Tie Me Up Like In the Magazines Ch. 03

He took a close up photo of my gagged face, eyes bugging with fear and set that to Kayana as well.

Next, I felt Mr. Smith's ruff hands groping my bottom. I had never had my butt touched before and I shocked by how much it trilled me. He patted my bare cheeks, then pulled my panties back out of my ass crack.

He seemed to really like the way my tushy looked in those lacy purple undies. Mr. Smith fixated on my ass, gently pinching, patting, and stroking my buttocks. I quivered as he ran his big fingers over my pale, panty clad cheeks, sliding them up and down my crack.

Suddenly my phone chimed and Mr. Smith stopped molesting me and picked it up. He read me a text from Kayana. She had replied almost immediately.

"I don't know whose sending these pics but thank you. That outfit looks adorable, and I defiantly like my boys bound and gagged. If I had him tied and dressed like that here at my place in the projects, I'd do such bad things to him. Are those his panties in his mouth or his mommies? I think a slave boy should always be gagged with his mommies panties."

Then a moment later she added.

"That bulge looked good in his jeans earlier. Send me a dick pick."

She didn't even ask for the photo. I was shocked by her boldness, she had only met me a few hours ago, and she was already demanding to see my penis. Mr. Smith sensed my shock and fear and was clearly enjoying it.

"I guess well give the lady what she wants then..."

Tucking my pleated skirt up into my waistline, he exposed my crotch. Then with slow cruel delight, Mr. Smith slid my panties down. The fabric caught on my up pointed cock for a moment, and I almost ejaculated as it popped free.

Now fully exposed he took a few more shots of me, weiner out. My thick penis twitching in excitement. Mr. Smith made a twirling motion with his finger, and presented my butt again, this time fully exposed.

At that moment one of my nasty freaky impulses betrayed me. Remembering what I had done the first time I stripped for Mr. Smith. I took my cheeks in my bound hands, and pulled them apart. Spreading my legs as far as I could in the awkward heels, and leaned forward spreading my cheeks.

I just stood there holding the pose, my chubby cock dripping as the creep snapped away. Eventually I felt my panties being worked back up and I let go, allowing Mr. Smith to pull them back up and fixed my skirt.

I just stood there and sulked shame faced and horny, as he sent off the photos. Mr. Smith loved my humiliation and teased me, narrating as he wrote.

"The person sending these is just the lucky creep next door, who gets to tie this little girly boy up. As for the gag he's chewing on it's his own dirty undies, the ones he was dripping in when you saw him today. I like the idea of gagging him with his mommies panties. I'll make sure he swipes a pair from the dirty laundry for next time."

Oh god I thought, this just keeps getting worse. Like most boys I had, in curiosity, peeped into my mothers underwear drawer. But I had been shocked to find my strict conservative mother wore very racy under pants. I found a black g-string, lacy thongs and animal printed sheer pantie.

Even though it gave me an erection, I never wanted to see my mommies panties again. For weeks after, any time I was around her I was plaited by images of my mother in her fancy bra and panty sets. The idea of touching and tasting her dirty undies filled me with a terrible shame, and eagerness.

Distracted with these filthy thoughts, I didn't notice Mr. Smith taking a long rope and making a slip knot until he looped it around my neck. Then without formality, he began briskly dragging me away by the neck. It was my first time in heels, and I could barely keep up. More than once I stumbled, making the noose tighten and choke me. I didn't like this at all and tried to protest, but my cries for kindness where muffled by the sweaty musty underwear crammed in my mouth.

When we got down to Mr. Smith's basement, I began to think I might have made a very dangerous mistake. The room was a large window less cell. The walls and floor were cold concrete, and above exposed rafters holding up the frame of the house. Bright florescent bulbs burned, and the only items I saw were a heavy wood table, drawers, flat screen TV, and 2 good quality camcorders on tripods. A few pieces of rope and chain hung down suggestively from the beams, and on the table a pair of hand cuffs had been casually tossed.

The word came unbidden and unwanted into my head "dungeon". I looked around in terror, and my heart began to race. This was a fucking dungeon! Or a dungeon for fucking to be precise. I had been living next to this all along. What was this room? Did Mr. Smith make porns? Had he lured other boys here before me? The implications of Mr. Smith having a place like this were ominous to say the least.

