Date: Thu, 17 Aug 2006 20:05:31 EDT
From: Danhol900@aol.com
Subject: Brutal Trucker Sex #19

Recap of Chapter #18 for context...

"Therefore, I'm pleased to announce" Sarge paused for impact, "open fuckin
bitch time for the next two hours.  Play nice ya hear".  As cheers went up
I immediately felt hands grabbing every part of my body, pulling me this
way and that as my mouth was crammed full of smelly slimy trucker cock and
firm fingers probed my traumatized fuck hole.  The next two hours were a
blur as I was fucked in every position imaginable, on my back, on my knees,
by one cock, by two cocks, a cock and a fist, two fists.  The racial
tension earlier evaporated as black and white cock merged with one common
objective, to empty every set of horny trucker balls in the place.  I was
as likely to take two blacks inside me as two whites or a black and a white
cock side by side.  I was forced to eat out black and white grimy sweaty
trucker asses, swallow more than a few trucker farts just for amusement and
was subjected to every imaginable form of abuse, humiliation and
degradation.

By the end of the shift I was a complete wreck a babbling incoherent fool.
So complete was my degradation that I had to be dragged back to my shed but
not before one last humiliating trip through the front offices while
dangling like a puppet on the end of Madd-dogs humungous thick rigid Black
cock.  My reputation was already sealed among the truckers; this cemented
it for the office staff as well.  I was the official warehouse slut."

Brutal Trucker Sex #19 Thursday, my forth day on the job.

I was exhausted and sore as hell from all my exertions of the night before.
I slept in the shed at the back of the property until late the next
afternoon.  I was really glad Mr. Spignotti announced no bitch time for
Thursday's shift.  I didn't think my poor fuck hole could take another
shift like last night's.  I woke up with the hardest cock and my balls felt
like they were going to burst but there was absolutely no way I could
relieve the pressure, it hurt like hell to simply touch my overly sensitive
cock and stroking it was completely out of the question.  Precum dribbled
from the head as my need for release was blocked by the pain from simply
touching my cock.

All day and into the night I heard the sounds of big eighteen wheelers
rumbling into the parking lot of the warehouse.  Lying on the bed half
asleep, my body still throbbing from last shift's activities, I couldn't
help but relive the past week at the warehouse.  I went through every scene
of the past week, the dogs, the fisting, the beatings, the humiliations,
everything.  My mind focused on some of the most intense experiences like
the double fuck that George Kincaid and Madd-dog inflicted on me and of
course that hate-filled kick fuck Sarge put me through.  I kept running
these scenes through my sleepless mind over and over again, remembering
every last detail and sensations.  I even remembered look on George's face
as he finally drained his balls for the fifth time that night or the
sensation of Sarge's black leather boot crammed inside me so far I feel
every stitch in the leather and count each steel eyelet as it slid over my
super sensitive fuck hole lips.

Hearing the trucks outside the shed only fed my imagination as each truck
reminded me that there was one, possibly two hard horny truckers arriving
at the warehouse looking for relief.  I heard semis rumble in, the farts of
air brakes, trucker cab doors slamming, even truckers spitting on the
ground or pissing on the side of the shed.  My half conscious imagination
was filled with images of every truck driver I heard pull into the lot.  I
imagined young muscled white guys, older bear-like men in flannel shirts
and beards, black truckers in tight jeans and bulging crotches and even
short fat truckers with bald heads and huge protruding pot bellies from
years behind the wheels.  I imagined what each driver smelled and tasted
like, what their cocks felt like slamming down my throat or crammed
painfully inside me from behind.

I'd imagine what each man particularly liked and needed to drain his balls
into me; what he'd demand that I did to him.  I'd imagine that some guys
were private types and some more gregarious types enjoyed the encouragement
of comrades as they used me.  In my mind each arriving truck to the
warehouse brought me anther trucker to satisfy, to bring pleasure to and
another set of trucker balls to drain.  These thoughts kept my painful
swollen cock hard and my balls filled to the brim this cum as imaginary
truckers filled me again and again.

But my cock much was too sore to touch to relieve the pressure.  I tried
but even the sensation of the sheets on my cock sent surges of pain and
pleasure rocking my trembling body.  I did however feel an intense
throbbing in my hard cock and balls that kept me on the verge of cumming
all day and into the night.  My entire body was so battered and bruised my
nerve endings were tingling and sending out sparks of sensations; like
little explosions of pleasure mingled with twinges of agony.  My
imagination fed my body's craving for trucker cock.  Every step I made sent
waves of pleasure flowing through me as my sensitized pussy lips rubbed
against my tight muscled butt cheeks.  I knew that tonight's calisthenics
would be extremely difficult if simply walking across my dark and dirty
shed caused my hips to thrust involuntarily forward and my cock to stand at
rigid attention dribbling copious amounts of viscous precum liquid.
Throughout the day and night urgent pressure of pent up cum continued to
expand my young sensitive balls as they slowly changed from a raw red color
to a purple blue clearly showing my urgent need.

