Standard disclaimer: this story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, blackmail, and unsafe, non-consensual sex practices. If that’s not your thing, please don’t read it. Otherwise, enjoy!
–
This strange new state of affairs continued. Everyday I would report to the gym, strip to my jockstrap, and Cliff, my self-appointed personal trainer, would put me through a gruelling workout with my bare ass on display. Men knew to watch, and many of my workouts were photographed and recorded. I eventually found videos and photos of myself online, “jockstrap public workout.” My exposure was now immortalized.
Often Cliff’s friend Hal, who had led the assault on my nuts in the locker room, would watch while discreetly stroking himself in his shorts. He would then take me back to the locker room for a butt-fucking and a ball-beating . Though Cliff was aware of these sessions he never took part himself, content to get his kicks by forcing me to work out bare ass naked and bossing me around on the gym floor. Nonetheless Hal had his way with me about once a week or so, which meant on a weekly basis I had to gingerly step back into my underwear and suit, then hobble back to the office, reminded with each step of the swollen agony of my shattered balls. “Leg day?” A colleague might ask, seeing me limp.
At work I was becoming more and more of a wilting violet. Distracted, embarrassed, paranoid that the other men knew what was up. Steve Kennedy, my boss, continued to tease me and joke that I was a chronically addicted masturbator, and I just pathetically went along with it, feeling unable to speak up for myself when the truth was so much worse. More and more Mel would pull me out of work in the middle of the day to have this way with me.
One lunch break he caught me leaving the court house and forced me with him, not telling him where we were headed. He led me to a rundown movie theater, one of the last sleazy old porno theaters in the city. A smirking, oily looking old clerk winked at me at Mel, who slapped my back, gesturing at me to pay for our tickets. In a place like this, two men in suits with about three decades between them had to stick out. I meekly avoided the man’s amused gaze. It knew it was apparent that I was Mel’s bitch.
“Enjoy the show, gentleman.” He said with a smirk, his voice a mocking sing-song. Mel collared my neck with his big hand, forcing me inside. The man’s raspy laughter followed me through the double doors.
We were the only two people in the darkened theater. Mel produced a bottle of whiskey from his brief case and had me take several long draws. Soon my head was spinning. The film was a nasty cuckold ganging – both the hotwife and the cuckold were getting reamed out by a group of men.
I looked over and saw that Mel had his cock out of his pants and was openly masturbating. I watched is rough hand pump it up and down – as always his penis had the power to mesmerize me completely.
“Come on. Sit on Daddy’s lap.” He beckoned me to him. I sat up and moved onto his seat with him, lowering my hips to sit upon his lap. His hands went to my belt, swiftly opening it and then unbuckling my pants. He pulled my suit pants down to my ankles, then kicked my dress shoes off my feet with his. Next my underwear was at my ankles, stomped on by his shoe and off my legs. He even leaned down and yanked both my socks off my feet, tossing them carelessly several rows in front of us. I heard my phone and keys clatter on to the floor.
The sticky concrete floor felt revolting against my bare feet – my soles crunched over cigarette butts and a syrupy film I could tell was a layer of dozens of men’s semen, spilled carelessly on the floor. At his direction I stepped my bare feet down on to his dress shoes, my legs over his. A perverse thought bloomed in my mind, that this was how I used to sit only my father’s laps when I was a little boy, lap o this lap, legs on his legs, and my dainty feet atop his. And soon enough I was on Daddy’s lap, his big cocked poised to pierce deep in me. He hocked a loogie in his hand and rubbed it between my cheeks.
I yelped as he forced me down on him. His huge gnarled key unlocking me as always, as he squeezed my waist. Inch by inch, me huffing and puffing to try to outrace the pain, until his mighty rod was firmly entrenched in my guts. I planted my heels on his shoes, bottoming out.
At this point, the foreign invasion of his cock in my guts was something I could handle, and shamefully, very much enjoyed. I grunted, pleased with the enormous pressure of it so deep and thick inside me. Looked down between my naked legs, and saw that my pecker was hard, bursting up from out of my smooth-shaven crotch. I rocked my backside back and forth, grinding into his crotch, so that his impaled rod could better stimulate my package. I looked around the theater and noticed that a couple of men had entered the theater. They were watching me get sodomized, their shoulders jerking furiously as they openly beat off.
