*****

Part 2…

That next morning, I woke up in the embrace of this giant. Before I opened my eyes, I felt his heavy limbs over mine, his steady warm snoring on my neck, his big belly pushing into me, and the tickle of his copious chest hair and pubic bush scraping against my back and ass.

I had never slept next to someone so big before, and while I had shared beds with friends, we had never spooned like this. Maybe an arm over my side, but nothing so intentionally intimate, so purposefully post-coital. His cock still pushed into me, lay between my buttocks, semi-hard with morning wood. Having his mammoth form pressed up against me, holding me and locking me in, felt like a stark contrast to the smaller female bodies I had spooned with. Duff’s body was huge, hairy, and hot to the touch. I tried to gingerly extract myself from under his arms without waking him.

“Coffee.” I heard his deep voice grunt as I stood up from the bed. He reached over and squeezed my right butt cheek roughly before I escaped his grasp. I couldn’t find my clothes in the mess of his dark bedroom, so I fled before he could grab me again and put his morning wood ot use.

After taking a leak, I cleaned myself up, washing my own dried semen from my midsection. I looked in his bathroom mirror and as I feared last night, hickeys wreathed my shoulders, neck, and chest in a bright purple and crimson garland. These were massive bruises, too, big and wide. I wondered if a guy seeing them in the locker room, or walking behind me on the street, would know that the large, strong-jawed mouth had delivered them of a man. Duff had tattooed me as his, after all, at least temporarily.

I also bore the bruises of the back-alley beatdown. Duff had never punched me directly, declaring me not man enough to receive his fist. Instead, he had shamed me with his slaps, open-palmed and back-handed, over and over again. “Bitch slaps,” because as he had proven beyond a doubt, I was his bitch and not my own man. At least one such blow had busted my lip, leaving it swollen on the side. All his other body blows had not left a bruise. My testicles still ached, remembering the devastating kicks and knees he had punished me with for fighting back. I was mostly fine, though, physically. As I stepped out of his bathroom, still buck naked and a captive tiptoeing through my enemy’s home, I realized that the only real injury Roger Duffman had given me was a fatal wound to my pride.

I found some grounds in his kitchen and made a pot of coffee. As it brewed, I surveyed the living room for the jeans and underwear he had thrown in the corner last night, but had no luck. Still naked, I returned to the bedroom.

“Um, how do you like your coffee?” I asked quietly.

“Boy, you know how to address me properly. You weren’t that drunk last night.” So it was a rule then. I felt my face blush.

“Sorry, how do you like your coffee, Big Duff?” I asked. He smiled, pleased. When I came back with a cup prepared to his specifications, he took it from my hand while sitting up in bed.

“There’s some bacon and eggs and stuff in the fridge. Make me something good.” He instructed, not looking up from his phone as if he was talking to his assistant, his underling. He scratched his hirsute belly with his free hand, and I looked to see that his large bush poked up from the edge of the bed sheets.

“I can’t, Big Duff, I have-” I struggled to explain that I had to leave. He put his phone down, waved a hand at me dismissively, and barked.

“I don’t like telling you to do stuff twice. Whatever plans you had are cancelled. You’re with me today, all day. Now make us breakfast and tell me when it’s ready.” He spoke gruffly but smirked at me, entertained by my feeble objections as if the idea of my leaving his apartment was preposterous, a child’s foolish delusion. Naked with my clothes, wallet, phone, or keys nowhere in sight, I knew I was in the bigger man’s captivity until he chose to release me. I wasn’t ready to flee from his home in my birthday suit. Chastened, I turned heel and followed the hall to his kitchen.

I was surprised by the high-quality food in the top two rows of his otherwise barren fridge – it looked like he had gone to an upscale market, and as I laid out the ingredients, I wondered if this had been his plan all along. He brought me back to his place with the expectation that I would make breakfast for him in the morning. There was something so cocky about that, knowing that he would take me home and have me stay the night.

I actually enjoyed cooking; I cooked for my roommates regularly, and I took my time to prepare quite the spread. I focused on my task, avoiding tackling the strangeness of the fact that I was bare ass naked in the home of a man I considered my most hated enemy, cooking breakfast for him. Nor did I think about the most bizarre wrinkle of all that I wanted to do a good job, to please him, and make him happy.

