Uninvited

He slowly dropped to his knees on the pillow between Sean's feet and began to rub Sean's thighs. "Is this what you wanted?"

Sean nodded dumbly, "Oh HELL yes."

"And if I do this . . . you'll give me the SD card and erase any copies, right?"

More nodding.

"And you'll leave me alone? You won't ever . . . do what you did to me again?"

He shook his head, "Never again."

Chris reached up and undid Sean's belt and lowered his zipper. "Okay then . . . I'll hold you to that."

As he reached inside of Sean's underwear and gripped his thickening cock, alarm bells began sounding in his head. Aside from the obvious, there was something wrong with this situation, but he couldn't place what it was. In his hurry to end things with Sean he ignored those feelings, and he would soon regret it.

Chris pulled out Sean's cock and gripped it in both hands, one over the other; something he'd never had to do with a guy before. Though he'd already had it shoved into his mouth once before, it seemed much bigger now that he was holding it. He held it upright with his left fist and began jerking him off with his right, and there was still about four or five inches of cock exposed. Looking up at Sean, he leaned in and opened his mouth, feeling the cock in his hands get even harder. Chris too felt himself getting turned on, and under any other circumstances he might actually enjoy what he was about to do.

Continuing to look up at Sean and jerk him off, Chris took him into his mouth and began "making out" with the tip of it.

Sean let out a long, "Fuhhhhhhhhhhhk," and gently placed a hand on Chris' head, but didn't make any attempt to influence his technique.

Chris began to apply every trick and technique he'd learned over the course of his lifetime, both in giving and receiving blowjobs. He knew he couldn't take him into his throat or he'd end up barfing on his lap, but he knew enough other things to make up for it:

With his right hand, he began a jerk/twist motion while he allowed his left hand to gently caress Sean's balls and taint. The result was almost immediate.

Sean slumped into the recliner and let out a long groan, almost as though he was in pain as his orgasm began to build. At this, Chris doubled the speed he was jerking him off at and began pumping his mouth up and down on his cock as fast as he could manage while gently squeezing Sean's balls.

Sean began to protest with, "Wait, not so . . .", but he didn't get to finish his thought before he pivoted to: "I'm going to cum!"

In reality, the announcement came about half a second late at Chris tasted and felt hot cum beginning to drizzle into his mouth. A few seconds later Sean gripped the arms of the recliner as though he was getting a root canal and let out a loud, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," as he unloaded in Chris' mouth in long powerful blasts that shot right to the back of his throat and down his gullet. Under any normal circumstances, he would have immediately pulled Sean's cock out of his mouth and let him cum on Chris' face, especially with someone who hadn't exactly been "nice" to him, but instead he gulped it down, not minding the taste at all and knowing Sean would approve. But to add a little "icing" to the cake he'd just handed Sean, Chris looked up at him and let out a long, "Mmmmmmm," as he swallowed, as if Sean's cum was delicious.

In his experience, Chris had learned that men liked that. It wasn't enough that you put their cock in your mouth and brought them to orgasm (usually without any reciprocation), but you also had to swallow, and you had to pretend to like it. Otherwise, they're feelings might get hurt, and you'd find yourself (as Chris often had) having to spend an hour reassuring the man you just blew that his cock was exceptional and tasted like a sweet chardonnay on a hot summer day. And Chris took it even one step father than that; after Sean had stopped cumming and Chris had swallowed every drop and moaned as though he enjoyed it, once he'd taken the cock out of his mouth he said, "Thank you," and strangely . . . he'd meant it.

Kneeling there in Jennifer's cheerleader outfit with her husband's cum slowly running down his throat while a video of him blowing two men in her bedroom played silently on the television was probably the kinkiest thing he'd ever done, and he had Sean to thank for manipulating him into it.

All of it.

But just when he started to have some positive feelings towards Sean, he swung a wrecking ball of a remark at him, which shattered the moment and spoiled the experience for ever. . . . "Did you just say, thank you?" he asked. "You really are a dumb slut . . . you know that?"

Dumbfounded, Chris gawked at him, "What did you say?"