It took me about thirty minutes just to get dressed for my next shift,
cramming my erect cock and swollen overfull balls inside the pink panties
with the roses was excruciating.  The super tight lavender overalls pressed
my swollen cock and balls against my body forcing me into a semi-stooping
position as I hobbled through the warehouse back to the shift supervisor's
office.  Once I got there I immediately saw a hand written note taped to
the office door announcing:

No Bitch Time Tonight

Come Back Tomorrow, 3rd Shift

Bitch Dodge Ball Game

Vinton Brundt and Sergeant Carter Team Captains

Dread filled my heart when I saw the sign as I was forced to imagine what
in the world a "Bitch Dodge Ball Game" was.  I know I didn't enjoy dodge
ball in elementary school and these sadistic truckers were sure to make it
even more brutal and humiliating for me.  Resigned to my lowly status I
humbly knocked on the door to the office.  "Who the fuck is there?" was
Sarge's brusque reply.  I stammered, "It's me, Sir".  "Me who, fuckwadd?  I
aint no fuckin mind reader shithead" Sarge spat.  "It's me the warehouse
bitch, Sir, reporting for third shift duty, Sir" I cried out, trying to
sound strong and confident even though my timid voice cracked from nerves.
I heard Sarge laugh sardonically as he snarled, "Fuckin right there cum
breath, god damned fuckin right" as he threw the door open wide and roughly
dragged me into the office.  The desk and chair had been pushed to the side
of the room and the padded fuck board was replaced with an exercise mat
spread across the center of the office.

Sarge stood there glaring at me intently, his arms folded across his chest
and his hard black "Pussy Pounder" dripping precum and jutting from his tan
uniform as if he hadn't moved an inch since I'd last seen him; after he had
announced "Open fuckin bitch time for the next two hours" earlier this
morning.  I couldn't help myself but I stole a quick glance to make sure
Sarge was still wearing his black leather work boots; the front of both
still crusted with dried dog and trucker cum and battered pussy juice.
After a few seconds pause Sarge finally lost his temper and walked directly
up to me, with his face just inches from my own he barked out in his full
strong deep baritone voice, "Do I have to fuckin remind you snot-nosed
little fuckwadd every fuckin time that you will come to attention whenever
you enter this office, you got that shithead? Every fuckin time!"  I
immediately snapped to attention, the automatic sharp motions sent shivers
of pleasure and agony through my body as my hips instinctively thrust
forward and a low grunt of pain escaped my lips.

Sarge smiled a broad smile, pleased as shit with my response. Sarge could
read my mind, knowing exactly how I felt, both the agony and the pleasure
that still reverberated through my bruised and battered body.  He looked
with intense hatred so deeply into my eyes that I was sure he was reading
my thoughts as well; just standing there, inches from my face staring, as
beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my cock painfully twitched and
jumped as much as the tight clothes allowed.

Finally Sarge barked, "Outta that fag jumpsuit, bitch.  I wanna see those
pretty pink bitch panties."  I stood there in those ridiculous panties, my
hard swollen precum-dripping cock head poking through the elastic waist
band and my huge painfully swollen balls bulging at the tear in the crotch.
Sarge had me bend over as he inspected my battered body like an expert. He
was reading each and every scratch and bruise; reliving the horrifying
events of last night, remembering every agony inflicted on me; a far away
look in his eyes as his cock jumped and bobbed.  He even ran his right
index finger along my body watching with pleasure my body's natural
responses; twitching, shivers and grunts of pain.  He traced every red
swollen stroke from Mr. Spignotti's bull whip and every scratch and bruise
from the dog's claws and trucker's scratches. "Fuckin BEEEE-U-ti-Fulll, god
damned fuckin BEEEE-UUU-ti-Fullll" he snarled as he was lost in his
single-minded focus of my painful reactions.  "Shit" he snickered, "that's
one worked of pussy bitch.  One fuckin worked over bitch" he continued with
pride in his voice and a cruel smile on his face.

