Cock-Sucker: Around the World Ch. 05

A New Career Opening For A Dirty Slut...

I wake up naked in bed between two naked men. I can feel the closeness of their body-heat, the touch of their skin. I'm scared. Where am I? Who are these guys? I lie as perfectly still as I can. It's dark, I can't see far. Although the intimate warmth is already have an arousing effect on me. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a natural reaction to close physical proximity, but I fight for control as my cock stirs into uninvited erection. This is unreal.

The guy to my right moves away. I lie still. He moves into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his tousled hair. I pretend to be asleep. He stands up and scratches his bare arse, then paces across the floor into what I assume is the en-suite toilet. So this is a motel? I hear the long deluging slosh as he pisses. Then, after a moment's pause he reappears, and I get the full frontal. It's even more scary. This guy is seriously hung. It sways lazily down between his legs, impressive even when limp, hooded with a dark wrinkled foreskin. Has he fucked me with that? I feel an answering ache deep in my arse. I can detect the familiar sensation of dried spunk on my face. There's a hair in my mouth, a pubic hair? And I know without doubt. Yes.

He gets back into bed. I'm too scared to move. I keep my eyes clammed shut scarcely daring to breathe in case it provokes his attention. Cursing my stupid erection hard up against my gut. It has no conscience. I lie awake for a long time. Next thing I know I must have slept, despite everything. Because it's bright daylight. I'm sprawled across the bed, but I'm alone. They're no longer in this motel room. I get up cautiously, the bathroom is empty too. I swill cool water around my face, and rub my teeth with my finger. Then I hunt around for my clothes. There's a T-shirt, and some denim shorts. They're not mine but they're all there is, so I pull them on. The shorts are little too short than I'd prefer, frayed along the bottom where they've been hacked off. But it seems I have no choice.

There's a short corridor outside. I follow the smell of coffee and the sound of country music into a diner. The two guys are already there, it's too late to avoid them, they've seen me and beckon me across. I glance around warily. There's a big old Rockola chrome jukebox, lit up with maudlin country hits. Outside, beyond the plate-glass frontage I can see only a scrubby landscape that goes on forever. A highway strung with telegraph wires, and sandy ochre grit.

I slouch across to the table they're sharing. They're eating a big fried breakfast. I feel bashful, don't quite know how to react. So I sit down beside them.

"Hey, another order here" yells one of them, in the direction of the serving hatch. The guy I saw during the night.

"Sorry guys" I mutter. "I'm not too sure what's going on here."

"Don't worry, boy. Nothing to get overly concerned about." I hear his voice for the first time. Thick with southern accent, firm, allowing for no argument.

A big blowsy woman wearing too make-up has come across with a pad. She has tattoos and sagging breasts like twin airships.

"Same for our friend" he says brusquely. Allowing me no choice.

"Where are we? Where are my clothes?"

"You won't be needing no clothes where you're going, boy" laughs the other man. He has long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and a drooping mustache.

"Tell me, I don't remember much about last night."

"You got a friend called Ivan" he explains wearily, as though he can't really be bothered. "It seems Ivan has a weakness for pretty boys and for games of chance. Not a great combination as it turns out."

Yes, I remember now. New Orleans. We'd docked in Louisiana, and were spending shore-leave together. "Must have drunk more than I'm used to" I manage with a half-smile.

"Ivan's in trouble. He lost more than he can afford to lose. He owes money. You're standing surety on his behalf."

The blowsy woman shoves a greasy breakfast in front of me. Suddenly I'm not hungry. "What do you mean 'standing surety'?"

"What I say. No more, no less. You are held as a bond, until he comes up with what he owes."

"That's not possible. There's no law in the world says that's possible."

He shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I'm just telling it like it is. It's not up to us, me and Luke, we're just delivery boys. Transporters. We're just doing our job. You got a beef you gotta take it up with them when we get there."

I stand up abruptly. "This is crazy. I'm getting the hell outta here." They don't raise a finger to stop me. I storm angrily across the diner, through the door and out into the porch. There's a highway that goes all the way north and south. And there's grit desert, dry mangy-looking scrub-bushes and scraggly cacti. There's one vehicle, a motor-home pulled in off the road, which must be how we got here. I stand there getting my breath back. My heart pounding up against me rib-cage. No way out. What now?

I go back in and sit down. "OK. Where are we? What happens now?"

