Big-dick Bottom Pt. 10

Shit.

I could tell this wasn't the first cock he'd ever sucked. The realization spread over me.

He's done this before.

I thought about what this meant. I figured we had to be somewhere inside his house. This room, all this... get-up... it didn't just happen. This is what he does. Lure, drug, and then... He spread his lips wide and sank down on me. My eyelids spasmed as my cock started to slide down his throat. Holy shit. Is this how it felt? I lost my train of thought as sensations flooded through me.

He came back up off my cock and took one hand away from my chest and used it to slick my shaft with his spit.

"Satan is strong, Paul," he said, breathlessly, stroking my cock, "but I am stronger. I am stronger. I am stronger than him," he said, staring up at me. His eyes flickered orange, red, and yellow in the reflected flame of the candlelight. Then he swallowed my cock again, over and over, only coming up to gasp for air.

I felt his hands move between my legs, fumbling at my asshole. I felt his fingers push aside the fabric of the panties I was wearing, and then I felt him tug at something. I felt the sharp pain that I'd felt before, when I'd come awake, and I realized there was something there, something inside me... some sort of mass occupying my asshole. He tugged again and I squirmed with discomfort. My cock, standing straight up, was wrapped in Reverend Bjornsson's massive fist--he was stroking me now--expelled a large pulse of precum that slid down the side of my glistening shaft.

He pulled again at the thing in my ass and I groaned with pain. There was another contraction somewhere deep inside me, and another river of precum squeezed out of me. What was he doing? What had he done to me?

"That's it, son," he said, twisting whatever it was now, causing friction against my hole and an elastic resistance further up inside me. Glistening fluid was now flowing freely from the slit at the tip of my cock, and he used it to slick my shaft. It coated his knuckles and fingers, and he raised his hand to his mouth to lick it onto his tongue. As he licked his hand, his eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned. "There you go, son" he whispered, "that's it."

In spite of myself, the sensations in my ass tipped over into raw, hot pleasure. The slow, even twisting of the object he had lodged inside me, and the rubbing of his hand on my slick cock was bringing me closer and closer to the edge of a violent orgasm. He was rubbing his beard, now, against the nylon stocking on my legs. The muscles of my legs and stomach were contracting as I flexed and opened my useless, bound hands.

All of a sudden, Reverend Bjornsson released his hands from me and pushed himself up to stand. My wet cock thwacked up against my belly, sending a splatter of precum and spit up across my chest. He reached for his belt and ripped off the pouch of his jock. His cock and balls tumbled out, and I finally saw what was bulging so prominently in his pants. His cock was like a club--not too long, but wider than anything I'd ever seen. Wider even than Beercan, and capped with a head that looked as big and round a billiard ball. A shudder ran through me and my asshole contracted against whatever it was that he'd shoved inside me.

He leaned over me and ran his hands along my face and chest, over the lace of my bra and down again to my cock, which was rock-hard and pulsing precum onto my belly.

"The devil is strong," he repeated, in a harsh whisper. "But I am stronger. Remember that, boy."

He reached between my legs and pulled again, hard. I felt my asshole flare out around what felt like an impossibly large, rubbery mass and then tighten again to expell what felt like a long, tapered cone. He held the object up in the light and I saw what looked like a weird, glistening bowling pin. I was shocked to see how wide it was at the base. I couldn't believe it had gone into my asshole.

He grabbed the black leather girdle that was around my waist and pushed his hips up between my legs. I felt the knob of his cock head jam against my asshole. I was slick with fluid between my legs. The thing he'd put in my ass must have been covered in lubricant. Reverend Bjornsson moaned and ground himself against me, running his hands over my underwear and stockings. He pushed his cock up so that it was right against my hole. I could feel it pushing against me, with just a thin strip of panty fabric blocking him from penetrating me.

"Sweet little lamb," Reverend Bjornsson moaned, and he ripped the panties off of me. The elastic dug painfully into my thighs before it snapped and ripped. He pressed his cock again at my hole, and put his hands on my hips. He took a great, shuddering breath, and then he pushed his cock inside me.

