Inbound
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Inbound free porn video
Inbound
by Rajah Dodger {[email protected]} (c) 2016
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.
"Is it in?"
Craig held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then shook his head and brought it back. He squirmed a bit in his office chair, and lowered his voice. "What kind of question is that?"
"It's a simple question, Craig. Is it in?"
There was silence, followed by a mumbled "Yes."
"Hard?"
He grimaced, his ass clenching. "It was hard when you gave it to me."
"Not the plug, Craig. Don't get cute with me."
His shoulders slumped. His voice faded to a mere whisper into the phone. "Yes, damn you, I'm hard!"
"Now wasn't that easy to say? Thank you, sweet boy. Now fetch the pill bottle."
Craig flicked his eyes to the wall clock. "But -- I have a meeting in five minutes!"
The woman's voice on the phone hardened. "I know, Craig. The meeting you expected to run, until that big-titted bitch got the job instead of you. I never forget the things you've told me, Craig, and I shouldn't need to remind you that the clock is ticking."
Craig bit his lower lip, reached into his lap and unzipped his slacks, then fished his stiff cock out with some difficulty. Opening his center drawer, he took out a large pill bottle and unscrewed the top, setting it on the edge of his desk. Glancing at the clock intermittently, he started stroking until his cock spurted, swooping the bottle to add to the thick globs already inside. He had just enough time to cap the bottle and zip his pants before rushing to the afternoon meeting.
Craig had been the obvious choice to succeed old Mathers when he retired, but the corporate management consultants had gone a different direction. Cora, the newly named division leader, was a hellion on wheels and seemed intent on tearing down and revising every project and policy that had made the division successful. If the woman had any assets other than the ones pressing against her blouse, it wasn't evident to him.
Worse, his cock was sensitive from just having jerked off, and he couldn't find a position in the conference room chair that didn't force him to focus on the plug in his ass. Every time that Cora threw an insinuating question his way, he had to struggle to keep his expression business-neutral and his voice steady. It made the meeting agony, but there was nothing he could do but sit back and accept the new reality of his job. For the next hour and a half, Craig entertained himself by devising (and reluctantly discarding) four different ways of undercutting and getting rid of the woman. Finally, she assigned a single meaningless project to him, and the meeting broke up.
When he got back to his office, the pill bottle was gone.
Craig closed and locked his office door, then tore through the place looking for the bottle. Finally, shoulders slumping, he settled into his chair and wriggled on the butt plug, and tried to figure out what had happened and what he could do about it. As he chewed his lip, he noticed an email announcement on his computer screen. "Drink Me," the title said. He wondered how the email got past the corporate spam filter, and would have junked it immediately if it hadn't shown Cora as the sender. That was strange, since she hadn't been division leader long enough for her name and his to get linked in the usual phishing networks. Curious now, he opened the email.
"I thought that would get your attention," he read. "Don't worry about the bottle, it's in safe hands. But I expected more from you, so we're going to have to change a few things. I hope you like getting emails from Cora -- you'll never know whether it's real or from me unless you read them. Better get back to your work, Craig, you wouldn't want the quarterly review committee to hear that you don't -- put out enough quality!"
There was no signature on the email. Not that he needed one. For what seemed the millionth time he cursed his stupidity in having logged onto that porn chat website from the office. He'd thought himself so clever, finding a way to bypass the office security filters, but someone on the website had been smarter and had tracked him back. Whoever it was had managed to link his website handle to his real name, home email and office email. His first notice had been the plain box delivered to his desk, containing the pill bottle and an anal plug with a packet of lube. The kicker was the webcam picture. Craig had never given a second thought to the birthmark on his cock until then.
Now some woman -- he hoped to God it was only a woman -- had him by the balls, requiring Craig to milk his cock at random intervals, his ass squeezing around a heavy butt plug.
It almost made the humiliation of having Cora as the new boss bearable.
The rest of his day was almost normal. Even if his current project was something an intern could have handled, work was work and Craig was a professional. Besides, he had no leverage. His attempts to contact someone from her previous division had resulted in a singular and depressing silence.