I felt ridiculous, pantsless in this scummy theater, naked from the waist down. Mel was apparently dissatisfied with my level of undress as he fucked me, and in one motion ripped open my dress shirt, popping all of the buttons off at once. He squeezed my waist, then grabbed the neck of my undershirt, pulled down, and ripped the front half of the shirt off completely. My bare belly and chest was now exposed to his rough, greedy hands, which quickly attacked my nipples. I tried to stifle my moans as he played with my tits and kneaded my stomach, bouncing up and down on his lap eagerly. He cackled in my ear, delighted by the aphrodisiac effect his abuse of my nipples had on me.
For about thirty minutes, the old bull rocked me back and forth on his lap, staying as hard as stone. The stamina of this man always blew me away. I leaned my head back on his shoulder while his tongue assaulted my ear and neck, lapping and chewing. I closed my eyes and thought of how back when I had been a man and used my cock as my primary sexual organ, I could never last in a pussy past the six minute mark. Yet here this old, out of shape man had the endurance and skills of a master cocksman. His thick, rigid cock sawing against my prostate had me singing with pleasure.
I looked to my left. Three strangers in the dark had gathered, masturbating while watching my public defilement. Their cocks were nowhere near the size of Mel’s but still drew my rapt gaze. The filthiness of being masturbated over, the violation of it, turned me on even more.
Mel had me perch myself over him in a four point stance, my feet now on his suited knees and my hands gripping the backs of the seats in front of us. It was from this precarious spot that he brought it home, bucking his hips wildly and groaning like a boar as he sodomized me to completion. He held my hips tight against his groin as I felt his prick pulsing, alive, once again spewing its steaming seed in my guts. I whimpered as I tried to keep my balance, my hand reaching onto his thigh, which was slick witt sweat.
Mel kept growling in my ear as he came, grabbing me in a tight embrace, holding my knees and together so that I was balled up over his lap. Completely in his arms atop him, helps. He then lowered his mouth and sank his teeth into my neck below my ear, biting down painfully. Below me his hips kept bucking up, pumping his cock into me. He kept his fangs on my neck like a a dog holding his mate in place while he rutted. He sucked as he bit down painfully, and I knew from experience that he was bestowing an enormous hickey upon the back of my neck.
When all was said and done, he pushed me off of him and I tumbled down onto the floor. I scrambled on to my hands and knees, finding my keys, phone and wallet that had fallen beneath the seats.
“Can we come on him?” They hissed at Mel for permission.
“Knock yourselves out.” He said with amusement.
A man’s hand pushed on my suited shoulder, keeping me on my knees. Three hairy crotches crowded into view, their pants pulled own to their thighs. In the blue light of the projector their bobbing, vein-covered erect cocks and wrinkly ball socks seemed alien, monstrous as they surrounded me. One man’s cockhead batted onto my cheek as he tossed himself off.
The men shuffled a bit and a thin, uncut cock stepped right in front of me, illuminated by the movie screen. His legs straddled me, and his hand pumped it a few times before it blasted on my face and neck. Four strands of thick spooge splattered all over me, then he dried off his dickhead and hanging foreskin on the top of my head, wiping the last driblets of fizz into my hair.
Another man stepped forward, he was quite short and skinny, his hairy crotch at my chest level despite my being on my knees. He stroked off his little boner and ejaculated all over my suit and face. Two more men shot their loads, both overweight with round, hairy bellies and stout pricks, aiming squarely for my face. Mel laughed cruelly from behind me as my suit jacket, as well as my hair, face, neck and bare chest was doused with the stranger’s semen.
I wiped the jazz from my eyes, my vision blinded by the stinging seemed. The men walked away as I got down on all fours, trying to recover my belongings from the floor.
Mel watched me dress – all he needed to do was put his cock away. He then snapped his fingers to hurry me, then grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet.
“Mel, please, let me use the bathroom, I have to clean up, I have to go back to court.” I whinged with panic, realizing the mean old bastard intended to force me out of the theater in this state.
“”No boy, I want my seed to stay in your pussy. What the fuck do I care if it’s leaking down your leg? I want my hormones in you. Remember, we’re still trying to get you pregnant.” He yanked me by my ear once my pants were on, then pushed me up the aisle to the exit, kicking my well-fucked butt back into the lobby.