I let out a long wail when he penetrated me. Despite his effort to stretch me out with that thing, the girth of his cock sent a shockwave through my body. He didn't let me have any moment to acclimate before he started thrusting himself savagely into my hole, grunting and straining, causing the whole metal frame supporting the sling I was in to shake and wobble.

The pain of his fucking me knocked me back from the pleasure I had been feeling, but after a minute or so of his fat cock slamming into me, I felt my body start to orgasm. It was completely involuntary and wasn't pleasurable at all. It was almost like a reflex--having been primed, and now pushed over the edge by Reverend Bjornsson's fat doorknob of a cock. The bulb of his cock head was hitting me directly in that spot, that button inside of me that could only withstand so much pressure. I watched as my cock began to shoot--a combination of orgasmic contractions and also the sheer force of his fucking. Cum propelled out of me in great spurts that coincided with his wild thrusts.

My orgasm seemed to take Reverend Bjornssohn by surprise because he looked at me with shock as jet after jet of cum launched from my cock up onto my my chest, face, and shoulders. His face contorted and he started to fuck me even harder, wilder, in a frenzy of animalistic grunts and rumblings from the deep barrel of his chest. His fingers dug into my skin as he grasped the girdle and he used his massive arms to slam my body against him as he impaled my asshole with his impossibly thick cock.

The sensations in my body were too intense. I started to dissociate. It was as though he was fucking me past the point of orgasm, immobilized as I was and completely in thrall to his huge body and raw power. I was in some sort of realm of pure, heightened sensation. Not pleasure, not pain, just intensity.

When he finally started to come, he let out a great roar. He rammed himself into me and at the same moment I saw a sliver of bright white light open behind him. I heard a loud crash and then a blood curdling scream that coincided with a burst of semen shooting into my ass. And then he was on top of me, his great weight crushing down on me, compressing my body into the material of the sling, pushing the air out of my lungs.

For several confusing seconds I panicked, not able to breathe or parse the sounds coming into my ears. There was loud swearing and heaving and then the great bulk of Reverend Bjornsson rolled off of me. His big body tumbled heavily down onto the floor. I took in a deep, desperate, ragged breath and as the oxygen made its way to my brain, my eyes began to adjust to the bright light.

Stacy.

Stacy?

Stacy, somehow, standing there, looking down at Reverend Bjornssohn on the floor, in a heap at the foot of the sling. She looked up at me. Her eyes were wide. In her right hand was a long, brass candlestick.

"Holy Shit, Paulie," Stacy said.

She tossed the candlestick onto the floor and then picked her way over Reverend Bjornsson's slumped body to the straps binding my legs to the metal frame. She undid my legs and then came around to my hands. When my right hand was free I grasped at the gag in my mouth and tried to remove it, but it was strapped in with some sort of buckle. Stacy saw me batting at the gag and quickly moved my hand away so that she could unbuckle it. When it was loose enough I swiped the thick bar out of my mouth.

"Stacy," I said, hoarsely, massaging my jaw.

"Are you OK?" Stacy asked, as she hurried to free my left hand.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, my voice rasping. My body was still in shock from the violent fucking I'd just endured.

Once all my limbs were free, I pushed myself off the sling and stood on shaking legs next to Reverend Bjornssohn's body. I saw a red gash oozing blood on the back of his head. I looked up at Stacy, who was still looking at me with wide eyes.

All of a sudden, Reverend Bjornssohn let out a loud groan and started to move, trying to push himself up.

"Oh, I don't think so, asshole," Stacy said, leaping across to where Reverend Bjornsson was stirring and landing with her knee between his shoulder blades. He collapsed to the floor again with a pained grunt.

