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Original Fiction

For Igor, affectionately

We were alone on the floor - me and him. And when I saw one of red indicators on my panel flashing alarm a long wave of delight washed me through. I knew it could be just a breakage in the system - but still while I walked along the corridor there was something tickling in me in anticipation.

The main lights were off - and everything around was so quiet that I had to do my best to step noiselessly. I was able to do it - even though you would never say it looking at my mass. At the glass door of his room I stopped.

There was nobody in. I glanced at his table littered with the papers that was reflecting in the dark French window through the folded jalousie. And then I saw a square of brighter light lying on the carpet - from the open door of Mr. Sullivan's study. I couldn't restrain an exulting smile when I turned the door knob and paced in.

He heard me. But now I moved very swiftly. I was in the room right by the moment when he was ejecting the disk. It seemed all his blood flooded down from his subtle face when he looked up at me.

It was his fragility that was always driving me mad. Well, being 6'4" tall and weighing 300 lbs. almost, I used to look downwards at other people - but there was something so slight in him; something so vulnerable that made me think about him as about a priceless porcelain doll - so brittle. This was how I imagined him in my arms - held, cared, cherished, broken, crushed, destroyed... I worked as a guard for two years there. He was my idee-fix for the most part of this time - and I didn't hope that it would work itself out.

I reveled in him. 24-year-old, hardly breaking 5'9" slender being. No, he didn't seem skinny, just frail and light. His suits were immaculate; his shoes cost dearly - and his fancy ties were the only thing that was coming beyond the limits of austerity. I liked it. Okay, there was no anything I didn't like about him.

His light brown hair was wavy, his eyes were hazel-green and his teeth imperfect. He told me to call him Daniel - in those times when we changed some phrases with him. He smiled to me every time he passed my place on the way to work or back - and he never omitted his soft "Hello!"

His voice was not soft now.

"Igor?" if he thought he sounded natural he was wrong. "Igor? What's the matter?"

His pretty lips didn't obey him - as much as he tried - trembling the same as his thin hand holding the disk was trembling. I grinned. I don't know if my grin looked encouraging to him - but he made an attempt to return it briefly.

"This is what I would like to know," I said. "What's the matter?"

It seemed I noticed him exhaling in a kind of relief. He moved to me, trying to put the disk to his inside pocket - and missing it.

"It's okay, Igor," he said in a bit weary voice. "Everything is okay."

He paced down the step from the support where Mr. Sullivan's table was located when I hit him. I made a full-strength stroke, heavy and smashing, over his face. For a split second I sensed the warm smoothness of his cheek under my fist - and it made me feel dizzy. It was the first time when I touched him. The dreams were coming true.

He gasped. The force I hit him with was so big that he didn't stay on his feet. I guess he well might have hurt his tail-bone when he flopped down on the floor - but even if so I didn't know it for sure. The disk slid out of his hands and he pressed them to his face instead. The scarlet trickles of blood looked like drawn with ink over his white fingers.

He didn't say anything except the astonished "Oh!" when I punched him. And now he just stared at me over his palms - with huge darkening eyes of a frightened child.

"You are not supposed to have the keys from Mr. Sullivan's study, are you?" I stooped for the disk. It was a magnet disk, thick and heavy. I picked it up and put to my own pocket. Then I took his wrists and pulled him up, drawing his hands aside at the same time.

I backhanded him again. And again. Ten, maybe, twelve times over his face. His head was dangling helplessly under my blows. I held him firmly. I stopped when I was sure that he would topple when I let him go.

"You will go to jail if I tell police what you were doing," I said wiping my palm on his shirt. There was blood between my fingers - and more blood over his lips and chin. I even noticed some drops of it spilled on the floor. "Or I can call Mr. Sullivan - and he'll solve this thing himself," I added. "For all I know about him he well may put on concrete boots on you."

I let him loose and he grasped the edge of the table not to fall. He was still silent - and I watched him how he slowly raised his hand and touched his face carefully. His cheeks were bright-pink now - and I suppose it hurt when he ran the tips of his fingers over them.