Duff emerged from his bedroom in a pair of boxers, his hand plunged beneath the waistband, exposing his thick black pubic bush as he scratched himself and yawned. He sat at the kitchen table, turning on sports radio, and watched me finish up, an amused smile on his face. He beamed at the plate I placed in front of him, gratified by my efforts. He pawed the back of my neck when I tried to step away from him and wrenched my head down to his, then planted a kiss squarely on my lips. Duff licked around then forced his tongue in, and like last night, I let him have his way with my mouth. Forcing his wetness into my palate, the strong taste of coffee mercifully covers his morning breath. Despite myself, I soon found myself swooning as he probed, meeting his tongue with my own, his hand caressing the back of my neck, until he released me. I gasped for breath.

He grumbled at me to make a plate of my own and have a seat, slapping my behind as he sent me off. I did so, giving myself much less food as my nerves were killing my appetite. It felt strange, sitting down to breakfast completely naked. Duff didn’t seem troubled by my bare butt cheeks on his chair.

I ate in silence, taking small and dainty bites. Duff wolfed his plate down, clearly enjoying what I made, demanding seconds. He stuck out his coffee cup and I topped him off. I found that waiting on him came quite naturally, and he spanked and fondled my rump every time I came by, like a big trucker sexually harassing a waitress.

Finally, I spoke up as I removed my plate from the table.

“Listen.. Big Duff, I’m gonna have to head out soon, I’ve got plans today and-” I stopped talking when he slammed his hand down on the table.

He stood up, his chair squeaking on the tile. He pushed me back into the wall, poking my bare chest with his finger.

“YOU listen. You’re mine now, boy. I thought I made that clear last night.” He pressed his left hand against my pectoral and leaned his face closer to mine. Duff tapped at his temple theatrically.

“I’m the one with the plans, got it? And I got big plans for you, Dougie baby.” He gave me one of those unnerving grins while his big dark eyes glowered at me. It was the same look he gave me when he kicked my ass outside the bar last night. He tapped the side of his head a few more times, then rapped his fingertips on my forehead.

“YOUR only plan is to keep me happy. That’s your focus now. Easy, right? Just keep Big Duff happy.” He nodded at me emphatically, his face about an inch or two from mine, until I bobbed my head back in assent.

“Now you made me tell ya twice, so there’s got to be consequences. But you’re lucky, ’cause I’m sweet on ya, so I’m not going to give you another beatdown.” He swiped his big hand by my face quickly, faking me out, making me flinch. He laughed, then jabbed my chest again.

‘Let’s go.” He grabbed me by the ear, dragging me behind him to his living area to his couch, where he sat down.

“You’re acting foolish, stubborn, like a little boy. So that’s how you’re going to be punished, just like a naughty little boy.” He declared, adding a mocking lilt to his voice as he patted his knee.

“Get over my lap, now. You earned 30 good ones.” He grabbed my hips, then easily threw me over his thick, hairy thighs and positioned me so that my naked ass was front and center.

Duff’s big hand slapped down on my upturned rear end, delivering four rapid, forceful blows on alternating butt cheeks. I remembered the power of his slaps to my face last night, how it felt like his rough hand had been made of granite. Two more spanks, these even harder, making me yelp and struggle over his lap.

“The goal isn’t to hurt you, you know damn well I could do that if I wanted to. The goal is to get it through your little head that my word is the law.” After he spoke, he doled out another six, three on my left, three on my right, fast and harsh. I shouted out with each one. Not even at the midway point, and I was panting.

“Who am I?!” He yelled after one thunderous clap squarely down the middle, hitting both cheeks. I hesitated for a moment. More slaps followed, the crack of his hand on buttocks ringing loudly.

“Big Duff!” I called out.

“Attaboy!! And who are you?” Duff quizzed.

“I’m- I’m…” I trailed off, and he walloped my rump, chuckling at my distress and holding me in place with his free hand.

“You’re my bitch! You’re my bitch, you got it?!” He instructed while thrashing my backside.

“Yes, Big Duff, I’m your bitch, I’m your bitch. I’m your bitch!” I cried out, praying for relief. I certainly felt it, helpless over his lap. There were tears in my eyes.

