Neighbourhood Ch. 03

All characters are over 18.

*****

A few days after my encounter with Mr. Temple, there was a knock at my apartment door and, for a change, I was neither naked nor jerking off. I approached the door with anticipation, thinking of the seduction that had taken place the last time I had a visitor.

I opened the door on Mary Miller: neighbour; stunning goth girl; object of my crush and, like me, a willing slave to the bachelors who lived in the brown bungalow down the street. I was curious why she was here since she had never expressed anything for me but contempt.

She came to the point without a greeting. "Carlo has called a meeting at the house and we're to attend."

Mention of Carlo turned my legs to rubber. The black man had talked me to my knees and into taking cock in my throat and up my ass. Mick and Marty, his roommates, had likewise filled my holes to my great satisfaction. I'd been dealing with the transformation I'd made from straight boy to biddable queer bottom-boy over the past few days and not without difficulty, but I had no real religious hang-ups and pleasure had won me over. I was starting to accept that I was bisexual.

It was a warm day, so I was fine to go out in the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing. I slipped into my sandals and locked my apartment door behind us. As we headed for the sidewalk, I questioned Mary.

"What's the meeting about?"

"You'll see," Mary said.

The brown bungalow was only a few doors down. We were there in a little over two minutes: not enough time to talk to Mary about how she was adapting to life as a convenient whore to the three bachelors. I would hardly have asked in a judgemental fashion; after all, I was in the same position. She might have been seduced, but her whole notion of her sexuality hadn't been turned over as mine had been. A few days ago, I was confidently straight. Now I was giving my ass to any man who demanded it. My thoughts lingered on my encounter with Mr. Temple, who lacked the obvious sex appeal of the younger men but fired me up anyway.

As usual, Carlo, Mick and Marty were sitting out on their porch, filling the ratty old sofa which was the only comfortable place to sit. Mary and I would be expected to sit on cardboard cases filled with empty beer bottles alongside four other people I didn't know. Carlo introduced everyone. There was a curvy thirties-ish MILF with red hair and freckles named Wanda; a forties-ish buttoned-up woman in a plaid skirt and glasses with her brown hair pulled back in a bun who for all the world looked like the stereotype of an old-time spinster librarian and who name was Leni; a vivacious, curly-haired blonde named Jessica who might have been fifty, who was dressed like a country music singer, right down to a flannel shirt which was partly unbuttoned to show off an ample bosom; and finally, Dennis, a slightly chunky, heavily-built man of perhaps thirty, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Okay," said Carlo. "I called this meeting because a problem has been brought to my attention. Do any of you know this man?" Carlo turned his cellphone screen-out toward the group. The screen capture was not high-resolution, but the rounded edges of the figure were clear enough, as was the leering face.

I recognized him immediately as Mr. Temple, who lived across the street from the brown house. He had also banged me into oblivion the other day. I was reluctant to admit to this in a group made up of masters and strangers in almost equal measure.

"I know him," Mary said. The disdain was strong in her voice. For some reason, her admission made me confess.

"I know him too. It's Mr. Temple."

None of the rest of the group spoke up. I wondered about them. If they were called to this meeting, were they all willing slaves like Mary and me?

"How do you know him?" Carlo asked me.

The whole truth came out despite my reluctance. I told them how the man appeared at my door a couple of days ago and blackmailed me into sex using video of me with the bachelors, which he claimed he would send to all my contacts if I didn't do exactly what he asked. Some of the other willing slaves looked at me with a touch of interest, as if that was something they might like to have seen.

"And Mary?" Carlo prompted her.

"He came banging on my door this afternoon, and demanded I have sex with him or he would send a video of me with you guys out to all my contacts." She held up her phone and played the full video from her porch security camera. It was clearly the source video for the screen capture Carlo had shown. There was no sound but Mr. Temple was quite aggressive, attempting to grab Mary and managing to tear the neck of her t-shirt, exposing a naked breast, before she shoved him away from the door and slammed it in her face.

When Carlo was satisfied that none of his other willing slaves had been accosted by Mr. Temple, he dismissed Wanda, Leni, Jessica and Dennis, reassuring them that Mr. Temple would not become a problem for them.

When those four were gone, Carlo said it was time to visit Mr. Temple.

"Do you want us all to come?" Mick asked.

