The ManHole Club Ch. 01

I push through the noisy crowd, my head down, my eyes cast to the floor. These people are strangers to me and yet I am desperate not to let them see my burning red marks on cheeks or the cum dripping down my face.

I burst out of the front doors of the night club, crashing into a passing stranger and knocking his umbrella to the ground. As we both reach down to retrieve it, he casually glances at my face. His face reflects his shock as he exclaims "mon Dieu!" I turn and flee into the rainy night.

I thank the heavy rain for washing away the evidence of my encounter. If only my memory could be wiped clean as easily. My pace slows as I feel the weight of a heavy burden, it is more than the weight of my rain soaked clothes. I have just flown halfway across the planet to escape my obsessions only to discover there was no escaping myself. I stop and look around me. I am literary and figuratively lost

The next morning I wake to discover the skies of Paris are clear and sunny. In the light of day, the events of the previous evening feel surreal, vague remnants of images of men linger in the back of my mind. I convince myself it was only a bad dream brought on by the jet lag of the long flight. Determined to enjoy this break from being a sexual plaything, I set out to explore Paris.

I walk down the Rue de Rivoli, the street shines in the golden light that Paris is famous for. The city is scrubbed clean by the rain storm of the previous night. I take a seat in a crowded side walk cafe, in the best of my very bad French I order an espresso with milk and a croissant. I recline in my chair, letting the warm morning sun warm my body. The waiter returned with my order, I glance up at him to thank him. He looks down at me and I feel my heart stop, I recognize the waiter from the night before.

I sit with my espresso cooling untouched in front of me, the memories of the previous evening come flooding back. The waiter was one of a group of young men who had approached me in a secluded section of a club. I thought I was going be robbed until one of the men placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me down to my knees.

In the dark, on my knees the only thing I could see was him opening his pants to expose his hard cock. He slapped me across the face with his cock, leaving my cheek burning.

The impact knocked me back to the memory of the first time I met Jim. I was naked on my knees with my hands behind my back. He slapped me across the face with his huge cock, then paused to judge my response. He slapped me across the face again and began my long training as his submissive.

A second blow from the French man brought me back to the moment. I opened my lips. He laughed at me and made a joke in French which I did not understand then his shoved his cock into my mouth.

After him there was a succession of hard cocks coming at me from the darkness. Each cock forced between my lips then plunged deep into my throat until his hairy balls were crushed against my chin. The first eager thrust soon burred into a hypnotic rhythm of pounding cock. Each cock hammered out his lust, ceasing only its load of cum was shot down the back of my throat. Each cock, each man in a hurry to cum and then disappear back into the darkness.

I was overwhelming and yet I clearly remember the waiter who had just served my espresso. He had a large cock with a sizeable head that filled the back of my throat, almost choking me. His large hands had held me by the back of the head as he rammed his cock down the back of my throat. He held on tight as he face fucked me until he shot a large load of cum into mouth. I remember he pulled out, shooting the last spray of his cum across my face. He then bent down to say something to me in French, "le trou." I did not understand what his said but I remember the expression on his face when he said it.

The waiter returns to my table, carefully placing another espresso in front of me. His hand moves onto my shoulder, pressing down firmly as he had done the night before. In English, he explains he is confident I will enjoy this, he has prepared it especially for me.

I know what is expected of me. I know my mortification provides an infinite amount of amusement for those who recognize my submissive predisposition. I lift the cup to my lips, emptying the contents into my mouth. I hold the warm, creamy liquid in my mouth for a second before I swallow another load of his cum.

I am suddenly conscious of the voices and the laughter of the people around me. I glance around at the people on the street, their once meaningless glances now full of judgement and disapproval. I flush with embarrassment. Dizzy and breathless, I fumble around with my money to pay the bill then flee cross the street to the Musee du Louvre.

It is not until if enter the Louvre Pyramid that I am able to breathe again. I check my coat and discover a business card the waiter had somehow slipped into my pocket. The card cryptically promotes an establishment called "Le Trou d'Homme" The Manhole. On the card is a drawing of two snakes or serpents in the act of swallowing each other's tails.

I return the card to my pocket, wondering whether this is an invitation or an order. Either way I know I am powerless to resist.