I cried out in agony as Sarge roughly reached through the tear in the
panties and violently pulled my sore and swollen balls through the hole;
exposing them to the cold warehouse air.  He held them both in his wide
calloused palm bouncing them painfully up and down just to watch my
instinctive reflexes and ineffective attempts to free them from his right
hand.  But I wasn't going anywhere as Sarge clamped down on both balls and
squeezed them hard as I squealed like a stuck pig and Sarge exploded in
hysterical laughter.  "Fuckin pig, god damned fuckin pig" he snorted as I
started begging for him to please release my poor traumatized balls.  Sarge
loved hearing me beg and the complete control he held over me.  He seemed
to focus on the thought that a simple squeeze of his hand would drop me to
my knees in an instant.  I understood this without his having to tell me as
beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my body started to shake
uncontrollably.  Sarge towered over my bent body with complete authority
over my every action.  I was his to do with as he chose, especially during
the third shift when he was my supervisor.

"These sure are fuckin pretty pink balls you got here scumbag.  God damned
fuckin pretty boy balls.  But I think we got to do a little stretching of
these fuckers.  Gonna give you a fuckin set of real man's balls hanging
'tween those skinny pink honky legs of yours.  How 'bout it bitch, you want
a set of manly fuckin low hangers boy?  You want that baby, fuckin real man
balls hanging between those skinny white legs?" Sarge snarled assertively.
All I could do was moan in pain as Sarge started tugging on my swollen
balls, pulling them downward about five inches as my body naturally fought
this new torment.  My thought and desires, my wishes on the matter were of
no consequence.  Sarge wanted it so he was going to make it happen, no
matter what I wanted.

Then Sarge walked over to his desk and removed a black leather strap-like
devise that he wrapped tightly around and around my balls stretching them
relentlessly and pulling them at least five inches away from my body.  I
struggled to breath from the pain; it was so intense. To this strange
contraption Sarge then attached a large lead one pound weight.  Pleased
with his efforts Sarge smiled; enjoying my grunt of pain as he roughly
dropped the weight and my tender balls were tugged excruciatingly downward.
"This aughtta make tonight's calisthenics a bit more interesting, don't cha
think bitch?" Sarge sneered.  All I could do was manage a half hearted,
"Sir yes Sir" as I struggled to adjust to this new unnatural sensation.

Throughout the night Sarge had me perform every boot camp exercise that
came to his sadistic mind, all with that leather contraption on.  Every
hour he'd add another lead weight until by of the shift I was holding more
than eight pounds of lead by my balls even able to do jumping jacks and
squat thrusts this way!  My cock never softened the entire night and my
balls felt like they were about to burst at any minute.

During one of my rest periods, after a particularly exhausting set of
exercises with seven pounds of lead hanging from my balls a change seemed
to come over Sarge.  He became almost pensive at one point as he quietly
looked me directly in the eyes and asked, "Do you have any idea just how
difficult it is for me not to plow that fucking pussy of your right here
and now?"  I was shocked.  It was as if he wanted me to acknowledge that he
was somehow entitled to my hole anytime he wanted it and only
Mr. Spignotti's admonition that there would be no bitch time today
prevented him from screwing me right here and now.  His gaze let me know he
was deadly serious as he gently rubbed his index finger over my poor
stretched purple balls.  "I know you want it too bitch.  That's the kicker.
I know you want my fucking cock buried so fucking deep inside you can taste
it, aint that right baby?  Aint that fuckin right?" as he increased his
attention on my balls.

"And you know me too, don't you fuckwadd?  You know exactly what I like.
You know that while I might enjoy the feeling of my cock sliding around a
tight hole that's never gonna be enough, fuck no it aint.  You understand
me", he stared intently, "that making a pussy bitch hurt really feeds a
need in me.  Making a bitch moan and beg just makes my balls start to burn;
fuckin makes 'em explode.  You know that don't you bitch?  The fuckin
always feels good but you know I need more and you just love giving me
everything I need, don't you baby cakes?"

"And you know I hate you too, don't you fuckwadd; hate you to the very
core?" Sarge continued in tight controlled language, "I've never kept my
fuckin contempt for you a secret.  Shit I've shown you my hatred to, every
time I fuck you.  But you like my hatred, you fuckin need my hatred.  You
feed on it as much as I do; it drives both of us onward.  My hatred gives
you something to concentrate on while you endure all the shit I throw at
you.  I fuckin know I through shit at you too, don't misunderstand me,
slut.  You can take all that shit and willingly take everything I throw at
you because you like it.  You have come to understand that my utter and
complete hatred of you is the one thing that will never change, the one
thing you can always count on.  It's not just you either.  It's all honky
bitches I hate and you get to feel my hatred, like you felt my boot
yesterday".  Sarge was right, I hadn't thought of any of this before.