“Good. And now this is the most important one.” He chuckled, cleared his throat, and asked, giving my bottom a hearty shake with his hands before laying down some more spanks.

“What is my word?” For just a moment, I drew a blank.

“Your word… is the law! Your word is the law, Big Duff!” I scrambled to answer.

Five more slaps on my behind, and I cried out with each one. He put the full power of his shoulder and heavy arm in each one, drawing up entirely and slapping it down, and laughed at the pitiful yelps I produced with each blow. I pressed my face into his sofa cushion to muffle my screams of pain and frustration. I felt ridiculous, helpless, and bare ass naked, getting walloped like a little boy.

He threaded his thick fingers through my hair and wrenched my neck back, lifting me off the couch, and brought his lips right up to my face.

“So you get it now, buddy boy? I tell you to do something, you do it. I tell you what the plan is, and that’s the plan, little man. You get it?” Duff kissed my forehead.

“Yes, Big Duff,” I answered quietly, my face pressed between his big, hairy pectorals.

After clearing the table and washing the dishes, Duff put me to work cleaning his entire house. I took a large recycling bag and grabbed all of the empty bottles and cans first, then picked up all the discarded garbage before coming back to wipe clean the surfaces. Like cooking for him, it felt strangely calming to focus just on this task for Duff. I also enjoyed cleaning, and was the neat freak of my roommates, who were more than happy to let me clean up after them in the common areas. After he set me up with the location of cleaning supplies, I was pretty self-directed and enthusiastic in my earnest efforts to declutter the man’s dank bachelor pad.

Sure, it was degrading, cleaning another man’s toilet, particularly one who had brought me so low. Low was how I felt, bare ass naked on my hands and knees on his bathroom floor, wiping up patches of dried urine from around the base of his toilet, or picking up stray pubic hairs from around the porcelain rim. But cleaning Duff’s apartment helped slow down my heart rate after the brutal spanking, and I was able to lose myself in the service. I did a load of laundry, made the bed where he had unmanned me with fresh sheets. I dusted, vacuumed, and organized. Each time I saw his amused grin or he made a patronizing comment on my work, I got a bewildering thrill. As I worked, I realized it was two feelings at once – a mix of humiliation at toiling for this tyrant and genuine pleasure at pleasing him.

“Good job, Dougie. Looks like we finally found a job you’re up for.” He called from the couch as he rolled up a blunt on his newly spotless coffee table, waving me over. Dutifully, I delivered myself to him, hands at my sides, head lowered like I truly was his servant. I still felt self-conscious about being naked in front of him.

“From now on, you can be my little house bitch.” He laughed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke in my face, then offered me the blunt.

Just like last night, when I attempted to decline, he forced it on me, locking my head between his bicep and forearm, bringing it to my lips and making me take three long draws. He smoked as I continued to clean, and several more times he beckoned me back to him and would blow lungfuls of weed smoke down my lungs. Shot-gunning, lips to lips in a strange kiss, clasping the sides of my head, and forcing the smoke into my body.

I had never liked weed – it made me feel loose and dumb, unsteady. Like I was letting my guard down. At the moment, I felt myself relaxing.

“That’s enough cleaning for today, boy. Just sit with your man.” I curled up next to him tentatively, and he pulled me into his side so that his heavy, hairy body was pressed up next to mine. His left arm slung over my shoulder, and his hand rubbed up and down my body, squeezing me and feeling me up, as he continued to pass the blunt from his mouth to mine, always blowing his smoke down my throat too. Soon, my head was spinning. This was the most weed I had smoked since college. When it was cashed, he brought his lips to my neck and ear, nuzzling me, chomping around behind my earlobe.

“You’re naked. You’re mine. There’s nothing to keep you from me. Nothing to protect you.” I looked at our reflection in the mirror behind his TV. I was unclothed in this massive man’s embrace, watching his thick arms run up and down me, molesting me. I looked down at his big hands, hairy n. He bit along the back of my neck down to my trapezius, and his rough hands squeezed and kneaded my sides. My body trembled at his touch. I felt like the zookeeper who fell into the gorilla enclosure.

“Duff, I’ve got to head out.” I protested quietly, looking over at the door. I had no idea where he had put my clothes. His big hands fiddled with my nipples, and I gasped, shaking in his grasp.