"But, maybe," I started again - and now I did try to seem impassive - even though everything in me was singing with pleasure. I was going to pronounce the words that could turn out the most important for me, you see - and I wanted them to have their impact. "Maybe, we don't need to put it out, do we? If we agree that there was no alarm - and I didn't see anything - and you didn't do anything... What, Daniel?"

He looked at me now. Oh, of course, he did! And, God, his eyes were so innocent. As if it hadn't been him who broke the security system of Mr. Sullivan's industrial files!

I used to imagine him blemished during the long sessions when I got my peaks thinking about him. I made him be a whore, seeing with my inner vision how in some lonely hours he would approach my post, overwhelmed by horniness, with his eyes misty, yearning for my manliness, taking off his jacket slowly and sensually... Or I fantasized about him being a drug-addict - how he would stop by at my house when my wife and children would be away - and ask for money, eager to pay with his body for it - oh, the image of his pale face on the pillow in our marriage bed...

He was worse than this or that. He was a thief. And there was no chance I would let him get away with this.

"You know what I want, Daniel?"

He kept silence - but I didn't mind to speak. I knew we were going to play upon my rules. He blinked. I reached to him and grabbed his upper arms.

Yeah, he really was light. I hoisted him. As much so that it was convenient for me to kiss his mouth - and, I believe, it was much enough for him not to feel the ground. For a moment I looked in his staring eyes so close to me - and then I enveloped his lips with mine. He tasted with blood.

He was breathless when I let him go - and there was such a mesmerized expression in his eyes that I couldn't doubt - he understood his part of the suggested deal. I don't know if he regarded the possibility not to comply - because I didn't give him any choice. I raised him again and threw him belly over on Mr. Sullivan's table.

"Let's be nice to each other," I mumbled pushing my hand between his legs. "Let's be nice. You won't be any worse with it."

His basket was soft and resilient under my palm. No, he was not horny; he certainly was not - but I hardly could care less about it. I was just consumed with the feeling of his defenseless genitals squeezed in my hand. It was turning ME on - what else?

His privates were just of the right size for me to cup them in my palm. And I was doing it - rubbing them, massaging them, lightly at first and then applying more pressure. It was warm between his legs - I felt it even through the cloth of his pants - lovely tender place! I pushed my hand under his balls, gripped them and tightened my fist.

I knew I was hurting him with all this. But only when my palm mashed his nuts he gave out a sound - a short moan, the same light as his voice usually was.

"Yes, Daniel?" I looked at him; my hand stayed where it was.

He looked breath-takingly like that - lying on his back, with his head raised when he tried to watch me and with these streaks of crusting blood under his nose. His eyes spoke - oh, I could read in his eyes without any effort how much I was hurting him - so much that only fear to be given out stopped him from vocalizing.

But now I wanted real words from him.

"Is anything wrong, Daniel?"

"Not so hard," at last he said it - and, since his head lolled back, he couldn't see the smirk on my face. "Please, Igor, don't do it so hard."

I was not sure - maybe, he thought I was paining him unwillingly? Because my hands were too big and my strength was too great? I didn't loose the grip. I stroked my hand over his balls - but with the same smashing heaviness. And when he moaned again I bent to him and muffled his voice in the kiss.

His lips were soft and hot. I ate them, feeling the splits on them my blows had left and drawing more blood. My other hand was tugging the knot of his tie simultaneously.

Daniel was panting when I left him - and he tried to turn to his side, to prevent me touching him more, I suppose. His hands he had managed to keep idle until then were covering his crotch now.

"Oh, no!" I said in almost mild voice. "It's not good. I want you my way."

He didn't resist when I uncurled him. I believe, he did set his mind to go through what I wanted - since I promised him to be nice to him, too. I yanked his tie off and started with the buttons of his shirt.

He was not the first man I was doing. There were some gays I encountered when I was younger - and a couple of hustlers later, when my wife sulked at me. But he was the first straight guy I was going to have sex to - the same straight as I was. And he was the first one I really wanted.

I pulled his shirt off from him together with his jacket - an ironic alternative to his actions in my dreams! But the result was the same.

His bare chest was as smooth as I thought it would be - with his skin thin and white and hairless. There was some dark curly hair under his arms, however, I noticed it - and I told him to raise his arms to see it better.