"Nevada is where we are. You're coming with us is what's happening. Best you do it with good grace, and you'll come to no harm."

They've finished their meal. They stand up and head back for the room. For want of any better alternative, I follow them. The one called Luke pulls out a mobile and keys into it. He pauses, then thrusts it across me.

"Hello...?" it's Ivan. "Hey, I'm sorry. I fucked up, I apologise. But bear with me, bear with me. This is just a little what you'd call a cash-flow problem. I'm sorting it. I'm doing the best I can. I'm gonna come through on this, y'understand? In the meantime just go with the flow."

I give a surly grunt. "You owe me big on this, Ivan. You've got no right, no right at all."

"I know, I know. I was out of my depths. I had no alternative. But I'm straightening the situation. Just bear with me on this." The line goes dead.

I look up. They're both looking me up and down in an unsettling way.

"We've got time to play before we get back on the road, what do you say, boy?" Luke gets up and comes across to me. Runs his fingers across my chest, circling the outline of my left nipple through the T-shirt, then tracing a path down across my stomach. I inhale and hold my breath. His hand outlines the shape of my genitals through the thin denim material of my shorts, then closes in tight around my balls.

"Relax." The ponytail guy is closing in. He holds a document up for me to see as Luke is unfastening my belt. It's a contract. "Signed, sealed and delivered, you're ours."

He tugs my shorts down and away so that my cock shivers into view. There are two of them. They're tougher than I am. I could yell, but there's no-one to hear.

"Time to say your prayers, boy." Luke pulls his cock out. The big foreskin cock I'd seen during the night. Erect it's even more scarily impressive. I gulp in disbelief. But I must have taken it yesterday. Now it looks like I'm going to have to take it again. It seems I've got no choice.

He manipulates me around. I'm conscious of my bare genitals moving, my balls swaying between my legs, my cock nodding up and down, as I sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He holds me by the back of the neck and stands directly in front of me, hefting his cock into my face.

He hasn't showered. It smells of stale sweat and piss. The glistening-moist glans bulging free of the foreskin, inviting - nay, demanding my attention. I have no choice. It's already decided. I open my mouth and it nudges its way in, insistently pressing my lips apart, forcing my tongue aside and sliding its way into the back of my throat. He's holding my head firmly in place so I can't move. There's only one way I'm going to get out of this. I give it a quick desperate suck, its taste floods me, then I begin sucking more determinedly, feeling the reaction shocking up through his body, his gut heaving, his fat balls swaying.

"That's the way, just keep sucking on that thing like that and we'll get along fine." For a long while the only sound is the slurpy squelch of suction.

"Hurry up Luke, I wanna get some of that."

"That the reason they call you Eager Beaver?" He waits for a long moment as I work his fat cock up and down, then - after a final shove deeper into my throat than I'm comfortable with, he pushes my head away, a long slobbery strand of drool glistening from its fat wedge-crown. I was already gasping with quaking aftershock, could scarcely believe something that huge had been in my mouth. He shoves me around roughly. Prodding and tugging me into position, raised on hands on knees across the bed. "You get your turn, Eager, but I'm taking the alternate route, you could say, ha-ha-ha."

The blonde ponytail guy - Eager Beaver, laughs over my head to Luke. "You go to your church, I'll go to mine."

By now Eager has removed his pants and takes his place, standing in front of me. His cock is equally as intimidating, cut, and fiercely mapped with mauve veins. I know better than to resist. Submissively I move my head forward, mouth gaping wide, to trap its flared head. He nuzzles it to meet me and it slithers in. A muscle tightens convulsively at the corner of his mouth as I suck hard on it.

"He's got an ass as cute, round and smooth as a girl. Seems to me it'd be a mortal sin to pass up on this generous gift nature has provided."

Luke smacks my bare bum, arches my hips and edges my legs apart. Then runs the palms of his hands possessively over the two curves of my raised bottom, moulding me by forcing my buttocks apart. I wince and cringe nervously, recalling how big it is. I've not had time to clean up or clean out. This could get seriously messy. He's got a jar of Vaseline from somewhere, and greases me up, one dirty finger penetrating me, rotating smoothly, opening up the tight orifice, then two fingers. Then, with a thrill of alarm I'm conscious of the warm head of his cock at the mouth of my anus.

