Ben is Taken by Chicago's Best Ch. 01

He manhandled me over to the centre of the room and stood close to me for a few moments, watching the sweat pouring off my body. The heat of the night had been bad enough outside, but it was absolutely sweltering in the stuffy confined space of that windowless old garage.

But I quickly forgot about the heat and the sweat once he started in on my tits, while simultaneously invading my mouth and nipping at my lips and my neck. He gave me a good working over before letting go and stepping back, then barked out the single word "Down" before turning on his heels and disappearing out of sight.

I did what I was told, dropping to my knees with my eyes down, staring at the unforgiving concrete floor while he stripped off his leathers behind me. He came back and loomed over me, naked and glistening with sweat as I knelt at his feet in handcuffs, still wearing my jockstrap, jeans, and boots.

Overwhelmed by the sight of his big hairy body and drugged by its heavy testosterone-laced scent, I leant forward, desperate to get my mouth on that big dick of his again. But instead, he grabbed me and pushed me down until I was flat on the concrete floor.

"Wait for it, son, you're way too eager; you gotta work for it. Remember the job you did on my pits back at the bar? Well, it's time to finish the job. Don't be taking all night. Start at the toes and work your way up."

I did what I was told, using my tongue to slurp up the sweat on his toes, feet, and ankles, and had got as far as his calves before he stopped me to go get a beer from the old fridge in the corner. When he returned, he stood over me, looking down at me licking obsessively away, until I got as far as his upper thighs.

I'd been warned I wouldn't get another taste of his stiff uncut dick until I finished the whole job and true to his word, the moment I reached his groin, he turned around and shoved his big hairy ass in my face instead. To be honest, it tasted almost as good and my eager tongue slurped energetically up and down his crack, digging into his hole to savour his inner secrets.

I heard satisfied groaning from up above as he let me carry on for what felt like a really long time before eventually turning around and pulling me to my feet. The rimming had got him super excited, and his cock was sticking straight out, leaking a steady stream of precum. But he still wasn't going to let me near it, pushing my face into his sweaty armpits one more time.

But eventually, seeing me pleading silently with mouth open and tongue hanging out, he took pity on me. He sat down on one of the old armchairs, pushed his bum forward to its front edge and spread his legs wide.

"Crawl over here and start on the balls. Then we'll see about the cock."

I didn't have to be told twice and scuttled over to him, ran my tongue over his boiling hot, sweaty orbs and lathered them with my saliva. While I was working on them, he kept his hand on his cock, jerking it slowly while staring down at the submissive cocksucker kneeling at his feet.

Once he made his mind up, he shoved his super-hard cock right to the back of my throat almost cutting off my breath in the process. Grabbing my ears in a tight grip, he kept me impaled, not giving an inch, making me gag and cough while I stared up into his face through my tears.

That was just the start; after shoving my mouth down onto his dick until the point of suffocation, he pulled out just long enough for me to get my breath before repeating the whole process over and over again. He was clearly enjoying himself and got more and more aroused as time went on, having to keep stopping the action each time he got too excited; shoving me back on my heels and making me wait while he cooled himself down with a big gulp of cold beer.

He kept this up for a good twenty minutes or so, judging from the clock hanging on the wall behind him. But as they say, "All good thing cum to an end", and the orgasm that had been threatening ever since the Gold Coast eventually arrived. After letting me swallow the first big gob down my throat, he pulled out and covered my face in a stream of his hot, sticky goo.

I leant forward to clean off the few remaining dollops of cum dangling from its slit and sat back on my heels, sure there'd be more and two minutes later he proved me right. He pushed his softening cock back in my mouth and gave me my second load of piss so far that night; most of which went down my throat with the last of the stream soaking my face and hair.

"Fuck man, that feels good. I've been so busy and so tired lately that that was the was the first time I've jerked off since last weekend. Now that's out of the way I can relax and have some fun with you, you skinny cocksucker."

He disappeared into the house, leaving me soaked in his cum and piss, along with aching knees and a sore, over-worked jaw. Proud to have done a good job, I relaxed for a moment and closed my eyes, which made him think I was dozing, since he suddenly gave me a hard slap across my face.

"Hey, wakey-wakey, kid, this ain't your bedtime. We're not finished for hours yet. Now, lie down on the floor and put your legs together."

There were two lengths of rope in his hand which he used to tie my knees and ankles, before walking over to the wall to press a button. I heard the buzz of an electric motor and saw a hoist with two chains hanging off descending from the ceiling.

