by Gavin Atlas
Another hand started fingering my hole and I broke, my stomach hitting the bed as I collapsed. “Please, Ron” I cried out. “I need a break.” There was a brief silence. I guess the three of them were conferring on what to do, probably in pantomime.
“Okay, sweetie,” said Ron. “I’m going to give your hole a rest.”
I sighed in relief.
“But not your ass. Keep the blindfold on and come on back over to the edge. Stand up and bend over the bed.”
What were they going to do? I did as I was told without complaining, and a pair of hands grabbed hold of me. I noticed they weren’t calloused like Tom’s, but I wasn’t sure they were Ron’s either. Suddenly, I was spanked. Hard. Then again and again. I started moaning each time. From past experience with Manuel, I knew if I stroked my erection I’d be able to get through a seriously rough spanking.
I was spanked at least twenty more times before I lost count, focusing on my dick and how much it turned me on to be humiliated by three guys at once. Someone blew on my beaten ass, the cool air soothing the burn. I was kissed softly very near my hole. I felt a beard. Vic had spanked me.
“That’s enough of a break,” he said gruffly.
Did he really think I wouldn’t be able to tell it was his voice? He pushed me on the bed and flipped me over. Two hands gripped my thighs and pulled my ass to the edge of the bed. Again, they thought I couldn’t count. While the two original hands were pushing my legs back, a third hand lubed me up. None of them felt like Tom’s.
Yet again, a penis started pressing up against me, trying to enter. I grabbed it for a brief second to make sure there was a condom on it. Finding one, I lay back and let Vic have at me.
He entered me with force, and I grunted and struggled with the girth inside me. He wasn’t as big as Mike, but he was still quite large. I was already very swollen.
“It’s too bad that Vic doesn’t get to nail you,” Vic said, pretending he was Ron. “If he were here, he’d want me to punish-fuck you for that.”
Didn’t Ron already do that? I wondered as Vic started pumping me furiously. The attack wasn’t as violent as Ron’s, but he was so much bigger. I started to cry out in protest.
“You can do it, sweet boy,” the real Ron said. I felt Vic bend over me and twist my nipples with menace while continuing to hammer my ass. I nearly screamed. I pushed against his chest with my left hand so I could stroke my dick. The only way I was going to be able to take this was to beat off and concentrate on the pleasure I was giving Vic.
“Do you think Vic would want to hurt my hole like this?” I whimpered.
“You know he would.” Vic’s voice sounded ragged with effort. “The longer you keep it from him, the more he’ll make it hurt.”
I moaned helplessly.
“And you know he’s going to get it eventually. There’s no keeping your ass from him. If you wait too long, he’ll plow you until you cry.”
“Then I give in!” I screamed. “He can ravage my ass as much as he wants.” As I said this, I had to pinch off my dick to keep from coming. Vic’s thrusts became more insistent, and he grunted louder and louder with each one. He was pushing so hard I was hitting the headboard behind me. Thank God he came quickly. He bent over me, and I felt his beard on my face, his lips tenderly brushing mine.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to pump your buns again doggy style,” Ron said.
Oh, God. I had anticipated I’d get fucked three times once they pulled my pants off at the poker table, but a fourth time?
“I think I’m going to need some ice for my hole afterwards.” I whimpered as I began to roll over, get on all fours, and arch my back.
“You got it, sweetie,” Ron said. “You’ve been such a good boy.”
A hand patted me on the shoulder. Without any additional fingering or lubing, a dick started pressing up against me, found its way, and entered me. I was so swollen I couldn’t tell if it was Ron’s dick, but I was pretty sure it was larger than his. As the cock started pumping my insides rhythmically, I realized from the size it had to be Vic again. But so soon? Were his hands a little calloused? Maybe it was Tom again, but he fucked fast and hard like Ron, instead of slow and grinding. Maybe it was too big to be Tom. Who was in my ass? I had to know.
I struggled to support my weight on one hand and managed to take off the blindfold. There were Tom and Vic, stroking obviously spent dicks. I should have guessed it was Ron from how fast it was.
