Private Collection Pt. 01

Dear Reader,

This story contains rough gay sex, bondage in a group setting, barebacking, and some generally kinky stuff. The story is entirely fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

I've revamped the story from the first submission and added some background. My hope is that it will inform a more complete story at some point down the road.

Enjoy!

Hudson Bartholomew

*****

My name is Jasper. I'm 32 years old. I'm a software engineer.

You know how they say that it's the quiet ones you should worry about? They're probably referring to me. Because, you see, I've always been the quiet one. I was the kid making mud pies by myself while all the other kids ran around playing tag. I was the loner in high school that no one talked to unless they wanted to steal my homework or push me into a locker.

College was better, mostly because I literally never had to talk to anyone. By the time I graduated, I think I had actual conversations with maybe five people in my class. Five might be a generous number. Working has been the best, though; no one cares who I am or what I do as long as the job gets done.

Why should you worry about me? Well, perhaps worry is the wrong word to use. But I do have a secret; you could even call it a secret life. I kind of fell into it by accident, but after I discovered it, I've never been the same since.

My name is Jasper. I'm a sub.

The world of BDSM is vast. I've been exploring it for a few years now and have only touched the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. But I've seen enough to know that there are some things out there that are just downright freaky. My problem was, I wasn't sure just how freaky I wanted to be.

Clinton, my mentor, suggested I start a journal of sorts: a collection of things I want to try and scenes that resonate with me. He offered to go through them with me and together we could discover where my limits were. He could help me find my freak, was the way he put it.

So here they are, my collection of sexual fantasies. May they help you find your inner freak.

*****

Private Collection Pt. 01 - My name is Jasper. I am a courtesy bottom.

I was bent over a table in the corner of a busy room. It was dim except for the spotlight illuminating my back. My arms were strapped down, chest flat against the hard surface, legs spread wide, leaving my ass exposed to anyone and everyone in the room. There were a lot of people in the room.

I was the reason why everyone was here. How Clinton got all of them to show up, I'll never know. But I'll never forget the way the chatter faded into a deafening silence when I was brought into the room. All eyes were on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up.

Out of the corners of my eyes I saw bare legs, long and short, mostly toned and muscular. And farther up were cocks, again long and short, mostly hard with their owners providing helping hands. So much skin, so many cocks. My breath hitched and my heart beat a little faster.

Then I was strapped down and my heart raced.

One by one, these men--strange men I had never seen before, men I couldn't describe to you again if my life depended on it--stepped up to me at the table. Strong hands grabbed my hips, pulling me into the right position; hands on my ass cheeks, pulling them apart. Then cock after hard cock, shoved none-too-gently into my waiting, twitching hole.

I pressed my face into the smooth varnish of the table and told myself to breathe, relax, and enjoy the hard fuck.

And they were hard fucks. Not one of the men bothered to ease his way into me. They all just lined up their cocks and rammed themselves in, thrusting fast and deep, plowing me into the table. My skin tingled with the mix of pain and pleasure. I was shaking and I couldn't stop.

It wasn't that I had no prep at all. Before I was led out to the party, Clinton had graciously spent a couple of minutes loosening me up with some tongue and finger action. It was just enough to get my own cock to stand up and start weeping. Just enough to build the anticipation and get me wanting more.

To be fair, though, I guess some of the men using me were more considerate than others. Some made a point to find that magic angle, the one where they'd run over my prostate on each thrust. I couldn't help but cry out every time that happened; and I liked to think that the tightening grip they had on my hips or back or shoulders was an acknowledgement that they were pleased with my enjoyment.

Other men--not so much. But that was all a part of the experience. The feeling of being used roughly by anonymous men, my hole stretched wide by cocks of all shapes and sizes, the tenderness building on my hip bones as they were bumped repeatedly against the edge of the table, the soreness in my shoulders from being stretched in the same position for too long. I was going to have bruises, and I probably wasn't going to be able to walk straight for a week.

I loved it.

