Date: Wed, 07 Feb 2007 04:06:26 -0500
From: Josh Armstrong <josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com>
Subject: Contracted To Justin  Chapter Two

NOTES>> This is the second chapter in the Contracted To Justin series.
*Safe* sex doesn't appear in this story all that often, but I trust it
appears a lot in your own lives. *Sex* does appear quite often though,
sometimes quite graphically, and invariably of the gay and BDSM nature, so
only read on if the law of your chosen land allows. The copyright is all
mine, subject to Nifty's rules on the matter. Feedback always much much
appreciated -- now I have access to email again -
josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com

CHAPTER TWO: A stranger, some piss and a cupboard

It was a sign of how happy the first hour of my new life had made me that I
quite quickly fell asleep. The fact I had just had the biggest orgasm of my
life might have had a part to play also I suppose. But for years I had had
trouble sleeping, relying on sleeping pills most nights. It was amazing to
think that I could now fall asleep so easily, despite being tied down to a
table, a piss stained cum filled jock strap stuffed in my mouth, my ass
burning and blistering from 161 paddle swats, and my recently spent dick
slowly getting hard all over again.

When I awoke (about two hours later I think - I hadn't really kept track of
the time, but we'd arrived back at the flat at about 3pm, and the cooker
clock said 6pm when I awoke) I felt a wreck. Being tied down tightly into
this awkward position made me ache all-over. And while the soreness of my
ass was much more intense, some how the all-over aching was worse. Add to
that, the taste in my mouth, a mix of cum and piss, was getting worse, and
with the jock strap soaking up all my saliva, my mouth was really dry. And
added to that, I was now dying for a piss.

But before I became properly aware of all this, another thing was preying on
my mind. As soon as I awoke I realised there was someone else in the flat. A
door had slammed and that had woken me. Justin must be back. This got my
mind racing. Had he seen me sleeping? Should I have fallen asleep? Would he
want me to fall asleep? He hadn't said I shouldn't fall asleep. But then he
hadn't said I could. Which way round did that kind of thing work? I was
terrified I might have done something wrong. Partly because if Justin had
seen me sleeping, when I shouldn't be sleeping, he would almost definitely
punish me again. But even more importantly, he'd be disappointed in me.
Already the thought of disappointing Justin preyed most on my heart.

I lay there for another half hour (not that I could go any where exactly),
with Justin banging around. He was making a lot of noise -- sawing and
drilling -- I was desperate to know what he was doing. And if he'd seen me
asleep. And if that was a problem. And how long I'd have to stay tied to
this table. With all this on my mind, not to mention the pain, I didn't fall
asleep again.

And then Justin came back into the kitchen. Except... it wasn't Justin. My
heart started racing all over again. There was a strange man in my kitchen.
And here I was, naked, tied to my kitchen table, a jock filled mouth, and an
ass that must have been glowing red after the paddling I'd gotten earlier.
He opened the fridge, helped himself to a can of Coke, and then turned to
face me, and watched me, in silence, while he drank his drink. I looked back
at him. I was so embarrassed. I knew my new life wouldn't stay a secret
between me and Justin, because he'd told me there'd be friends to service,
and clubs where we'd go where I'd become the sex toy of whole parties of
doms. But in my mind I would only be on show, as it were, at orgy style
parties. To have a stranger see me in this way, and a fully clothed stranger
on a snack break, just seemed wrong.

The guy - another beautiful guy, dark haired, and slightly older than
Justin, but very cute and, from what I could see, very well built -- drank
his Coke slowly. He seemed to be enjoying looking at me, in my confined
state. He didn't speak, he just watched. When he had finished his drink, he
threw the can in my bin, and then walked over to me, and stood right in
front of me so his crotch was level with my face. And so I got my second
cock close up of the day. Until today, I'd only ever seen one cock in the
flesh, other than my own, obviously. In the space of three hours I'd now
seen double that.

