Date: Tue, 23 Jul 2013 02:19:43 -0500
From: Anonymous <in.the.arms.of.angels564@gmail.com>
Subject: Just a Cash Slave, Chapter 1 (Revised)

This story contains hints of a minor sexually, physically, and emotionally
pulverizing an older man. It is purely fictional and derived from my
imagination. Please don't email me saying how disappointed you are that I
wrote this, because I don't care. If you have constructive criticism or
compliments, feel free to message me! Thank you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------


I had only briefly chatted with Jamie before agreeing to have him over. He
was kind of dumb, just a regular, strong small town boy who spent most of
his time in the field or in the gym. His voice was deep and not boylike at
all. In fact, if I hadn't known he was so young, I would have thought he
was a college student. I was paying him a lot of money to keep his mouth
shut about this encounter, though something tells me he wouldn't have told
anybody anyway. His town wasn't cool with homosexuals at all.


When I heard his old truck in my driveway, I unlocked the door and waited
on the porch for him. He was young at 16 years old, but taller than me and
certainly more muscular. I wasn't much to look at anyway. Just a slender
guy, with skinny arms and skinny legs. In my mid forties, I was quite well
off where by the way Jamie was dressed, I could tell his family was
probably lower class. His work boots were caked in mud, his jeans were
dirty, and his white wife beater was filthy with sweat and dirt, like he
had been working outside that summer day.


I had met Jamie on a male escort site, and I knew he was straight. Straight
as they come. He was a wrestler at the local high school of a town about
twenty miles away, and it showed that he was dedicated to his sport. His
jeans hugged his thighs tightly, and his muscular arms were easy to admire
with his shirt not having any sleeves. When he locked his hand in mine for
a friendly shake, it felt like he could have crushed my fingers to the bone
without much effort. A toothy grin let me know he had the same thing in
mind as he towered over me.


I offered him a water, but he simply nudged me out of the way and helped
himself to a beer from the fridge. Taken aback, I went to get the bottle
opener, but there was no need. He simply wrapped the head of the bottle in
his bicep and gave it a light squeeze. The cap flew off and he didn't
bother to pick it up. After taking a long swig, he sat himself down on my
soft leather couch and looked up at me.


"You know, a guy like me shouldn't be looking up at a `man' like you." he
put sarcastic emphasis on the word `man'. Now, I had known Jamie was a
dominant, cocky teenager. He had told me that. But I thought he might
introduce himself first. Nevertheless, I liked his attitude, so I knelt
down in front of him. He smelled like a mechanic would, like oil, sweat,
and dirt all in one.


"I've never actually done this." I said meekly, as I looked up at his
tough, serious face.


"You mean you've never had a stud like me over at this big house?" he
asked.


"No, I have-" I started to say, but he backhanded me lightly. My head
jerked to the side from the force, but a dreadful feeling told me he hadn't
hit me nearly as hard as he could have.


"I think you should say `sir' every time you talk to me." he said, although
it was clear he wasn't offering a suggestion, but a rule.


"Yes, sir. That sounds fair, sir." I said, my head still ringing from the
big knuckles of his hand. "No sir, I have had guys over to this house, sir,
but I have never paid them, sir." I said, stuttering slightly, fearful of
angering him.


"You know, little man, I have never fucked a guy without getting
paid. Whether he liked it or not, he was gonna pay me." Jamie laughed.


"Sir, do you mean you took their money?" I asked.


"Yeah, but they never saw nothing `cause I would just knock them out before
I did it." he said as he rubbed his crotch, like he was getting turned on
just thinking about it.


"Do you need help, sir?" I asked eagerly.


"Listen slut, I know you want me. Most guys do. But we're doing things my
way, so first, take off my boots." he said. I began to unlace his boots,
and the second I removed them, the stench of his sweat-soaked socks hit me
full force in the face. I fell to the floor completely and clutched my
nose, but it was no good. The smell penetrated the entire room and he just
laughed.


"If a man's feet smell clean, he ain't a blue-collar man, sorry to tell
you." he said cockily. "If it affects you this much, wait till you smell my
ass. For now, take off my socks."


I composed myself forcefully and looked back up at his big feet. If I had
to guess, I would say they are at least a size 14. Very wide, too. I think
that one foot could have easily covered my entire face. As I removed his
socks, his man stench got stronger. I could tell he was enjoying the
comfort of my sofa as I nearly collapsed from the smell of his feet.


He didn't wait long before moving on with the show, though. He removed his
shirt and pants, leaving him sitting on the sofa with only a dirty
jockstrap on. The combined smell of his sweaty pits, his big feet, and his
hairy package was almost too much for me to bear, but after he forced me to
smell his pits for a good ten minutes straight, I began to love it.


"Strip down to your underwear, little man." he instructed me. "We are going
to wrestle to determine who is fucking who tonight." I trembled. I knew,
without a doubt, that he would have me crying for mercy in a matter of
seconds. He exuded a type of confidence that shot down any hope of
winning. Regardless, I did as I was told and endured laughter from his end
as I showed him my scrawny body.


"I can put one hand around your entire bicep. Isn't that kind of sad?" he
smirked. "And compare your thighs to mine.. it's pretty embarrassing. How
much do you squat, boy?" he asked me.