"You need it as much as I do, I know you do" Sarge snarled
condescendingly. "Admit it bitch, admit it to yourself that you need me to
hurt you; to make you moan, fuck to make you beg for me to stop even though
you still want more.  Fuckin twisted bitch, don't have no fuckin idea what
you want, just so's you make ole Sarge happy, aint that right baby?  That's
the only thing you need right now, make ole Sarge happy.  Aint that so,
only fuckin thing?"

Sarge never took his eyes from mine as he continued calmly and quietly,
almost conspiratorially.  In a hoarse testosterone drenched whisper Sarge
continued, "You know what I think, cum breath?  I think Mr. Spignotti is
fuckin mollycoddling you, god damned fuckin mollycoddling your trucker slut
ass.  Shit, my honky troops learn quickly to take a good ole fashioned boot
fuck like that and come back for more the very next day.  Fuckin pampering
a fuckin slut hole will come to no fuckin good, no siree, no fuckin good."
"Shit", Sarge continued, "I've fucking kicked the cum out of hundreds of
honky troop holes in my years in this man's Army, fuckin kicked the living
cum right out of the scumbags.  Fuckin worse that I did to you too.  Shit,
I had those fuckers swinging on my big black cock the very next day just
begging to get plowed by ole Sarge, fuckin begging for ole Sarge's hot
seed" as a contented smile spread gently across his strong black face.

Then, with his eyes still locked on my own he started tracing my raw
tingling fuck hole opening through the rose panties saying, "I know just
what you're feeling right now, you know that?  Do you believe me when I
tell you that I know exactly what you're feeling?  I know every sensation
because I've seen them a thousand times before.  Right now you're
conflicted, god damned fuckin conflicted about what you want.  Part of you
wants me to defy Mr. Spignotti to slam you onto your slimy fuckin back
right here on the cement floor and fuck you bitch-style, fuck you
senseless, fuckin plow that tingling hole of yours long and hard for the
next three hours before I finally pump you full of hot Black spunk.  I know
you want that bitch", he raised one eye brow as if to say he was sure of
it, "I know it like I know my own fuckin name"

Sarge continued just inches from my face, "Your fucking pussy is at that
itchy healing stage right now, you know it is.  You can still fuckin feel
my scum covered leather boot slamming your cunt hole right now and you want
it again.  Not just want, slut, fuck no, you fuckin need it again, fuckin
need my big ole black Pussy Pounder buried deep inside you too, don't you
bitch?  You fuckin need to feel your pussy lips stretched wide, as my
fuckin balls slam against your butt.  Shit punk, that's 'bout the only
thing gonna take away that fuckin itch you feeling right now.  I know it's
there, I can smell your discomfort" he continued quietly "I know the fuckin
itch is there and that itch is fuckin building.  Gonna tear you apart if
you don't scratch it baby.  Gonna fuckin drive you mad" as he burst into
sardonic laughter.  "But you can't get fucked tonight, against the rules
and that means your fucking balls are gonna keep filling with fuckin honky
cum.  They're 'bout to burst already aint they baby?  Your fuck hole is
gonna drive you mad with the desires of a god damned fuckin trucker slut
and your fucking balls are just 'bout to explode right?"

Sarge knew me so well, knew every feeling and every thought I had.  All I
could do was nod my head and whisper, "Yes Sir.  You're right Sir, you're
right about everything" continually throughout Sarge's diatribe.  Suddenly
Sarge stiffened, returned to his typical military bearing and announced
loudly, "Tough shit, bitch.  Mr. Spignotti has commanded that you will not
be fucked tonight and you will not be fucked.  I am gonna put some fuckin
hair on that puny honky chest and add a little heft to those wimpy pink
balls you got though.  I sure as shit gonna do that, bitch!"  The
calisthenics began again with the lead weight swinging wildly form side to
side.

At around 6AM Sarge stopped my workout, had me stand at attention for an
"inspection of the troops".  He walked around my sweating exhausted body,
inspecting all sides, as if to make sure his exercise routines were having
their desired effect.  I could see the hatred glowing in his eyes as my
cock bobbed up and down in anticipation, precum drooling from the head.
Suddenly Sarge became very formal as he informed me, "I have been
instructed by Mr. Spignotti to make certain that the warehouse trucker slut
is not able to relieve pressure in his balls before tomorrow's shift.  I
have been given complete latitude in this matter.  This is the method I
have chosen" as he walked quickly to his desk and pulled out a four foot
long piece of twisted metal, sort of like a long thick fly swatter handle.
In one fast motion he brought the metal whip down onto my already swollen
cock.