He took a coffee break a bit before 4:00, and while stirring the sugar in his phone went off. "Time to refill!" was the text message. Biting back a few choice obscenities, he walked briskly -- almost running -- to his office, seeing the bottle front and center on his desk. He exhaled and relaxed to see it empty, as it meant nobody would be prompted to ask difficult questions. Closing and locking the door, he unfastened his belt and lowered his zipper to start loading the bottle again. Thanks to the earlier meeting, he had plenty of creative images of Cora to use as fuel, and by the time he was finished the bottle had a significant and heavy amount inside.
Five o'clock came, and there were no commanding phone calls, nor any disturbing emails. Craig took a bathroom break to clean himself, tucked the pill bottle into his pocket, and headed home. He arrived without incident, fixed a healthful dinner, and sat down to go through the day's mail. Bill, bill, credit card offer, car wash discount, personal and confidential -- wait -- what?
Craig tossed the other materials aside and looked at the only one that suddenly mattered. The envelope appeared to have been addressed with an old-fashioned manual typewriter; the return address was his own office, and the postmark was the same date the plug had arrived at his desk. Inside was a single sheet of business-weight paper, apparently using the same typewriter, and expanding on the instructions that had accompanied the original shocking delivery:
A) The butt plug was to be his constant companion, except when going to the bathroom.
B) He was to masturbate before work and before bed, plus any time he received a reminder to do so.
C) He was to keep the pill bottle in the middle drawer of his office desk when at the office
D) He was to leave his office door unlocked whenever he was away
E) He was never to shut his cellphone off
Craig put the letter down and rubbed his temples. It was just a nightmare. Surely he would wake up in the morning and all of this would be a bad dream. But before he could do that, he had to make his deposit into the pill bottle. He'd do that and get to bed early, and hope for the best.
The buzz of his phone ringing woke him in a state of confusion -- where as it -- what time was it? When he realized it was barely 2:30 in the morning, he practically yelled into the phone. "WHAT?"
The person on the other end of the call spoke soothingly. "Now Craig, that's no way to talk to your new best friend." The voice was male, not female. Craig's stomach lurched. "I just needed to let you know it's time for another contribution in the bottle. And try not to scream on the phone, dear boy. It hurts my ears." With that, the call clicked off.
Jerking off at almost three in the morning, on orders from a strange man, put Craig through the wringer. He was sweating after fifteen minutes of effort, having been unable to focus on his usual porn images. Finally, with his cock getting sore from the stroking, he managed to get something out. He capped the bottle and stumbled back to bed, where his dreams were anything but restful.
Craig's new morning routine, if perverse, was at least straightforward. He tried not to be aware of the warmth of the liquid-filled bottle in his pocket as he drove to work. He had bigger worries. Cora's project was in his lap, beneath his dignity but still requiring a production that would satisfy her most critical review. Someone in his office was obviously part of the website trap, in order to be retrieving and emptying his -- output. Judging from the man's voice in the previous night's phone call, he was being double-teamed at least, multiplying the number of people who had his incriminating cock picture.
On top of all that -- or maybe on the bottom -- his rear was starting to get used to the shape and feel of the butt plug. Of all the aspects of his situation, that was the one that Craig found most disturbing.
Normally, Friday would be a wind-down day. This wasn't to be a normal Friday. Upper management wanted updates on two of his cancelled projects, which required some creative wording for Craig to look good without appearing to blame Cora. There didn't seem to be any detectable difference between the email headers on Cora's meeting announcement and the email from his tormentor. And Craig bypassed both lunch and bathroom breaks, staying either in his office or within view of it all day, hoping to see who was coming to pick up his bottle. He had no luck there, and with three text message reminders his bottle was filling rapidly.
The last email he received before shutting his computer down instructed him to go by the mail room and pick up a package. With a sense of dread, he collected the plain padded mailing envelope and tossed it into his portfolio for the trip home. Once home, he checked his mailbox for strange contents, and booted his system to make sure there were no new instructions. Relieved, he fixed himself a double Scotch and settled down for dinner. It took all of dinner and another drink afterward, with no beeps from his phone, for Craig to finally feel like he could relax for the weekend.
Or just relax for the moment. There was still that unopened package in his portfolio.
