Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2006 17:27:32 EDT
From: Danhol900@aol.com
Subject: Brutal Trucker Sex # 9

Notes to readers: This chapter of Brutal Trucker Sex contains the threat of
sexual activity between a male Homo sapien and a male Canis domestica.  If
this idea offends any gentle readers you are advised to skip this chapter
and the next.  No actual inter-species contact occurs in this particular
chapter but the idea and the threat is presented in graphic details.


"...know what faggot" Mr. Spignotti continued, "I feel like getting my own
bitch time on ya.  On your knees and back that pretty little pink hole of
yours onto this hard cock of mine", Mr. Spignotti sneered.  With that I
heard the universally recognized sound of a zipper descending and turned to
see a rigid, brown pole of flesh standing from Mr. Spignotti's crotch with
two massive hairy bull balls swinging low and heavy beneath.  Mr. Spignotti
had the kind of cock produced over many Italian generations designed to
inflict complete domination over every hole it fucked.  It was at least 8
inches long and three inches across.  He was blessed with a wide mushroom
head a wicked flared base almost guaranteed to tear my battered hole to
shreds and, worse yet, the monster thickened as it descended.  I dreaded
the thought of that monster fucking me, especially with that powerful and
sadistic man doing the driving.

But surprisingly Mr. Spignotti wasn't interested in raping my hole.  He
knew he would enjoy raping my psyche even more.  He instructed me to "back
that pussy hole over this cock, bitch.  Show all of us just how much you
fuckin want it, fuck not just want", he continued, "but need it, you
fucking yourself.  Show me and all these fuckers here just how much you
need to be used as a fuckhole by my cock, you scumbag.  And if I see that
pitiful little dick of yours hard, by god I'll turn you over to that
bastard Blackmore there to do with as he pleases.  You don't want that do
you, pussyboy?"  I immediately shook my head no and looked over at
Blackmore; seeing that evil look in his eyes and that bulge in his crotch.
I knew I would have to do whatever Mr. Spignotti commanded if I wanted to
get out of this interview alive.

Slowly and painfully I backed up and reached around to guide Mr. Spignotti
inside.  His cock was hot and hard in my hand.  It jumped and seemed to
have a life of its own.  "No hands fucker.  It's only my cock and your ass
in this fuckin equation" he commanded as he smacked my hand free.  As I
kneeled there trying to position Mr. Spignotti's hard cock at my butthole I
had never before been so humiliated.  Worse yet he blocked me from my goal
and forced to beg him for his cock.  The warehouse was as silent as a
church as all eyes were focused on my endeavors.  I don't know how to
explain this new humiliation to you gentle readers except to say that
earlier in my ordeal the only thing that kept me going was my hard cock and
the tiny bit of pleasure it was giving me.  Now, with my dick forcibly
softened by Mr. Spignotti I was being forced to publicly degrade myself and
actually impale my bruised and battered hole around that nasty hard Italian
cock jutting out from the fine silken suit.  My whole backside was still
throbbing and Mr. Spignotti enjoyed watching me try to back onto his cock
as he toyed with me; sliding to one side or pulling back just as I had him
lined up.  He was teasing me and forcing me to work hard to get him inside
my battered hole.  It was a cat and mouse game with me as the mouse.  The
entire intricate interview process to this point had achieved his intended
results; it had ceased to be fun and I was non-verbally begging
Mr. Spignotti to make me his bitch.  Clearly he was enjoying his power and
control he had over me.  A fact not missed by any of the truckers watching
my pitiful endeavors.

It was then that the chant started going up from the men around us of,
"Fuck the bitch, Fuck the bitch, Fuck the bitch".  I was trying my best to
get this portion of the interview over as quickly as possible since without
my hard cock to help me my resolve was beginning to collapse.  The taunts
and insults suddenly started to hit home and actually hurt psychologically.
Blackmore then rose from the surrounding crowd, trying to get back into
Mr. Spignotti's good graces, "Make that faggot your bitch, Sir.  Use him
like he's your own personal bitch.  Turn the fucker into a real bitch so we
can all enjoy him".