“Did you guys both fuck me?” I managed to ask while Ron continued to thrust deep inside me.
“Oh, yeah, man” Tom said, grinning.
“Yeah, you’ve got the sweetest ass I’ve ever fucked, Derek,” said Vic, reaching over and patting my backside.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to fuck it again,” said a voice from the other side of the bed.
I whipped my head around. Ron! Then who was in me?
I looked behind me, and there was a total stranger dicking my hole. Mike stood right next to him, filming everything. I nearly fell over in shock.
“Goddamn it,” I said. “Tricked again.” I didn’t try to buck the stranger out of me. I just shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the wall in front of me. The man started to fuck me harder, realizing he had free reign now.
This is what I deserved for being so stupid, I told myself. I felt how rigid my cock was and realized something. I absolutely loved being tricked.
I looked back again. He was old, fat, and pale. Someone I never would have looked at twice, but I didn’t care because his dick felt so good. I started to press back on it.
“Yeah, that’s it, pussy boy,” he growled.
I didn’t care if he said humiliating things. My ass was Ron’s for the night, so if Ron wanted to give it to this man, then he was getting to fuck it fair and square.
I told you, Ron,” Mike said. “He’s the easiest bottom in Richmond.”
My face flamed with embarrassment. I even felt my ass warm with humiliation at the thought of this total stranger getting to plow me on camera. I wondered if more men were on their way over. I nearly came at the thought.
The stranger brutally ravaged me, and I let him, meeting his every thrust. I was so sore, but I knew I was going to have to take Mike after this.
“I can’t believe I’m getting gangbanged again!” I wailed.
“Why not?” the stranger said, his voice hoarse from his efforts. “With an ass like this, you ought to get fucked every minute of your life.” His pace increased. “And I’m the one who’s going to be fucking you every minute of your life.” He shuddered and came inside me.
“Oh, yeah, Derek,” the fat man murmured, still buried deep inside me. “Invest in a lot of condoms. I’m going to fuck this ass every single chance I get.”
I collapsed onto my back and panted. I knew the man was telling the truth and with a dick like that, I would let him. As much as he wanted. And Lou. And Russ. And Al and Ron and Tom and Vic.
“I guess this is what I deserve for being so dumb, Mike. Go ahead and say it again.”
“You’re not that dumb, sweetie,” Mike said, stroking my trembling thigh. “You’re just so horny all the time, you can’t think straight.”
“I’m not dumb?”
“No, but you are extremely easy,” he added as he lifted my legs. His words humiliated me, but I could hardly deny them. “Don’t worry about it, Derek. Easy bottoms are the best.”
“Oh, yeah? Who thinks that?”
“We all do,” Ron said, and the others heartily agreed.
“Admit it, every time someone tricked you into getting fucked, you really wanted it.”
I considered it as he delicately fingered my hole. I thought about what happened with Lou, Russ and Al and about what just happened with Ron, Vic and Tom. “Yeah,” I confessed softly, “I admit it.” Tom and Vic grinned at each other. Now they were certain they’d get my ass any time they wanted.
“Well, now, since you’re so sweet and easy,” Mike said, “I
bet you’ll agree that you were meant to be the new town bottom and let every top in Richmond fuck you as much as they please.”
My stomach tightened in ecstasy at the thought. I saw Mike had the tip of his dick right at my hole and was about to push in.
“Do you agree that’s what you were meant for?”
I saw daylight peeking through the blinds. Night was over. I was no longer Ron’s property. Mike began fucking me, and Ron started up the video camera. I didn’t protest. I was no longer an ass for Manuel to fuck. Now I was everybody’s.
“Yessss,” said Mike. “oh, your hole is perfect. I should have a bunch of guys screw you beforehand when I want to get inside you because now you’re just right.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“I’ve gotten to be so crazy about you, Derek, and how wild you are.” Mike touched the hollow of my throat. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, I promise.” His strokes were slow and gentle. “All you have to do is just give up your ass to anyone I say can have it.”
I let out a deep moan.