The hell with it. This was his weekend, and he wasn't going let himself be bullied into a nervous collapse just because he'd gotten his dick in a wringer. Stream some movies, jerk off, get a good night's sleep, let his brain have some creative thought on the problem, and he'd surely find a way to deal with everything. The package could wait for the morning. And with that, Craig shook off everything about the week and had an almost normal evening.
Saturday morning dawned to the thrumming sound of rain on the roof and the beeping of his phone. He slapped at it before realizing it was a phone call and not his wakeup alarm. Squinting, he saw an unknown phone number -- but he could no longer ignore those. "Yes?"
It was the same woman, and his cock bucked when he recognized the voice. "I haven't seen you on line. Didn't you open your package, Craig? This isn't good, not good at all. We may have to escalate matters." And with that vague threat, she hung up sharply. Craig swallowed, staring at the ceiling, then dragged himself out of bed and went to pump out a load and wash up. Duties handled, he trudged into his living room and opened the package. There were four items -- a larger plug, another packet of lube, a fine-point blood-red marker, and a slip of paper with a URL printed on it.
The purpose of the plug was self-evident, and it took him a bit of work to get the new one settled in his rear. His muscles kept twitching around it, and his cock wouldn't quite go soft. Rather than sit, he stood naked from his waist down in front of the table where his laptop was waiting and booted the system to check out the website.
The URL took him to an anonymous page holding a text message and a button. The message said:
"Put the new plug in, draw a nice big arrow on the underside of your shaft pointing to your cockhead, then upload a picture with the button here. Since you couldn't be bothered to follow instructions, you're going to have a busy weekend."
Craig bit his lip, and lifted one foot onto his chair, holding the marker awkwardly as he dragged the tip up his shaft. Lifting his foot onto the chair made his bottom flex disturbingly around the plug, and his hands shook. The arrow was not artistic, but it definitely pointed in the right direction. Unfortunately, the red marker did not hide his birthmark. He fumbled with his phone to take the picture, then connected it to his laptop to transfer the file. Finally, he clicked the website button and located the picture to be uploaded. Nothing happened for five long minutes, then his email alert flashed.
"Good morning, Craig. Get a new pill bottle, then go to the adult video store off the east freeway near the beer distributor. When you get there, tell the attendant you want the VIP show and give her twenty dollars, then do EXACTLY what she tells you. You and your poor pathetic perverse fantasies -- we're going to help you experience them! You can thank us later." His new picture was attached, edited to include the legend "Craig" along the bottom edge.
Breakfast was now out of the question; Craig had no appetite for food. He struggled to find a pair of relaxed fit slacks, then went on a pharmacy hunt to find an empty pill bottle. That done, he headed toward the bad side of town, the road rumble making the plug vibrate inside his ass and keeping his cock hard.
The attendant at the video store looked barely legal age, and Craig's voice cracked as he offered the twenty-dollar bill and asked for the VIP show. The girl barely gave him a second look as she slipped the twenty somewhere underneath the cash register and handed him a blindfold. "Put this on first and I'll lead you there," she told him. He looked around the store; there were two men in the DVD section and a woman browsing the novelties. Any of them could have been his tormentors, or they could just be total strangers ignoring him. He didn't really have a choice, though. He slid the fabric over his eyes, and stumbled a little as the girl walked him sightless through the store. He heard the opening of a door, and passed into what sounded like a hallway, then was guided into a room and pushed face-first against a wall.
"What is this," he started to ask.
"Shut up and just follow directions, okay?" Her voice was biting now, laced with disgust. She loosened his belt and shoved his slacks and boxers down. There was a current of air against his cock, and her fingers pushed his erection and swelling balls through a hole in the wall while the plug shifted snug inside his ass. "Stay here. Someone will deal with you soon enough." The sound of a door shutting left him squirming in a combination of fear and excitement, his cock bobbing on the other side of the wall.
The door opened and closed. Craig heard light footsteps behind him. His ass clenched in time with the small spasms shaking his cock. Someone grabbed his right wrist and lifted it, fastening it into a padded loop over his head, then did the same with his left wrist. He bit back a protest at the last minute, since "Shut up" seemed to have no wiggle room. A sliding sound resulted in a puff of air at his face, and his head was pushed forward, neck rubbing against an unseen boundary. Clicking sounds assailed his ears, and then a familiar female voice spoke up.