"My old man, God bless him, loved working on old cars and he put in this hoist to lift the engines out. He'd never have guessed what it would end up being used for."

He took off the handcuffs and buckled on a pair of wide leather bands around my wrists which he attached to the bottom link of each chain. He flicked the switch again and helped me to my feet as the hoist slowly ascended upwards, pulling my wrists up above my head.

"We're going to have some fun, kid, some of which you might like and some you might not, but either way I don't want to hear you whining about it."

He shoved a O ring gag in my mouth and buckled it tightly behind my head, then started on my nipples. Having seen at the Gold Coast and in his car just how much I responded to tit torture, he worked them hard, biting them and slapping my chest with an open hand. It got me so aroused that even though my dick was out of sight, still stuffed away behind my jockstrap and jeans, I just knew it was ready to burst.

I didn't really want to cum so early on, but apparently, since he'd orgasmed himself, he was determined that I should follow suit. While one hand alternated between torturing my tits and pressing an open bottle of poppers against my nose, he kept rubbing away at the place where my dick was hidden with the other.

Despite my best efforts to delay the inevitable, I couldn't hold off for long. The heady mixture of bondage, real amyl poppers, the exquisite pain/pleasure in my tits and his constant, vigorous rubbing of my cock through my jeans soon took me over the edge and I felt my body jerking helplessly while my over-excited dick spewed out streams of cum to soak my jockstrap.

I let my head droop and my exhausted body go limp, hoping he'd let me down and give me a few minutes rest, but he wasn't letting me off that easy. Holding my chin up and staring into my eyes, he popped the buttons on my 501s and shoved his other hand down into my cum-soaked jockstrap.

"Holy fuck, kid, I thought you'd never stop cumming. You've got yourself a real soggy mess down there. That's the problem with guys your age, too much fucking spunk."

As he spoke, I glanced at the clock on the wall behind him and saw that it was still only three a.m. What the fuck, I thought, we left the bar about an hour ago and now we've both cum; what the hell's he got planned for the rest of the night?

He rubbed a cum spattered hand over my face and stuck his fingers through the gag so I could taste myself, then buttoned my jeans back up again. I was disappointed at that, since however much I loved sucking dick, I'd been waiting for him to fuck my ass ever since I followed him out of the bar and that was clearly not going to happen with my jeans buttoned up and my legs tied together!

Meanwhile the ring gag in my mouth made it impossible to plead my case, so all I could was stared longingly at him as sat back down on his battered old armchair chair.

Drinking a beer, puffing on a cigar and grinning while fondling his semi-hard cock, he teased his helpless captive hanging from chains in front of him. He finished the beer quickly enough and got up to get two more from the fridge, leaving one by his chair and bringing the other over to where I was standing, surprising me by unbuckling the gag and raising the bottle to my lips.

"Looks like the heat's got to you, piglet3. Here, drink up, I don't want you getting dehydrated."

He was right about the heat in that enclosed space. My face, hair chest and back felt like I'd been standing under a dripping tap for hours and my jeans were glued to my backside and legs.

He tipped up the bottle and I swallowed eagerly, instantly realising he was feeding me refrigerated piss, not beer! I gulped down the entire bottle without stopping and before he replaced the gag, made sure to thank him for it, calling him Sir.

"You're welcome. Just so you know; that came courtesy of another boy like you, a skinny ginger-haired Irish kid who pissed like a fire-hydrant and filled up a whole bunch of bottles for me. So don't worry, there's plenty more to drink!"

I might not be getting dehydrated, but he was certainly not giving me a rest. I was kept standing, held up by the chains, for most of the next hour, while he sat enjoying a stogie, only occasionally getting to his feet to feed me more ginger-boy piss or to let the hoist down so I could drop to my knees and suck his dick or lick his arse.

That was all sexy fun, but in the meantime, I was becoming more and more aware of serious warning signals from my bladder. I badly needed to pee, not surprising after all the liquid I'd consumed; a couple of Cokes at my hotel before leaving for the bar, three beers at the Gold Coast, two massive loads of his piss and now three bottles of Ginger boy-pee.

I loved sucking cock, licking ass, and drinking piss, but for some reason, maybe connected to my boyhood, it felt humiliating in the worse way for him to see me pissing my pants. What made it worse was knowing that he could tell what was happening and that he was enjoying my discomfort, making it worse by tipping more and more boy-pee down my throat.

Eventually, despite my best attempts, a slow trickle of piss began leaking into the jockstrap and I knew I'd become that naughty little boy wetting himself. It soon got more and more obvious as the floodgates opened and the piss poured out without a stop, staining my jeans dark blue all the way from groin to ankles.