“Shut the fuck up.” He said gently, running his fingers over my lips, his other arm squeezing around my hips.

“You’ve still got a lot of work to do.” Duff gestured down to his spread open legs. His heavy cock popped out of the open fly of his boxers, a big, thick red-headed cudgel, and he brought my hand to it. Tentatively, I wrapped my fingers around its growing girth.

“Now you get to know what it feels like to have a real man’s cock in your hand, huh, kid?” He asked patronizingly, and I nodded, not taking my eyes off the rapidly expanding prick which was making my hand look almost dainty. It felt so taboo to hold another man’s cock for him.

“Looks like your little guy likes it, too. Your little boy pecker.” He observed with a chuckle, gesturing at the hard-on now slapping against my belly. It wasn’t like I had a micropenis or anything. I knew I was average, but compared to him, I was small. Much smaller than him. I let his humiliating words wash over me – somehow I was enjoying this – as I gave his big boner a few hesitant strokes.

“That’s it. Focus on the man’s cock. Focus on the cock that matters.” He cooed as I pumped his hard-on. The big old thing was fascinating to me, a great fleshy totem. I jerked him off, mesmerized. We both watched my hand and his prick, and listened to the unmistakable sound of a dick being jacked, the fleshy pumping. Without prompting, I got on my knees and took him into my mouth.

He chuckled at my taking of initiative but patted my head affectionately. Unlike last night, he let me go at my own pace. I heard him click on the TV, and he absently ran his fingers through my hair while watching ESPN, spreading his legs to give me greater access to his manhood. I looked up at him, leaned back against the couch, his big belly and powerful fur-matted chest, his broad shoulders and heavy arms spread over his couch. An unmistakably triumphant curl of a smile on his big, wide face. Perfectly relaxed and enjoying my attention. I ran my tongue from the bottom of his ball sack up to the crown of his cock. I relished the salty musk of his groin, the velvety warmth of his flesh, the raking of his pubes against my face. Never in my life had I imagined that I would be face-first in the forest of Roger Duffman’s bush.

Upon his instruction, I sucked and slavered on his big balls worshipfully, taking them in my mouth one by one. As I did this, I contemplated them as the potent factories of his seed, the same seed he had blasted into me last night, infiltrating my body. Surely some of his sperm had been absorbed into my system and still swam through me, making me his. I massaged them with my tongue and mouth while he laughed openly and captured pics on his phone. Duff was clearly delighted to have his former enemy give him a ball washing.

“That’s it, suck nuts bitch.” He grunted, laughing huskily and pushing his crotch into my face to force his big balls down my throat. He pushed my forehead so that I was looking at the phone’s camera while slobbering on his hairy scrotum.

My face bloomed with warmth, and I knew my cheeks were red with embarrassment and bulging with his big ball sack, but I just redoubled my efforts, making the big man groan with pleasure.

“Attaboy. Now let’s get some pics of your pretty face with my cock in your mouth.” I refocused on his dick, sucking it slowly and purposefully. Gently gripping my chin, he positioned my face for his photo shoot, capturing shots of me sucking on the head like a lollipop, or face buried in his bush as he reamed my throat, balls deep.

“Such a pretty boy. Whoever thought you could be a real man with such a pretty face, such sweet lips? You were meant to be my girl.” He blew a kiss down at me as I gobbled on his cock, letting it choke me.

Eventually, Duff grabbed my hair and pulled my head up to his belly. He forced my face against his hairy gut, smearing me against him, then up to his chest. I licked eagerly, plunging my tongue in his furry navel, sucking on the dense, wiry pelt between his pecs, dabbing at his big nipples. Soon, my face was sent to his armpit. I didn’t even blink before burying my face into the swirling hair of his sweating, stinking cleft.

“Don’t even need to take a shower when I’ve got my bitch around.” He laughed, then moaned with pleasure as I lapped at his furry armpit. In that moment, all I wanted to do was dispense pleasure, to honor him while debasing myself. I heard more photos being taken from his phone. I couldn’t believe I was down here, doing this. Eating out his hairy pit like it was a pussy.