He had brought along the rest of the ropes, as well as my phone, and at that moment it chimed. It was another message from Kayana. I just stood there in the middle of the big empty room and quaked as he read the message. I though to myself in a room like this a gag wasn't really necessary, with concrete walls like that no one would hear my screams.

Mr. Smith chuckled and patting my butt, as he read me the text.

"Your one lucky creep, I'll tell you that. He's a very cute girly boy. And I love how he spreads those cheeks. If I had half a chance, I'd do bad things to that tight little ass... In appreciation of the dick pic, here's one for you. Here's my DICK PIC!"

She actually sent two photos. The images she sent shocked me as much as anything that happened to me that crazy day. They were simple photos, but they were a total transformation from the matronly check out stand lady I had met hours before.

In the first photo, Kayana curly hair was gone, it had been a wig. She was bald. Without hair, I noticed her strong dark shoulders and neck. She was dressed in only a huge pair of black lacy panties, the tops of witch disappeared under the fold of her ample belly. Here huge black utters hung down low, with pancake sized aromas, and large nipples, with gold rings through them. She was squatting slightly, and pulling her panties to the side, revealed a very hairy dark vagina, and another big gold ring, this one piercing her fat clit.

In the second photo Kayana panties were back in place, and over them she wore a leather harness. The harness held a big pink dildo. She ment it when she said "Dick Pic". She was wearing a massive strap-on cock. The older black lady was stroking her penis with one hand, and with the other she blew an ironic kiss. I shuddered at the image, momentarily forgetting to breath at the sight of this sexy evil dominatrix.

Then another text came in.

"And just FYI, my 20 year old son took those photos. He's a very obedient boy, maybe we can trade for the day some time..."

Then a third photo, this one by far the most disturbing. The shot showed a handsome, and very fit young black man, his pants down. He looked shyly at the camera, fear full acceptance on his face. The boy had his hands behind his head, and his pelvis pushed out like a stripper. His shirt was off and his unzipped pants hung down around his knees. The boy was shaved from his eyebrows down, and he looked terribly embraced. The fit young mans nipples were pierced with tiny gold rings, and he had a very girly belly button pierced. A lacy pink thong pouch, was pulled aside revealing his thick dark manhood.

To my shock and wonder, his big black cock was crammed into a pink chastity cage. I had seen such cruel devices in one or two of the nastier bondage comics, and even fantasized about being trapped in one, but somehow I didn't think they were actually used in the modern world.

I was terrified and fascinated. Kayana's son went through his life every day, with sexy panties and that cage on under his clothes. The idea that this young man actually being controlled, and made to do the most filthy things by his own evil mother, with a male chastity device, filled me with shame and arousal.

Mr. Smith read to me as he texted back, his free hand finding its way back to grope my plump cheeks.

"Kayan you have a lovely boy there, and I think I might just be open to a trade. Perhaps we can introduce them to one another later this week, after I've broken mine in. I bet our boys would look cute roped to one another in a snug crotch rope."

Kayan replied almost imminently with a squirting water emoji. In other words the idea, of me her son stripped and tied to each other, the rope joining us running up our ass cracks, made her cum. What had I gotten myself into? Was Mr. Smith gonna let that big lady butt fuck me with that giant strap-on cock? Was I gonna be forced to do naughty things with her well-endowed son? Would I like it?

I was jerked, literary out of my revery by a sharp tug at the noose around my throat. While I was distracted by thoughts of Kayana and her boy toy, Mr. Smith had looped the end of my neck rope over a rafter. Then gleefully he yanked me to my tippy toes, so I was only barely able to breath.

Strung up as I was, with my elbows and wrists bound, I was forced to arch my back and stick out my ass. Mr. Smith yanked down my panties, allowing them to fall past my tall socks, and around my ankles. He took the hand cuffs and cuffed my ankles, looping the chain through a bolt in the floor. Then he removed my skirt, leaving me in just the spaghetti strap top, stocks, and heels.

Next Mr. Smith positioned the two cameras, one in front and one at a diagonal facing my butt. I saw the red record lights shining on the front of first one then the camcorder, and knew they were recording.

Away from my view, Mr. Smith opened drawers and rummaged. He approached me holding in one hand a doubled up belt, and in the other a butt plug and bottle of lube. As he wagged the plug in front of my scared face, I saw it has a bright red plastic jewel on the outside end, and I shuddered.