The stranger unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall to his knees. He
wasn't wearing underwear, though his work shirt went down below his waist so
at first I could only see the head, peeping out at the bottom of his shirt.
But then he unbuttoned his shirt, and there it was, in all its glory. It was
another gorgeous dick. This one was cut. Three inches, but growing fast,
surrounded by bushy dark pubes, and sitting on two large balls. They were
quite hairy too. He nudged my mouth open with his left hand, and pulled
Justin's jock out with his right. It was a huge relief. The cummy pissy
taste stayed, but wasn't so intense. And it was great to have an empty mouth
after it being stuffed up for over two hours.

Not that it stayed empty for long. The stranger immediately pushed his cock
head into my mouth, and kept pushing until his six inch semi-hard-on was all
the way in. I'd only ever sucked one cock before -- Simon the rent boy's.
He'd pretended to force me to suck him as part of our pretend S&M games, and
at the time it had seemed quite real, but with hindsight it was nothing.
He'd never got as far as my throat, and normally he'd cum up my ass, so he'd
only cum in my mouth twice -- once I spat it out, the second time I
swallowed. No such choices this time. Before I had registered what was
happening this guy's cock was in my throat, and expanding by the second. How
thick was this guy's dick? He was completely filling me, and yet it was
still growing in size. Having pushed in, he stayed there, seemingly waiting
for his full erection. Not that he needed to do much work. Lying flat on the
table this way meant he'd had easy access to my throat, but almost
immediately my gag reflex kicked in. I thought I was going to choke to
death, but the stranger made no efforts to move. With hindsight my gagging
was massaging his cock, and he was getting off on it. And as his cock
reached its full size he pushed in further so my nose was pressed against
his sweaty pubes.

It felt like I was gagging for ages, but it was probably no more than 20
seconds. Then he pulled out so that just his cock head was in my mouth. It
was a momentary relief, except he almost immediately plunged all the way
back in, and somehow getting his full erect dick in one go was even more
difficult than when it had grown inside me. For a minute or so, as he
started a series of slow thrusts in and out, I still thought I was going to
choke. But slowly I managed to control my breathing so that I was just about
OK. Once I had done that I just lay there, as my mouth was raped. My albeit
limited past experience of blow jobs had taught me to keep my teeth out of
the way, but the other techniques I had learned with Simon seemed redundant
here. I could barely move my head anyway, what with me being tied down to
the table, and impaled on this guy's long thick dick. In the future I'd
learn that even in this position you can do things with your tongue to
enhance the experience for your fucker, but this guy didn't seem to care. He
didn't want a blow job. He wanted a hole to fuck. Perhaps he knew that this
way was infinitely more humiliating. At least when you're forced to blow
someone, however embarrassing the circumstances, you can pride yourself on
your technique, on the fact your using your sub skills to give someone extra
pleasure. Here there was none of that. I wasn't doing anything other than
providing a hole. Nevertheless, the whole experience was incredibly erotic
for me too. And actually, the fact that on one level it was so unsatisfying
made it even more so. My own cock was throbbing again. If only it had been
above the table, I could have been pleasuring myself by rubbing it on the
table surface.

I don't know how long I had this guy's dick in my mouth. I'd say at least 20
minutes. He took his time. But after a while he started to speed up, and
soon he was thrashing into me. Before it had been humiliating, and
uncomfortable, and scary. Now it was all out painful. The fast face fucking
went on for a couple of minutes, until I felt his cock expand even more, and
then the first spurt of cum, deep into my throat. And at that moment he let
out a moan. The first noise he had made while in the room. He must have shot
eight lots of cum, three straight down my throat, then three in my mouth,
and then two over my face. Somehow the taste was much stronger than the time
I had swallowed while blowing Simon, and than when Justin had shoved the
cummy jock in my mouth. For a time the taste of cum was so strong the taste
of stale piss disappeared -- which was a blessing if I'm being honest. After
he'd cum he paused for, I don't know, thirty seconds, then held up his
softening dick to my mouth. I instinctually knew he wanted it cleaning, so I
stuck out my tongue and licked off the cum that was on his dick, and stuck
my tongue in his piss slit to clean in there too. Then he pulled up his
trousers, grabbed another Coke from the fridge and left the room. I wouldn't
be formally introduced to the guy for another two weeks.