He bit his lip when doing it. Was it with shame, I wondered. With his face so pink after the beating I couldn't see him blushing more - but there was a curious hurtful look in his eyes. He didn't want to show himself to me. But he obeyed me, he was obeying me exactly.

I put my palms on his chest - he held his hands over his head - and ran my thumbs along his ribs. When I touched his very tiny nipples his chest started heaving. He was beautiful! With this contrast of his fair skin and dark hair in his under-arms - and these bright circles of his little tits! Just my colder hands on his warm skin were enough to make his nubs erect.

I moved him briskly. This sight was so much for me - and even though I was savoring every second of the whole thing I needed a little more sensation right now. I stood between his legs and pulled him to the edge of the table, so that his ass was on the brink of it - and his crotch hit upon my own bulging front. The feeling was staggering! My hard, itching shaft pressed into his groin through the layers of our clothes was almost bursting out. I looked at Daniel's face. His nostrils flared.

Whether he liked it or not - hmm, as if I had doubts there! - I was proceeding with him. His chest was so narrow that I could practically cover it with my palms. I patted him - his belly right under his rib-cage where his skin was taut because of the way I made him keep his arms. His stomach was hollow and I could find his navel under the belt of his pants.

He flinched greatly when I drove my index finger into his belly button. Dear me, it was so small and hot! The cavity than was not capable to accommodate anything - and when I pushed my finger deeper, rotating it, I felt Daniel's body start trembling.

"Hands!" I reminded him. I knew he was close to put them down to push me away.

I could see how strong the pain was by the very tensed expression of his face. The line of his jaw sharpened suddenly - and like that his features started reminding gyps mask. Only there were tiniest drops of sweat appearing on his temples.

I took his little nipple in my fingers carefully. It felt so tender on the rough tips of my digits that at first I stayed reluctant. I just rolled it softly, studying the minute changes of Daniel's expression. Then, when I tweaked it, he yelped.

I leant over him. His bleeding lips trembled when I gnawed in them, kissing him - and I sensed his chest raising and falling out of order under my heavy torso. I had both his tits between my thumbs and forefingers now - and I stopped suppressing my force when pinching and plucking at them.

He started thrashing. He moaned into my mouth, too. But I held him pinned very nicely - with my front between his thighs and with my weight over him. His hands pushed into my shoulders - but there was no way he could drive me back.

It was hot! I jabbed my hips forward and rocked them - as if I was already fucking him - and my fingers worked crushing his pretty tits in merciless clutches.

Then I let him free abruptly - and when his widened eyes - just mere pupils! - stared at me I spat on his face.

I don't know why just that broke him. He was mostly silent until then - and now he sobbed aloud, shamelessly, as a little child cries. His eyes filled with tears - so much of them that he couldn't keep them in and they ran down his defiled face.

"Oh, come on!" I sounded disgusted. "I haven't even started, Daniel, believe me! It was nothing so far, just nothing."

I yanked him down from the table by his hair, to his knees. I towered over him when he sat on his heels, shaking and wiping his face feverishly. I touched my belt, pulling out the heavy metal-sheathed tip of it. When I unzipped my pants my spear strove forward immediately, exhausted by the restrain.

"Daniel," I took his hair again. I had to keep him like this to make him face my crotch while I liberated my cock out of my undies. "Look at that. It is for you, Daniel. It was always ready for you."

He stopped whimpering when he saw my weapon. Oh, I was not surprised, I knew what impression it made on everybody who saw it. 10,5" of good and fat uncircumcised cock was not what you usually have luck to find in guy's trousers. And now it seemed even more expanded, with every vein full of blood and purple-dark. It seeped pre-cum. And it was all for my Daniel.

"What's with you?" I didn't allow him when he tried to back from it. In no way. I pulled him closer - his face - to it - so close, actually, that I could feel his faint breath on it - and it was so hot that Daniel's exhales seemed cool in comparison. "I am going to stick it to your pretty mouth," I sighed out. "You know it. You know I'll do it."