“Yeah. Kiss that pit. Give it a nice big smooch. Suck that pit, bitch” He ordered, shoving the back of my head into the sweat-soaked, woolly crevasse. He then directed my mug to his left armpit for the same treatment. All the while, he pumped his hips, grinding his rigid prong into my belly as I knelt between his legs.

Finally, he released his grip on the back of my head, and I lifted, resting my arms on his spread thighs, taking deep breaths and extracting some stray hairs from my teeth. He laughed and slapped the head of his big, hard-on against my cheeks.

“Princess, you know how this ends. My big cock in your pussy. Hit the bathroom and get yourself ready for me.” He helped get me back on my feet and sent me on my way with a slap on the bottom.

I cleaned myself up and took a shower. When I returned, he was now fully naked himself. A big, hairy caveman, barrel-chested with a kingly belly. He had some light music playing and was smoking another blunt, which he forced me to share with him. Wrapping his arms around me as I sat beside him on the couch, he jammed his tongue down my throat between drags, planting long, sloppy wet kisses on me.

“You know, I think weed might make you horny, princess.” He crooned as he gnawed on my neck, surely plastering my neck with more hickeys. He took one long last pull, then sealed his lips against mine, blowing the smoke down my throat. Duff was right. I was flushed, in heat. We kissed each other hungrily, and he pushed me over the arm of the couch, lying on top of me. How strange it felt to have his big forehead head against mine, his strong, stubbled jaw, his wide mouth. To be felt up by his large, rough hands, fondled and molested like a bride. His big man-sized tongue is rampaging through my mouth. Duff finally pulled back, and he smiled fiendishly, a thick strand of saliva still tied our tongues together.

‘Yeah, I think little Dougie Calhoun’s hot for me.” He raised his eyebrows in mock suspicion, then stuck two fingers in my mouth. I sucked on them like a milking pup. He yanked them from my lips and then brought me in for another swallowing kiss. I felt the same hand reach down between my legs and plunge into my hole. I was being fingered like a chick by Big Duff.

I gasped at the intrusion, but Duff kept my mouth occupied with his tongue. I just had to push out and breathe against the invading digits, letting them drive into me. All the while, Duff kissed me furiously, pummeling my throat with his tongue and pulling my lips into his mouth like he was trying to take something from me.

He jammed a third finger in, and I just ground myself down onto it, welcoming it in despite my tenderness. Duff nipped at my neck again, sucking and licking at the flesh imprisoned between his teeth, then released it, laughing at me.

“Yeah, look at you dance on my fingers. You like getting finger-banged, princess?” I just nodded as Duff diddled me expertly, opening me up with his thick fingers, finding my prostate, and assaulting it. I began bucking my hips into his hand. His living room was filled with my shameless cries of ecstasy as he fingered me. Eventually, he pulled them out, then grabbed me and put me on all fours on the couch facing the mirror. My legs were spread, and I was open to him.

“Well, if you liked my fingers up your pussy, I bet my big mug is going to drive you wild.” I watched as he grasped the sides of my rear end, spreading my cheeks, then buried his face into the newly revealed territory. I grunted as his tongue began probing me. His thick, abrasive five o’clock shadow felt incredible as he burrowed his big lantern jaw between my cheeks. His thick tongue began to assail my hole, twisting in clockwise swipes or piercing into me, penetrating me.

Duff knew what he was doing back there. I watched myself succumbing to his efforts in the mirror, my face beet red, my whole body trembling, and my mouth open as I cried out. I watched him grab my thighs, delivering my backside to him on a platter. He held up my legs as he devoured me, squeezing my thighs against his sides to lift my lower half from the couch like a wrestling move. I was in thrall, burying my face into my arms, shouting into the couch cushion. I bit into my bicep to stifle my screams.

I wasn’t sure what was happening to my shaking body – was he drawing an orgasm out of me, the way I had made chicks come from eating them out? He chomped on me greedily, relishing his performance of this debasing act upon me, and the powerful effect it had on me. As it intensified, I began to beg him to stop, my voice uneven and strained, gurgling that I could take no more.

Duff finally relented, coming back into view in the mirror, cocky smile on his face, he wiped his lips.