"No need. He won't want to talk on his doorstep about any of this and if we come in force, he might be alarmed. I'll bring him back here." Carlo turned to face Mary and me. "Come with me."

Mary and I followed Carlo across the street to Mr. Temple's house. I would never have had the nerve to go there by myself, but in Carlo's shadow, I was filled only with curiosity. How would the bully take his own medicine?

We mounted the steps to Mr. Temple's porch and Carlo confidently knocked at the door. After a moment, a woman answered the door. She was probably about fifty-five. Her black hair was shot through with a little grey. She wore an apron over her dress. She was the picture of feminine domesticity from a bygone age.

"Mrs. Temple?" Carlo said.

"Yes." Her answer was tentative. She may have recognized the black man from the notorious house across the street.

"I've come to see Mr. Temple. Is he in?"

"Yes, of course." It was subtle but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment on her fact that this solid, handsome man did not have business with her and once more I marveled at the charisma of Carlo and his friends. She turned into the house and called once for "Gus".

Mr. Temple filled the doorway from behind. He was a former jock gone to seed. He wore a loud shirt of many colours and a pair of shorts. His wife seemed to have locked eyes with Carlo. Mr. Temple cleared his throat and his wife realized he was there.

"Thanks, Elke," Mr. Temple said. "I got this. You can go back to peeling your carrots." I took this to mean she was making supper. The time of day was about right.

"Yes, dear," she said. She gave Carlo a little nod of courtesy and retired deeper into the house. Mr. Temple spoke in a harsh whisper when his wife was out of range.

"So, what do you three want?"

"Mr. Temple, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Carlo." The black man did not match the older man's whisper; he spoke openly in a voice that carried. He held out his hand to the plump blackmailer but Mr. Temple did not reach back. "I believe you know my friends here."

"I know who you all are. What do you want?"

"I want to talk about blackmail."

"For Christ's sake, keep your voice down." Mr. Temple stepped out of the house and closed the door.

"I'm not going to whisper. I intend to be heard. If you can't speak freely here, come across the street and we'll settle it over there."

A flash of fear crossed Mr. Temple's face, but he quickly saw that he had no choice. There were sandals on the porch. Mr. Temple slipped them on. "Alright then." He opened the door and stuck his head in the house, calling out to his wife. "I'm going out for a while. Keep my dinner warm." There was an agreeable, if weary, acknowledgement from the kitchen.

Once situated in the living room of the little brown house, Mr. Temple had a chair of his own, but found himself surrounded. With Carlo, Mick and Marty, plus Mary and me, he was pretty isolated and maybe he realized that he was in over his head. He tried to bluff his way through with a courage that seemed, even to me, a trifle forced.

"So, you heard I got a piece of your action, and you're pissed, is that it?"

"No," said Carlo. "We don't own anybody. They can screw whoever they want, like we do. And we do it by persuading them they want it until they can't resist it. You, though, you're a blackmailer. You force people into having sex with you."

"Ah, we're not so different. We both take what we want. We're alike."

"We're nothing alike." Carlo gestured to Mary and she played back the security camera footage of Mr. Temple's assault on her. Temple winced. He clearly had not known he had been acting out on camera. Carlo pointed to me and recounted in summary what Temple had done to me. I have to admit I felt conflicted, because though I'd been blackmailed, I enjoyed every minute of satisfying Mr. Temple's lust.

"So, what do you want me to say? I won't do it again? Fine, I won't do it again."

"That's a good start. We're making progress. Now we need to deal with what you've already done. Mary, how much does he owe you for that torn shirt?"

"Sixty dollars."

Carlo looked expectantly at Mr. Temple. The older man sighed and pulled out his wallet. He counted out sixty dollars and passed it to Mary.

"Now, there's the tricky matter of what to do about what you did to him." Carlo pointed at me.

"Aw, give me a break," Carlo said. "He loved it."

"Yes, he said he enjoyed it. That's the only reason we're not going hard on you. That wouldn't be so tricky. What we need to do is level the playing field. The only way we can trust you not to put your blackmail threat into action is if we have some equal leverage against you. Mutually Assured Destruction, as they used to say. Normally, I would never force anyone into anything uncomfortable but for a blackmailer, anything goes. I suggest you go along with us."

"What--what do you intend to do to me?"

"Same as you did to him."

"Look, I'm a retired cop. I've got friends. If you do this to me, your life will be Hell."