Without waiting for his answer, Chris began backing away from the recliner but Sean's arm shot out like a well placed harpoon and seized him by his left wrist, and an instant later he felt something cold and metallic snap shut around it. He attempted to yank his wrist (handcuff and all) away from Sean, but Sean beat him to the punch by launching himself at Chris, pinning him to the floor before flipping him over face down and laying on top of him, his semi-hard cock poking into him through the spandex skirt.

"Get off of me, NOW!!" Chris howled as he began to struggle.

It took about three seconds for Sean to get hold of his other wrist, and once he did it was about another second before he managed to slap the other cuff on him. And once he had, Chris was entirely defenseless against everything Sean could do, and did do to him. In fact, once he had the second cuff on him, he got up and jumped back out of reach in case Chris tried to kick him, which was the only move he had left.

"You stupid slut," Sean chuckled. "Did you really think I'd let you off that easy? A blowjob . . . really? Hell, I've already proved that I can get one of those from you anytime I want."

"You piece of shit!" Chris screamed at him. "Take these things off of me!"

That's when bad went to worse. Sean suddenly turned and scurried into the darkened dining room. The lights came on a few moments later, and when they did he saw Sean standing behind a digital camera mounted to a tall tri-pod. There was a laptop on the table, which Sean opened and immediately spoke into, "Okay folks, we're going to take a break for a few minutes while I get set up for the game, so bear with me. See you all in five."

Sean tapped on a key and then seemed to relax. "There," he said. "We can talk freely now."

"What the fuck?!?" Chris demanded. "Who were you talking to . . . take these fucking things off of me!"

Sean shook his head and smiled, "Oh Chrissy . . . you really have no idea, do you?"

While Chris contemplated what he'd meant by that, Sean disappeared from sight for a moment and returned with a roll of grey duct tape. "Now, as much as I'd like to let you talk during all this, we're streaming live and I can't have you doing anything irrational like saying my full name or giving out my address or anything like that . . . so I'm going to have to keep you quiet."

Sean tore off a length of the tape and dropped the roll on the table before approaching Chris with the strip stretched between his hands.

Naturally, Chris struggled and thrashed and made it as difficult as he could, but Sean simply straddled Chris' chest, just as he had the night he'd made Chris blow him, and wrapped the tape around his mouth and secured it upon itself around the back of his head. Once he was silenced, Sean filled him in on what was going on.

"This is part of a series I've been doing for a while now," he informed Chris casually, " . . . closet sissy's bound and bred by yours truly. It's sort of a game, actually. See, the first part is talking the sissy into sucking my cock . . . bonus if they swallow. And the next part . . . well the next part is sort of all on you. It's a little game I like to play with twinks and sissies like you when Jennifer is out of town. I'm sort of known online in the chat rooms for playing this game, so it's pretty much mandatory at this point. Now, I'm going to tell you how the game is played, but in my experience my followers like to see that part too, so let's not keep them waiting."

Sean returned to his laptop and tapped on the keys before speaking into the camera. "And we're back . . . for those of you just joining us, this is Chrissy. She sucks a pretty mean cock, but I've taped her mouth shut now that I'm finished with it. And now it's time to play, Five Minutes to Freedom. If you're watching my feed for the very first time, the rules are very simple. I'm going to drop the key to the handcuffs on the floor . . . " Sean held up a small silver key and dropped it silently onto the living room carpet somewhere behind Chris, " . . . and Chrissy will have exactly five minutes to find the key and free herself. If she can't, I'm going to bend her over my dining room table and breed her sissy ass while you all watch."

Chris' heart began to pound like a jackhammer as he thrashed about, screaming up at the camera through the tape to no avail. Even if they could have understood him through the tape over his mouth, they probably would have thought that he and Sean were roleplaying a "Consensual Non-consent" scene. They were probably completely oblivious to the fact that "Chrissy" wasn't a willing participant in Sean's little game.

Sean took out his cell phone and started a timer, "Okay Chrissy, your five minutes start . . . NOW!"

Chris rolled around on the carpet, desperately trying to see where the key had landed, but as he hadn't even heard it land he had no idea where to look.

"Four minutes," Sean announced.

Chris managed to get up onto his knees and finally spotted the key poking out of the carpet about four feet away. He crawled over to it, hovered over it so that it was behind him, then sat down on the floor nearly on top of it so he could reach it with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"Three minutes . . . " Sean said from behind the camera.

