Wolf offered to pay off its loan with a contract transfer, David. It has been a pleasure having you here, and a profitable one at that." "Thank you Sir", I said, as I slouched back and unselfconsciously manspread on his Chesterfield, looking at him wih heavy-lidded eyes and a weak smile. "Its been... well, its been amazing, really". The Director smiled. "I have a little gift for you." He handed me a small velvet box. I opened it to reveal a small round silver pendant on a thin but masculine silver chain. On the front of the pendant was the three heads of Cerberus, the guardian of Hades. It wasn't the studio's logo as such, but was derived from some classical Greek artwork; the Director explained that it represented loyalty, vigilance, strength, and ferocity. On the back, which would rest against the skin of my upper chest, was a delicate engraving of a padlock. It was beautiful, and I thanked the Director warmly and genuinely as he took it from the box and fastened it around my neck. He handed me my passport and shook my hand in both of his. "If ever you'd like to do another stint David, in any capacity, just call".
I spent the rest of the day doing sweet fuck all, and in fact got dressed and went out for a bit of a wander around Amsterdam for a while. On Sunday, I had drinks at a bar with Erich, Maarten and some other guys both performers and staff. On Monday late afternoon I put on my suit, though neglected to put on a tie, and went in to say my goodbyes to Mr De Vries and my colleagues at the firm; He shouted us to a few drinks after work as well.
The next morning I had a hot shower and a big breakfast, packed my backpack, and dressed in my jock, Gaelic footy shorts, a surfie vest, my fleece over it, thick hiking socks, my worn walking boots and a woollen beanie. Following an interminable three-way man-hug with Maarten and Erich, I left to catch the train for the airport.
48 hours later I was in Hanoi. I spent the next three weeks traveling down through Vietnam, Laos and into Thailand before finally flying to Sydney and reuniting with my family in time for Christmas. I spent the next 8 weeks chilling, catching up with friends and family, and lying on the beach getting a tan. I hit Dad's garage gym hard to maintain my physique, alternating with topless and barefoot bodyweight workouts in the sun at the outdoor gym by the beach. My increasingly bleached hair was finally long enough to tie back, my beard grew wild, and my back, sack and crack had regained their fur - I didn't even bother to shave my shaft and nuts. With my extended collection of tatts and piercings, I expected some comments from someone, but there was nothing - in fact, it was surprising how many of my mates, male and female, had increased their own collections of body mods. Throughout the entire trip down through Asia, I'd avoided sex entirely, seeking to recalibrate and rebalance my sexuality back to the relative normality of my horny bi-ness after nine months of sex slavery and the preceeding six months of sex work. On New Years Eve, after the year turned into 2022, I did indulge in some straight pussy action, but it was all cheerfully vanilla. I even wore a condom. From then on I indulged in the odd straight hookup if I met a hot chick while out with my mates, and even reconnected with a lovely girl I'd once been in a situationship with; we had a bit of fun on several occasions.
In mid-February, I got an email from the agent looking after my London flat confirming that my tenant's lease had ended and she'd quit the property. I bid farewell to everyone and boarded a flight back to London.
When I unlocked the door and entered my flat on a Sunday late in February 2022, it was a bit cold so I cranked up the central heating. My little studio had been well looked after but it still needed some work to freshen it up. I popped out to the shops for groceries, and when I got back it was nice and toastie, so I stripped naked and unpacked, had a shower, made myself a meal and sat naked on the sofa in front of the telly sorting through mail - naked that is except for a few woven bracelets I'd picked up in Asia, and of course my Cerberus pendant, which hadn't left my neck since the Director had put it on me and rarely would ever again.
The next day I texted Leroy and made arrangements to collect my boxes from his storage unit the following Saturday. I went for a wander and swung past Levi's tattoo studio in Camden; he greeted me with a big hug. Wearing Doc Martens, ripped black skinny jeans, and a black sleeveless tshirt, his beardstache and manbun combo were unchanged, though his inked arms and shoulders had gained some more muscle. "Hey man, I haven't got an appointment until this afternoon, so lets cach up." He took me into the back of the studio and started to set up. "Ummmm... what are you doing mate?" "Well", he said, "I may as well ink you while we're chatting." Laughing, we agreed that the back of my left calf seemed like as good a place as any. I removed my boots and my left sock, lay on my front and Levi shaved the area. "Do you trust me?" he asked, and I nervously nodded. As he worked, we chatted and exchanged goss. After a couple of hours, I had a really cool Neo-Traditional skull on the back of my left calf. He smoothed antiseptic cream over it and wrapped my leg in clingfilm and we parted ways. I collected more groceries and some stuff from the hardware shop.
Back at my studio, I changed into my tattered denim cutoffs, commando, topless and barefoot, and set about doing some painting and minor DIY. I spent most of the week doing deep cleaning and odd jobs, getting the place back in order, wearing nothing but my increasingly paint-spattered cutoffs. If I needed supplies I jammed my bare feet into my old Converse (the same ones Leroy had once made me spunk in), pulled my fleece on over my bare chest, and popped out in the cold, gloomy February weather. All my other clothes were in storage - all I had was the kit I'd travelled with. I was looking forward to getting my kit back and mixing things up. In the afternoons, I went to an internet cafe for a couple of hours, polished my CV up and researched jobs. Mr De Vries was true to his word and responded promptly to my emails with an amazing reference and a list of awesome contacts, who I started to follow up.