The lack of oxygen to my brain was making me lightheaded. My cock was monopolizing all the blood, and at the moment, it was flying up and down, hitting the underside of the table with every thrust. I admit, it was kind of painful. But it was the sort of painful that made me leak precum and I was certain that there was a pool of the sticky stuff growing on the floor beneath me.

By that point in the evening, not a single person had touched my cock yet. I had a feeling that was unlikely to change.

I love cum. Or more precisely, I'm addicted to cum. The taste of it, the texture, it's a delicacy to my palate. Cum is the essence of men and I'd be covered in it all the time if I had a choice.

That night, some guys buried themselves deep inside me and shot their loads up my channel. I felt the searing heat in my guts and I clamp down especially hard to milk every last drop. The cum would eventually dribble out of my gaping hole, down over my balls, trailing paths down my spread legs. The first guy who did this took a moment to lean over my back and whisper something in my ear.

"There," he said. "Now, you're all lubed up for the rest of them."

His comment sent a shiver down my spine and my cock twitched with another dollop of precum joining the mess on the floor. I felt so dirty and took a big gasping breath to keep from blowing my load right there.

Other guys pulled out right before they came, spewing ropes of their cum across my back, smearing the stickiness against my ass.

I could smell the tanginess of the cum in the air around me. It mixed with the sweat and musk that came with men having sex. A couple of guys shot so far that cum landed on my face. I tilted my head to get the cum to slide down my cheek and into my mouth. Their flavors exploded on my tongue and I couldn't help but moan appreciatively. Mmm... yum.

I guess it goes without saying that things got messy fast. On top of the sound of hips slapping against my ass cheeks, I could also hear a squelching sound coming from my abused hole. That would be the sound of cum repurposed as lube. It drove me wild.

Who knows how many guys availed themselves of my ass. I certainly wasn't keeping count. I'd like to think that some came back for seconds. One cock quickly blurred into the next, but I'd notice when an especially big one or an especially long one made its way into my ass. I'd force myself to relax and just take the punishment they dished out. My ass felt raw and whenever one cock pulled out, and I found myself impatient for the next one to take it's place.

It would be some time later before things finally started to slow down. The din around the room hadn't lessened; I could still hear voices as if they were off in the distance. I'd enjoyed every second so far, but if I was honest, the last few fucks had been more painful than pleasurable; I guess there's only so much my poor ass could take.

I was left alone for a few moments and the haze of sex slowly began to clear. My ass felt empty; the ring of muscle was spasming, like it wasn't sure what to do. My cock was still hard and I discovered that if I tilted my hips a certain way, I could rub the head lightly against the bottom of the table. That was about as much attention the poor thing had gotten all evening.

My heartbeat had just inched down to a manageable level when I felt another pair of strong hands on my body. This pair was familiar, though, and they started at my hips, reaching around to rub gently against the tender spots at the front. Then they worked their way up my back, thumbs pressing deep into strained muscles, working out the tension and using all that cum as some sort of kinky massage oil.

Those hands reached my shoulders and squeezed hard, rolling my muscles back and forth to ease the pressure. I let out a shaky breath and felt my body relax into the table. The hands kept moving until they were on top of my own, our fingers clasped together. Clinton leaned his chest down against my back, his dick rubbing against the sensitive skin in my cleft. He pressed a couple of gentle kisses on my neck and nibbled on my ear, just the way he knew I liked it and I couldn't help but arch back into him. I had countless cocks inside me that night, but I knew his would be the best.

After a teasing moment, he started worked his way back down, his tongue and lips tracing the path his hands had made. He licked up all the stray cum lingering on my skin and whatever haze that had cleared quickly returned. By the time he got down to my ass, I was wriggling frantically, trying to get his mouth where I wanted it most. But he didn't give me what I wanted.

