Date: Tue, 5 Apr 2016 19:06:25 +0200
From: sharp Harper <sharper@inorbit.com>
Subject: Even The First - PART SEVEN

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Even The First - PART SEVEN

THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE.

CONTACT sharper@inorbit.com IF YOU LIKE.

SEARCH NIFTY FOR sharper@inorbit.com
or this link www.bit.ly/1VSsqpI
TO READ OTHER TALES BY ME.


REMEMBER TO MAKE YOUR DONATION TO WWW.NIFTY.ORG !!

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Even The First - PART SEVEN


[quote]

Keep your slave in constant discomfort, humiliated, bullied and broken,
craving your approval, fearing your anger, and eager to obedience without a
thought for the consequences. This, for the slave, is the correct
condition.

[unquote]

Even when I felt as appalled as I should have felt at what I was being made
to do by Paul's manipulations, it still fed into a loop of sexualised
disgust that excited and engulfed me, it corroded my head like a vicious
drug, and actually turned me on still further. To think that I was as
excited by the fullness of the shameful denigrations I enacted for Paul's
satisfaction, as I am shamed now by the emptiness I feel when I am not
subject to these abuses.

"I want you to realise, this is not a request. I am telling you. I am
giving you everything, I am looking after you; I don't think you
realise. You'd be a homeless waster if it wasn't for me. I've helped
you. I've lifted you up. You were heading for the gutter. Do you understand
what I am saying? You owe me.  Now do it."

I turned reluctantly and faced Paul's friend Nigel who stared at me goggle
eyed, "Wow! Pretty boy!", with his fat round face and his round fat body
and his prick poking like some shy animal through the fur beneath the rolls
of his belly. He looked like he was thinking how he'd never dreamed of
having such a sweet and beautiful male to use all to himself, to bully and
humiliate. He was incredulous. My obedience intoxicated him. Paul told me
to help Nigel undress. Nigel had looked confused. He had never had a slave
undress him before. I undressed, and dressed Paul daily.

I started by kneeling at his feet to untie and remove his trainers, gently
holding his ankle so he would not be unsteady. Then I stood and unzipped
his hoodie top. I went round behind him to ease it from his shoulders and
arms. He wore a stretched nylon vest underneath, thick with smell. I
gripped the hem and started to pull it up over his fat back. He lifted his
fat arms up above his head revealing his pits to the air. I peeled the top
up and off his head. Then I returned to the front and untied his trackie
bottoms. They were tight over his giant bum as I tugged them down and
helped him step out of them.

"Thanks, er, what's the name," he said.

Paul interjected, "Don't bother with a fucking name. Just tell it what you
want it to do!"

Nigel was standing before me now in just a cheap gold chain and a pair of
bleached tanga briefs. He laughed.

"Better take them off, bitch," he grinned and I knelt once again to
comply. He made disgusting references to my fuckface, my fuckhole, said I
was a fuck sick, told me to "Lick my nob", and laughed when I crawled to
serve his small penis, search for his tiny furry balls and bury my face in
his fat arse. Nigel who talked constantly whilst I was rimming him about my
pigslut qualities.

I knew Pauls was watching. It made me feel special. I was conscious of
Paul's eyes approvingly enjoying the spectacle of me debasing myself
towards his pathetic associate. I was doing it for Paul. Paul wanted me to
make his friend happy, so I did my best. I slavered over the sweaty folds
of his flesh as though Paul's was the body I was worshiping.

Maintaining eye contact with Nigel, "Hey look at me pigslut!", his narrow
piggy eyes, I licked the thick moist folds of his salty blubber, extending
my tongue into the sweat trapping crevices. I carefully sucked the pink
jelly limpet nipples stretched over his drooping man boobs.

His skin was glossy and naturally hairless except for his small bushy pubes
and sketchy armpits.

"Oh yes, it likes that flab... it likes that moob!" gurgled Nigel
delightedly. His undersized erection poked out pink and pointed and excited
like a puppy prick. He pushed my head onto it.

When he was well pleased he'd cum in my mouth, a slight and congealed
release (I said, "Thankyou Sir."), he announced he'd like to keep me for a
weekend and Paul immediately said yes. I was aghast to think we could be
separated for such a long time, but then I heard Paul say he needed me
looked after while he was away. I didn't know he'd be going away. He said
he'd be gone for a week and Nigel said that wouldn't be a problem. He said
I could stay in the kitchen with the dog. Nigel had a dog. He said I could
share the kitchen with it. He said we'd have some fun. In the upright
kneeling position, arms behind my back, I hung my head obediently. I could
not see their expressions. I could only tell Paul's coldness, and Nigel's
flagrant excitement, from the way their voices modulated. Nigel patted my
head. Then he spat in his hand and gave me it to eat.

"I'm going to have fun..." he said. He kicked my penis, which was pulsing
and semi-erect. "I thinks it turns it on," he laughed. "I like it! It's
such a bitch fag! Go on, bitch, kiss me!" - I stood and gave a kiss to his
loose wet lips - "No! Kiss me like you mean it!"

I opened my mouth wide and put my tongue against his.

