A Rough Ride


(Part 1 from 1. Fiction.)

Most of the men who paid for my were in the late thirty to early fifties range, That is why one fall evening I was so pleasantly surprised when a cherry red Mustang Mach I pulled up to the curb. Inside was a very well built man with sandy blonde hair who couldn’t have been older than twenty five. He was wearing a three piece suit and looked sharp as a razor blade.

“Hey , how much to get it on?” He asked as I approached the car.
“Twenty for head, seventy five for a full ride, and a buck and a half for the whole night.” I replied.
“Hop in guy,” he said, “I need some relief.”

Once in the car he tried to negotiate a lower price for the night, although very much tempted, I stood fast and he finally agreed to my $150.00 fee. I couldn’t help wonder as we drove off, why this young and absolutely hot looking guy was seeking my services rather than just going to a bar and picking up some young girl for some relatively free sex. Believe me; he would not have had any problem doing that at all. We drove up to the parking garage of a swank downtown hotel and as we got out of the car and headed to the elevator, I was more reveling in where I was rather then what I was about to do.

When we got to his sixth floor room, he grabbed the ice bucket and headed back to the ice machine. He was making small talk and I couldn’t help notice the smile on his face, it was so infectious, so warming. Back in the room, he placed the ice bucket on the dresser than told me to get undressed as he loosened his tie. I complied and began to undress telling him that condoms where required as I pulled one from my pocket. I turned slightly away from him as I reached to move my clothing off the bed when without warning he shoved me face down and grabbed my wrist. The clang of handcuffs snapping shut and my arms behind my back I thought that I was getting busted. He then grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet spinning me around and slamming back down into a sitting position.

“Don’t you say a fucking word, don’t scream, don’t talk or I will beat the living shit out of you faggot.” He commanded.

He then turned his back to me and walked to the briefcase on the dresser, when he turned back around he had two pair of pliers in his hands. I was petrified, so scared that I was visibly shaking but mindful of his warning. When he walked back to me he placed his knees between mine and spread them so I could not kick, then he grabbed my nipples with both pliers, bearing down and stretching them in either direction. The pain was unbearable yet he was unrelenting daring me to make a sound. Then he stopped, threw the pliers on the bed and started to undress.

“You want to suck my ?” He asked. “I asked you a question faggot.”
“Yes!” I said out of fear.

He drew his hand back and slapped my face so hard that I fell to my right.
“You didn’t say please bitch.” He stated, “Always say please sir or I will give you so much pain you will beg me to kill you. Now bitch, do you want to suck my cock?”
“Please sir, please let me suck your cock,” I begged.
“NO!” He snapped, “At least not yet.”

Then he again grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up to a sitting position. He was now totally naked revealing a massive nine inch cock, and that was soft. Standing in front of me he began to play with himself in an attempt to make it hard. I looked away briefly; he grabbed my hair and turned my head back to watch him masturbate. Normally, a cock that size in front of my face would have me drooling. But at this time I was both frightened and very angry. I frowned a bit as I looked up a him. He got a most evil smile then spit right in the middle of my face.

“You little piece of shit,” He sneered, “Just who the do you think that you are?”


His thick cock was now rock hard, I anticipated that this was where I was going to be made to beg for it, I was dead wrong. He turned me over face down on the bed, my feet still on the ground, spread my legs and jammed that cock of his into me, no prep, no lube it felt like he was ripping me open.

Immediately he started thrusting into me like a cow getting bred by a bull in a pasture. It hurt, unbelievably hurt, he didn’t care, and he just kept on thrusting. His hands jumped from my buttocks to pulling my head back by hair, to grabbing the chain on the handcuffs and lifting me as he continued to pump my ass. Just about everything that he did was painful.

Like most guys with huge cocks it took him forever to cum. My ass was hurting and the normal pleasure that I got when being filled with cock was now agony. I felt like someone was working a 2”x4” board up my ass. His thrusts were rapid, powerful and . His slaps were at full strength, not the affectionate sexual slaps that I was accustomed to.

And he kept talking;
“You fucking faggot.”
“I know you this fairy .”
“I own your ass bitch!”

I was noticeably losing my strength, each time that he grabbed my hair or lifted me by the handcuff chain I feared that he was going to kill me. Each thrust into me felt like tearing not sex.

The he stopped. He withdrew and rolled me on my back. Again he pulled me by my hair and forced me to the floor on my knees. With the same reckless abandon that he fucked me in the ass he forced his cock in my mouth. He maintained a firm painful grasp of my hair as he started thrusting into my throat.
“Now you can suck me queer boy.” He laughed.

Shortly after that he started spraying cum all over my face. Under normal circumstances I would have tried to lick it up or made some sensual look on my face to try and look thankful. Not this time, I was scowling. He grabbed me by the hair again and threw me face own on the bed. I was in fear that he was going to stick something else up my ass. Instead there was a pause, then his knee in the small of my back as he removed the cuffs. He stepped back and threw a $100 bill on the bed and told me to take it and stand up.

When I turned around, he was standing there with a golf club in his hand as if to protect himself.
“You were only here two hours, not the whole night, so take the money and get the hell out.” He said.

I got dressed; this time I kept my eyes on him as I did. Grabbed the money and headed for the door backwards so I could watch him. As I opened the door he lowered the club.
“Thank you!” He said, “You’re a nice piece of ass.”

I wanted to hit him, but he still had that club in his hand. I also wanted to throw up, luckily I didn’t. I just got on the elevator and headed out the way came. I did make one stop however, In the garage I looked over at his Mach I, then I looked around the floor until I found an object.

“I AM A FAGGOT” I scratched into the hood of his car.
Then I left. Needless to say, I took a few days off.

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