"Paulie, grab something to tie him up, quick" she said, and I looked around. Light was pouring into the room through the open door. Outside the door, it looked like some sort of garage. There was a workbench visible where I saw a set of jumper cables. I ran to grab the cables and then came back into the dark room, where Stacy was struggling to restrain Reverend Bjornsson's arms behind his back. He was groaning and twisting underneath her.

"Quick!" Stacy yelled, and I knelt down and wrapped the cables around Reverend Bjornsson's wrists.

Stacy and I worked to tie the cables tight. He was coming out of his stupor fast, now. He bellowed and flailed but we secured his wrists tight enough with the cables that he couldn't wriggle free. Stacy ran out into the garage and came back with a large roll of duct tape. We managed to lasso his ankles with duct tape and then secure them to one of the feet of the metal frame of the sling. After that, we wrapped more duct tape around his wrists and ankles for good measure.

Reverend Bjornsson was fully awake now, writhing and cursing at us. I backed away from him until I hit the wall of the room. I realized now that the "room" I had been in was just an artifically walled off area of Reverend Bjornsson's huge garage--contsructed with plywood and lined with dark velvet curtains hung around the entire interior.

"Unbind me, Paul," Reverend Bjornsson grunted, looking up at me. He had rolled onto his back. His genitals waved in the air as he writhed on the floor. "Unbind me now," he bellowed.

Stacy walked up to Reverend Bjornsson, reached down and punched him hard in the face. "Shut up, pervert," she said.

Reverend Bjornssohn squealed with pain and then spat at Stacy. "Don't touch me, you fucking cunt!" he hissed.

She reeled her fist back again and he winced and drew his head back in anticipation of a blow, but she didn't hit him.

"This cunt told you to shut the fuck up," she said.

This time he remained quiet. Stacy turned to me with her eyebrows raised. "Paulie," she said calmly, gesturing at Reverend Bjornssohn, the sling, and the dark velvet room, "Is this, uh, some sort of..."

I shook my head vigorously. "No, Stace," I croaked, my voice still hoarse, "He drugged me or something. He gave me a drink when I got here and then..."

Stacy looked at me like I was crazy. "A drink? Do you know this guy?"

"He's, um... the pastor at my church," I said.

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. She looked from me back to Reverend Bjornsson. "A pastor..." she said, "well, wouldn't you know?"

Reverend Bjornssohn grimaced and looked away from her. She looked back at me.

"You, um, wanna get cleaned up, Paulie?"

I looked down at myself and quickly covered my exposed penis. The stockings I was wearing were snagged all up and down my legs. The bra had partially snapped off, exposing my left nipple. I wiped my face. I saw makeup smeared with cum in my hand.

Jesus.

"Yeah," I said.

I looked around and saw my clothes piled neatly in the corner of the room. I grabbed them and then walked out into the garage and then through a door back into the house until I found a bathroom. In the bathroom, I washed my face and stripped out of the lingere and put my clothes and money belt back on.

When I got back to the garage, I saw that the plywood room Reverend Bjornsson had made in his garage had a heavy metal door with several different bolts and locks on the outside of it. I also saw that there was a thick layer of foam on the inside of the walls, between the plywood and the velvet curtains.

Soundproofing.

The thought came to me in a rush. I shuddered, thinking about what else might have happened to me in that room if Stacy hadn't come for me.

When I got back into the room, Stacy was picking through the objects on the low table.

"You're a real sadistic fuck, aren't you, Reverend?" she said, holding up a multipronged leather whip.

Reverend Bjornssohn was watching her move around the room, his eyes narrow with rage. His belly and chest were heaving and his nubby, deflated cock was bobbing between his huge, round thighs. When Stacy got to a metal filing cabinet standing in the corner of the room, he reared up, and tried to flop himself toward her.

"No!" he roared.

Stacy just looked at him and then opened the top drawer. She whistled and pulled out a handful of pictures, all taken on Polaroid instant film, just like the pictures he had taken of me.

"Holy Shit, Paulie, you gotta see this," she said.