"Have you ever heard the expression, be careful what you wish for? Well..." The plug in Craig's ass started vibrating, accompanied by a low rumbling sound from behind him. His body arched, hunching his crotch against the hole in the wall. "Oh good, you're ready for your close-up," cooed the voice. Suddenly his cock and balls were caressed, teased, assailed by a tongue -- no, by multiple tongues, at least three, though he couldn't get his brain to work well enough to figure out how that many could fit around his crotch.
Between the wet rasping tongues exploring and raking his cockhead, shaft and balls, he would have been hard-pressed to maintain any control under the best circumstances. The plug buzzing in his ass was only the trigger as he bucked and spurted, spasms lengthened by the lewd attentions.
He sagged against the cuffs holding his wrists, and heard the woman's voice. "That's a start. We have plenty of bottles. Again." Once more the tongues explored his now-sweaty crotch, cleaning off earlier evidence and arousing him until another explosion was unavoidable. His thigh muscles clutched and ached just as much, even if the amount flowing through his groin was less. "Clean him. Then again." Craig bucked against the wall as his private parts were scrubbed with what felt like a heavy wet washcloth. When a mouth covered his cock and the tongue started rasping under his crown, Craig could no longer keep silent. His first sound, however, resulted in a strip of tape covering his mouth.
Tongues and fingers worked together this time, while the tape silenced his protests. The loops holding his wrists were solid, and any attempt by Craig to pull away from the stroking only forced the thick vibrating plug deeper into his ass. His balls exploded, and that evil voice merely murmured, "Again."
Something tight, like slippery rubber, was worked over his agonized cockhead and down his shaft; he howled into the muffling tape, his entire body shaking, and completely lost track of what was happening. Craig's entire world had shrunk to the alternation of aching orgasms and wet rubbing of his overworked cock, his nervous system keyed up to scream at the sound of the woman's voice, until the last two convulsions brought nothing but sobbing moans from his throat and nothing out of his body.
When his brain started working again, he was lying on his back, something slippery and soothing gliding between his thighs, his asshole empty and somehow missing the plug, the pain in his cock faded and distant. His arms and legs tingled and didn't seem to work. A flash of light made him aware that the blindfold no longer covered his eyes, and when he opened his mouth he realized the tape was gone. Confused, Craig struggled to focus on the soft smooth ass descending over his face, blocking his vision and then covering his mouth.
This much he knew how to respond to, putting his tongue to work, kissing into the deep crease and alternately tracing and probing. If he could not use his hands, he would just have to let his face work harder. The room was silent other than the occasional grunt from above him; the hand caressing his sore balls was a godsend.
Suddenly, the cheeks on his face clenched and shoved downward pinning his head back and covering both his mouth and nose. Craig fluttered his tongue with both insistence and desperation, but the pressure was withdrawn almost as quickly. He blinked with blurred vision as the woman swiveled her hips around.
No, not the woman. On the other side of that soft, smooth ass was a bare, smooth cock, fully erect, longer than his. Two hands from behind held his head back and down as the cock slithered past his lips. "!!!!!!" he half-choked, but there was nothing to be done. The fingers between his thighs moved from his balls to wiggle teasingly at the rim of his asshole, either in promise or warning. Broken, Craig sucked his cheeks in and did his best to be a helpful sucking partner, eyes watering as the cock pressed forward. When the cockhead wedged into his throat, Craig started gagging and that seemed to be the necessary trigger. Cum flooded his throat, and he thrashed with strong hands holding him down as he gurgled and swallowed while snorting through his nose.
Eventually, the cock softened and was withdrawn. "Not bad for a beginner," said the voice of the man from his phone as he rose, his face turned away from Craig's eyes. "Here's how this works. We've got all the DNA we need to put you away for anything we want to. So, in exchange for our leaving you alone -- most of the time -- you're going to be very good about giving us anything we ask from your company. You'll know when we want something from you -- you'll get a new plug delivered."
Craig closed his eyes, feeling the shame echoed hotly across his face. There really wasn't anything he could to but agree. "I understand, but..." he began.
The hands between his thighs tightened around his balls. "But what?"
Craig swallowed, at war with himself, and his voice was thin as he got the request past his lips.
"Would you put the plug back in?"