Chris got hold of the key, which he thought would be the hardest part, but now that he had the key in hand he had no idea how to manipulate it into one of the locks. He'd been handcuffed enough times to know that these weren't novelty type handcuffs that Sean picked up at a sex shop; they were police issue, made of hardened steel, with no raised metal around the keyhole to make it easy to find blindly. Like a teenager wiggling his cock around and trying to find a vagina in the dark for the first time, all he could do was slide the key around while applying downward pressure hoping that it would eventually slip into the hole.

"Two minutes . . . "

Chris was beginning to panic, which did nothing to help him get the cuffs off. He thought he'd found the keyhole at one point, but as he tried to turn the key he realized it wasn't yet properly aligned and hadn't yet fit into the locking mechanism. And that realization happened when he had turned the key as far as his wrist would turn and let go of it for a moment to reposition his grip, and it dropped from his grasp.

"One minute," Sean said, smiling down at him, knowing that he'd never find it again, not in time.

Chris did find it again and resumed trying to fit it into the lock, but his hands had begun to shake in fear, and he couldn't seem to find the keyhole a second time.

"Thirty seconds, Chrissy . . . better get at least one cuff off or else I'm going to destroy your asshole in front of a few thousand people."

That was enough of a warning to keep him fighting, and amazingly he found the hole again, and this time the tab was aligned correctly and he felt the key drop squarely into the lock. He twisted the key, released it so he could reverse his grip, and was one final twist away from opening the cuff when Sean stepped forward and used his foot to push him down on his side, winding him. "Time's up!" he announced triumphantly.

Chris disregarded the victory and resumed twisting the key in his fingers, but Sean was there in a flash and quickly plucked the key from the lock and tossed it onto the dining room table. "Nice try, Chrissy," he said for the benefit of his viewers. "For a second I thought you were actually going to make it."

Sean leaned down then and whispered in his ear for his benefit alone, "If you thought I was going to let you get those cuffs off, you're even dumber than you look."

Sean returned to his laptop and informed his "viewers" that he'd be back in five minutes after he'd "set up" before cutting the feed. He approached Chris and kicked him in the hip and said, "Get up."

Chris told him to, go fuck himself, through the tape over his mouth, but it came out as, Muh Muh MuhMuh.

Sean took off his belt and whipped Chris across the thigh, emitting a loud crack like a firecracker. Chris cried out but refused to look at him. Not to be denied, Sean said, "Okay, let's do it another way," before forming the belt into a noose and slipping it over Chris' head and pulling it tight around his throat. Sean began dragging him across the living room floor towards the dining room. When they reached the table he hauled Chris to his feet and bent him over the head of the table where there was a heavy rope tied into an actual noose leading to the far end of the table and disappearing beneath it.

Chris tried to struggle but Sean never relinquished control over his body long enough for him to do anything. The belt around his neck was quickly replaced with the rope on the table and pulled tight. Then he felt his legs being spread apart and similar ropes tied into slipknots were placed around each of his ankles. Chris tried to stand up and quickly learned that the three points were connected under the table somehow, and attempting to stand pulled his legs farther apart, and attempting to close his legs pulled the rope around his neck.

"Don't fight against those," Sean warned casually. "It'd be a shame if you strangled yourself to death." He moved behind Chris and adjusted the camera on the tri-pod before moving to the far end of the table and resuming the video feed. "And we're back," he said into the camera. "I can see by all of the comments that you're all excited to see me fuck Chrissy, and she told me during the break that she's excited too. So let's get on with the show."

Sean spun the camera around 180 degrees until Chris could see himself on the screen alongside a split screen of the camera on the tri-pod and a third window where the three thousand four hundred and thirty-six viewers were commenting on what they saw.

Chris felt Sean step up behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Sean's hands resting on his defenseless ass, the tips of his fingers caressing the edges of the uniform's panties under the spandex skirt. One hand slipped between his legs and suddenly grabbed his cock. "You little slut," Sean laughed. "You're fucking hard. Well, with any luck you might actually enjoy this a little . . . but I wouldn't count on it."

