We had talked briefly through a few texts. His name was Steven, and he was a thick, rugged-looking businessman from Atlanta. In fact, he had told Me he played rugby when I instructed him to show up wearing a jockstrap under his suit. I had opted for leather: knee-high boots, jeans, a vest, cap, and a pair of biker gloves.
He arrived a tad late, something I had expected, as he has stopped to pick Me up a cigar at a local shop, and walked from there. We sat and briefly introduced ourselves properly. He handed Me a bag containing not one, but five cigars. Having paid attention to our conversation, three of them were Acid Blondies. I knew we were going to have a good start.
I ordered him to get Me a drink, and we shared some small talk. I looked at him. He was rather comical, in his suit, looking out of place. He was a big guy, had an eager face, and was polite. One thing I noted very quickly is that he couldn't tie a tie. Now, I am a bit of a stickler for that kind of thing, so I removed it and set it aside. He would learn later, but I certainly would not be seen with him wearing it the way he had it.
It was time to step outside. He set his beer to the side, and we proceeded to the alley. I sat on a step, with this quiet, eager man next to Me. I clipped and lit the cigar Myself (he had no experience), and his hands flew up in a bowl shape, ready to catch My ash. I smoked for a while, thinking, using My newfound ashtray. I dipped My fingers in the ash and brought them to his mouth, and without missing a beat, he eagerly sucked them clean. Oh, things were going to be fun tonight.
We headed back into the bar, and he went upstairs with Me. I asked him to fetch another drink, while I waited. He headed down the stairs to do so, and I noticed something on the table. That chubby moron has left his phone and wallet on the table. Personally, I was always told not to leave My things lying around, or they would be gone. So with a quick hand, I slipped both of these newfound treasures in My pocket. I knew that the wallet contained both his cards and hotel keys, and that the phone was the one issued by his job. He would need those back.
He came back with the beers, and a brief puzzled look upon noticing the disappearance of his valuables. He said nothing, so I told him very clearly that I had them. I offered he keep Me entertained to earn his things back, and started by making him take off his shirt and coat. He was fat and pale, and I couldn't imagine he'd be good at much (after all, if you're stupid enough to leave your things about, you're probably a grade A moron). Because trash belongs on the ground, I ordered him onto it. He would not get to sit in a chair for the rest of the evening.
I put My boot up to his face. "Lick it." I tell him. He tentatively sticks his tongue out, and begins running it across My leathers. "Make sure you get the treads." I specify.
He works them for a short while, but I quickly stop him. I grab his face in My hands and let him know I mean business, in My usual polite manner: "Look... I understand that you're not good for much... however, if you really want to get your things back, I suggest you make sure I can feel your tongue
through the boot." I give his head a little encouraging push.
With My guidance, he does much better, and in the space of some ten minutes, My boots look shiny again. Apparently, he seemed to do OK as a bootlicker... but I hadn't really started. A few minutes later, as he sat at My feet, ideas came to My head as I pulled out My clamps and clips box.
"We're going to play a little game, you and I," I tell him, pulling out a pair of clover clams. "The object is simple: I'm going to put these clamps on your nipples. All you need to do, is keep them on for ten minutes. You do, and you get your phone back. You don't, and there will be... consequences." Without really waiting for his agreement, I put the clamps on his nipples, and order him to return to My boots. By this time, a few folks from the bar were looking on with interest.
I was surprised that a big boy like him could take the nipple pain, but six minutes had passed. From experience, the bigger boys tend to fall harder, but he was holding on pretty well. I smiled. I don't tend to lose. I reached in My box for a couple of weights and I added them to the chain. I toyed with them, pulling them, twisting them, playing with them... until he faltered and begged for them off, a mere minute from the end.
The first bout of consequences wasn't too bad. I announced I'd empty his wallet of physical cash, as well as write that he was a weakling on his body in Sharpie. At the last moment, I grabbed his nipples and began squeezing them, telling him I'd let go in exchange for the first digit of his PIN number. He didn't want to, but in less than a minute the pain was unbearable, and he gave Me the number.
I made him strip out of his pants to his jockstrap (which was a silly orange color) and led him downstairs, where he fetched Me another drink. As I sat on a high seat, and he sat on the floor, My boots rested on him as I downed the beer he brought. I enjoyed My new near-naked footrest, and grinding My boots into him was quite a relaxing activity, and I pulled out My Sharpie for some more exercise.
By this point, the main floor of the bar had filled up. More than a few people were looking on in interest, a few of them whispering among themselves, laughing at the chubby businessmen lying below My booted feet. I noticed one or two snap a couple of discreet pictures. He must have looked pretty ridiculous on the floor, in his tiny underwear, his body adorned with "Sissy" and "Whore." I decorated him with a few more slurs on his body and dragged him outside for another cigar. Outside, he serves as My ashtray again. The bar is in a side-street, yet still close enough to a well traveled avenue in the middle of Center City. It was well into the evening, and quite a few folks passed by, looking at the half naked man outside the bar, flesh written on, taking ash into his hands. I grinned and slapped some ash into his face, and ashed into his mouth.