I have no idea what was in his head when he compressed his lips. There was something childish in him all the way - but he still continued to surprise me with his feeble resistance when he had lost long ago. I held his face close and I took my cock and rubbed its tip against his mouth. He didn't like my spat; he well might dislike my pre-cum even more.

"Open it," I ordered. I ordered almost gently. "Open your sweet lips for me. And I won't have to tear your mouth open then."

His face crumpled. My, he did look like a baby now - so pink-faced and with the expression as if he was going to weep. But he didn't weep. He made an "O" with his lips - and I forced my dick there.

He gagged immediately. Well, what do you want - the size was incompatible. Only I was not in the mood to care if he was retching or not. I just shoved - and as I had his hair in my grip he had no way - the ring of his throat let me in until I felt my balls pressing against his chin.

His muffled moan was harrowing. I felt his hands clawing into the material of my pants. I pulled - God, it felt like I was wringing his throat out - causing another heartbreaking groan of his - and then slammed back.

His knees went weak. It was I who held him upright by his hair - and by my cock impaling his gullet. He breathed through his nose in short slurping gasps, maybe, with blood clots in his nasopharynx, and his face was changing its color. His lips were stretched terrifyingly - and there was more blood on them, moisturizing my cock when I drove it back and forth.

I fucked his mouth as if it was a rubber cunt - without any restraint, as violently as I felt like - but there was a great difference between a rubber toy and his throat. He was responsive. I sensed every convulsion of his contracting gullet, every turning inside-out urge.

And what was driving me nuts even more - the sight that was probably the most repulsive and the most erotic I had ever seen. How his throat was swelling with my dick inside, filled completely, looking like it was about to rip open with the pressure in it.

I stuck and stuck deeper, with my balls grounding against his chin - but when I felt on the point of cumming I pulled it back. The first load I placed on the back of his tongue - to make him swallow it. The second one to his mouth - to let him taste me. And the last one I spurted right on his face. I was so very curious to see how he would like it, you know.

Daniel dropped on his fours when I let his hair loose. Sweet Jesus! What a show he gave for me! Everything I waited from him and a bit more. He was jerking in fits of cough - and it sounded like he puked at the same time - and I saw the clots of my creamy liquid spilling out of his mouth - blended with blood for some reason. I couldn't see his face under his tangled, matted hair - but the sight of his shuddering back was enough.

Was it the same guy who passed me by today in the morning, so neat in his expensive clothes, with his swift little smile he was usually sending to me? There was no more decency in him, no dignity. I pushed him with the tip of my boot in his flank.

It took some minutes for him to compose himself enough just to sit on the floor and look at me. His smeared face looked sickening - this sweat and blood and sperm - but he didn't try to clean himself any more. He was pressing his hands to his throat. And there was such hopeless, terrorized expression in his eyes.

"Daniel," I called him. I waited for his words. I wanted him to ask "Is it all, Igor? Can I go now?" He didn't ask. But I answered anyway. "No, Daniel, it is not all. You are going to be even nicer to me, aren't you?"

I made him wipe the floor and the table from his discharges with his own shirt - and when he was done with it I took his shoulder and guided him from the study. There was the key in the lock and I took it out. I let him carry his shirt and I picked his jacket and tie with me. I switched the light off when leaving.

I didn't touch him while we were going along the corridor. He was shivering - and it was the funniest sight to look at his half-naked body and how he desperately clasped his filthy shirt to his chest. He tried to speak when I led him to the corridor.

"Somebody might see..."

"You think so? At ten p.m., huh?"

He was inefficient and he knew it. There was nobody except us - and other guards in the building.

Daniel stood reeling when I pushed the elevator's button. We were on the fifteenth floor. He winced when he saw that I chose the first for our destination.

It was another of my favorite fantasies, you know. The elevator - how once we'd take it together with him - and then it'd stick between the floors - and it would be so hot inside that we would be forced to take off our clothes. He was not hot now, oh, no! He stood in the corner, facing me - thin as a boy - and I could see him and his numerous reflections in the mirrors on the walls and ceiling of the elevator.

I brushed his soft hair back from his moist forehead. His skin was burning.