Chapter 7

Chris awoke on the floor of the pool house bathroom after collapsing there several hours before. Though he had no recollection of how he got there, he remembered everything leading up to it, and he was sure that he always would; Sean had made sure of that. He was still wearing Jennifer's cheerleader outfit, and there were deep red welts on his wrists and ankles from struggling against his bindings, and he had struggled. Having that massive cock pushed inside of him had been the most painful experience of his life, and he'd screamed so loud that he'd nearly lost consciousness. Sean probably could have made it easier on him (he was probably used to his sexual partners asking him to 'go slow'), but he'd obviously wanted to hurt him, and he had. Chris felt like he'd been fucked by a HORSE, or at least what he imagined that must feel like, and there was no question that he was torn inside, and would probably be healing for several weeks to come.

Chris struggled to sit up on the bathroom floor and nearly broke into fresh tears from the pain; there had been plenty of tears earlier, too. And rightfully so. Thanks to the top notch job "Chrissy" had done with draining Sean of his cum with the blowjob, it had taken him a very long time to cum a second time. And just to make sure he could go the distance for the several thousand people watching, the son of a bitch had taken a little blue pill to keep him hard until he'd delivered his load, which he did without a condom. It was hard to say exactly how long that took, but Chris was certain that it was over two hours, during which time there wasn't a single second that he wasn't in excruciating pain.

And adding insult to injury, Sean's laptop was less than a foot from his face the entire time, where he could see not only the split screen video feed of what was being done to him, but also the comments coming from the thousands of people watching.

Take that cock you sissy faggot . . .

Dress like a slut and you get fucked like one . . .

Does that hurt sweetie, it looks like it hurts . . .

Did they really think that Chris was enjoying that? Would they even care if they knew he wasn't? And their comments continued to scroll down the screen aside one window showing his anguished face, and another window showing a side view of Sean standing behind him, slamming his body into Chris' as he reorganized his internal organs with his cock. Chris now understood why Sean wasn't "getting any" from Jennifer; being fucked by Sean was like having a baseball bat shoved up his ass, and it was made even worse by how hard he could fuck, and for how long.

Chris managed to get himself up off of the bathroom floor and move to the sink so that he could wash his face and assess the damage.

His face was now a mess of tear-streaked mascara and smeared lipstick, and he had nasty rope burns from the noose around his neck, making him look as though he'd survived an attempted hanging. He reached down the front of his outfit and plucked out the rubber breast forms, allowing them to drop to the bathroom floor. Next he tore off the wig and began wiggling out of the sweat-soaked cheerleaders outfit. He dropped it to the floor and stepped into the shower, turning up the hot water nearly as high as it would go and standing beneath it. But no amount of hot water and no amount scrubbing would ever make him feel clean again, perhaps he never would.

While washing his body he snagged something between his ass cheeks and remembered; Sean had ended his little project of fucking him love on the internet by performing an unnecessary indignity against him. The entire time Sean was fucking him, and it was a long time, he continuously hurled insults at him, calling him "Sissy faggot cocksucker," as though it was one word, or "Bitch cunt whore." When he was finally ready to cum, he made sure Chris knew it was coming, and informed him that he, Chrissy, was going to enjoy it . . . which, he did not. And, when he came, he shot so hard that Chris actually felt it inside of him, almost as though he'd had a douche or a hot enema, and once he'd expelled every last drop from his balls into Chris' ass, he'd pulled out of him abruptly and left him standing there while he got something from the downstairs bathroom.

From behind him, Chris had heard the crinkling of a wrapper, almost like Sean was opened a candy bar or something, but it quickly became apparent that it was not candy when Sean said, "I like to give sissy's a little gift before I send them on their way," he'd said. And then he proceeded to insert one of Jennifer's tampons into him before adding, "Keep that inside of you until you're back where you belong. Now, get the fuck out of my house, you sissy cunt."

Standing in the shower, Chris violently yanked the hygiene product out of him and leaned out of the shower far enough to fling it into the toilet. He opened his mouth and let the shower water rinse out his mouth for a very long time, but he was sure he could still taste Sean's cum. A sickening thought occurred to him . . . what if there was video online of what had been done to him? The thought made him sick to his stomach, so once he was done scrubbing his body raw, he put on a bathrobe, broke out his laptop, and decided to find out.