“What can I say? I’m a pussyhound.” He slapped my right butt cheek sharply as he got his hips in position behind me and cranked himself to his full rigidity. I saw that he was applying the same product he had used last night to his veiny, red erection.

Keeping my buttocks spread apart with his big hands, he lined his well-lubricated prick up to my back door. I felt its wide, blunt head pressed against my anus, and he began to drive his way in.

His entry was patient but inexorable. I wailed and bit my arm again to overcome the pain. My bully held my hips firmly in place, so that when I involuntarily spasmed from the intrusion of his hard-on remained bent over like a bitch. Inch by inch, he advanced, and I heard him exhale deeply, measured breaths behind me, focusing on not cumming prematurely from the tightness and resistance of my hole. Meanwhile, I bit a pillow on the couch desperately, groaning into it as I was mercilessly forced open to accommodate his massive cock.

Soon, I felt him park it in me all the way, his dense pubic bush tickling my butt cheeks, his balls banging up against mine. He ground his hips into me to ensure that he was truly all the way in. Duff bellowed with animal satisfaction and began to hump into me, laughing with joy as he sodomized me.

Another man was fucking inside of me, penetrating me with his erect penis and having his way with the “pussy” he had made for himself. I felt a rush of revulsion thinking about his big snouted hog, pink with a crimson head, nastily thick and covered in veins – that thing was inside me. The big penis he pissed out of, that he jizzed out, that he would scratch, handle, and play with but otherwise kept stuffed in his unwashed boxers, that unclean winking worm was inside me. His overgrown, grotesque prong was inside of me, rooting around, pulsing, pushing, jamming in, stabbing into me where it pleased.

With each thrust, it felt like Duff wielded a battering ram, a great conquering weapon, rampaging through my most private of places, snuffing out any bit of manhood I still had left after last night. He grabbed my hair to force my eyes towards the mirror, both of us watching the effect his thrusting press was having on my flushed, shuddering face.

Balls deep, he lay his heavy chest down upon my back and clamped his right arm around my neck, putting me in a tight headlock as he fucked me. His large, hairy body was sealed on top of mine. I watched him in the mirror clamp his tattooed bicep around my imprisoned head as he gnawed at my ear, humping away. He smiled and laughed throatily, his deep husky words seeming to vibrate directly into my eardrum.

“Look at you. Look at yourself. You thought you could fight me?” Duff laughed at the thought and pounded into my spread open backside almost angrily.

“YOU thought you could fight ME?” He asked, with mock outrage, sarcastic incredulity. Duff was right – it had been absurd that I ever thought I could go toe to toe with such a powerful man. Roger Duffman was a bulldozer. 6’3, 240 lbs, maybe 250. It wasn’t just his big, solid body; it was his demeanor. He was tough, dangerous-seeming. Nobody fucked with Duff.

And I was the picture of powerlessness. I had not been able to resist him since meeting him in the gym shower just yesterday morning. First, he had gotten into my head, harassing me via text message and filling my mind with thoughts of his big, ugly cock. Then he had humiliated me in public, handed my ass to me without breaking a sweat, and walked me to his home half-naked like a whipped dog. I was his.

“You don’t fight me, princess. You get fucked by me. You get fucked up the ass by me, that’s what you get.” To emphasize his point, he began to pummel my hole, rocking his hips about, piercing into me at different angles. It was like he wanted to touch my insides all over, to poke at every place within me that should be off limits.

‘Now feel it, princess. Feel my big cock in your guts.” His lips kissed my ear lobe, and his big tongue slid in, wetting it with spit, molesting me, as his fat prick probed my insides.

Duff spun me around under him so that I was on my back. He fell into me, pinning my wrists to the bed and folding my legs over his broad, hairy shoulders, making me bellow with how deep the missionary position permitted him to plunge. His big face was right on top of mine, just an inch or two apart. He panted his hot breath all over my mouth and neck, his face red and sweaty with exertion.

“You feel it? You feel my big cock up in your guts?” He asked, eyes locked with mine. I nodded, and he leaned in, licking at my neck and cheek like a hound.

“Tell me…” He asked as he blew warm breath on my neck, as he chewed and lapped. Of course, I could feel his bigness. I could feel it, feel him inside me. The maddening pressure of it, the overwhelming presence. Pushing and pulsing, having invaded me and now occupying me.