"Where are we going, Igor?" his voice sounded odd after what I had done to his throat - as if he couldn't do anything but whispering. I smiled.

"You'll see."

We guards used this room for rest sometimes - well, the nights usually were quiet there, so, it was okay if one guard took charge for a couple or more floors at once. It was a tiny facility, really - just the place for a sofa and a little table - but the guys took efforts to make it look nicely. There were pillows and blankets on the bed - and a lot of pictures on the walls.

"Like it?" I looked at Daniel's face when guiding him in. I couldn't say if he liked - he just slid with his eyes around and let his lids sink down.

It was alright, I didn't bring him here to show him our place. I had another idea in my mind.

The images of him luring me to his bed were always sweet - but even sweeter - and, as it turned out, closer to reality were the fantasies of me taking his virginity, being his first man. I thought of a beautiful setting for us to do it - a lux room in some expensive hotel - or about doing it out-of-doors - on the sea-shore or in the clearing of a wood, under the bright jolly sun. But the sickly light and stale sheets of the sofa were fun, too.

"Strip," I said. I could do without saying it - I could flip him over and peel the rest of his clothes from him - no big deal! - but I wanted his compliance. I wanted to see him doing it. "Yes, Daniel, you'd better do it."

His teeth started chattering. He couldn't part with his soaked shirt, didn't stop covering his chest with it - still less to take off his other clothes! I sneered. I waited. And then his hands became limp - his shirt fell down - and he pulled his belt out.

I didn't doubt he would. Oh, I knew for sure I'd broken him when dicking his mouth - and with the pain he had experienced then and before that - even though he knew there would be more pain - he was not able to disobey me. He was mine.

His undies were white and cotton. He took off his pants first, then his socks - and only then, when I still stood with my arms crossed against my midriff and peered at him he pulled them down.

My heart jumped at the sight of the soft patch of his pubic hair, the same dark as his under-arm hair, moist and curly. I was somehow touched to see that except it there was only a hardly visible trail of down on the bottom part of his belly. His tights were almost smooth - and there was a little hair on his shins and on his forearms.

"Take off you watch, too," I suggested rather peacefully. It was just a thin stripe of metal around his wrist - but I wanted to see him without even this minimal protection.

I noticed his belly button was slightly deformed with the pushing I'd made with my finger. And I scratched him; there were red dents of my nail on his bruised skin. It looked wretchedly. It was urging me to touch it again. But I delayed it for a while.

His flabby cock was uncircumcised and seemed small to me. Well, how it wouldn't be - I could bet his genitals just shriveled with the fear that was overwhelming him. And I could notice the discolored marks my hands left there a short time ago.

"You are so good-looking, Daniel," I said. I was not joking, I meant it. "Now... lay down."

He moved as if he was drugged heavily. I followed him with my eyes when he kneeled on the sofa; I wondered if he minded its grayish sheets. I don't know what about others but I usually slept there fully dressed. Well, maybe, the hookers the guys called here were naked. Yeah, these sheets soaked a lot of cum and other juices, you know.

"Face down," I explained him. He lay prone, with his face turned to me and his hands digging into the pillow.

I guess he would prefer not to see me. But he had to be too afraid of what I was going to do not to look.

There were many things I wanted to do to him. But one went the first. The belt.

When I was pulling it out upstairs the idea came to me - and now just the swishing sound it was slithering out of the nests with hardened me again. His back was so unblemished - and his bum, too - so small and taut, with the hollows of tension on its sides.

"I am going to whip you," I said. "Did your parents ever whip you?"

He didn't answer. I had to repeat the question - and then he said it:


I could have guessed it myself.

"It WAS a neglect, wasn't it?"

He kept silent again; I stopped speaking, too. Instead I raised the belt and lashed him over his ass.

My father took care about my upbringing. When I was little it was very unpleasant - and when I grew up I stopped paying so much attention to it (never mind that at thirteen I was bigger than my Dad!) But when he beat me he beat me with a usual belt, without metal tip.

I was just shocked when I saw how I fractured his skin with one blow! It smacked heavily - and it didn't leave just a red trace. On Daniel's butt there was a short and deep scab - as if I tore a bit of his skin from there. And there was blood.