I was dragged out of the theater, half-dressed and disheveled, a wet spot on the seat of my pants. I squinted in the harsh light of the afternoon, buzzed from the half bottle of whiskey he had forced us to share. As I he pulled me from the theater, I saw myself in the reflective windows of a neighboring shop. I looked completely ridiculous. I had my shoes on but no socks, my bare ankles exposed beneath my pant legs and above my untied shoes. Worse I was bare-chested – I was wearing a suit coat but my dress shirt and undershirt had both been torn open, exposing my cum-splattered bare chest and belly. My suit coat, once navy blue, was now striped with robes of what was clearly drying cum. The pants were likewise stained with scum – I knew the whole thing was ruined. Mel had let the strange men turn my $600 dollar suit into a cum rag. My eyes were red from getting jizz in them, and my hair was caked with semen. The side of my neck, just below my ears was a huge, saliva-soaked purple bruise, a clear bite-mark. The telltale placement of the hickey notified made it clear that I had been butt-fucked, further evidenced by the cum-soaked stain at the seat of my pants.
Men on their lunch break guffawed at my disgrace, elbowing each other, pointing me out. Again Mel had made a spectacle of me. A sneering businessman stepped in front of me, making no attempt to hide that he was taking my photo. I just lowered my head in shame as I texted a colleague to cover my case, feigning that I was sick. I walked home in a daze, and the doormen at my building even shook his head at the sight of me.
My frequent and abrupt absences began to have consequences at work.
Steve Kennedy, the partner I worked for, was mostly content to continue to razz me more and more about what he steadfastly believed was a compulsive masturbation habit. Every interaction I had with him, he found a way to crack some off collar remark about me choking the chicken or make some obscene gesture. He was fond of sending me cheesy jokes in emails as well, vulgar little cartoons or limericks about jacking off. Eventually though he began to have me pair up with other attorneys. Without officially saying it, I was being demoted.
“Petey, Bob’s gonna take the lead on this one. You help him out with whatever he needs.” He proclaimed, not even looking up from his phone at me.
I was so distracted by Mel’s torment of me that I could have accepted this new humiliation. But Bob Huston was my least favorite colleague – it wouldn’t have been a stretch to call him an enemy. I had always been perfectly friendly with him, but since he joined the firm a year ago he had decided he resented me. This was clearly because at about 50 years old he was around 18 years my senior, but I technically outranked him due to my seniority.
Bob always just seemed like a miserable prick to me. Divorced, heavy drinker and smoker, overweight, receding hair line, just an unpleasant slob. He made no attempt to hide that he loathed being dictated to by “some snot nose brat who was still wet behind the ears.” Outside of the grumbled comments about me having only been recently potty-trained or weaned off my mother’s tit, he had mostly swallowed his contempt.
But Mel’s impact on me had made me meeker, and Bob had picked up on this. In these last few weeks, Bob had been emboldened, openly mocking me any chance he got and pushing me around.
Once Steve had started in with the chronic jack-off talk, Bob eagerly piled on, claiming he had heard me stroking it behind the stall door in the bathroom, and had even walked in on me a couple of times in my office with my trousers at my ankles, “pecker in hand.” He also had a recurring gag where he would sniff around me theatrically and announce that he smelled the unmistakeable smell of jizz. Mel had turned me into too much of a wimp to even stick up for myself. I just laughed along at these, essentially ceding the fact that I did smell like cum, or that Bob had caught me, pecker in hand.
But aside from the jack off jokes, Bob had begun to engage in a behavior that I could recognize as “domming” me. And due to Mel’s conditioning of me, I was pathetically receptive to it. During meetings in the conference room, he would be sure to sit next to me. Then mid-meeting, he would drop a pen or pad from the table, and order me to pick it up for him.
“Hey kid, reach down and pick that up for me.” Without protest I would lean under the table and grab the item, which was invariably between his legs, and around his big dress shoes. It was degrading enough to have to root around this man’s feet as the other men at the table snickered. But then he would pile on.
“Hey kid, while you’re down there, do me a favor and…” He would let the innuendo trail off, but when back above the table he would wink or even make a blow job gesture, his fist near his mouth and his cheek bulged.
This would send the men, including Steve Kennedy, into hysterics. Now I wasn’t just being branded as a compulsive jerk-off addict, but a cocksucker too.
So when our boss announced that Bob would be supervising me on a project, a client I had handled on my own just three months ago, my face dropped while his beamed, adopting a true shit-eating grin. He actually grabbed me to his side and I just flinched, letting myself get manhandled.
“Don’t worry Steve. The kid’ll be in real good hands.” Bob crowed triumphantly, clamping his hadn’t down on my shoulder and squeezing it roughly.
“Kid! Get your little butt to the conference room and start putting the files together. That seems about your speed.” He sent me on my way, his hand releasing my shoulder only to deliver a stinging, thunderous crack against my backside. I just shuffled off, having been spanked by my work rival and sent to do menial grunt work.