Back inside, I paraded My prey around a little bit. A few of My friends had come to the bar, and were delighted by his appearance. I even suggested they go ahead and decorate him a little bit, as there was a LOT of room available. And I mean a LOT. And so they did.
On My end, I felt that the few drinks I had consumed were passing through Me, so when they were done, I grabbed the pig and dragged him into the bathroom, where I made him kneel near the urinal to watch Me piss. He looked so eager... I sent him out and grabbed a glass, in which I finished My business. Upon coming out, it seemed as though I had a full pint of beer. But I knew better.
He sat on the floor near our spot, holding it. Two guys next to him were pointing and laughing, so I walked over and offered they go on and do a little writing themselves! One of them laughed as he penned "Meaty" on one ass cheek, while the other drew and arrow on his ass with instructions to "Try Me." Back in our seat after they were done, I present the glass to him. Another little game: "Drink this within three minutes. All of it. Fail, and I'll have to get the next number from you." I wasn't even ten seconds done that he began chugging My piss like if it was the most delicious refreshment available. He finished the entire pint in 45 seconds, smiled at Me, and gave Me the second number.
I have to say, I was surprised. I knew he was a pig, but that was straight up hungry piss slut behavior. I felt that he was almost throwing Me a challenge, which I wasn't expecting. I smacked his stupid face and gave him a few kicks, and he yelped out the third number to stop Me. What a wuss! I know second-graders who are harder to bully.
The night was coming to a close, but was punctuated by My friend Maso, an incredibly attractive and hung pup, who brought Me a bottle filled with his own piss. I was quite delighted by all this: I had hoped a few of My yellow-flagging friends were going to show up for the evening, and was convinced none had come through. Watching him down that bottle like he couldn't get enough was very entertaining. If only I had thought to organize a group party... As Maso walked away, I slipped him the pig's car key, telling him to hold on to them for a bit.
Another drink later, it was time to go. I was running out of writing space on his body, and was growing tired. So I told him that if he wanted to go, all he had to do was give Me the final number of his PIN. In an almost inaudible murmur, he told. Triumphant, I walked Myself to the ATM in the bar, directly in front of him, and slid the card I have taken from him into the machine. It's so easy to do, punching in his PIN, taking a look at the different sums available. I knew I could have emptied it, and looking back on it, perhaps I should have. But I had been mildly entertained for the evening, and figured that the next day should be spent only with a little shopping and self pampering (hangovers and all that), so I withdrew a mere $100 from his checking account and tossed him back his card and clothes. I still had his wallet and phone in My pocket, and although it was late (much later than anticipated, in fact), I wasn't done.
We begin to head out to his car (of course he was going to drive Me home... he wants his things back, right?), and a few steps from the bar, I tell him that Maso has his keys. I order him to go in there, thank him, and beg for them back (I really should have specified he do it on his knees in the middle of the bar, but hindsight is always 20/20). I few minutes later, he returns, keys in hand.
We drive back to My neighborhood, making small talk on the way. I tell him that he will be accompanying Me to My home, but that I will not be letting him in. However, he can enjoy My company outside in the yard as I have another smoke. Fifteen to twenty minutes later, we arrive back to My neighborhood, and I lead him to a covered yard. I am now quite tired and not so much in the mood for a smoke anymore, but I desperately need to piss. I order him to remove all his clothes and kneel before Me. He is worried, and his eyes dart to the street, only a couple of yards down. This might as well be completely out in the open, and he hesitates. I remind him that he needs his things if he wants to return to Atlanta in the morning.
Still worried, he complies and kneels before Me, naked. I flash a smile as I start pissing: all over his face, on his chest, and his his open mouth. He is moaning, and jerking his tiny dick as I empty My bladder all over him. With a final moan, he cums just as I finish, and in a moment, My cock is back in My pants and he is sitting on the floor, naked, spent, and covered in piss. I laugh at how pathetic he looks and take a couple of pictures for posterity:
I throw his wallet back at him and tell him to piss off (#pun). He gathers his clothes and puts them back on, and realizes he's missing something. He looks up to see Me taking a look at his phone. It's a nice piece. The kind you can't get without a deposit... so I tell him just that and motion for him to follow Me. A few blocks down, I point at a local Chinese restaurant with an ATM in it and tell him to go in and withdraw $50 as a fine for leaving his phone around. He hesitates.
"Is there a problem?" I ask.
"Do I have a choice?" he replies.
I shake My head and smile. He walks in there, reeking, his shirt damp from My piss. Moments later, he returns, shoulders slumped, and money in his hand. He gingerly hands the cash to Me and I give him back his phone. I send him on his way and finally walk back to My own home.
Tomorrow, I'm going to dine on that pig's dime, and smoke his cigars. How kind of him to take Me out on a night on the town, and make sure My hangover is well taken care of the next day. Heh heh heh.
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Aviary is this Saturday.
AndroShare is next Monday.
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