/ END /
by Rajah Dodger {[email protected]} (c) 2016
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.
"Is it in?"
Craig held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then shook his head and brought it back. He squirmed a bit in his office chair, and lowered his voice. "What kind of question is that?"
"It's a simple question, Craig. Is it in?"
There was silence, followed by a mumbled "Yes."
"Hard?"
He grimaced, his ass clenching. "It was hard when you gave it to me."
"Not the plug, Craig. Don't get cute with me."
His shoulders slumped. His voice faded to a mere whisper into the phone. "Yes, damn you, I'm hard!"
"Now wasn't that easy to say? Thank you, sweet boy. Now fetch the pill bottle."
Craig flicked his eyes to the wall clock. "But -- I have a meeting in five minutes!"
The woman's voice on the phone hardened. "I know, Craig. The meeting you expected to run, until that big-titted bitch got the job instead of you. I never forget the things you've told me, Craig, and I shouldn't need to remind you that the clock is ticking."
Craig bit his lower lip, reached into his lap and unzipped his slacks, then fished his stiff cock out with some difficulty. Opening his center drawer, he took out a large pill bottle and unscrewed the top, setting it on the edge of his desk. Glancing at the clock intermittently, he started stroking until his cock spurted, swooping the bottle to add to the thick globs already inside. He had just enough time to cap the bottle and zip his pants before rushing to the afternoon meeting.
Craig had been the obvious choice to succeed old Mathers when he retired, but the corporate management consultants had gone a different direction. Cora, the newly named division leader, was a hellion on wheels and seemed intent on tearing down and revising every project and policy that had made the division successful. If the woman had any assets other than the ones pressing against her blouse, it wasn't evident to him.
Worse, his cock was sensitive from just having jerked off, and he couldn't find a position in the conference room chair that didn't force him to focus on the plug in his ass. Every time that Cora threw an insinuating question his way, he had to struggle to keep his expression business-neutral and his voice steady. It made the meeting agony, but there was nothing he could do but sit back and accept the new reality of his job. For the next hour and a half, Craig entertained himself by devising (and reluctantly discarding) four different ways of undercutting and getting rid of the woman. Finally, she assigned a single meaningless project to him, and the meeting broke up.
When he got back to his office, the pill bottle was gone.
Craig closed and locked his office door, then tore through the place looking for the bottle. Finally, shoulders slumping, he settled into his chair and wriggled on the butt plug, and tried to figure out what had happened and what he could do about it. As he chewed his lip, he noticed an email announcement on his computer screen. "Drink Me," the title said. He wondered how the email got past the corporate spam filter, and would have junked it immediately if it hadn't shown Cora as the sender. That was strange, since she hadn't been division leader long enough for her name and his to get linked in the usual phishing networks. Curious now, he opened the email.
"I thought that would get your attention," he read. "Don't worry about the bottle, it's in safe hands. But I expected more from you, so we're going to have to change a few things. I hope you like getting emails from Cora -- you'll never know whether it's real or from me unless you read them. Better get back to your work, Craig, you wouldn't want the quarterly review committee to hear that you don't -- put out enough quality!"
There was no signature on the email. Not that he needed one. For what seemed the millionth time he cursed his stupidity in having logged onto that porn chat website from the office. He'd thought himself so clever, finding a way to bypass the office security filters, but someone on the website had been smarter and had tracked him back. Whoever it was had managed to link his website handle to his real name, home email and office email. His first notice had been the plain box delivered to his desk, containing the pill bottle and an anal plug with a packet of lube. The kicker was the webcam picture. Craig had never given a second thought to the birthmark on his cock until then.
Now some woman -- he hoped to God it was only a woman -- had him by the balls, requiring Craig to milk his cock at random intervals, his ass squeezing around a heavy butt plug.
It almost made the humiliation of having Cora as the new boss bearable.
The rest of his day was almost normal. Even if his current project was something an intern could have handled, work was work and Craig was a professional. Besides, he had no leverage. His attempts to contact someone from her previous division had resulted in a singular and depressing silence.