I whimper around the mouthful of cock and brace as best I can. With a trembling gut-wrenching lurch it feels as though my bum's about to burst. I gasp and moan, shoved forward so the cock in my mouth locates deeper into my throat making me choke and gurgle, tears clouding my eyes. I force my rectal muscles to relax, allowing it access. He thrusts into me from behind. The sensation is bizarre, my sphincter opens up and he's in, I'm taking it, absorbing it into me, he's ploughing deeper, then deeper still. He rests a moment, then shoves again making me gasp. I suck hard on the cock in my mouth, in a misdirection attempt to concentrate my energies.

"The little faggot loves it. Check the state of its sex-junk." It's true. My body has let me down again. The brutal hard-fuck is taking its effect. My own cock is painfully hard, jiggling up and down against my gut as I'm being assaulted, long gloopy strands of pre-cum dancing down from the reddened tip, my balls swaying back and forth like agitated pendulum. My mind lost in a kind of numb panicky out-of-control funk, heady with emotional overload. I feel as weak, as helpless as a rag doll trapped between the two bigger more dominant men. They control everything that's happening. I just take whatever they give.

The one in my mouth - Eager, eases back slightly and mops his sweaty forehead with a dirty handkerchief. Playfully he makes a series of jerky fuck-movements into my throat, toying with me, watching and laughing as I gag and splutter. The full length of the veiny shaft of his gnarled cock, down to the dense blonde mat of his pubic hair, is already messy with a drool of my saliva. At least he's no longer gripping hold of my head, he's allowing me to do the work. So I do the work, sucking and slurping at it greedily. Then he pulls it abruptly out of my mouth in a saliva-spray, smears the slippery-wet cock-head around my face, up and down my nose bending it out of shape, slaps it up against my cheek once, twice, three times, then rams it back into my mouth again. At the same time the other guy, Luke, is pumping my arse with a regular smack-smack-smack of flesh on flesh, his muscles cording as he exerts pressure. It's like I'm strapped into the front seat of a hurtling sexual rollercoaster, the climax moment hurtling ever-closer.

"Wee-hee, this bitch sure as hell's got a sweet mouth" breathes Eager. "They're gonna make a mess of him at the ranch."

I'm too numb to take notice of his words. I grimace, despite the cock in my mouth, as an orgasm chain-reaction starts ripping through me. Luke first, an obscene dirty oath as the throbbing pulse erupts deep in my arse, my bum-cheeks flexing and clenching in muscular spasms, kicking off my own answering cum, a stinging shock that has me squirming as I'm spurting out helplessly in streaming jets of white. A second later my throat is choking-full of more bursting spunk, like I'm drowning in it, dribbling in messy saliva-strands from my lips and down my chin. Groaning as shock-waves surge up and down my body, hot and chill, fierce and cool, delirious as a narcotic-high. I'm sobbing and whimpering. Three bodies hunched up into each other as the sensations recede. Still connected. Luke impaled into me from behind. Eager's softening cock still resting in my mouth. Sucking it thoughtlessly out of a habit reaction.

When they pull free I collapse in a face-down heap, breathing in sobbing gasps, the jism I've not managed to swallow oozing out over my lower lip, down my chin, to drip-drip-drip in gooey strands onto the covers, as I'm lying in a cooling pool of my own spunk. I feel soiled and used. Eager sits beside me, grinning stupidly, his half-limp cock glistening with saliva.

He ruffles my hair. "You did good, boy. You eat cock like a whore."

Luke lurches off to the en-suite where the sounds of copious pissing can be clearly heard.

When he gets back he buckles his pants up back into place. "Move."

There are bodily-fluid stains messing the crumpled duvet. That blowsy woman-owner is not going to like what she finds here. And I'd rather go through another double-fucking with these guys than tangle with her. There's a spunk-stain on the lower hem-edge of my T-shirt. I no longer care as they escort me, one on each side, out through the diner area and into the motor-home. Luke slides in behind the wheel. The vehicle jinks and jounces as we pull onto the freeway, gathering speed. I sit, petulant with resentment. Sulking, but annoyed at getting into this kind of mood. I'm thinking back to Barcelona, there was gentle playful forced sex. But that was with attractive boys. I was seduced into it. This incident now proves I can perform sexually with guys I hardly know, and don't even like. What does that say about me? What has this long journey of self-discovery taught me?