Instead, he backed off and went to my feet. Those talented fingers massaged up each calf, then each thigh, taking the time to lick up all the cum that had run down them. He spent time chewing on that spot where my ass meets my thighs, then using his tongue to sooth the burn. He gave the other side the same treatment before working his way around my ass cheeks until they were both red and sensitive to the touch.

I was bucking wildly by then, frustrated with all the teasing. I wouldn't have believed that my cock could get any harder than it was earlier, but Clinton proved me wrong. I'm sure I cried out, I'm sure I begged, but all that really mattered was the spasming ring of muscle that yearned for the attention of his mouth.

When he finally decided that I had enough, his hands spread me wide and I felt the warmth of his breath as he gazed at my raw and swollen hole. I wondered whether he could see inside of me, and my breath hitched at the thought.

I tried to push back to encourage him to get on with it, but his strong hands held me in place as he looked his fill. Then gently, I felt something hot trace lightly against the bruised tissues of my hole. Just the tip of his tongue following the groves and ripples of the deformed muscle. It tickled, and it tingled and all I wanted was him to shove his tongue as deep inside me as it would go. But he held me still.

Clinton licked up and down my cleft, cleaning my ass the way he had cleaned the rest of me with his tongue. He even made his way to my balls, taking each one inside his scorching hot mouth to briefly suck off the cum that had soaked into the skin. He didn't lay a finger on my cock though. I might have blown if he did, and I'm sure he knew it.

He spent some time using his tongue to trace patterns on my perineum - so much time, in fact, that my legs started to shake with the strain. My stomach was clenching and I was holding my breath and biting my lip with the effort to keep my pending orgasm at bay. God, he knew that drove me crazy; it wasn't fair for him to use it against me.

When I let out a strangled cry, he finally took mercy on me and trailed his tongue back to where I wanted it the most. He started swirling the flat of his tongue around the ring of muscle, dipping in occasionally to tease me. I could feel his breath blowing up inside of me causing me to shiver; the speed of his panting told me he was enjoying this as much as I was.

I knew the exact moment Clinton's control snapped. He fingers tightened their hold on my ass cheeks and pried them as far apart as they would go. He buried his face right in there, his nose pressed against my tailbone, his stubble rubbing almost painfully against the sensitive skin. The best part, though, was his tongue diving deep inside of me, twisting, curling and pulling back as he ate the cum out of my ass.

He groaned deep in his chest and I could feel the vibrations all the way through the tips of my fingers and toes. I pressed my ass back into his face and angled my hips to help him get every last drop of cum. My entire body was shaking at this point; actually, it was probably more like convulsing.

I'm not exactly sure how long he spent with his tongue inside me, but by the time he pulled back, the effect of his earlier massage had entirely worn off. I was pulling at my restraints, desperate for him to fuck me. I needed him to fuck me. I needed him to cover me with his body, to fill me with his beautiful cock and make me explode the way only he knew how. I needed him more than I needed to breath.

And he didn't disappoint. He leaned over me, covering me with his hard body. One hand sneaking under my shoulder to brace himself, and the other hand holding my hips in place. His ragged breathing was hot over my neck and ear.

"God, you had so much cum in you," he whispered in my ear. "I don't think I got all of it. You'll probably be shitting cum for a week."

My body spasmed so hard, my heart beat so fast, I thought it would burst out of my chest, my dick so painfully hard it was starting to give me cramps.

"Figured I might as well add my load, too," he said with his lips against my ear. "What do you think?"

"Please..." I managed to whimper.

I could feel his smile against my skin.

Then slowly--and in its way so much more painfully than all those other men--Clinton lined up his cock and pressed gently into my quivering hole. I was so stretched by then that he met absolutely no resistance. As he bottomed out, his pelvis tucked up underneath my ass cheeks, his balls brushing lightly against mine, we both let out deep sighs of relief. Finally, this was completion.

He moved slowly with superhuman control. Not so much thrusting as a subtle tilting of the hips, his cock moving from deep to deeper. I clenched my channel, trying to suck in him just a little more with each movement.