I was embarrassed to see that my humiliations were turning me hard. My
penis was dripping precum and they knew I was excited. Nigel grabbed it and
squeezed it, pulling the foreskin painfully so that I winced and inhaled
sharply.

"Oh yes!" Nigel said.

Paul said, "Good to show it some variety. Do what you like. Go on: Disgust
me." He laughed.

I don't know what further deprivations he meant. I had been kept in a state
of disgusting humiliation since the day we met. My basement room was a
prison where I showered and slept and shat in a bucket that had to be
disposed of. Paul hung me by the neck (a chain went through a hook in the
ceiling) and whipped me. He spat at me and kicked me. He pissed on me and
called me names. When I was whimpering with pain and humiliation he led me
upstairs and fucked me painfully, face down, and made me lick up his
product.

Paul had demanded one thing after another in the name of me repaying his
generosity in giving me a roof over my head and also in the name of my
earning his cock up my hole when he felt like it. My gratitude showed
itself in the servile role I played in his house, always naked, cleaning
and preparing food. Paul let me do everything.

He stipulated that I work out. He wanted me strong. He wanted me fit. There
were weights in the basement. I liked using those. Sometimes Paul would
come down and watch me work out, criticising my reps and technique. He
insisted I swim in the cold river. He insisted I jog. I had my tight
running gear and ran round the estate.

That's how I met Roger. He lived in the estate as well, different
street. He befriended me and told me not to tell Paul that we were
aquainted, until one day when Roger came round and introduced himself...

----

The week with Nigel went well. He was not as demanding as I had feared. He
treated me like a special prize.

"Ha ha you've got such a sexy body!" he said. "Lean. Not an ounce of spare
flesh. All those muscles. And the way your spine curves, out from your
neck, round, in, and out again where your arse," he ran his palm creepily
over my back, "starts." He poked a finger uncomfortably up my anus and then
gave it to me to lick.

I am familiar with my own smell.

He was amazed. He was in awe of me. But he also took great pleasure in
pressing his temporary ownership rights. He took advantage. Whilst I worked
he watched me closely. Sometimes he'd start touching me whilst I was
actually doing something, like if I was in the kitchen. He liked holding
me; it felt strange because we were physically so different. He'd squeeze
my arms and say, "So strong..."

He inspected me all over and found some marks.

"What are these? Scars? Paul do this to you?"

I didn't know. I didn't even know if they were scars or just marks from a
recent beating. I don't know what Paul was thinking being so hard. I think
he lost it. He got so excited he lost control of his sense of what I could
... Well, on the other hand, I'm strong, and I tensed and tightened and I
bore it. I can do that. I feel it, and I scream, but, you know how it gets
necessary even when you're afraid? Paul gets excited by taking me beyond my
limits. He just goes mad. By the time I'm screaming, he loves it, I can
tell, cs he's getting more and more exhausted and more and more
angry. That's how he fucks as well, like army fucks where the lads were so
angry, exhausted of fear, they'd fuck me like jackhammers and fuck it all
out. Squigger was like that.

All week Nigel told me what a good body, and how good it was to have
something athletic and beautiful and strong serving him - like a Roman, he
joked. He asked how I stayed in shape and I told him about the weights I
used and how I went running. Nigel said I was lucky to have such a great
physique. He said I had a great arse and asked me how often I was fucked. I
told him Paul fucked me all the time. Nigel said, "I bet he does!"

He asked me if I enjoyed being Paul's slave for everything. I didn't think
about it then. I just said that Paul was very good to me and that I was
grateful to him for everything. That's when Nigel laughed. "You really are
well trained!" he said. He told me to kneel down between his legs and lick
his bush and whilst I did that he stroked the back of my head and repeated,
"well trained..."

"Paul tells me you were in the army. Why were you in the army in the first
place?" From then he called me 'soldierboy' and had me stand to attention
more or less constantly when I wasn't serving him. When I got an erection
he laughed, "Standing to attention! You like the discipline - that's why
you joined up."

"Yes Sir."

"You don't say much."

"No Sir."

"Paul doesn't talk much, does he?"

"No."

"What does he talk about?"

"What he wants me to do."

"What has he told you about himself?"

"Nothing really. "

"Don't you think that's strange?"

"I've never asked him. I'm very grateful to him."

"Why?"

"He put a roof over my head."

"And his thick cock. You like that."

I was embarrassed.

"Yes Sir."

"'Yes Sir.' Soldierboy. You like that up you."

"Yes Sir."

Later, during one of our 'conversations', he said that if ever I needed
someone to talk to I could talk to him. I don't know why he said that cs
there was no way. I couldn't even contact him.

I was a prisoner in Paul's home. I had no money except what he gave me for
grocery shopping. I had a phone so he could contact me, a simple mobile,
but he checked my bill. "Cs I'll not have you taking the piss," he
said. Whenever he said that, it made my cock hard, and he knew that. I had
no desire to phone Nigel in any case. But I enjoyed sleeping with Nigel's
dog, a large golden retriever that snored when it slept and curled its warm
body up curled in my body.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

END OF Even The First - PART SEVEN