“I feel your big fat prick up inside me, up in my guts.” I groaned. I pushed back against it.

“Yeah, you got a real man’s cock all up in ya.” He grumbled and picked up the pace, adjusting his grip on my ankles as he kept my legs on his furry shoulders. The legs of the couch shrieked against the floorboards as he rammed me.

“See from now on, this’s the only kinda sex you’re gonna get.” He declared between gritted teeth.

“That’s right. It’s just gonna be you and me. Just you and me. Fucking!” He barked, punctuating his last word with a burst of spittle that splashed against my face. He pounded into me, making both of our bodies shake with each impact. He seized my boner in his hand and smirked down at it.

“You’re dick has been officially demoted, Dougie. It doesn’t get to fuck pussy anymore.” He gripped my peckerhead, lifted it, and wiggled it, then dropped it dismissively. My penis was half-hard, beached upon my belly. Engorged like a clit but a bystander. An afterthought to both of us.

“That’s right. I’m gonna keep you 100% pussy free. The only pussy is the one between your legs, got it, princess?” Duff gloated, winking at me. He then grabbed both sides of my face, shaking my head roughly.

“And the only cock that matters is my big fat hog, going right up your back door!” He gloated, pumping into me.

“You get it? You’re just a faggot now, my faggot. This is sex for you. My fat cock and your little hole.” At this, he began to sway his hips left and right, feeling me out, letting his rigid staff excavate more passage inside of me.

“Sex is rough, sex is sweaty and nasty. That’s what sex is for you. Your pretty face in my stinking armpit. Sex is you getting dicked down and fucked over every damn day. Taking every bit of manhood you ever thought you had, stripping it from you and adding it to my own, until you’re just my weak, wimpy, cowering little bitch. A helpless naked bitch bent over on all fours or folded up like a pretzel, legs spread open for business, stuck on the end of my big fat cock. And you wouldn’t want it any other way, would you bitch?” He barked out, his face right atop mine as he ranted. I moaned in the affirmative, and he sped up, knocking into me roughly. This was what I wanted.

I felt small beneath him, tiny and crushed. There was no escape from Duff. I moaned as he pounded away, humping me like a dog. I brought my hands around his wide hips, feeling the sweat-soaked hair on the small of his back. I gripped his love handles and squeezed. He smiled through gritted teeth while I held onto him the way a woman holds onto a man while he fucks her.

His hand slid up from my waist, across my slick belly, to arrive at my chest. He gripped my breasts like they were a chick’s tits, his fingers twiddling my nipples.

His grunts became more bestial as he neared orgasm, his thrusts into me more furious. Like last night, Duff gave a few charity strokes to my half-hard little dick. I guess he liked us to get off together. One big hand remained on my bosom to attack my radiating buttons.

I felt his prick twitch as he shot in me, and felt a warm wetness fill me as he came. I thought of his powerful and manly seed being inside me, emptying those big hairy nuts directly inside of me. As I came, jizzing furiously all over my belly, I clamped down on his thick cock, grinding into it while he kept fucking into me. I was coming like a woman, coming as I thrust myself onto his cock, wanting more of him. We both hollered at the top of our lungs, but like last night, his grunts were deep and manly, and my cries were of a distinctly higher and embarrassingly feminine octave.

He lay on top of me for a while, catching his breath. Eventually, he began to kiss me, tender pecks on my neck and chest, which were sensitive from my orgasm. He brought both big hands around the sides of my head and brought his sloppy kisses to my mouth. I swooned a bit, being romanced like this.

“Yeah, you and me are going to get along just fine, I think.” He pulled back and looked at me, brushing the hair back from my forehead.

“You just got to remember who’s wearing the pants.” I nodded, and he smiled indulgently, then asked.

“Tell me who that is.”

“You, Big Duff. You wear the pants, Big Duff. You wear the pants and I’m… I’m bare ass.” I said with a gasp, surrendering to him, still delirious from the sex. He laughed at my addition.

“That’s right. So you understand? Your priority is keeping me happy. It’s more important than your social life. It’s more important than the gym. It’s even more important than your dinky little job.” He jabbed at my chest to drive his point home.