With our boss’s blessing, Bob turned me into his lackey. Pretty soon I was getting his coffee, taking his lunch order, he even sent me to get his dry cleaning. I would just lower my head and nod at each increasingly degrading demand.
Bob had a way of communicating his demands that were degrading in of itself. He would snap in my face to command my attention, and took to exclusively calling me “kid” or “kiddo.” He would send me emails that just said “my office” in the subject line and “now,” in the body. He really liked throwing his weight around and I just accepted it. It was one such brusquely demanding email that send me scurrying to his office like a well-trained dog.
“Close the door.” He ordered, not looking away from his computer screen. He finished doing whatever he was doing, taking his time, making me stand there self-consciously like a dolt. I watched him as he worked. His large hands and long fingers typing away. His receding curly brown hair, gray at the edges. His big broad face and the glasses he wore. Finally he looked up, smiling at me maliciously.
“Kid, I’ve found a job I think even you can handle. My shoes need a good shine.” Bob smirked at me, gesturing to an old-fashioned shoe shine kit on his desk. I hesitated, feeling my face go red before I answered. As with all of his other demands, I felt completely incapable of refusing him.
“Ok, sure thing. Where are the shoes?” I asked, expecting to at least be able to do this in the privacy of my office.
“Where do you think they are, dumbass?” Bob snapped his fingers, pointing down beneath his desk. I walked around to see him pointing at the large pair of black florscheims on his feet. He wanted me to shine his shoes while he wore them, me kneeling down like a shoe shine boy at the train station.
I did just that, getting down on my knees and getting to work. Bob had big feet. I first cleaned off the dust and dirt from them, then applied the polish. I used the different brushes and rags in the kit make his old pair of shoes look like new. I felt compelled to do as good a job as possible, to please this man who hated me.
Bob had me toiling for him for about 20 minutes. He made a few calls during my job, ignoring me as I served him. It felt strange being so physically close to a man I had such a bad relationship with. Acquainting myself with his strong smell. I was often between his beg legs as I worked. I had the added benefit of getting a view of his ample crotch. He filled his suit pants well, and I knew with a strange pang of jealously and lust that Bob Huston was a well hung man.
“Don’t forget the spit shine finish.” And he welled up a big wad of salvia in his mouth and spit it down on to his shoes, the strand of it passing just inches from my face. I sighed with resignation and got back to work.
“Good job, kid. I knew you were born to shine men’s shoes.” He gloated, patting my head and messing my hair up before kicking me out of his office.
It was that evening while ordering dinner, pulling a late night, that Bob revealed just how much he knew about me.
“How about some peach pie, kiddo? I hear that’s your favorite.” The middle-aged man was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the table cockily. I stood before him. He grinned at me cockily, then licked his lips.
“Yeah, sweet peach pie, right? I noticed you’ve spending a lot of time with Melvin Krimholz, that slimy old bastard. Going around with him. What’s up with that, kid?” My throat went dry.
“We’re just… friends.” I mumbled weakly. Bob laughed and slapped the table, ignoring my ineffectual excuse.
“Horseshit. You sure don’t look like friends, when I see you two together. That old shark’s all smiles, but you always look nervous as hell. Like he’s got something over you.” He kept going, beaming at me evilly.
“Plus he’s got his hands all over you in court. I even saw him squeeze your ass! And you just let it happen. Almost like you’re… more than friends?” The conference room was thick with his smirking innuendo, and I felt my heart pound and my face redden further. All those times Mel had messed with me, harassed me, took liberties pushed the limit in a public place. I was always terrified someone had been watching it, paying attention. And someone had.
“So I asked him, and he said I should ask you about some fresh, sweet peach pie.” He said, laughing, his lips smacking the words together, syrupy and sarcastic. He leaned forward toward me, his elbows on the table, his voice dropping.
“Are you serving up some fresh sweet peach pie to that old ghoul Melvin Krimholz, kid?” He brought his face towards mine, raising his eyebrow, and I flinched back in my chair. He continued, whispering in my ear.
“Is the bright young star of Kennedy, Lichman and Rubin giving Melvin Krimholz his sweet, peach, pie?” He asked with mock incredulity, punctuating each word, his lips inches from my face, hot breath in my ear.
“Bob, please, we should get back to work.” I begged, my voice pleading pathetically.
He then grabbed my shoulder, spinning my chair toward him, and pointed between my legs.
“Huh, looks like all this talk about peach pie got you popping a little tent there, kid” He brought his finger inches from my crotch. It was true, I had a hard-on.