Wasting no time the old creep, tossed the belt on the table and lubed up the toy. As I felt the pointy tip poking into my ass hole, I freaked out and tried to lunge away, only to be half choked to death by my noose. Almost as soon as I start struggling I had to stop, I needed to get air.

With the plug slowly and steadily being pushed into me, my hole clenched and I tried to lean away from the violation. I was choking myself again, and the toy still burrowed deeper and deeper into my tender ass. I knew by the sensation, that the plug was stretching my opening at its maximum, and I fought against my desire to breath.

Once he could see me choking my self he stopped and just held the plug there. I was strangling in my attempt to get away, but Mr. smith wasn't going to let up the pressure. The old creep knew what he was doing. I was being stretched painfully, and I was seeing spots. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and with a spasm, shoved my butt back onto the plug, loosening the noose.

The big foreign object popped all the way into my rectum just as I got my first gasp of air, and I screamed. That scream tasted like crotch sweat and the precut in my underwear gagged mouth. I bucked my hips in pain and pleasure, my eyes popped open super wide, and my hard cock bounced and dripped.

I couldn't help myself from moaning, and Mr. Smith chuckled at my predicament. He ran his finger tips lightly over my bottom, and tapped the jewel on my plug making me shiver all over. His big callused hands made me feel very sexy, in spite of my pain and humiliation. I imagined I must look like a pretty hot little captive to the cameras, with my jeweled plug flashing as I squirmed, and my big cock pulled out for all the world to see. I felt like a sexy bondage porn star, like the ones I love to masturbate to.

I was forcefully brought back from these sexy thoughts, by the first blow from the belt. It landed on my tender tushy with staggering force, and for an instant I thought maybe he had hit me with a board not a belt. It heart like hell and I screamed into my gag, lunging forward and nearly throttling myself on my neck rope.

I had been spanked on my bare bottom as a boy, but only by my mother, and only by hand. The leather strap felt like a punch and left a sting that brought tears to my eyes. I felt a welt begin to form almost instantly, and I quaked with fear. I had jerked off to floggings before, but I never imagined it would hurt so bad.

On the second blow I jumped even worse, choking myself badly. However noosed and foot chained as I was, there was no place I could escape. By the third and forth blows, I was standing my ground better and taking less of a choking. Water streamed from my big eyes and I yipped like a scared puppy with each blow.

Mr. Smith was having the time of his life, smiling and sipping from a can of beer, as he methodically beat me into submission. There was an unmistakable bulge in the front of his pants, and the old creep sweat lightly as he marked up my tender behind.

The belt sometimes hit my plug, making me gasp with pleasure. Every few strokes with the belt, Mr. Smith would give me a few moments break to catch my breath, otherwise I surely would have choked myself out. During these little breaks he'd tease me, running a finger up and down the underside of my thick cock, or caressing my brand-new welts. I felt like I could cum at any moment, but Mr. Smith knew how to keep me right at the edge.

In my helplessness, I felt complete animal fear, and I had never been more turned on. I was completely in this man's power. He could do anything he wanted with me. I would have to submit. He could beat me till I cried, or make me cum, or both. I was being taught that I was no longer a human being, I was an object, a toy for a fat sadistic old man.

After what seemed like an eternity the flogging stopped, I was dimly aware of my captor unlocking my ankles, and taking the rope from around my neck. My legs were shaky, and I might have fallen if he hadn't held me up by the hair. Being pushed along, I stumbled across the room in my heels and pink socks, till I was shoved onto the table. He took little time in binding me spread legged and bent over, with my tender red ass up, butt plug jewel gleaming.

The bottle of lubricant stood just a few inches from my face. I knew what was coming.

Looking up, I saw Mr. Smith standing right in front of me, and admiring my bound and helpless young body. He rubbed his penis through his pants, then unzipped letting a monster cock flop out. The creep licked his finger and gently stroked his fat circumcised tip. I had seen a pretty big bulge in the old man's pants the times I had stripped for him, but it hadn't prepared me for what I was now right in my face.

His penis was massive, both long and wide. I didnt look real. It was vainy and fat, and really gross. It looked too big for his body. Sticking out at me from under his big beer belly, it looked fake, like something out of a porno. I gulped thinking, it's too big, I could never take all that. Reading the fear in my face, Mr. Smith commented.