“Isn’t that what you want, bottom boy?” he asked, caressing my cheek.
I’d thought I wanted love, but I was only twenty-two. Love could wait a few years. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to bottom.
“Answer me. Isn’t it, boy?”
“Yeah, but I like being tricked,” I said. I bent my knees back to better offer Mike my ass, humbly accepting my fate.
“I understand. It will be my pleasure to trick you all the time,” Mike said, grinning as he thrust inside me. “It will be my pleasure.”
Tristan Carcer
As Paul sat down, preparing to discuss his feelings for a gay porn star with his homophobic therapist and colleague, he asked himself, as he did every week, why he remained a patient of Jack Castle. Maybe because he was your mentor, Paul told himself, but more likely because you like torturing him with your fantasies. Now, with his right leg thumping in nervous frustration, he realized he’d become distressed by his own desires.
Paul lit a cigarette. Another reason he stayed with Jack was the smoking. The aroma of Dr. Castle’s pipe had seeped into the cherry wood paneling over the years. Thus, Jack didn’t care if Paul went through half a pack of Marlboros every session.
“Any progress?” Jack asked as Paul looked around Jack’s dimly lit and dusty office for an ashtray. Jack handed him an amber-colored glass one from his desk that made Paul think of the seventies. They sat in overstuffed brown leather wing chairs that Paul guessed were probably older than him.
Paul caught himself gnawing on his thumbnail, quickly pulled his hand from his mouth, and gripped the chair arm. “I’m still convinced I’m the right psychiatrist for Tristan. I know I’m helping him. If only I could stop thinking about him, working with me would be, I feel, ideal for him.” Jack stroked his beard, which Paul knew Jack grew in honor of Freud. Paul found the affectation absurd.
“Have you given any thought to what we discussed?” Jack asked as he lit his pipe.
“No. All I’ve thought about is his ass, Jack! It doesn’t help that it’s all he talks about in his sessions. And the clothes he wears. My God. Have I mentioned in his last few meetings that he’s said he feels rejected because I won’t ‘rape’ him? I’m flummoxed. I’ve never had such a beautiful young man be so open about his desires for me.”
In the midst of writing notes, Jack stopped, looked up, and bit his tongue in exasperation. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it. But have you considered—”
“He says ‘Isn’t it fascinating that from the word ‘therapist’, you can derive the words, ‘the rapist.’”
Jack stood up and walked to his antique desk for his worry stone. “That’s not good. Again, you should consider sending him—”
“No, Jack!” Paul sucked his teeth and attempted to clear an image of Tristan from his mind. But all he could think about was the young man lying on the red cushioned chaise with his shirt half unbuttoned. He’d run a hand through his black hair and look away from Paul while he confessed his latest liaisons. “No. I will not consider sending him to another therapist. He’s very comfortable talking to me about his addiction. He’s working hard on his fear of abandonment and his fear of falling in love.”
Paul watched Jack pace. It obviously made Jack uneasy that one of his psychiatrist patients could be coming close to a major boundary violation.
“I’ve never had to report a colleague to have a license revoked,” Jack said. Paul averted his gaze and watched the changing advertisements on the electric billboard outside the office window. It annoyed Paul considerably that his dilemma and his patient, another gay man, didn’t matter nearly as much to Jack as a blot on his own illustrious career.
“What about working on self-censorship, Paul? I feel, as a doctor yourself, your moral compass needs correcting, and using more clinical language could be a good start.”
Paul glared at the elder doctor. “And I feel you should fuck off. You invalidate my life when you say that. I don’t think of him in a ‘sexualized context.’ I think about fucking his ass! It’s the language he uses, and it’s liberating for me. I can see why you wouldn’t understand.”
Jack gave Paul a patient look. “My reasoning is that if you rein in your language you’ll be setting a boundary between his world of sex and your professional relationship.”
Paul’s face reddened. “The problem is not language. The problem is you. You won’t let me talk about my feelings without trying to suppress them.” Paul thought about all the times Jack had called Paul his “most interesting patient,” and half hoped Jack would say that now. “I know I have problems with positive emotions for Tristan.”