--

If only I had waited another twenty minutes. Then again, given I was only
allowed to speak when I was spoken to, I'm not sure how I could have told
Justin I needed to piss anyway. But I could have tried. As it was I had
pissed on the floor.

The stranger who had raped my throat did some more banging around for an
hour or so, then left. I didn't fall asleep again. Partly because I found it
hard to sleep with someone else in the flat. Partly because I was still
worrying about whether it was acceptable to sleep. And partly because I was
bursting for a piss, and I thought that if I fell asleep I'd let loose.
After over an hour of holding on, as I started to wonder whether Justin
would be coming back today at all, I decided I was going to have to piss on
the floor. The thought of pissing in my kitchen was a bit of a turn off. I'm
not sure why -- I developed quite a liking for watersports later on -- but in
the early days anything to do with public pissing disgusted and embarrassed
me greatly, in a bad way. Certainly my hard on softened again. Which made
matters even worse -- because my throbbing erection had made it easier to
hold the piss in. Once that went I couldn't hold it in any more, and a few
dribbles of piss escaped. After than it was even harder to hold on, and
within a minute I let loose. Piss splattered onto the floor, and ran down my
legs. I couldn't see how big the puddle was, but it felt like I pissed a
bucket full. I was gutted. And once I'd stopped focusing all my thoughts on
fighting the urge to piss, I suddenly realised that my whole body was aching
more than ever. And my ass was still on fire.

"What the fuck?" were Justin's first words as he walked into the kitchen,
"You disgusting horrible fuck". I'd heard the front door click open at
almost exactly nine, and my heart had started racing all over again. "Is
that what you do?" he shouted, "Piss on the kitchen floor. Is that how you
get your kicks. It's fucking gross". By now he was standing right over me.
He looked straight down at me, passed me, and to the floor. I followed his
line of sight, and there on the floor was his jock. Where the stranger guy
had dropped it before throat-raping me. Suddenly Justin's parting words from
earlier echoed through my mind - "that jock better still be in your mouth
when I get back".

"Are you incapable of doing anything right?" he shouted, louder than with
any of the previous shouting. "Anything? This is no good. This wasn't what
we agreed too. I'm not doing this".

I wanted to tell him that this stranger guy had taken the jock out of my
mouth. I wanted to tell him I just couldn't wait to piss -- he'd been the one
that had kept ordering me Cokes at lunch, and then left me here all tied up
for five hours. I just wanted to cry. But I couldn't do any of that, because
I was terrified. Not so much at the thought that I was going to get more
punishment. That worried me slightly, but another 160 swats with the paddle
was no where near as terrifying at the thought that Justin would call the
whole thing off. He knew that of course. I learned that much later. But for
months I fell for this one. In fact on all but one occasion it got me.

"I'm so sorry", I whimpered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I
didn't mean too, punish me, please punish me, I'll do anything".  This
wasn't an act, this was genuine. It wasn't my fault the pissy cummy jock
wasn't in my mouth, but it felt like it was. It wasn't really my fault I'd
pissed myself, but it felt like it was. And I wasn't asking to be punished
because the pain was a turn on. Though it was, sort of. No, I felt like my
behaviour was abhorrent, and that I had to be punished. Otherwise Justin
might not want me any more, and I'd lose this new life less than a day after
it began.

"You're not worth the effort of punishing", he said, "you're beyond hope".
With that he untied my wrists from the table, pulled them behind my back and
tied them together. Then he walked round the table and untied my ankles.
There was a pause -- I think he was admiring the job he'd done on my ass,
which was surely still glowing. He slapped it. Hard. I flinched, but stayed
silent. It took all my energy to suppress the scream.

"On your knees". I slid off the table, and onto my knees. If I'd ached while
I was tied down, it was nothing to the aches I felt now. "Clean it up". I
knew what he meant, and I had a feeling I knew how he wanted me to do it. I
was going to clean up my piss. And as my hands were tied behind my back, and
he'd not offered me a cloth, I had an inkling what he had in mind. "Clean"
he shouted.

"Please sir, I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry, can I have a cloth sir?" It
was pointless, but I hoped beyond hope the inkling I had was wrong. It was
not.

"When you've got a tongue, you don't need a cloth".