The expression on my face, which changed from grin tension to exhausted relief told him all he needed to know and the grin on his face grew wider and wider the more my jeans got soaked. Once the stream stopped, he put down his cigar and came over to me.

"Feeling better now, hey punk? With all the beer and piss you've drunk I'm amazed you lasted this long. Why the fuck would you stand there all cramped up and miserable instead of just letting go? You feel a lot better now, I'll bet, so this is a good time for you to get that beating I promised you."

He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down below the curve of my bum; exposing my ass cheeks and letting my cock stick out from behind my sticky cum-filled jockstrap for the first time that evening. He walked over to one of the tool cabinets and returned with a pair of tit clamps, a leather paddle, and a multi-tailed whip; I could see he was really going to work me over.

He clipped the clamps on my nipples, picked up one of his boots and tied it by its laces to the chain connecting the clamps and proceeded to hold it up and let if fall down, pulling my nipples along with it. When he saw that was just making my dick harder, he grinned and took hold of my chin.

"You're having far too much fun, butchy-boy. Let's see what you're really made of shall we? You said you could take a good beating; lets see if you were just making up shit. Are you a man or a dancing sissy?"

My pride made me determined not to give in but to show him what I was made of. He wasted no time, and started paddling my arse, alternating lighter strokes with blows heavy enough to shove my body forward, making the boot hanging off the tit clamps to bounce back and forth against my chest, pulling down on my tits.

Somehow, I managed to keep my body mostly in place and not let too many shocked squeals escape through the ring gag, even as the blows kept coming. By the time he put the paddle down, my bum felt like it was on fire and I had tears running down my face. But despite the pain, or maybe because of it, my dick was as hard as ever, the sight of which made him snicker.

"Boy oh boy, that dick really gets off on this. Let's see how long it stays that way."

He switched the paddle for the multi-layered whip and started up a new barrage which I tried to accept as stoically as I had the first. This time he concentrated on my back and shoulders, which soon had me twisting around desperately but helplessly, attempting in vain to avoid the pain.

Having reduced me to a blubbering wreck, he dropped the whip and released the clamps from my tits, making the resulting rush of blood back into my nipples probably the single most painful moment of the evening! Once I ceased howling with shock and calmed down, he pulled my jeans back up over my bruised bum and buttoned me back up.

"Christ, son, you are one sorry fucking mess."

That was no exaggeration; I was sweating from every pore, my jeans were soaked with piss, the flaky remains of his dried cum still stuck to my face and my hair, there was a trail of drool leaking from my mouth propped open by the ring gag, my tits were red and bruised, I had marks on my stomach from where his boot had banged against my stomach and my back and my bum were coloured livid red from the beating.

He took the strain off my arms by letting them down to my waist, then brought me another bottle of ginger boy piss from the fridge. As I obediently swallowed it, he laughed as his hand rubbed along the front of my jeans, tracing my still-hard dick.

"You perverted little fuck. Oh, to be your age again and stay hard like this for hours."

The clock on the wall told me it still wasn't even four o'clock. What was he going to do with me till morning? Would I be sucking his dick and drinking piss all night or was he ever going to get around to fucking me?

As I pondered my future, the sound of a phone ringing in the house broke the silence. While I was left to wonder who the fuck would be calling at four in the morning, he strode quickly into the kitchen, picked up and began talking.

By the time he put the phone down, two things were clear to me, just from hearing his side of the conversation. Firstly, the person on the other end of the line was the friend who'd stopped him back at the bar and secondly, our twosome was about to become a threesome, whether I liked it or not!

After the usual hellos and complaints about the heat, Henry had mentioned the crowd at the Gold Coast and then said,

"Yea, the boy's still hanging around. He's not a bad cocksucker, he loves piss and he takes a good beating; just what the doctor ordered!"

He was quiet while the other person spoke and then sniggered before answering.

"Of course, man. Get off that fucking couch and come on over. You'll have good time, I guarantee it. See you soon."

Henry sat back in his armchair, relit the stub of his cigar and smirked at the sweaty, soggy mess standing in front of him. I was both apprehensive and excited at the thought of what this new leather-clad friend might do to me? There was about twenty minutes to wait before I heard a truck pull into the driveway and the guy from the Gold Coast walked through the door.

It didn't take long after his arrival for me to find out that he was interested in filling a major need of mine that Henry had ignored. This new guy had a very different plan for dealing with me, one that soon made me very happy!