He made a choked shriek with it. It sounded odd. I looked and saw that he was stuffing the pillow's corner in his mouth. Uh oh. I felt sick with the foul linen; he didn't seem to care.

I went on whipping him. He didn't make much noise - but I didn't have to hear anything to know if he was hurt. My mouth was getting dry when I saw these bloody tears appearing on his ass. I didn't beat him on his back. The belt was too heavy, I knew I could injure him seriously if I caught his kidneys or something. I was scarring him. Marking him for all his life.

I made about twelve whips over him - and when I at last tossed the belt on the sofa Daniel got limp. His head lolled awry and his hands became flaccid. He lay in the same pose as throughout the whole ordeal but now there were long shivers racking him; the after-effects of being so tensed while I lashed him, I presume.

I stooped. Daniel gave out a pitiful wail when my palms lay down on the backs of his thighs and I rubbed there, bothering one of his bleeding welts. My Lord, his skin was so hot! I almost couldn't stop myself from stroking it, submerged in the sensations. His ass-cheeks were strained. The most narrow and tender buttocks I've ever felt. A boy could have like these.

And between them there was his warm hole I was going to poke my dick into.

I knew I would do it. It would mean the completeness of the thing, the consummation, so to say. But when I was looking at his ass and mauling it I was in hesitation. He was really much smaller than me. It wouldn't be good for him when I stuck my cock inside him. Then I threw away this thought. What the fuck! It was the chance of my life. And it was me who was doing him a favor.

Daniel's body quivered finely when I pried his ass-cheeks open. I supposed he knew what I was about to do. I just wondered what he could feel - after seeing my instrument, after tasting it in the bottom of his throat! Only there was no way out for him.

"Please..." at first I could hardly believe he was speaking to me. "Please, Igor..." if he was going to ask me not to do it he was even more stupid than I thought. "Please, use some lubricant."

I laughed. Fuckin' Daniel! Fuckin' naivete! He turned out not to be so ignorant, after all, didn't he? Maybe, I shouldn't be surprised if I'd find him stretched as a whore there? Well, I used a lube. I spat. My saliva was not good enough on his face - but he should have been grateful to me that I applied some of it against his tightened pucker.

No, he WAS a virgin, of course. I understood it at once when I pressed the blunt head of my cock to his pinkish entrance. He didn't let me in at first. I slid down to his balls instead. I set once again but this time I held myself in position more firmly. And I pushed and pushed, hearing how Daniel's breath was breaking to very frequent and shallow, sobbing-like. There were words in it - I was amused to hear them:

"Please... Ooh, God... Please, I can't... No!"

He screamed it out - at the moment when my dick at last slashed past the ring of his sphincter. Y-yes! I was in. I deflored him. I was his first and I spilled his virginal blood.

If he thought the pressure of my cock against his anus unbearable now he had to get acquainted with what was really hard to bear. I didn't linger with an inch of my penis inside him - even if I did care about him there was no speech of getting used, anyway - I just slammed it in until I was in to the hilt.

You know I fucked asses before. Daniel's ass-cunt was probably the tightest I've fucked. But it was not the grip - not only the grip - that was preoccupying me that much. It was the realization. Look, here he was - my Daniel whom I adored from the distance for long two years - and I got him at last. I had him. My dick was in his ass and I was fucking shit out of him.

Not only shit, actually. I felt I tore him the same moment when I penetrated him - and there was enough blood now to make my strokes easier. I lay over him - and I rammed my hips up and down on him like electric bore, without pauses, without pampering, as fast and hard as I wanted to.

At first Daniel sounded like he was vomiting. Hmm, I guess being smashed under me was not the best position for puking - but, maybe, he wouldn't puke anyway. He stopped speaking - and there was something correct in it. Oh, really, why should he speak? He was just a vagina, a hole for me to drill and I didn't need any whining and pleading from him.

He was moaning, however. From time to time I caught the crooning sounds he made - low and lame and without perceptible correspondence with the speed and violence of my movements.

Then, after a while, I felt something warm and wet spreading under us and I realized that Daniel pissed himself.