As I said, things involving piss would really turn me on one day, but right
now I hated them. It wasn't so much the taste. My relatively fresh piss
didn't taste as bad as the stale pissy taste of Justin's jock. And it wasn't
the texture -- my mouth was pretty dry by this point so in some ways it was
quite refreshing. But it was the concept. Kneeling here, naked, with a firey
red ass, licking up my own piss off my own kitchen floor. Plus without my
hands for support I slipped a few times and covered my whole face in piss
too.

It wasn't as big a puddle as I'd expected, but it had spread out under much
of the table. It probably took me five minutes to lick it all up. When I
thought I was done I looked up at Justin. "Stand up" he said. I did, even
though doing so sent aches like I'd never felt before all through my body,
and straightening my back made by ass burn all the more. He said nothing for
a few seconds, and then landed a really ferocious punch into my stomach.
With my hands tied behind my back I wasn't able to obey my reflexes and
defend myself. Nor was I able to stay standing. I fell on my back,
completely winded. The dramatic thud onto my beaten ass renewed the pain
there too. "Get up" he shouted. Another pause. Another punch. I fell over
again. By the fifth punch I managed to keep my balance, so I only fell over
one more time before the tenth and final punch.

He walked over to the sink, and opened the double cupboard underneath it. It
was empty, which was odd, I normally kept cleaning stuff in there. He must
have emptied it as he explored earlier. "Get in here" he said. At first I
didn't understand what he meant, but when he shouted "now" while pointing
into the cupboard I got it. I wasn't sure I would fit -- the sink and pipes
seemed to fill half the cupboard space -- but I didn't dare argue. So I got
back on my knees and edged my way in, manoeuvring myself as best I could
with my hands tied behind my back. Actually I fitted quite easily, though
not all that comfortably. When I looked up Justin was kneeling in front of
the cupboard, with his soggy jock in his hand. He pushed it back in my mouth
and said "keep it in there this time", before smiling, and adding "see you
later, piss licker". Then he shut the cupboard doors, and I could hear him
slide something between the two handles, locking the doors in place. I'm not
sure what he did then -- though I thought I heard the front door slam, and it
went very quiet, so I guess he left again.

As I sat there, squashed up in the pitch black cupboard, fidgeting to try
and put less weight on my desperately sore ass, while avoiding straining my
aching joints, I went through the events of the day in my head. He'd made me
strip in a public space. Then he'd made me throw my clothes in the trash.
Then he'd made me announce `I'm a cocksucker' in a big loud voice fifty
times. Then he made me stand in the corner, with my legs bent, my head
bowed, my tongue stuck out. Oh yes, and my finger up my ass. Then he'd made
me suck my sweaty ass finger clean. Then he'd tied me to my own kitchen
table and stuffed his sweaty old jock strap, covered in piss and cum stains,
in my mouth. And beaten my ass 161 times, unleashing pain like I'd never
even imagined. Then he'd wanked me off, so I had to face the final 40 swats
of my beating post climax -- when the pain felt ten times worse, and the
humiliation increased twenty fold. Then he'd left me there. Left me in the
hands of a dark haired stranger, who'd smirked at my predicament, and then
raped my throat, before filling and covering me with his cum. Then I'd
pissed myself, before being forced to lick it all up. Then he'd punched me
in the gut ten times, before locking me in a dark kitchen cupboard. With my
hands bound behind my back, and that cummy jock back in my mouth.

But I'd survived. And he hadn't called anything off. He might have
threatened to, but he didn't do it. He'd smiled. He'd said "see you later".
I had never felt so happy.

My cock was throbbing again, pre-cum was forming on its tip. I toyed with
trying to rub my dick on the cupboard side, but I was sure Justin wouldn't
approve. And anyway, I was too sore to move. So I just sat there. Happy. So
happy that despite the pain, despite the dark, despite the bound hands,
despite the cummy jock in my mouth, despite being squashed in a cupboard,
despite not being able to squeeze my throbbing dick, I soon fell asleep.

I must have slept all night. It was light when the cupboard doors swung
open.

"Wakey wakey cocksucker, time to suck some cock".