“Positive emotions? The quote I have written down is ‘All I think about is his ass.’”
Paul laughed. “Gotcha, Doc! You’re mirroring my language. Now you’re not allowed to pester me about it.”
Jack turned away and folded his arms. Good, Paul thought, I can still get his goat. Paul watched him regard the antiquated world map that showed Africa still under European rule and his collection of meerschaums. Then Jack spoke: “Tell me something about this Tristan that has nothing to do with sex. Nothing to do with his…ass.”
Without blinking, Paul responded, “He lives to serve, Jack. His life is his ass.”
Jack inhaled sharply and grimaced. “I find it interesting that you parrot his one-dimensional self-view after seeing him for so long.”
“He is one-dimensional. He is sex.”
“He is his addiction,” Jack shot back. “Isn’t that more accurate? Does he discuss his family?”
“Only in reference to his fear of them finding out his life is his ass.” The billboard now advertised Newport cigarettes. “Come Alive” it read, and a beaming young man who looked disturbingly like Tristan seemed to stare directly into the office.
Jack ignored that remark and busied himself with his coffeemaker. Then he said, “Considering who you are, having a patient who is addicted to anal penetration is not a good idea.”
“Because he’d be so much better off with a straight, possibly phobic therapist? Our time is up, Jack.”
“No, it’s not.” They stared at each other, both of their jaws set. “But I sense you’re done talking. Very well.” Jack returned to his chair to make notes. “Before you run out, I expect you to come back here telling me of at least two events with people…with men…that aren’t professionally off-limits. Will you do that?”
* * * *
Paul kept a hash mark tally of how many times Tristan said “he fucked my ass” during sessions. Today the total was already past ten.
“I thought I’d found someone different,” Tristan said as he looked up at the ceiling. “But I guess I didn’t.”
“Did you…uh, did you go about this date in a…in a different way like we talked about?” Paul could barely focus. Tristan lay on his back on the wide chaise Paul had angled so he could see as much of Tristan’s body as possible. Today, Tristan showe
d up in a cut off tank top and short shorts. Paul wondered if it were possible for Tristan to expose any more flesh and still be admitted to the building.
“No. I did suggest that we just meet for coffee, but he said he wanted to see my place, and he fucked my ass. We never even went out.”
“Did you…tell him you didn’t want to have sex on the first date?”
“But what if he thought I didn’t like him? I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Paul felt the urge to hold Tristan and shake him gently. You silly boy, it’s okay for you to say no once in your life.
“I almost went to a twelve-step meeting, but I was too embarrassed.”
Paul blinked. You’re fine with the world seeing man after man doing the most intimate things possible to you, but you can’t go to a meeting? “I think it would be a very brave thing if you did go,” Paul said.
Tristan looked at Paul. “Would you like me better if I did go? That would help me get up the courage.”
Paul swallowed. God, Tristan is beautiful. Paul looked away and scolded himself. No one is this earnestly naïve and sweet, he told himself. It’s an act. It’s always an act. “Tristan, while I do want you to go to meetings, it’s because I want you to take care of yourself. It can’t be because you want to be closer to me.”
“It would be easier for me to know you approved of me if you fucked me,” Tristan said. “That’s how I know I’m good enough.”
Paul stroked his chin. Yes. I’ll show you how good you are. I’ll give you so much approval you’ll be sore for weeks. Paul felt sweat on his palms. “Have you…have you been taking your medication?”
“Yes, sir. I’m still constantly horny anyway.”
Of course, you are.
“I saw Phillip a couple days ago,” Tristan said. “He wants to use me in a DVD again. I said you wouldn’t want me to work with him.”
The mention of the name Philip was sobering. If Tristan told the truth, Philip was the man who first slept with Tristan and coaxed him into the porn industry as an eighteen-year-old. Feelings of lust turned quickly to feelings of anger on Tristan’s behalf. “If that’s what keeps you away from him, I certainly don’t mind if you use me as an excuse. Please don’t let him touch you.”