I think it was this slightly sweet smell of his piss that made it to me. I just erupted with sperm - deep in his rectum - and pleasure was going through me on and on like shock-waves.

* * *

A quarter an hour later I sat on the chair at the sofa, smoked and spoke to my walkie-talkie. Daniel lay on his back in front of me motionlessly. His legs were spread in the most obscene way but he didn't do anything to pull them together. I had yanked off the sheet from under him - with wet circle of his piss on it and clots of blood soaked into it; he didn't seem to notice. He didn't react either when I wiped his perineum from my semen and his outputs - the only thing I registered was some minor trembling of his body.

His eyes were open and his stare fixed, with the pupils so big as if he was in half-darkness. His expression - well, the lack of it - didn't change even with what I was saying to my hand-transmitter.

"Do you feel like fucking an ass, Bill? I have one here. Wanna fuck it while it is still tight? It won't be soon."

Daniel responded only when I bent to him and carefully twisted his balls in my palm. His hands moved sharply - as if he tried to protect himself - and I saw how he bucked with his long bare legs pathetically; he was gasping softly.

It was better; I wanted him lucid for Bill.

Bill was a guard from the ninth floor; fat, in his forties and with his shoulders usually spattered with dandruff. He was always the first to tell tales about how great a fucker he was (as far as I remembered, he was assuring us that some of the photos on the walls he got from the girls themselves) - but it was as clear as daylight that even his own wife didn't give it to him often.

I thought it was a good idea to make a gift with Daniel's ass for Bill - the more so as now, when he was not cherry anymore, it didn't have to matter for him: one more, one less.

I fondled Daniel's prick when Bill came in. He was horny - his basket bulged - I think he started being horny at the same moment when I invited him - and by the time he reached the rest-room he was already eager to fuck anything and everything he would find.

"It's Danny," I said. "Danny, it's Billy."

"Stoned, isn't he?" there was a little pause while Bill processed what he was seeing - and then he came to the conclusion of his own.

"Yeah, right," I nodded impassively.

It was enough. I returned to the chair and Bill unzipped his pants. He had a red and smelly 7" circumcised piece of meat, already glistening with pre-cum. I saw him raising Daniel's hips up to get access to his hole - and at the next second Bill flopped with all his weight over his body.

Daniel's head leaned back. I watched the long cramp distorting his face - obviously at the moment when Bill stubbed his dick into his agonizing hole. Daniel made sounds; they were not loud - just some broken, excruciating sighs that could be easily taken for sighs of pleasure by Bill - or just ignored.

I looked at Bill's wall-like back and fat ass when he pounded into Daniel - and I could see Daniel's frozen gaze over Bill's shoulder. I was stroking my own cock inside my trousers - without haste, uninfluenced with the rhythm of Bill's movements. It had to be my third orgasm today and I wanted to prolong it as much as possible.

Bill humped and humped Daniel - I suppose it WAS work for him - even though I opened him already and well-lubricated with my juice. Bill was sweating and panting - while the moist slaps of his meat in Daniel's fuck-hole grew faster and sharper. Then he pressed over him - drove his hips down and forward as if he wanted to stuff not only his cock but his balls, too, into Daniel's opening - and I understood he ejaculated.

I didn't turn him out; he stayed lying over Daniel for some time, exhausted. It was curious to look at them. My Daniel, so sweet and dainty, covered by an ugly fat guard, waiting without a word until his dick would slide out of his ravaged hole. Bill was always considered a shit among us guards. Well, now Daniel was lower than shit.

Bill didn't even look at him when getting up, just shook hands with me and left. I had to do some clean up again before Daniel was ready to accept another dick.

In the next hours we had more visitors. Actually, I contacted every guard in the building - except Samantha :-) Some of those I called refused.

About one third of those who came did it with Daniel's mouth; others used his rear end. He didn't produce anything but reflex motions mostly. Only when one of the guys started chewing on his nipples really hard he thrashed and cried out faintly.

I had a mellow orgasm while watching others breaking in his pussy.