And how of earth did I ever get into this situation? I can remember the quayside bars of Baton Rouge, Ivan getting me Mint Julep - "you're gonna love this." Were the drinks spiked? Rohypnol? Had I drunk a 'Mickey Finn'? That would account for it. Maybe it's his way of getting back at me for that incident in Jo'burg, where he's wanted me to fuck with those three cross-dressers, and I'd run out on him...? And the contract. Well, it's true I'd countersigned documents for Ivan on ship, and provided witness signatures too. It's possible I'd signed without realising what I was signing. But the fact that Ivan had duped me, and is using me in this way, is what hurts the most. I don't say a word for an hour.

Finally I manage to blurt out "Back there you said 'They're gonna make a mess of him at the ranch.' What did you mean by that?"

"The boy's found a use for that mouth which doesn't involve sucking cock" laughs Luke.

"You heard of the 'Chicken Ranch'? In Nevada that brothel is legal, and famous" explains Eager, more patiently. "Well, its Gay counterpart is less well known, but just as legit in the eyes of the law. That's where you're headed."

"You can't do this. It's sex-slavery. It's human trafficking."

"Wrong." They ignore my protests, and drive on. The journey seems to take hours. I drowse uncomfortably. Around noon they wake me. Luke is driving. Eager has his cock out of his pants and he's masturbating it in long lazy strokes. I know what to do without being told. I squirm around, wriggle down, and get it my mouth, sucking him off as we drive. There's a radio playing melancholy country music, it's warm in the cab, I suck almost contentedly as the endless journey continues.

When we eventually arrive, I discover it's a remodelled rancheria enclosed by a high adobe wall, miles from anywhere, pulled off the main interstate at the end of a long dirt trail. There's security at the gates, three big Hispanic-looking guys with shades. It's a fair guess they're packing guns too. Once inside we get out of the camper. The sun is hot. I scuff my heels in the grit, but have no alternative but to follow them in. There's no place else to go.

There's another large blousy lady who comes forward to greet us. "You boys looking for bum-fun?"

"No way" sneers Luke. "We had all the bum-fun we need, I guess. No Lady, we're delivering the goods, this little faggot-boy here."

"Ah yes" she turns to me, looks me critically up and down. She shakes hands with them. They go to the check-in desk while I stand feeling stupidly awkward. They're exchanging documents. Then she clicks her fingers at me impatiently to indicate me to follow. I glance across. Luke and Eager Beaver are already on their way out, back towards the camper.

"Look, I think I should explain, there's been some kind of mistake" I stammer.

She turns. "You call me Miss Ticque. I'm in charge of the day-to-day running of affairs here. So far as I'm concerned, there's been no mistake." We're in her office now. She open up a humidor, extracts a fat cigar, clips it carefully and rams it into her mouth. The flare of ignition sending choking clouds of smoke my way. "See here boy, we just had one of our whores quit. He'd raised enough through sucking cock and taking it up the ass to put him through college. That was his target, you see. So we need a replacement. And that, boy, is you."

"No madam, please let me explain. I was duped into that contract, it's not valid or legally binding. With your permission I'll just catch the next coach out of here. I'm sorry."

She puts her feet up on the desk and puffs contemplatively on her cigar. She's blonde in a Dolly Parton sort of way, with dark roots showing. "Tell you what I'll do, boy. I'll do you a favour, just this once. We got Mr Wishbone booked in for this afternoon. He's a lawyer. You be good to him, do what he wants, make like you like it, and he might just be inclined to read through your contract and check it out for loopholes. I'm doing this on your behalf, just the once, you understand. You owe me on this. I don't have to do it."

I stand there mouth agape. Unsure how I should react.

"Now, follow me." I follow her out of her office down a short corridor lush with rich purple carpet and into a half-darkened room leading off to the left. "This is your room. This is where you entertain your clients. You can personalise it to an extent, if the mood takes you."

I look around. One wall is mirrored, so is the ceiling. There's a cabinet stacked with sex-toys, big black dildos, handcuffs, jars of KY Jelly, packs of condoms, enemas. A closet with lingerie, black, scarlet, lace. There's erotic art, male nudes and porn photos on the wall. A wall-mounted flatscreen TV with a stack of Gay Porn DVD's. Its scary. Sliding doors lead onto a terrace out back. She pulls it open so I can see. There's an inviting full-length pool shimmering in the midday sun. There are five boys on loungers snuck into the shade of awnings and overhung trees spaced around it. They all look to be naked. I eye them warily.