He took a coffee break a bit before 4:00, and while stirring the sugar in his phone went off. "Time to refill!" was the text message. Biting back a few choice obscenities, he walked briskly -- almost running -- to his office, seeing the bottle front and center on his desk. He exhaled and relaxed to see it empty, as it meant nobody would be prompted to ask difficult questions. Closing and locking the door, he unfastened his belt and lowered his zipper to start loading the bottle again. Thanks to the earlier meeting, he had plenty of creative images of Cora to use as fuel, and by the time he was finished the bottle had a significant and heavy amount inside.
Five o'clock came, and there were no commanding phone calls, nor any disturbing emails. Craig took a bathroom break to clean himself, tucked the pill bottle into his pocket, and headed home. He arrived without incident, fixed a healthful dinner, and sat down to go through the day's mail. Bill, bill, credit card offer, car wash discount, personal and confidential -- wait -- what?
Craig tossed the other materials aside and looked at the only one that suddenly mattered. The envelope appeared to have been addressed with an old-fashioned manual typewriter; the return address was his own office, and the postmark was the same date the plug had arrived at his desk. Inside was a single sheet of business-weight paper, apparently using the same typewriter, and expanding on the instructions that had accompanied the original shocking delivery:
A) The butt plug was to be his constant companion, except when going to the bathroom.
B) He was to masturbate before work and before bed, plus any time he received a reminder to do so.
C) He was to keep the pill bottle in the middle drawer of his office desk when at the office
D) He was to leave his office door unlocked whenever he was away
E) He was never to shut his cellphone off
Craig put the letter down and rubbed his temples. It was just a nightmare. Surely he would wake up in the morning and all of this would be a bad dream. But before he could do that, he had to make his deposit into the pill bottle. He'd do that and get to bed early, and hope for the best.
The buzz of his phone ringing woke him in a state of confusion -- where as it -- what time was it? When he realized it was barely 2:30 in the morning, he practically yelled into the phone. "WHAT?"
The person on the other end of the call spoke soothingly. "Now Craig, that's no way to talk to your new best friend." The voice was male, not female. Craig's stomach lurched. "I just needed to let you know it's time for another contribution in the bottle. And try not to scream on the phone, dear boy. It hurts my ears." With that, the call clicked off.
Jerking off at almost three in the morning, on orders from a strange man, put Craig through the wringer. He was sweating after fifteen minutes of effort, having been unable to focus on his usual porn images. Finally, with his cock getting sore from the stroking, he managed to get something out. He capped the bottle and stumbled back to bed, where his dreams were anything but restful.
Craig's new morning routine, if perverse, was at least straightforward. He tried not to be aware of the warmth of the liquid-filled bottle in his pocket as he drove to work. He had bigger worries. Cora's project was in his lap, beneath his dignity but still requiring a production that would satisfy her most critical review. Someone in his office was obviously part of the website trap, in order to be retrieving and emptying his -- output. Judging from the man's voice in the previous night's phone call, he was being double-teamed at least, multiplying the number of people who had his incriminating cock picture.
On top of all that -- or maybe on the bottom -- his rear was starting to get used to the shape and feel of the butt plug. Of all the aspects of his situation, that was the one that Craig found most disturbing.
Normally, Friday would be a wind-down day. This wasn't to be a normal Friday. Upper management wanted updates on two of his cancelled projects, which required some creative wording for Craig to look good without appearing to blame Cora. There didn't seem to be any detectable difference between the email headers on Cora's meeting announcement and the email from his tormentor. And Craig bypassed both lunch and bathroom breaks, staying either in his office or within view of it all day, hoping to see who was coming to pick up his bottle. He had no luck there, and with three text message reminders his bottle was filling rapidly.
The last email he received before shutting his computer down instructed him to go by the mail room and pick up a package. With a sense of dread, he collected the plain padded mailing envelope and tossed it into his portfolio for the trip home. Once home, he checked his mailbox for strange contents, and booted his system to make sure there were no new instructions. Relieved, he fixed himself a double Scotch and settled down for dinner. It took all of dinner and another drink afterward, with no beeps from his phone, for Craig to finally feel like he could relax for the weekend.
Or just relax for the moment. There was still that unopened package in his portfolio.