When they all left I sat on the sofa, took him under his arms and pulled to my shoulder. Daniel's face and neck and even his hair was covered in layers of semen. The smell was so strong that I felt an urge of nausea. I looked at his face. His head hanged loosely and I supported it with my palm. I felt incomparably strange when putting my mouth over his fouled lips and kissing him.

His eye-lashes flickered. I held him in my arms, rocking him and patting his back. And then I felt how his body jolted. It was like some powerful hands shook him all over. He drew his breath in and his fingers hooked into the cloth of my shirt. He didn't struggle, not at all. He clung to me - to my broad warm chest, nestled against me - and his weak hands were crumpling my clothes as if he tried to pull me closer to him. He held me as a baby with the only reflex to grasp.

"Oh, sweet Daniel," I whispered, moved. "You are my poor little slut."

He was weeping. I knew it because I felt his tears through my shirt.

I had to pull it out of his fingers when I put him back on the sofa. I took his jaw and turned his face to me.

"Listen here," I snapped my fingers to attract his attention. His delicate brows were curved arch-like in half-conscious suffering when he looked at me. "I'll let you go soon, Daniel, do you understand me? It is almost over. There is just one more thing I want to do. I am going to fist you."

Only his lips moved. I pressed my fingers upon his face so deeply that I could see the darkening marks I was leaving there. I raised my hand in front of his eyes to make it clearer for him what I wanted to do. I still couldn't understand whether he caught it or not. His face went in between my palms and I pawed him a little, cuddled his face before started the thing.

He was still leaking cum and blood and yellowish liquid, even though I wiped him after every customer. But it could turn out fortunate for him - and easier for me eventually. I pushed two of my fingers into him.

His sphincter muscle was dead. It didn't even flutter when I rotated my fingers inside him. Fresh bleeding was caused when I added my ring-finger - nothing too terrible, it just made the passage slicker.

Daniel's eyes rolled up to his head when I stuck my palm without the thumb in. He didn't make a sound; just showed whites. I stopped. I didn't want to do it like this. I slapped his cheeks until he came back. And I watched him closely while driving my entire fist inside.

He stopped his breathing. His mouth gaped - but there was no exhale coming out. Instead some fluid-like bloody foam trickled out of his lips.

It was a monstrous sight. His narrow body rigid with the wild pain - and my huge hand impaling him, my hairy wrist sticking between his ass-cheeks. I grunted with pleasure. What I saw, what I felt was unforgettable. And when I put my other hand on his little belly and pressed it I could sense my presence inside him - my fist stuffing his bowels.

He rose and fell flat when I pulled out. My hand was slimy all over and I wiped it automatically. I looked at Daniel's orifice. I was enchanted. And I felt I was about to throw up at the same time.

"Oh, dear," I murmured; I knew he didn't register my words. "You are SO gross."

His hole looked like a woman's cunt after delivering a baby - wide-opened, ragged ring in mucus-mixed blood; I could see the inside walls of his rectum through it - and their glistening surface was quivering as if he was going to shit them out.

I dropped his legs I held upraised and walked to the table. From my pocket I took out the disk and the key and glued them together with a stripe of scotch. Then I bent to Daniel once more - and forced the little improvised package into his yawning opening. The disk was 3,5" wide - and it went it with just some effort.

Daniel was like a dead thing when I was dressing him. I put on every bit of his clothes, from his clean cotton jockeys to his jolly tie. When I was pulling up his trousers his flabby hands revived. He shifted as if he tried to help me.

I partly dragged, partly walked him to the street. There was his lonely car on the parking place. I guess he found some unexpected sources of strength in himself when he realized I was really going to let him go. I helped him to get into the car.

"I can't drive you, you know," I said. "I can call for a taxi if you want."

For a short moment his sunken eyes stopped on me. Then he shook his head.

I don't know what it cost to him to get home this morning.

Two weeks later Mr. Sullivan's company went bankrupt. I heard vague rumors about some other firm that greatly profited from it. The fifteenth floor of our building was rented by a new lease-holder.

I met Daniel once after that. It was summer and one of these usual traffic jams that can make any driver mad. I saw him in his new metallic Mitsubishi. He didn't notice me. His face was placid and thoughtful and he was typing swiftly in the note-book on his lap.

The End

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