“So, Melvin Krimholz and sweet peach pie seems to make your little dick, hard, huh?” He mused, smiling at me, keeping me in suspense. I just closed my eyes and lowered my head. He had me by the balls.
“Stand up. Show me your ass.” He barked, and without thinking I stood up and turned around from him.
“Cmon. Drop trou you little faggot.” My hands shook as I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly and slowly lowered my pants.
“Tighty whities, huh? Perfect for a wimp.” Bob crowed, then grabbed my waist, whipping my white jockey briefs off me in one motion. What he saw made him burst out laughing.
“Property of Melvin Krimholz, Attorney at Law?” He read in disbelief. He whistled as he examined my butt cheek, where Mel’s stamp still clearly marked me as his. I felt him run his fingers over the stamp on my right buttock. I shuddered at the touch of his fingertips on my naked skin.
“So this is uh, a mark of ownership, then? Is it true? Does the old fuck own your ass?” He kept his big hands on my naked hips as he interrogated me, holding me in place.
I nodded meekly. I then jumped as he slapped my butt with full force.
“I’m Boss now. Call me Boss.” He demanded.
“Yes, Boss.” I answered weakly.
“He fucks your little ass?” He asked, slapping my cheeks again.
“Yes Boss, he fucks me up the ass.” I admitted, staring straight ahead.
“I can’t believe it. Steve Kennedy’s golden boy getting diddled in the rear! Butt fucked by that nasty old bastard Melvin Krimholz.” I heard him lean forward in his chair as he slapped and jiggled my naked buttocks for what felt like several minutes. I just stood there letting him fondle and grope me.
“I can see why the fat old hog humps you though. You got a nice smooth pussy.” Bob’s fingers ran between my cheeks, jabbing my hole with his middle finger.
“Turn around. Show me the little thing between your legs.” I obediently spun to face him, stepping awkwardly with my briefs at my knees and my trousers tangled up at my ankles. Bob laughed like a madman when he saw my boner. He slapped his knee, rocking back and forth in his chair, then grabbed my hips again, clearing his throat.
“Christ that’s a small one! How short is it, I know you’ve measured it, kid.” He demanded with a fiendish look behind his glasses.
“5 1/2 inches.” I confessed, looking at the wall for my inspection.
“Damn that’s small, boy. Pathetic. No wonder you take it up the rear.” I then watched in horror as he snapped a photo of me, showing my face and my pants at my ankles, little boner poking out from under my shirt.
“Smile. This one might just end up on the firm’s website.” He ordered, and I grimaced into his phone’s camera.
“Alright boy, march that sweet little can to your office.” I started to lean down to pull my pants and underwear up, but he stopped me.
‘You can leave ’em. You look funny with your ass and your little dick out. Teeny little boy penis.” He held my hips, laughing in my face as his big fingers flicked my hard-on a few times and tickled my testes. He examined it liked a demented doctor. Finally he looked up at me and snapped his fingers, demanding I look him in the eyes.
“And besides, it’s a good representation of where I have you, isn’t it? Caught with your pants down? Right, kid?” He said, clasping my chin while nodding at me.
“Yes Boss.” I chirped. He then pushed me out of the conference room and I stumbled along into my office, my rear end exposed and my meager manhood waggling with each awkward step. He walked into my office ahead of me, and carelessly swept everything off of my desk, sending several files and documents on to the floor.
“There’s another representation of where I have you…” He pulled me inside my office and roughly pushed me over my desk. He pushed his hand down on my back, pinning my chest to the desk.
“Over a barrel.” He gloated. My stomach sank. It was true. He had me over a barrel. He held my job, my livelihood, in his cruel hands.
“Bare ass and over a barrel.” He muttered to himself. He then slapped my right butt cheek several times quickly.
“Spread those cheeks open for me kid. Show me your little pussy.” I obliged, closing my eyes as I opened my rear end to him. Behind me I could hear him unzip and lower his pants.
“Aww that’s a nice little pussy. I’m gonna fuck it real good.” I heard him a guttural snarling sound, the sound of him hocking a loogie in the back of his throat, and felt a going wetness hit me right on my exposed hole.
“That’s all the lube you’re getting, kid. Buck up, here comes the Big Boss!” He boasted, lining his spit-wet cockhead against my anus and jamming it in. In three forceful pushes, he had fully penetrated me. Once he bottomed out, bringing his nuts up against mine he took a moment before beginning a fast pace, rocking me and the entire desk with each thrust.