"That's right cutey pie, it's going all the way up your ass."

Next Mr. Smith re-aimed the cameras, again putting one in front to catch my face and the whole scene, and the other behind and at a diagonal, zoomed in on my butt. After hitting record, Mr. Smith fetched a bright pink ball gag from the drawers. He dangled the gag tauntingly in my face, it looked huge, almost the size of a tennis ball.

I was yanked back into a standing position by the hair, and the mean old man unwrapped my tape gag, letting me spit out my underpants. Before I could start begging for mercy, the ball was shoved between my teeth, and the strap secured. My jaws ached and I felt droll running down my chin.

The next sensation i felt, was that of having my plug slowly pulled out. Mr. Smith paused again where the toy stretched me the most, enjoying my discomfort. Finally, he popped the butt plug out all the way, and I shuddered with involuntary pleasure.

Almost no time later I felt a strong hand pressing my face down towards the table, the tip of Mr. Smith's big lubed up cock pressing against my butt hole. I tried to struggle and get away, I fought my bounds with all my might, but there was no escape.

Calmly with methodical patience, the old man forced his big penis deeper and deeper into me. He rocked back and forth working it in bit by bit. It hurt more and more the further he went, and I cried out into my ball gag with every push.

It was one thing to fantasize about being tied up and abused, but I was learning it was quit another to actually be bound and gagged with a dick forced up your ass. At first, it hurt, it hurt bad. I was sobbing freely. I felt like I was being ripped, split in half. It took all my effort just to keep breathing. And when I was sure I couldn't possibly take anymore, Mr Smith said with a laugh...

"Half way there."

The next few moments were of blinding pain. By the time I felt his big hairy balls pressed against my cheeks, I was moaning loudly and continually, and my legs had begun to shake. Mr. Smith paused then holding me squired on his manhood.

"That's right piggy squeal! Your gonna be walking funny tomorrow"

Then he pulled back out fast, almost all the way. I screamed as my rectum tried to clench back down around the sudden vacuum. Then I screamed again as his dick was shoved all the way back up my ass. I was well lubed and open now, and it wasn't long before Mr. Smith was pounding me, and I was crying like a baby girl. I whimpered, and squeaked, and begged through my slobbery ball gag.

At first the agony was unbearable, but as I opened up the pain became more manageable. It still hurt terribly at the end of every stroke. And my cries were pitiful, when he was all the way up my butt. It was still painful, but I was also beginning to feel intense pleasure. That big dick was hitting my g-spot, and I found myself grinding back on Mr. Smith's penis.

After a wile I noticed he had stopped pumping, and was just letting me grind on his dick. I was humiliated, hurt, crying, and I couldn't stop myself. A part of me was loving riding this man's big pole.

Suddenly I became aware that I was going to cum. I had an old man's fat dick up my ass, and I was gonna cum. I tried to hold in my orgasm, humiliated by the idea that being raped by this creep could actually make me cum. I badly didn't want to cum like this, especially on video. I tried to hold it in as hard as I could...

It was no use. I had been teased and aroused and titillated all day, and there was no way I could hold back. I squirted, my hips pumping wildly, my pretty bugging eyes looking right into the camera. I gasped and moaned as pump after pump of slimy white jizz shot out of me, puddling on the table.

My orgasm made me tense all my muscles, and my ass clenched down hard around Mr. Smith's dick. My submission to him, and the sudden tightness made him cum, and Mr. Smith slammed me as had as he could, as he finished. These last few thrusts were the worst off all, deep and hard all the way up my sore little ass hole. It felt like I was being ripped in half, and I screamed and cried like a little girl. Hot semin filled my rectum, and the cameras were getting it all.

I had forgotten to keep breathing, my ass hurt so bad, and for a moment I blacked out. I came back almost instantly, gasping through my ball gag. I had slumped onto the table, and Mr. Smith had his hand in my hair, and was rubbing my face in the puddle of cum on the table. I sobbed softly with humiliation, as he slowly pulled out.

I was totally humiliated and my butt was really sore. I felt like I had been torn apart. It wasn't till later that I realized Mr. Smith had been careful not to permanently damage me, when he broke me in. For a few moments, I just lay there and tried to catch my breath, cheek resting in my cum puddle.