"Sir, I don't know. I don't lift weights." I said, feeling smaller than an
ant at that moment.


"I can tell." he sneered. He easily relocated a few pieces of heavy
furniture to form an open area in my living room, and he got in an
aggressive standing position. "Ready boy?" he asked without waiting for an
answer. Before I could react, I found my head trapped by his legs wrapped
around me and my face in his package. He playfully flexed his solid calf
muscles and laughed as I reacted to the pain of his steel-like calves flex
against my throat. I choked with each flex and I could feel him getting an
erection.


"You will never know what it's like to force a man into mercy like this."
he said arrogantly as he demonstrated just how helpless I was by lifting my
entire body into the air with just his legs. I weakly tapped on his shins
as a sign of submission, but he just laughed harder.


"This isn't the UFC, boy. You don't get to give up whenever you want. Tell
you what, how about $500 more than what we had agreed to and I will skip
this part and go straight to the fucking." he suggested.


"Screw that!" I blurted out. I was wealthy, but I hadn't budgeted to give
this kid over $1000 for tonight.


"I am your MASTER!" he bellowed in a dominant, masculine tone. "I honestly
wasn't asking, you fuckhead. I am a straight alpha male and you're just a
weak, rich old man. Here is how it is going to happen. I will beat you into
such submission that you will never question me again, then I will fuck you
until your intestines feel like they're going to fall out. You will give me
however much money I want, and you will like it."


Fear penetrated my just confident being. I was instantly brought back to
reality, which involved this muscular wrestler of a teenager who was
choking me out with just the power of his calf muscles. He moved his
bone-crushing leg grip from my head to my thighs, where he ruthlessly
squeezed until I could no longer feel my legs. The pain was almost
unbearable, but a bigger worry of mine crept up when he took off his
jock-strap and laid his hairy ass on top of my face. I flailed a little
bit, hoping for any chance of escape, but that escape never came. He had to
weigh at least 200 lbs, and his rank ass was planted firmly on my face. My
nose was deep inside of his ass, and the smell almost knocked me out
completely.


"How does that feel, little man? I mean, you can try to use your arms and
legs to escape, but it'll just hurt you. I won't feel your weak punches."
he said with such confidence that I strangely found myself getting hard.


"Aw, is this your hardon?" he mocked. "It's such a little thing." he
painfully flicked my penis with two fingers, like a person would flick a
bug away. Of course I could not reply, lest I get a taste of his teen hole,
but that would happen anyway.


"I know you're dumb and all, but stick your tongue up there too. That's
what they call a rim job." he said. I felt so defeated. I was not dumb; I
was a trilingual neurologist who made over half a million every year. But
this dominant teen was exploiting my strong desires and fantasies and
making me into his personal plaything. I had never rimmed a guy before, so
I had no idea what to expect. His boyhole was tight, as I doubt he had ever
let anyone get inside of it. But my God did it smell like a man's should!


He removed his ass from my face and I got to see his dick for the first
time. I nearly passed out at the idea of it being inside me, because for
every inch it was long, it was thick. It was as hard as a rock, and when he
playfully thumped it against my face, it felt like a police baton was
hitting me in the face.


"I will give you ANYTHING to not stick that in me." I said pathetically.


He put a rough foot on my face and forced me to smell it once more. "WHAT
did I SAY about calling me SIR?" he yelled as he forced his foot more
painfully into my face with each stressed word.


"And have you already forgotten who is in charge? I told you I was going to
take whatever I wanted, and that's what's gonna happen! Regardless of what
I do!" he said. He roughly flipped me over with the nudge of his foot, his
calf lightly flexing almost in mockery at lifting a mere 140 lbs.


I weakly reached for my phone that was on the glass table in front of the
couch, but he snatched it out of my grasp and sat down heavily on my
back. He waved the phone in front of my face as I helplessly stared. Then,
with one swift motion, he crushed my brand new iPhone in the palm of his
hand as if it were made of paper.


I felt his big dick rub between my asscheeks teasingly as his strong hands
held my arms pinned to my back. "No, no, no sir! Please!! Mercy!" I cried
out as I weakly tried to squirm against his iron-like grasp.


He suddenly stopped and whispered in my ear, "But this is what you wanted,
boy."


Without another word, he got up and put his dirty clothes back on. He
didn't bother putting his socks back on as he put his muddy boots on, and
he tied one around my eyes and the other around my mouth, so I couldn't see
nor speak as he left.


"I'm just gonna take this debit card and $1000 in cash, then help myself to
some new toys. No, not like dildos you homo," he laughed as I helplessly
laid on the ground where he had left me. "Oh, and you will be hearing from
me tomorrow, because I got quite a kick from this. If you dare try to cut
off my spending, I will eradicate any hint of masculinity or confidence you
have, in the most demeaning way possible. And if you are a good boy, I'll
do it anyway, just maybe less painfully." With that, I heard his boots walk
across the room, the door open then close, and his old truck roar to life
and drive off.


Without missing a beat, I laid on the ground where he had left me, taking
in the scent and taste of his filthy, sweaty socks and I blew my load in
less than a minute. I panted in exhaustion and bodyache as the cum erupted
all over my stomach and chest, and got on the website where I had met
Jamie. I posted a review of him which simply said, "Thank God for straight
boys."