Come Saturday morning, I didn't bother showering as I was going to be lugging boxes. I had a morn horn that wouldn't quit, and I resisted the urge to knock out a quick one because I hoped Leroy would take care of it. And I didn't need a shower to douche for him: I always douched if I was getting paid for sex, but I generally didn't bother if I was gonna get fucked on my own account and if everything was normal in the poo department. I was religious about my fibre supplements, my bowel habits were like clockwork, and I'd been conditioned to appreciate a bit of flavour with my ATM, so once I'd had a couple of coffees and a dump, I was good to go. Pulling my paint-spattered cutoffs on over my bare ass, shoving on my Converse sockless, a vest and my fleece, I headed out to Leroy's.
He answered the door of his flat wearing a pair of shiny short shorts with side slits and nothing else, as he'd just got home minutes earlier from a Muay Thai session at the estate's gym. The 6'2" of mixed-race thug muscle looked just as good as I remembered him, his inked skin still lightly sheened with sweat. He pulled me into a rough embrace so I got a good whiff of his musk, and let me in. His flat over-warm as always, I kicked off my trainers at the door as per the no-shoes rule and hung my fleece up, following him into his lounge, my feet bare on his scuzzy carpet. He flung himself down on the tatty stained sofa, legs spread wide. "Awright bruv, strip off, let me see you." "Seriously dude?" I laughed, though I'd fully expected this. "Yeah mate, 200 more quid and a fuck, that's the price of storage." I threw the money at him as I laughingly peeled off my vest, unbuttoned my cutoffs and kicked them off. Naked, I gave my cock a good tug and it was rock hard and pointing to the ceiling in only a couple of strokes. "Whoa man, yer even more stacked. Loving those nips and the PA mate, they are fucking hot. Turn around." I did so. "Hey, that a new tatt on your calf?" "Yeah, a welcome home prezzie from Levi, be careful with it, its not healed yet". "No worries mate. Get over here." I turned and wandered over, he'd already pushed his shorts down to his ankles while I was facing the other way and was waving his hard cock around. "Get to it dude".
I dropped happily to my knees and took him down my throat as Leroy started to tell me about how he'd watched most of my Cerberus scenes and knocked out loads of baby batter to 'em, telling me what bits he liked most, especially seeing my cunt fisted and cock mechanically milked. I worked his shaft with my hand while slurping on his foreskin and running my tongue under it, then licking and sucking his heavy smooth balls. He pushed me back onto his footstool and I raised my legs to give him access to my hairy manhole. He lapped at it greedilly while stroking my cock, then he started to lick and suck my PA curved barbell to harvest the precum before spitting it onto my cunt and diving back in. He spat a few times on my hole and taint (hitting my tight hairy scrote half the time), drooled spit to his cockhead and shaft, smeared it over the tool, and forced himself up into my guts in one slow but firm stroke. I grunted, wrapped my bare legs around him and pulled him towards me so I could snog him as he started bunnyfucking me in his usual style. After a bit he stood in a crouch and kneeled on the footstool, his cock still buried up me, hooked my right leg over his left shoulder, extended his left leg and planted his big, sweaty bare foot on my face as he started jerking my cock with a spit-slick fist and speeding up his hard fuck. I started licking his sweaty sole, slightly dirty from the floor of his gym, but it was too much for me and I spurted out my load all over my chest and abs. "THAT'S IT BOI", he yelled as he scooped up my slime and smeared it over his meat for extra lubrication. "Flip over mate" he ordered, and I got on all fours so he could mount me like a dog. He fucked his cum-slick cock back up inside me and started to ram hard, breeding my guts in minutes, then fed me his dirty cock to clean as I jerked out a second load which ran down my shaft into my fist and pubes. He hauled me up by my other hand and led me to his bathroom where he drenched me in his rich piss as I unleashed my own flood over myself.
He gave me a dirty towel to dry off with, and after I'd wiped down, shat out his cum down the plughole and wiped my ass with it, I padded, naked and stinking of piss, back to his living room. As I went past his second bedroom, I noticed that the playroom kit was gone, and it was now painted pink and kitted out for a kid. I smiled to myself - the big softie, I hadn't known that he had a child.
I flopped naked and damp down onto his sofa, legs spread, as Leroy fixed us a brew and told me all about how he had his little girl every second weekend now, and when we were done I tugged my cutoffs back up over my bare ass, slipped my vest back on my damp torso, tied my fleece around my waist by its arms, and shoved my bare feet back into my Converse. Leroy threw on a tracksuit some trainersw and I followed him down to his storage unit, where we loaded my half dozen boxes into his white van and drove them to my flat. Once inside, he pushed me down and fed me his dirty cock again before bending me over the counter of my kitchenette, yanking down my cutoffs and fucking me hard and rough until my tool spat a dose of jizz over my kitchen cabinets hands-free as he made a DNA deposit high up in my rectum. I pulled my cutoffs back up over my oozing bunghole as Leroy stuffed his softening tool back in his joggers. I slipped my fleece back on over my sweaty vest and treated him to a pie and a pint at the local boozer; and then we had a rough hug and he drove off.
I stripped off my nasty kit and showered my skanky bod before pottering around my flat naked, starting to open the boxes and put things away. I met some mates for dinner that night before knocking out a load to some porn in bed, dozing off with my cum drying on my skin.
TO BE CONTINUED....