At this point, Mr. Spignotti seemed to take to this new idea as I heard a
nasty little chuckle from behind me as he said, "Hey Freightliner, get your
hairy ass over to security and send Joe Bruno and Titus the fuck in here",
as the men around us seemed confused, shocked, then really really pleased
by these developments.  Hairy trucker dicks got hard all around the room
and a cheer went up as Freightliner pulled his pants over his hairy butt
and threw a grimy flannel shirt over his sweaty, slick and hairy beer-belly
and ran out of the trucker's Lounge.  I had no idea what this all meant,
but everyone seemed pleased, especially Blackmore with his shit eating grin
and hard dripping cock looking me directly in my eyes.  He seemed to love
the thought that his idea was accepted and actually acted upon by
Mr. Spignotti.

Meanwhile I continued my attempts to get Mr. Spignotti inside me despite
his obvious toying with me.  I finally got that massive mushroom head just
where I wanted it and was about to push backwards when I felt Mr. Spignotti
hook his thick manicured thumb painfully into my butthole and twist and
turn all the while standing and bringing my upturned ass up with him.  He
stood there like a conquering warrior surveying his troops; his hard tan
cock jutting from his suit trousers and me, his conquest, struggling on my
hands with my ass in the air.  I felt even more on display as everyone
checked to make sure my cock was still soft.  It was and Blackmore seemed
disappointed but everyone else was pleased.

Mr. Spignotti cleared his throat like he was about to make a speech and in
a voice full of dignity, nobility and calm began his impromptu monolog.  It
was a speech that has remained with me till today and its value and truth
still rings through.  "Gentlemen", he began, "My wise old grandfather once
told me, `Son, when you fuck a whore you're not only fucking and dumping
Spignotti seed into that hole, you're fucking every other bastard and low
life that has fucked that hole before you'", he paused and looked around at
each and every man in the room.  "Well men", he continued, "as I look out
around me and all of you" and he paused to let this sink in, "I feel the
need to use one of these" as he slowly and confidently pulled a Trojan
condom from his trousers pocket.

The room was silent, no one laughed, no one joked, everyone was silent.
With this one statement, delivered when I was most vulnerable and at my
lowest psychological ebb, Mr. Spignotti had concisely defined the entire
dynamic of the interview process.  He clearly and concisely demonstrated
his predominance over the group.  After all, here he stood, surrounded by
sweaty, dirty truckers who had just enjoyed a night of depravity and sexual
release.  These naked, sweaty "animals" had given in to their lusts while
here he stood in his fine suit literally and figuratively towering above
his men.  And I was clearly at the bottom of the sexual food chain.

The men were shocked, perhaps insulted and maybe even angry yet they knew
better than to express any of these feeling to Mr. Spignotti, so strong was
his power over them.  The silence was deafening as I dangled painfully from
Mr. Spignotti's thumb, sweat beading on my forehead and my deflated cock
and hairless balls hanging down like useless appendages.  Finally, the
tension was broken by a half-hearted, "Umm Good idea, Boss" from Double
Wide and "Fucking right, Sir" from Brundt.  Mr. Spignotti took a minute to
enjoy his triumph and silently challenged anyone in the room to make
something out of it.  Clearly Mr. Spignotti didn't give a shit what his men
thought, so strong was his self confidence and total domination.  No one
dared "make something of it" as the Top Dog turned his attention back to
me, his bitch.  I was brusquely dropped from his thumb and fell painfully
onto my knees.  Mr. Spignotti gave one last challenging gaze at his men
then got back down on his knees and slowly, carefully and ceremoniously
opened and slid the condom over his massive hard cock.  The tension in the
room was palpable as all eyes were on Mr. Spignotti's latex covered cock
and his next move.