The hell with it. This was his weekend, and he wasn't going let himself be bullied into a nervous collapse just because he'd gotten his dick in a wringer. Stream some movies, jerk off, get a good night's sleep, let his brain have some creative thought on the problem, and he'd surely find a way to deal with everything. The package could wait for the morning. And with that, Craig shook off everything about the week and had an almost normal evening.
Saturday morning dawned to the thrumming sound of rain on the roof and the beeping of his phone. He slapped at it before realizing it was a phone call and not his wakeup alarm. Squinting, he saw an unknown phone number -- but he could no longer ignore those. "Yes?"
It was the same woman, and his cock bucked when he recognized the voice. "I haven't seen you on line. Didn't you open your package, Craig? This isn't good, not good at all. We may have to escalate matters." And with that vague threat, she hung up sharply. Craig swallowed, staring at the ceiling, then dragged himself out of bed and went to pump out a load and wash up. Duties handled, he trudged into his living room and opened the package. There were four items -- a larger plug, another packet of lube, a fine-point blood-red marker, and a slip of paper with a URL printed on it.
The purpose of the plug was self-evident, and it took him a bit of work to get the new one settled in his rear. His muscles kept twitching around it, and his cock wouldn't quite go soft. Rather than sit, he stood naked from his waist down in front of the table where his laptop was waiting and booted the system to check out the website.
The URL took him to an anonymous page holding a text message and a button. The message said:
"Put the new plug in, draw a nice big arrow on the underside of your shaft pointing to your cockhead, then upload a picture with the button here. Since you couldn't be bothered to follow instructions, you're going to have a busy weekend."
Craig bit his lip, and lifted one foot onto his chair, holding the marker awkwardly as he dragged the tip up his shaft. Lifting his foot onto the chair made his bottom flex disturbingly around the plug, and his hands shook. The arrow was not artistic, but it definitely pointed in the right direction. Unfortunately, the red marker did not hide his birthmark. He fumbled with his phone to take the picture, then connected it to his laptop to transfer the file. Finally, he clicked the website button and located the picture to be uploaded. Nothing happened for five long minutes, then his email alert flashed.
"Good morning, Craig. Get a new pill bottle, then go to the adult video store off the east freeway near the beer distributor. When you get there, tell the attendant you want the VIP show and give her twenty dollars, then do EXACTLY what she tells you. You and your poor pathetic perverse fantasies -- we're going to help you experience them! You can thank us later." His new picture was attached, edited to include the legend "Craig" along the bottom edge.
Breakfast was now out of the question; Craig had no appetite for food. He struggled to find a pair of relaxed fit slacks, then went on a pharmacy hunt to find an empty pill bottle. That done, he headed toward the bad side of town, the road rumble making the plug vibrate inside his ass and keeping his cock hard.
The attendant at the video store looked barely legal age, and Craig's voice cracked as he offered the twenty-dollar bill and asked for the VIP show. The girl barely gave him a second look as she slipped the twenty somewhere underneath the cash register and handed him a blindfold. "Put this on first and I'll lead you there," she told him. He looked around the store; there were two men in the DVD section and a woman browsing the novelties. Any of them could have been his tormentors, or they could just be total strangers ignoring him. He didn't really have a choice, though. He slid the fabric over his eyes, and stumbled a little as the girl walked him sightless through the store. He heard the opening of a door, and passed into what sounded like a hallway, then was guided into a room and pushed face-first against a wall.
"What is this," he started to ask.
"Shut up and just follow directions, okay?" Her voice was biting now, laced with disgust. She loosened his belt and shoved his slacks and boxers down. There was a current of air against his cock, and her fingers pushed his erection and swelling balls through a hole in the wall while the plug shifted snug inside his ass. "Stay here. Someone will deal with you soon enough." The sound of a door shutting left him squirming in a combination of fear and excitement, his cock bobbing on the other side of the wall.
The door opened and closed. Craig heard light footsteps behind him. His ass clenched in time with the small spasms shaking his cock. Someone grabbed his right wrist and lifted it, fastening it into a padded loop over his head, then did the same with his left wrist. He bit back a protest at the last minute, since "Shut up" seemed to have no wiggle room. A sliding sound resulted in a puff of air at his face, and his head was pushed forward, neck rubbing against an unseen boundary. Clicking sounds assailed his ears, and then a familiar female voice spoke up.