It hurt like hell, it felt like I was having my cherry popped all over again. I cried out, begging him to slow down. He laughed at my whimpered entreaty..
“See I’m not like your boyfriend Mel. When you got Big Bob in your pussy you’re gonna know you’re getting fucked! Literally and figuratively. Your ass is mine now, kid.” Between each sentence, he slammed into me, laying his heavy gut down on my back. I feared he would break my desk.
Bob was indeed big, bigger even than Mel. His belly wasn’t as big but he was taller and likely heavier over all, with a broader build. He had boasted about his hockey days, bragging that at the time I had rolled my eyes at. Bob was bigger and stronger than me, and there would be no escaping his having his way with me, even if I tried.
Luckily, I could feel that he was not as well hung as Mel. Eventually I adjusted to his presence in my rectum, pushing out, accommodating him. My tears quickly dried and I was able to take him, to handle his thickness, and to even enjoy it, my boner rubbing against my own desk with each of his thrusts.
“I’m gonna go home after this. You’re gonna finish the brief. Make it good. I don’t care if you’re here all night. Then send it to me. I’ll get it to Steve.” It was clear what he was doing. He was going to take credit for my work.
“Yes Boss!” I grunted. I looked down at the pile of papers he had knocked off my desk, the messy heap of them. That would be the first thing I’d have to do. Putting them back in order.
“That’s right. I’m your boss. Steve is an old fool, and I’ll be running this place in a year. From now on, I’m your boss. Everything you do here is for me, got it?” He yelled maniacally as he humped away at my hindquarters, rocking my desk.
“Yes Boss! Everything is for you!” I groaned.
“Fuck your future and fuck your career, kid. Big Bob is your boss now. It’s all about Big Bob, right?” I could tell from his panting breath that he was approaching orgasm.
“Yes Boss.” I whimpered as his big cock sawed in and out of my guts.
“Your ass is mine!” He yelled once, before his words were replaced by an animal roar, squeezing my hips. He humped my butt like a Rottweiler, and I felt his thick penis pulsating as it deposited his seed. I laid there and let my rival inseminate me.
He collapsed atop me, collecting his breathe and spewing the last of his semen into me. He then pulled out. He pulled me from the desk and got me onto his knees in front of him.
“Pucker up, kid. Clean my cock.” Without hesitation I took his softening cock into my mouth, swallowing it in its entirety as he pressed his wide hips into me, burying my face with his thick pubic bush.
“All right, easy faggot, you’ll have plenty of chances to suck my hog. You and me are going to be real good friends, aren’t we?” He slapped my face patronizingly as he shoved his satisfied dong back in his pants.
“Cause you want me as a friend, kiddo. If I don’t get to be your friend, I’ll be your worst fucking enemy.” He said, his voice darkening with threat as he took more photos of me in my naked, disheveled state. Kneeling with my dick out in my own office. He instructed me to stay right there, as he left my office only to return moments later with something in his hands.
I watched as he placed a small device in the corner of my office, near the ceiling.
“This is a camera. It stays on. You do anything to remove it or block its view, I’m going to tell the
whole office about your peach pie and your disgusting fucking relationship with Melvin Krimholz. Got it?” I nodded, tears in my eyes.
“You sit your bare ass in your chair and you work all night on that brief, with your little dick out. You do NOT pull your tighty-whities or your pants up, you stay bare ass. Remember, I caught you with your pants down. I’ll be watching. You don’t get dressed until my work is done. Got it, kid?” I nodded, but couldn’t choke out any words. I felt might throat spasming with despair, holding back gasping sobs. This was all too much. It was bad enough being under Mel’s thumb, but now I was being blackmailed inside of my own office. I felt hot tears in my eyes, blinding my vision.
“Ah Christ. Stop that. Come on, kid.” He said regretfully.
Something paternal must have clicked in Bob, because he took my cheek in his hand, shushing me, making me look him in the eyes. He looked at me with something approaching warmth.
“Listen, kid. My little brother’s a faggot. I don’t have anything against faggots. Stick with me and I’ll look out for you.” His voice had softened, perhaps he felt some pang of guilt about what he was doing to me. He actually wiped some of the tears from my cheeks.
“But disobey me, lie to me, or go behind my back, I’ll make you wish you were never born. We understand each other, kid?” He held on to my face as he set out his unnegotiable terms.
“Yes Boss.” I nodded, my voice wavering. I swallowed, stood up without pulling up my pants or briefs, sat my bare ass down on my office chair, and got to work.