Back in position with his unsullied cock protected from my filth he again
snarled at me to Go ahead, Fuck yourself, bitch".  This time he didn't pull
back and as I positioned his cock head at my battered hole a new pain began
as I learned just how much his whipping had predetermined that this was to
be one on my most painful fucks in my life.  All this pain; and me without
a hard dick to help out.  The anger and frustration the men were feeling
from Mr. Spignotti's insult boiled over to new more angry chants of, "Fuck
the bitch, fuck the bitch, fuck the bitch".  Blackmore made the taunt even
more personal as he got down face to face with me as I readied myself to
take Mr. Spignotti in and spit a great big wad of spit in my face and said,
"Fuck you bitch, fuck yourself on the Boss's cock" he snarled with anger
and hatred in his voice.

Tears welled in my eyes at this new assault of my psyche.  The others
joined in with angry and cruel taunts of "Fuck yourself, fuck yourself,
fuck you".  Just when I almost got over the pain of forcing Mr. Spignotti's
cock head inside my battered hole he gave me one last thing to worry about.
Mr. Spignotti informed me that if I got even one drop of fuck juice on his
suit the last thing I'd feel in this world was his cock ramming my own
balls and pitiful shriveled cock down my throat.  I knew he was serious and
a shiver went up my spine when he brusquely checked my cock to make sure I
was still soft too.  Blackmore caught his eye and the two seemed to share a
minute of mutual sadistic joy in the idea.  I of course was scared shitless
and had a new worry to concentrate on.  After a night of brutal use by the
gang of truckers I wasn't entirely sure I was up to the challenge, but to
paraphrase Madd-dog from earlier in the day, `it didn't really matter if I
was ready, Mr. Spignotti was, and that was the important thing'.

Slowly and painfully I got his latex covered cock inside me and I clamped
down with all my might to make sure no fuck juice leaked out.  It felt like
all eyes were focused on the junction of Mr. Spignotti's hard cock and my
battered and bruised hole.  I could feel Blackmore willing my hole to leak,
just so he'd get his kicks watching my downfall, god I hated the bastard.
Mr. Spignotti didn't move a muscle but let me do all the fucking work.
Even as he was getting his sexual release he remained above the craven
needs of the lowly truckers.  He was letting his bitch do the fucking and
provide him with pleasure, he didn't fuck truck stop scum like the rest.
Still the taunts of, "Fuck you" and "Fuck yourself, Bitch" intensified as
my backwards thrusts increased to match the crescendo.

Suddenly the door to the lounge opened and in walked a dark haired Greek or
Italian man in a black security uniform with a German Shepard at his side.
The head of security for Spignotti and Sons was Joe Bruno and his assistant
was a four legged Titus I learned later.  Mr. Bruno just stood there
watching the festivities with his arms crossed and a detached superior and
snide smirk on his face.  Titus on the other hand seemed particularly
interested as the lengthening pink tube of flesh demonstrated.
Mr. Spignotti looked over and saw it and condescendingly spat out, "Fuckin
stud knows a real bitch when he sees one, doesn't he Bruno?"  Mr. Bruno
just smiled and said, "Sure as shit does Mr. Spignotti, been a while for
the both of us since we've had a good bitch hole to use."  Intimidated and
scared I maintained my backwards thrust keeping one eye on the lengthening
and dripping cock jutting from between German Shepard legs.  The taunts of
"Fuck yourself, bitch" continued and even Titus seemed to understand the
meaning.

Blackmore, still on his knees and in my face was enjoying this new turn of
events.  He looked me squarely in my tear stained face and said, "Fuck this
shithead" as he grabbed my sensitive left tit and twisted.  The pain was
incredible but even more worrisome was my, by now well know, tendency to
buck, thrust and weave on any cock inside me whenever my tits were played
with.  Blackmore had anger in his eyes and it obvious he was hoping I'd
slip off Mr. Spignotti's cock and foul his precious suit, so deep-seated
was his hatred and sadistic needs.