“Yes, Big Duff.” Did I mean it? I couldn’t tell. It felt real as I said it. He held me, spooning me, cuddling me close to his big warm body, and we lay on the couch like that for the next couple of hours, it felt like, falling in and out of sleep. Finally, I saw from the clock that it was well into the afternoon. I sat up, hands covering my crotch, feeling self-conscious to be still naked.

“Big Duff… I should get home. I have work tomorrow.” He smirked at me, sitting up beside me.

“You really want to leave?” He rubbed my shoulder, holding me close.

“I don’t want to, but I have to.” I protested meekly. He rolled his eyes, threw his head back against the back of the couch, and seemed to mull over my request. He stroked his stubbled chin, considering whether or not he would release. I sat beside him patiently and obediently until he broke the silence.

“What are you doing Wednesday night?” Duff asked, rubbing the back of my head.

“Whatever you want me to, Big Duff.” I quickly answered.

“Good answer. I’m taking you out for dinner. A proper date. How’s that sound, princess?”

“I’d like that Big Duff.” He grinned, pleased, and kissed me on the forehead before sitting up on the couch and lumbering to his bedroom. I slipped into the bathroom to clean up.

He returned wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he was holding jeans and underwear. He placed them on the couch. The shirt I was wearing last night was presumably on the ground back in the alley, and he had given my shoes away to the cackling witnesses to the beatdown. He handed me a pair of sandals with an apologetic shrug.

“You can wear this too.” He threw a large and slightly ratty long-sleeve shirt at me. I unfolded it – it smelled strongly like him. It was his old hockey jersey, I realized. The one he had worn from college. In big green letters on the back, it read “Duffman.”

“Try it on. Just the jersey. I wanna see you in it.” He asked, smirking.

I stood up and pulled it on. I was swimming in it. I looked in his hallway mirror – it covered my dick, the hem resting at mid-thigh – I felt like a girlfriend in her boyfriend’s shirt.

“So fucking cute. Gimme a spin.” I turned around slowly and felt him lift the back to reveal my backside. He let out a low wolf-whistle.

“What’s the code on your phone?” He had confiscated it from the jeans. I briefly thought of refusing, but quickly divulged the password. He felt me up with his free hand, reaching under his jersey to my haunches, while he went through my phone, swiping away.

After a few moments, he handed it to me.

“There. I put a monitoring program on it as well as a location tracker. Even when we’re apart, I’ll know where you are, who you’re talking to, and what kind of trouble you’re getting up to.” I saw the series of apps at the end of my library. When I tried to open one, it demanded a password. They would sit on my phone then, like a chaperone, accessible only to Duff.

“Any fucking problems with that, princess?” He asked, squeezing the back of my neck, his voice tinged with menace. I shook my head rapidly. The invasion of privacy thrilled me.

I put on the rest of my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. I saw him all over me. His hickeys on my neck. His name on my back. Keeping tabs on me through my phone, the way a parent tracks a teenager. Duff had made me his.

“Alright, kid. Richard will be here in 3 minutes. I’ll walk you out.” He had ordered me a car. I couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed and a little touched – he was really treating me like his chick.

Duff slid his hand around my waist and led me to the front door.

“Text me to let me know you got home.” I nodded, my heart beating rapidly at this romantic touch.

We stood on his porch, him holding me against him until the sedan pulled up. Duff walked with me to the curb and surprised me by opening the door for me. What a gentleman.

“Roger?” The driver asked.

“Yup, that’s me. Get him home safe, Rich.” Duff said from behind me as I got in the back seat.

“You got it.” The driver said, chuckling.

“Text me when you get home, baby.” He ordered once more, pointing to me as I buckled up, then closing the door. Richard took off down the street. At a red light, I felt his eyes on me through the rear-view mirror. He was an older guy, salt-of-the-earth. He cleared his throat before addressing me with a warm smile..

“Hey, I just want to say you two are real sweet. I got a little brother who’s queer. He’s a little bottom boy like you, too. Single though. I’d love it if he found a big fellow to take care of him like you did.”

Just yesterday, I would have cursed this guy out for implying that I was gay, let alone another man’s bitch. Instead, I quietly thanked him. We spent the rest of the ride in silence, and my mind raced as I thought of what was to come.

The End.

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