The Cockpig Ch. 02

"Fuck your hole for my pleasure, faggot, not yours. Make my cock feel good. Worship it with your ass. Worship it with your pain. Show me how much you need it in you, bitch," I told him.

And he did. The fag started pushing himself up and down on my cock, despite his sore legs, riding the full length of my cock. I know it was hurting him inside from the way he was grunting and crying, but he didn't stop. He kept forcing it inside him until his ass settled against my groin, where he had the head of my cock deep inside his second sphincter. Over and over, he lifted himself up, struggling to make his muscles obey him, desperate to please. He'd force himself up until the head of my cock was almost out of his hole, then collapse back on to it, goring himself on my rod over and over, making himself hurt more and more in his pathetic need to obey me. I reached up with one finger and hooked the chain of the tit clamps and pulled, drawing the chain tight, pulling his tender tits out from his chest. They must be nearly numb by now, I realized, so I jerked on the chain and abruptly pulled the clamps off his tits, causing the pig to squeal loudly and clinch his hole on my prick. He blubbered harder, his tears rolling down and dripping on his chest, but he didn't stop riding my cock, pounding his own ass over and over. The look on his beautiful young face was magnificent; it wasn't lust, it was need. Desperate, pathetic, primal need: the need to please, the need to obey, the need to suffer and be used, no matter what it cost him.

I reached up and grabbed both of the faggot's tits and pinched them, rubbing the blood back into them, causing him to inhale sharply and let out a loud yell. The sudden pain in his tits made him lose control, and he fell onto my cock again, forcing it into his guts harder than before. I started using his tits to control the fucking, lifting and lowering him by pulling on his nipples, showing him how easily I could control his body and his pain with minimal effort on my part. It was a raw display of my power, one which was not lost on the cockpig, even in that moment. He opened his eyes and looked at me with a mixture of both fear and adoration, the look a dog gives its owner - hoping for continued attention, and fearing further punishment. I was reshaping the pussyboy's mind, and he knew it. He also knew he was powerless to stop it.

That look was all it took: I blasted another huge load up the fag's hole. I used his tits to pull him off my cock, but didn't say anything to him, just let go of his nipples to see what would happen. To his credit, the faggot didn't have to be told this time: he immediately bent over and started tongue-swabbing my cock clean, removing all traces of his ass from my cock and balls.

Once he was done, the pussyboy laid down next to me and started to cuddle like a puppy. I shoved him off the bed and on to the floor where he belonged. I didn't want him mistaking this for some faggy romantic situation. A man doesn't cuddle with a cumdump, and I was working too hard to train this bitch to add any confusion to his little cock-worshiping brain. He looked up at me from the floor, confusion and hurt on his face.

"That's where it sleeps if it behaves, cockpig," I told him. "Only people get to sleep in my bed. Now, get some rest, fuckhole. It's gonna be a long weekend."

And with that, I turned out the light, rolled over, and went to sleep.