"Have you ever heard the expression, be careful what you wish for? Well..." The plug in Craig's ass started vibrating, accompanied by a low rumbling sound from behind him. His body arched, hunching his crotch against the hole in the wall. "Oh good, you're ready for your close-up," cooed the voice. Suddenly his cock and balls were caressed, teased, assailed by a tongue -- no, by multiple tongues, at least three, though he couldn't get his brain to work well enough to figure out how that many could fit around his crotch.
Between the wet rasping tongues exploring and raking his cockhead, shaft and balls, he would have been hard-pressed to maintain any control under the best circumstances. The plug buzzing in his ass was only the trigger as he bucked and spurted, spasms lengthened by the lewd attentions.
He sagged against the cuffs holding his wrists, and heard the woman's voice. "That's a start. We have plenty of bottles. Again." Once more the tongues explored his now-sweaty crotch, cleaning off earlier evidence and arousing him until another explosion was unavoidable. His thigh muscles clutched and ached just as much, even if the amount flowing through his groin was less. "Clean him. Then again." Craig bucked against the wall as his private parts were scrubbed with what felt like a heavy wet washcloth. When a mouth covered his cock and the tongue started rasping under his crown, Craig could no longer keep silent. His first sound, however, resulted in a strip of tape covering his mouth.
Tongues and fingers worked together this time, while the tape silenced his protests. The loops holding his wrists were solid, and any attempt by Craig to pull away from the stroking only forced the thick vibrating plug deeper into his ass. His balls exploded, and that evil voice merely murmured, "Again."
Something tight, like slippery rubber, was worked over his agonized cockhead and down his shaft; he howled into the muffling tape, his entire body shaking, and completely lost track of what was happening. Craig's entire world had shrunk to the alternation of aching orgasms and wet rubbing of his overworked cock, his nervous system keyed up to scream at the sound of the woman's voice, until the last two convulsions brought nothing but sobbing moans from his throat and nothing out of his body.
When his brain started working again, he was lying on his back, something slippery and soothing gliding between his thighs, his asshole empty and somehow missing the plug, the pain in his cock faded and distant. His arms and legs tingled and didn't seem to work. A flash of light made him aware that the blindfold no longer covered his eyes, and when he opened his mouth he realized the tape was gone. Confused, Craig struggled to focus on the soft smooth ass descending over his face, blocking his vision and then covering his mouth.
This much he knew how to respond to, putting his tongue to work, kissing into the deep crease and alternately tracing and probing. If he could not use his hands, he would just have to let his face work harder. The room was silent other than the occasional grunt from above him; the hand caressing his sore balls was a godsend.
Suddenly, the cheeks on his face clenched and shoved downward pinning his head back and covering both his mouth and nose. Craig fluttered his tongue with both insistence and desperation, but the pressure was withdrawn almost as quickly. He blinked with blurred vision as the woman swiveled her hips around.
No, not the woman. On the other side of that soft, smooth ass was a bare, smooth cock, fully erect, longer than his. Two hands from behind held his head back and down as the cock slithered past his lips. "!!!!!!" he half-choked, but there was nothing to be done. The fingers between his thighs moved from his balls to wiggle teasingly at the rim of his asshole, either in promise or warning. Broken, Craig sucked his cheeks in and did his best to be a helpful sucking partner, eyes watering as the cock pressed forward. When the cockhead wedged into his throat, Craig started gagging and that seemed to be the necessary trigger. Cum flooded his throat, and he thrashed with strong hands holding him down as he gurgled and swallowed while snorting through his nose.
Eventually, the cock softened and was withdrawn. "Not bad for a beginner," said the voice of the man from his phone as he rose, his face turned away from Craig's eyes. "Here's how this works. We've got all the DNA we need to put you away for anything we want to. So, in exchange for our leaving you alone -- most of the time -- you're going to be very good about giving us anything we ask from your company. You'll know when we want something from you -- you'll get a new plug delivered."
Craig closed his eyes, feeling the shame echoed hotly across his face. There really wasn't anything he could to but agree. "I understand, but..." he began.
The hands between his thighs tightened around his balls. "But what?"
Craig swallowed, at war with himself, and his voice was thin as he got the request past his lips.
"Would you put the plug back in?"
/ END /
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