"Ah, yes. So you told Mary and our boy here. Only I have a friend too, and he's something of a hacker. It turns out you're a former security guard, not a cop. You didn't even carry a gun. I hear you got caught on security tape with a hooker at one of your jobs. You were fired and you've been living on your wife's family's money ever since."

Mr. Temple blanched.

"Mrs. Temple seems nice. I liked her instantly and I could tell she liked me. I'm sure if she's completely happy in her marriage, she'd be likely to stand by you after I show her this recording of you accosting a girl barely out of her teens. Or after I tell her about you and our boy here."

Mr. Temple cracked instantly. "Don't tell her. I can't manage without her."

"Then we have an understanding. You will do exactly as we say. Or we will do exactly what we say."

Mr. Temple broke down into a blubbering mass and I almost felt sorry for him. I could easily forget how he treated me in view of the pleasure of the occasion and the lack of any consequences for me but I could never forget that footage of him tearing Mary's shirt while trying to blackmail her into bed with him.

When Carlo spoke, he sounded surprisingly compassionate.

"Gus, it's alright. You're going to get off easy. We're going to fuck you and we're going to film you. Then you can't blackmail us, we can't blackmail you. All is fair."

"What if, what if I delete all the footage I took?"

"In the digital age? We could never be sure you didn't keep a copy somewhere. No, it's better this way, Gus."

The occasion was a rare one as the bachelors had turned off their music for the meeting. As a consequence, Mr. Temple's sobs filled the room for a few moments until Carlo told him it was enough. Temple's display was beginning to irritate him.

"Okay, Gus, be a man about it," Carlo said, raising his phone up and turning on the video record feature. "Stand up and strip. Slowly."

I was amazed at the change in Mr. Temple. He went on automatic, rising to his feet and looking at the camera. He unbuttoned his loud, Hawaiian shirt, revealing a hairy chest and swollen man-boobs above a trail of hair from his chest to his waistline that flared around the navel before disappearing beneath his pants. When he took the shirt off, hair could be seen standing off his shoulders and the full extent of his gut could be appreciated. He kicked off the sandals.

"Introduce yourself to the camera," Carlo said. Mr. Temple obeyed as conscientiously as any actor wanting to get it right in one take.

"I'm Gus Temple."

"What's Gus short for?"

"August."

"Okay, Gus. Take off those shorts."

Mr. Temple obeyed and to his apparent horror, the same thing happened to him as happened to me. He had an erection.

"A boner from taking orders to strip? Are you sure you're a top?"

Temple mumbled something incomprehensible. Carlo didn't ask him to repeat it.

"Okay, now, Gus. You've been a very bad boy. I think you need to apologize to the young lady, don't you think?"

"Okay."

He started to stammer that he was sorry, but Carlo told him to wait that out a minute. There was a proper way to apologize to a woman wronged. Carlo directed Mary to step forward before telling Mr. Temple to drop to his knees in front of her. Temple complied and on Carlo's command, the older man, supporting himself on knees and elbows began to lick Mary's black leather boots, interspersing licks with words of apology. Maybe he hoped this would be the extent of the humiliation in store for him. It could have been, Carlo let him work at it long enough, never letting the camera catch a view of her above the knees. Her anonymity in the video was safe.

"Okay, Gus," Carlo said. "Time for you to make a cocksleeve for my friends here."

Mr. Temple raised his face from Mary's boots, but Carlo redirected him back to licking the leather.

"Springing that boner makes me think maybe you've been a bottom before."

Mr. Temple continued licking Mary's boots but his denial was clear. Perhaps he hoped for mercy.

"Whatever, here comes cock number one." Mick had already pulled his pants down to his knees and freed his tool from his underwear. He had been prepared for his task, coming ready with wood and lube. Mr. Temple was still on his knees and elbows and it was easy for Mick to position himself behind the bully's ass. Mick slathered a bit of lube in Mr. Temple's anus and the older man shuddered, with fear or anticipation, only he could say.

"Alright, Gus, this is the part where you look at the camera." The older man turned his dreamy gaze on Carlo and his phone. "Tell the audience what you want. You know what you want, don't you?"

"I want cock." Mr. Temple spoke softly. He had been completely broken.

"Where do you want it?"

"I want a cock in my ass." I felt my own dick twitch in quiet correspondence with Mr. Temple's as he said these words.

"Do you like having meat shoved up your arse?"

"Yes, I love it."