I walked over and she handed me a stack of pictures. I felt blood drain from my face when I looked at them, flipping to examine one after the other. They were all guys like me. Dressed up like I had been, in the sling. Guy after guy after guy. Some of them I even recognized from church.

"Paul, put those away," Reverend Bjornssohn shouted, straining violently against his restraints.

I stared down at him, realizing the extent of it... of what he must have been doing all these years. Stacy opened the other drawer of the filing cabinet and pulled out another stack of pictures.

"There must be hundreds of pictures in here, Paulie," Stacy said, looking over at me. We stared at each other, dumbfounded.

I started to panic. I knew we couldn't call the cops. I was worried about what would happen if Reverend Bjornsson continued to struggle. He was an incredibly big and strong man. Already, he was writhing so hard I worried that he might rip himself free.

"Let's get out of here," I said.

"No, there's something we should do, first, Stacy said. Her face had hardened as she looked at the pictures, and then down at Reverend Bjornsson.

I watched as she grabbed handful after handful of pictures and scattered them onto the floor around where Reverend Bjornssohn was lying.

"What are you doing?" he grunted.

Stacy went to the low table and grabbed the camera.

"No," Reverend Bjornssohn shouted, "no, don't you dare, you fucking bitch!"

Stacy proceeded to take photos of Reverend Bjornssohn, naked except for his harness, girdle, and stockings, lying in a pile of Polaroids. She lay each film carefully on the table until she had used up all the film in the camera--about twenty images. When the first films had developed, she took one over to show Reverend Bjornssohn.

"I'll leave this one here for you, Reverend," she said, leaning down to show him the picture. "The rest, we're taking with us. And from now on, you won't be bothering Paulie... or anyone else, do you understand?"

Reverend Bjornssohn swore and writhed again against his restraints. Stacy tossed the Polaroid into the pile on the floor and then straightened up.

"Let's go," she said to me. From the table, she picked up the pictures Reverend Bjornsson had taken of me and the ones she had taken of him.

"Are we just gonna leave him here?" I asked.

"I'm sure his loving wife will be home eventually," Stacy said.

"Motherfucking bitch!" Reverend Bjornsson roared.

~

In the driveway, I saw that Stacy had driven here Mario's car.

"How did you know to come look for me?" I asked her.

"Well, something about that guy creeped me out on the phone," she said. "And when you didn't come back after your delivery run, well..." She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I wish I had gotten here sooner, Paulie, I'm sorry."

"No, Stace, I'm just sorry you had to see... all that," I said. "What did you tell Mario?"

"Just that you probably fell into another pool."

I chuckled. "Seriously?"

"No, not seriously," she said. "I told him I was worried about you."

"And he let you leave?"

"He didn't want me to--he seemed mad at you, to be honest. He said you probably just fucked off after work without turning in your belt, but I knew something was up. I insisted. Eventually he told me I could take his car while he closed up. He told me to meet everyone at Gio's."

I nodded. Mario was probably still upset about earlier. Stacy opened the door to Mario's car. I put my hand on it to stop her from getting in.

"Hey...," I said.

Stacy looked at me with tired eyes. There was so much I wanted to say to her.

"Thanks," I said, after a moment.

"Sure," she said. "One good turn deserves another, right?"

Her face was stone cold. We held each other's gaze before I broke eye contact. She took a drag and then blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth.

"Here," she said. She pushed the stack of Polaroids against my chest. "Figure out what to do with these," she said. "I'd tell you to send these to the police, but... maybe better to send them to the Pope, or whatever."

I took the photos.

"Are you gonna come to Gio's?" Stacy said.

I coughed and looked at the ground. I shook my head.

"Don't be an asshole, Paulie," Stacy said. I looked up at her and I couldn't tell from the look in her eye what she meant. It could have meant a lot of things, I guessed.

"Yeah," I said.

Stacy's mouth hardened into a line. She got into the car, and shut the door. Through the open window, she said, "Don't worry, I'll tell him you just fucked off somewhere."

I tried to say "thanks", but she was already zooming down the driveway.