“Fuck… I uh…” There was no use. His eyes were glued to the screen and any protests I made would just incriminate me more. I grabbed my clothes just as a guard snapped on a rubber glove. I marched into the bathroom and closed the door.
I looked in the mirror again as the sounds of struggling came from the television. Running my hand over my chest, I thought that it was such a waste that I wouldn’t be able to bring anyone back that night and use their body, and have mine used. It crossed my mind that I should rub one out but my cock hung between my legs as horrified as the rest of me. Again, what a waste.
I pulled my jeans and a tight t-shirt on. In my defense, I had planned for a night of dude-hunting, not a night of chilling with my asshole boss. I hadn’t packed appropriate casual clothes. The jeans hugged my ass, and the shirt accentuated ever part of my upper body I’d been working so hard on. Fuck.
The grunts and shouts of “no” stopped, and I thought it was safe to go back out. I eased the door open and Mr. Sutherland was leaning back supported by his arms behind him, staring at the television. I stepped out and realized the noise had stopped because the guy had an unbelievably huge cock gagging him and he couldn’t have yelled if he wanted to. Another guard pushed the guy’s head down, keeping him on the dick while yet another greased his pole and slid it into the prisoner’s ass.
The worst part was that Mr. Sutherland’s thin, wool dress pants tented. I’d packed his clothes enough times to know he only wore boxers and there was no way they could control the huge slab of meat he was sporting. I was sure that’s why he wore them. They were the next best thing to free-balling, and who didn't liked having his dick swing?
I jerked my attention away from his crotch as his head swiveled toward me.
“Is this the shit you’re into?” he asked.
It was way too broad a question and I didn’t want to give away more than I had to. “I…” I trailed off, hoping the question was rhetorical.
He looked back at the screen. “I haven’t humiliated a guy since my friends and I made this little fag at summer camp suck all our dicks.” He chuckled. “We left him naked in the woods, crying and covered in our jizz. We thought it would teach him to not pop a boner in the shower.”
I swallowed. “Did it?” Why the fuck did I want to know?!
Then I realized that the thought of Mr. Sutherland and his rich asshole friends standing over me releasing their loads would have made me even more horny and I would have begged for more. My cock responded.
“I don’t know. It was the last day of camp and he didn’t come back the next year.” He shrugged. “Shame really. It was fun.”
The second guard took his hand off the prisoner’s head and they maneuvered him so two of them could put their cocks in his ass. Even with the huge rod in his throat, he yelled out in pain as they pumped away.
“You know,” Mr. Sutherland said, not looking away from the action on the television, “I took Lara out to dinner.”
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t see the importance and assumed he’d keep going.
“We were on our way back here when she got the call from her husband.” He straightened up and unzipped his fly. “I was all ready to fuck her into the mattress, and my plans were fucked up.”
He reached into his boxers and worked his hard shaft out of his fly. It was beautiful and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“Do you like working for me, Mason?”
My mouth went dry. “Yes, sir,” I choked out.
He shook his cock. I was thinking they should put lights on it so planes from O’Hare didn’t accidentally crash into it. No wonder women went crazy for him.
“Let me rephrase that,” he said, still staring at the television. “I know everyone in Boston and most of the businessmen in the country. All the important ones anyway. So, do you like working, period?”
“I—I do, sir.” He was right. One bad word from him and my degree would be useless. I would never get a job in finance.
“Good.” He shook his cock again. “Come take care of this.”
My body went cold and my arms and legs were numb. I slid my feet across the carpet because I couldn’t lift them to walk.
“You’re taking too long!” he snapped.
I dropped to my knees in front of him and leaned in. He slapped me across the face with his cock, barely missing my eye.
“Get the cum out of my balls. Now.”
I licked the base of his shaft, enjoying the feel of the hot skin on my tongue and regretting how tight my jeans were because my own cock was ballooning.
He looked down at me as I slid the mushroom head into my mouth and licked the slit. He gently rested his hand on the back of my head.
“You enjoying that?” he asked softly.
I grunted an affirmative reply.
His slap knocked my head sideways and his cock popped out of my mouth. My face stung like hell.
He grabbed my hair with both hands and jammed my mouth down on his cock. I barely had time to get my teeth out of the way as the full length of dick slammed past them and into my throat.
He pulled my head up a little and jammed it back down, over and over. Between his grunts, in a forceful, almost evil voice I’d never heard from him, he said, “This is… for me… to enjoy… not you.”
He yanked my hair until my nose was buried in the fly of his shorts and crushed against his muscled abdomen and trimmed pubic hair. He kept it there as he stood and turned us both around.
I sat on the floor with my back against the bed and my head tilted back. Over and over his forced his cock into my mouth. He pinned me in place and couldn’t move. All I could do was endure the assault.
Finally his rhythm faltered and his hips bucked. His already huge cock swole even more as it pulsed in my throat, sending streams of cum down my throat.
Gurgling and clenching my throat, I tried to milk it out of him as quickly as possible without losing any. I was still massaging it with my neck muscles when he collapsed on top of me, keeping my head smashed in that awkward position. It took a minute, but his cock lost some of its hardness and he pulled out and stood up.
Seeing the bulge in my jeans, he slapped me again. “That’s what I thought.” He wrestled his still firm cock back into his shorts and zipped up his pants. “If you’re going to take care of that.” He kicked my denim-covered rigid cock. “Do it in the bathroom. I don’t want to see it.”
He walked to the desk chair and plopped down, still a little out of breath.
“And,” he continued, “sleep on the floor tonight. And, in the future, keep booking us the same room. I think I’m going to like this.”
Still stunned, I pulled myself off the floor. I didn’t know whether to cry or go give my cock the release it was begging for.
He reached for the remote and changed the channel to financial news. “My meeting’s at eight. Have your mouth on my cock by six to wake me up. I don’t feel like setting up a wake-up call.”
Release it was. I slunk into the bathroom and closed the door. Damn, I wanted to go find Carlos.