I collapsed in agony on the floor as Sarge stood over my writhing body in
amusement, his thick black cock bobbing up and down dripping more precum
than I've ever seen.  I was lifted again to my feet, forced to stand at
attention as Sarge continued his assault on my sensitive cock.  Ever strike
felt like a hundred bee stings but I was forced to endure it while standing
at attention.  After about twenty strikes I was a babbling mess, tears
streaming down my face as I begged and pleaded with Sarge to stop.

Finally he seemed satisfied that there was absolutely no way I could jerk
off and relieve the ball pressure.  He stood there smiling, hatred filled
his eyes as he again came just inches from my face saying, "I want to hear
you say thank you Sergeant Carter." I was dumbfounded.  He repeated himself
more forcefully this time, "I want to hear you say thank you Sergeant
Carter.  Thank you for not fucking me tonight.  You hear me bitch?  Say
thank you for not fucking the shit out of you right here and now" Sarge
commanded his voice rising to a shout.  All I could do was stammer a weak,
"Thank you, Sir".

But that wasn't good enough as Sarge's fist slammed deep into my gut,
knocking the wind out of me.  I was caught in my freefall by Sarge's strong
hand grabbing my hair.  Lifted to my feet before ever hitting the ground I
struggled for air as Sarge repeated in full Army Drill Sergeant shout, "I
said that I want you to say 'Thank you for not fucking me tonight Sergeant
Carter'.  Say it bitch!"  I was completely broken and devastated by this
point as my will collapsed and I dutifully shouted at the top of my lungs,
"Thank you for not fucking me tonight Sergeant Carter".  A smile spread
over his face as he added, "And thank you for whipping my pathetic pink
cock Sergeant Carter".  I replied along with him almost blindly.  Why did
Sarge have to take every opportunity to break me and then rub my face in
shit just to show that he could?  I had answered my own question as I
shouted, "And thank you for whipping my pathetic pink cock Sergeant
Carter".

I looked down and Sarge had marked perfectly symmetrical diamonds in raised
red welts from the tip of my cock head to the base of the cock.  There was
absolutely no way I could jerk that cock off tonight.  He seemed pleased
with the results.  The calisthenics began again with Sarge clearly elated
with our latest exchange and new coming together of minds.

Finally at 7:00AM when the third shift ended Sarge removed the leather ball
stretcher and admired his handiwork.  True to his word I was not touched
the whole shift and my frustration and horniness was obvious.  I could feel
my balls hanging down a good six inches, swollen even larger than when he
started and rubbing painfully against both legs.  Sarge insisted that I
keep the balls poking through the fuck hole in the panties.  With my balls
so swollen and painful there was no way I could get them through that hole
if I tried.  There was also no comfortable way of walking back to the shed.
Just for his amusement Sarge paraded me around the front office; stooped
over and bowlegged I waddled through the front offices of the newly
arriving salesmen and secretaries.  Sarge proudly walked behind me, a good
clear view of his success that evening, like a proud papa, beaming from ear
to ear.

There was no way I could get those panties off until my balls shrunk
significantly so I fell asleep on my bed on my stomach with my legs spread
wide hoping the cool air in the shed would shrink my swollen balls before
the next shift.  My cock was still much too sore to even think about
jerking off, Sarge had made sure of that.  Simply laying on it hurt like
hell but I had no alternative if I wanted to get any sleep.  I knew I'd
simply have to try to get some rest and hope against hope that the swelling
and soreness resolved before Friday's shift.  Shit I wasn't looking forward
to that god damned fuckin Bitch Dodge Balls game tomorrow.

I think I'll end this chapter here.

I've received several emails from readers with their thoughts about whose
cum I felt on my back during Sarge's boot fuck and just who the fuck those
mysterious Spanish-looking guys were.  The consensus seems to be that Sarge
(by five to one) shot his load while boot fucking me, the aphrodisiac of
complete and overwhelming power and seeing his thick black leather boot
devastate a honky's bitch hole may have been enough to send him over the
edge.  At least in the opinion of most readers.  The mystery men still seem
to be a mystery to most and I don't want to give anything away too soon.
I'd still like to know what others think about these questions.  Thanks to
those who wrote already for the input.  I enjoy conversing with others and
getting ideas for hot new scenes to come.  It's the feedback from readers
that keeps me writing.  Write if you want more.

If you have any comments of opinions feel free to write me at
danhol900@aol.com