I tried to angle our bodies so the head of my cock could rub up against the bottom of the table again. But he pulled me back; I guess he had seen me make that maneuver earlier, I knew it was cheating, but hey, I was desperate. No such luck this time though, my dick would get stimulation only when he wanted it to.

In between the kisses and nibbles along my neck, Clinton began whispering things to me, things that made me shudder and arch back against him.

"Did you count how many cocks you've had up your ass tonight?" The smugness of his voice made me whimper. "No? Well, I did. I know exactly how many dicks have been where my dick is now."

"Your ass feels so loose, like if I moved too quickly my cock would just fall out."

"I can still feel some other guy's cum up in there; talk about an all natural lube."

"Everyone's been complementing me on your ass." Clinton said this as he squeezed a cheek. "They all want to know if they can rent you out for private parties. What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought that was fucking hot. I clenched around him to let him know, and he grunted in response.

We didn't last much longer after that. Clinton had unbelievable self-control, but I think he started to take pity on me and my abused hole. Soon, he pressing me hard against the table, fingers biting into my skin, teeth sinking into that fleshy part between my shoulder and my neck. He held me tightly as he spent himself inside of my body, deeper than any of the other men, to the deepest part of my soul where no one else had touched before.

He leaned his forehead against my back, his ragged breathing slowing against the dampness of my skin. All I could do was lay there, taking short shallow breaths. My cock was still raging, but my heart was calm. Every once in a while, a scene would be so intense that I found myself in that still, silent place; my body would still be screaming for release, but my consciousness was satisfied. I called it my nirvana.

Sometimes Clinton would leave me there. He's send me home with an obscene bulge in my pants and my cock aching painfully, and yet my mind would be completely satiated. He called it an exercise in denial. I hated it because no one wants to get sent home without cumming, but I loved it, too, because the next time would always be so much better.

I prayed to whatever god was out there that Clinton wouldn't leave me in nirvana tonight. I had taken too much abuse and I needed to find that completion. When he finally recovered, he leaned up against my ear.

"You didn't come, did you?" he asked.

I couldn't find my voice and honestly wasn't sure what answer would get the result I wanted. So I settled for a pathetic whimper and a fully body shudder.

"Good."

Then he gently pulled out of me and pushed himself up off my back. I immediately missed his weight pinning me down, filling me.

For a moment I couldn't feel him at all and I started pulling at my restraints to get his hands back on my body. Then I noticed some movement between my legs. Suddenly, my cock was enveloped in a white hot blazing heat, as his mouth slid all the way down to the base and the head of my cock slipped into his throat. My sore hole was once again invaded, this time by searching fingers that quickly found my prostate and went to town.

I may have lasted a couple of second before my entire existence exploded. I'm pretty sure I screamed. Wave after wave of blinding pleasure washed over me, so intense it was painful. I arched up off the table, my shoulders almost popping out of their sockets as I pulled against my restraints.

I'm actually not entirely sure how long it lasted or exactly what happened next. I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember is laying back on that table, and Clinton's leaning over me again, pressing those gentle kisses against my neck and massaging my sore wrists.

The room seemed quieter than before, but maybe I just couldn't hear the voices over the sound of rushing blood in my ears. Clinton threaded his arms underneath my chest and braced me against himself as he leaned back. I was a useless mass of limbs; if he wasn't holding me up, I would have crumpled to the floor.

So I leaned against him and let him haul me shaking to my feet. He threw my arms over his shoulders and wrapped his securely around my waist. His mouth sought mine out and I automatically opened for him, tasting the cum on his tongue. If I wasn't so entirely spent, I may have felt a second stirring at that taste. But my body was fried, and my brain was fried, and I was just barely remembering to breath.

The sound of clapping startled me. I glanced around, suddenly remembering that we weren't alone. And we definitely weren't alone. There must have been thirty men standing around watching us, all with smug grins on their faces. I flushed scarlet at the realization of just how thoroughly I had been used.

Clinton smiled at my blush. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you home."