"You know that with a word from you this can stop instantly?"

"Yes. I don't want to stop. I want my asshole filled with his dick."

"Don't you mean all of our dicks?"

"Yes, please. Please just don't show my wife. I love her and need her so much."

"If you do as you're told, nobody will ever see it. Tell the man behind you when you're ready for a spear of flesh in your backside and then go back to licking her boots."

Listening as Mr. Temple begged Mick to impale his ass was a powerful turn-on to me. Perhaps, it was the sympathetic response of my own recent submissive streak or maybe I was just turned on at the sight of that mountain of flesh quivering as Mick's cock entered him. Even as Mr. Temple continued to lap at Mary's leather-shod feet, he issued grunts and groans, first of pain and then with a surprised pleasure.

"How's that, Gus?" Carlo said.

Mr. Temple looked at the camera-phone and said something unintelligible. Gus told him to repeat it. It came forth like a release, like a secret guiltily held for so long and finally shared.

"It feels so good," Mr. Temple said.

Carlo paused the recording and asked Mary if she'd had enough back from Mr. Temple. She thought about it. He'd replaced the value of the torn shirt and he was paying now in spades for the indignity he inflicted upon her. She nodded to say that she was satisfied.

"Good," Carlo said to her. Then he addressed me. "I know you enjoyed what he did to you, but you must appreciate he took unfair advantage of you." (I didn't interrupt to tell him that was half the fun.) "It's your turn to enjoy him at his disadvantage."

I don't think I'm the kind of person who would ever force someone to do anything against his will or blackmail anyone, but the trembling mound of flesh that was Mr. Temple turned me on as much when he was submissive to me as when he had been dominant over me. Now, as he was firmly fucked from behind, his cock hungry and hard, he had desire in his eyes and I responded to it. I had wood.

"Take his mouth," Carlo said.

I knelt in front of the prostrate former security guard and would-be blackmailer and pulled down my shorts and underwear. I was not self-conscious of being exposed in a group anymore, as the four men here had all fucked me and the one woman here had seen me fucked before. She would think no worse of me for this. I leaned in toward Mr. Temples head, which, thanks to the vigorous plowing of his ass, was already bobbing in a rhythm that would be useful in giving me head. The older man's lips closed around mine and it was instantly apparent from his technique that he had never conceived of performing fellatio. I gave a firm instruction to my newly-minted cocksucker to be careful of his teeth on my pecker.

I looked over at Carlo, who looked back with amusement. He was enjoying the humbling of Mr. Temple. The camera-phone was aimed down and I imagined the picture on Carlo's screen: a large, balding and hairy man with his orifices filled with cock. Neither Mick nor I had our faces in the picture.

For several minutes, I just enjoyed the stimulation as Mr. Temple grunted and groaned, even choked, on my dick, but then, Mick must have passed the point of no return because he started really flexing his hips against the older man's ass, sinking his cock in as deep as he could go and practically out again over and over again. Mick's breath was telling, and after a few gasps and a deep groan, he pulled out, causing Mr. Temple to groan with overwhelming sensation as his ass was evacuated. Mick held his penis at the root, aiming carefully in order to stripe Mr. Temple's back with strings of semen. Mick gave his erstwhile bottom's ass a slap and he laughed as the man's cheeks and rolls jiggled like Jell-O. The camera would not lie if it was forced to tell the world that the middle-aged man had rolled over hard for cock.

Mick withdrew, but another male body replaced him in the camera viewfinder. The face was once more invisible to the recording device, but Marty could easily be identified by the distinctive cock he rolled out of his pants. I was still getting a blowjob but there was stimulation as well in what I had to look at: Marty's beer-can-shaped cock was gradually widening Mr. Temple's hole as he was impaled on it. Having felt that hard stub in my ass, I remembered how filling it was, how it seemed to make space for itself in the narrow tunnel of my asshole. Mr. Temple was struggling to accommodate the sheer girth of this foreign flesh, but I could tell the exact moment when the struggle was won. Mr. Temple's eyes went wide as he was filled and Marty groaned as he buried his cylinder in the now-welcoming hole. With that, Marty's ass-fucking set a pace for all of the participants of Carlo's movie. Mr. Temple rocked back and forth on hands and knees, trying to withstand the onslaught against his backside. I sawed in and out of the man's mouth, enjoying the sensation, but far from ready to pop.