The chants, the pain in my tit, my ultimate humiliation at the hands of
this superior and domineering man and my soft and useless cock and balls
all merged in my mind.  The chants from the truckers were like a type of
tribal music and set the rhythm of my self fuck.  After Blackmore spit his
wad in my face then Kincaid stepped forward and not to be outdone twisted
my head back, forced my mouth open and spit a slimy load right down my
throat, saying "fuck yourself, fuck face".  I endured this without missing
the beat of the self fuck on Mr. Spignotti's cock.  By the time
Freightliner was dropping a slimy spit wad down my throat the rest of the
trucker got the idea that this was a new game they could enjoy as I
carefully thrust myself upon Mr. Spignotti's cock with my hole clenched as
tight as possible, even through the involuntary spasms and thrusts from
Blackmore's painful tit twists.

I was hypnotized by the feelings, sights and sounds around me and
concentrated only on the pleasure I was providing the latex covered cock in
my butt.  My own pain and humiliation were unimportant and I only concerned
myself with getting through this with my cock and balls intact, in spite of
Blackmore's intentions.  To this day I'm not sure if I heard a quiet
whisper from behind me with my ears or my mind but I heard hormone-drenched
grunts of "Mmmm yeah, baby... fuckin feels great, keep it up bitch, Mmm mmn
baby, yeah fuck my dick, oh yeah, baby fuck my dick...".  Throughout this
new humiliation my mind focused solely on the voice of encouragement behind
me.  I concentrated on the dick sliding in and out of my battered hole
determined to keep that fine suit clean while providing the maximum
pleasure for that soothing, comforting voice and the associated latex
covered cock.  All the while truckers had made a new game of twisting my
head roughly around and landing as much spit as they could into my mouth
and face as Blackmore kept up his painful assault on my overly sensitized
tit.

I must have taken 30 loads of trucker spit in my face and down my throat
without missing a beat by the time Mr. Spignotti finally grabbed my hips
and started a series of vicious, powerful pile-driving thrusts;
demonstrating his instinctive needs.  Even the majestic and noble
Mr. Spignotti was not above the biologic need to pump his seed deep into a
willing fuck hole.  I clamped down with all my might, hoping against hope I
could keep it all off his suit.

The look on Blackmore's face told me even before Mr. Spignotti's words that
the suit was in fact still pristine clean.  Mr. Spignotti pulled out
painfully, peeled off his cum-filled condom and threw it on the floor in
front of me.  All eyes were on the bloated condom and I knew what I had to
do without being told.  I picked up the slime covered latex tube and
putting the open end to my lips, I sucked every drop of Mr. Spignotti's cum
into my mouth.  With a look of amusement he turned me around to face him on
my knees and playfully ruffling my blond hair saying, "That's a great fuck
hole you got there, kid.  I wonder how well I did turning you into a real
bitch like your bud Blackmore over there suggested.  What do you say,
bitch, did I do a good job?"  I wasn't sure whether he meant his fucking or
turning me into a real bitch but my instincts told me this was not a man to
disagree with.  I nodded my head and said, "You did a great job, Sir" as an
evil grin spread across his face.  He stood with dignity and poise and
slowly zipped up his trousers turned to Joe Bruno saying, "Well Joe, what
do you say?  Do you think Titus here sees this piece of trash as a real
bitch yet?"  Bruno replied, "To be honest Sir, he'll need to see the bitch
used more like a dog would use `em.  Want a demonstration, Sir?"
Mr. Spignotti just nodded yes as the room became deathly quiet and the
smell of sweat, dog and testosterone filled the midnight air of the
warehouse of Spignotti and Sons of Jersey City.

   End of Chapter 9. Please let me know if you're enjoying the story so
far.  Write directly at danhol900@aol.com