The Trouble With Bills Pt 07

Paul sat down, shocked, by the last few hours of his life. Visited at his home by Mark. Being fucked by Mark in his own bed. Mark taking a flat key. Susan finding out about Mark. Susan seeing videos of Paul being fucked by Mark. He felt the panic building in his gut. Susan would tell people. Susan would tell his 5-a-side group -- after all her brother was one of his mates. The video of him being fucked would be seen by everyone. He could have to leave the area. His family might find out. His lips tremored with the humiliation and fear of what was going to happen when Susan told everyone.

Ignoring his phone for now he knew that Mark also expected him to go get a cock cage fitted that day -- now really. Mark also expected Paul to give a blow job to one or more men who would fit the cage. Sitting, falling where he stood, back against the wall. He stared into space mind lost. His phone continually buzzing with new messages. One message after another. He expected it was Mark with more demands. He expected it might be Susan with more threats and shame. He wanted his world to disappear. His mind ran through options. Train station and leave today. Get a new job. Work in a different country. Start again. Never ever think of a man sexually again. His mind frenetically ran through escape options on repeat. Fear, panic and shame locking his mind.

His trembling lip, tear filled eyes, nausea in his gut, suggested he was on the verge of collapse. Yet, he could feel himself doing it before he did it, he started to massage his cock. He pulled it out and habitually started to wank himself as he sat on the floor of his flat. His cock, and balls, empty after having came so much in the last two hours. Taking a while to respond but his hand, and the humiliation, seemed to bring him back to arousal. It helped to clear his head somehow. One hand steadily wanking himself, as he sat on the floor against the wall, his other hand picked up his phone to see the messages.

Few from Susan, surprisingly, not vicious. His wanking hand, his cock firmer, as he read her messages. His immediate fears of everyone knowing about his shame and humiliation by another man receded just a little. He read Susan's messages again -- his lip stopped trembling. "I do not judge you"

"I wish you could have told me!"

"It can be our secret!!"

"Did it hurt -- sounded like you were crying!"

"I am angry, but we can still be a thing -- IF you talk to me!"

"Do you want to do it again?"

"Call me!"

He stopped wanking and focused on her messages again. His discarded cock staying erect between his legs and dripped pre-cum onto the floor. Was she really OK with it all? Can I talk to her about it? Then, surprising himself, would she be OK for me to do it again? Finally, he wondered what she would make of the "ownership" and cock-cage tasks from Mark. Could he share that with her? He was about to call her when another message arrived from Mark.

He read Mark's messages, his panic reduced further. "That was maybe too much for you"

"I have cancelled the cock cage for now"

"Cameras will not be installed until you are comfortable"

"Sorry about sharing videos with your girlfriend -- but if she going to be part of your life, she will need to accept this!"

"I still own you, but we will go slower!"

"First task for you is to make up with your girlfriend if you can -- I want her involved!"

"You will be punished very lightly initially -- for not responding to my texts."

"I will only punish when you accept you need punished!"

The final text message had Paul's hand back on his cock wanking again, the sense of submissiveness coming back strongly, his panic fading as he read it. "I will leave you in peace. Your only task is to calm down. Contact your girlfriend and see if she is OK. The videos she received cannot be shared and will delete shortly from her phone. You really are a good boy, Paul!"

His hand back on his cock. Moving steadily up and down. The thought of Susan being OK. The words 'good boy'. The absence of immediate threat. The sense that he might just be able to enjoy this. The idea that sex and ownership with Mark might not destroy his life. He sensed himself about to cum again. Losing count now how many times he had come since Mark fucked him only a few hours ago. Sitting, somehow now naked now below the waist, he wanked himself into a steady frenzy. Working hard to get whatever cum was left in his balls out. The ecstasy of cumming his complete focus. The thoughts in his head all good. Susan, touching her, sharing with her, being open with her, touching her, fucking her. Mark, owned, being fucked, being exposed, sucking other men, being fucked, owned.

He could feel the tightness in his balls start to spasm. His cum about to escape from his balls. Just as he felt that point of no return arrive, he heard the knock at his flat door. His hand pausing, almost mid stroke, he turned his head to look to the front door. His eyes widened as he saw the handle on the door start to turn. His sperm not able to stop their journey. Started to spurt. The look of horror on his face as he saw Susan standing there. Staring at him. His hand in his cock. Frozen. His cum spurting lightly into the air. She took in the sight before her. Paul wanking, cumming, naked. Sitting against the wall in the living room. Terrified and humiliated expression -- his cock limply finishing the spurts. His cock softening almost immediately.

Susan closed the door behind her. Locking it. She had seen men masturbate before. She had seen men cum before. She had wanked more than a few boys. Still, for her, this was the first time she had caught someone. This was the first time she had seen Paul naked. This was the first time she had seen Paul's, now softening, cock. This was the first time in her life she felt such an amazing buzz. She could feel the adrenaline that got her to drive here so quickly bursting through her veins. Her high, after the videos, the phone call, the text messages, now completely focused on what she saw in front of her. Paul, dazed, shocked, cum running down his cock, dripping onto the floor, naked from the waist down. Obviously completely speechless. She felt that power again. That excitement. That raw, delicious, excitement. That she had felt when she had watched Paul be fucked by Mark.

"Hello!". She smiled and walked into the living room. Dressed in her usual tight jeans, woollen jumper, no make-up, frizzled curly hair, glasses she looked every inch the young, potentially naive, young woman. Paul could not look up from the floor -- his utter shame and humiliation and being caught and seen cumming held him locked where he sat. His only move to hide his cock a little by closing his legs as Susan walked into the room.

Paul just sat there, legs closed, not looking up as Susan stood above him. Susan, stood, staring down at him waiting for him to make a move. To at least respond to her 'hello'. She was in no rush to break the silence. The position she found Paul in only heightened her adrenaline to critical levels. She was so confused by her own thoughts and feelings. She knew one thing for certain. She liked what had happened in the last hour. She loved seeing Paul fucked. She got aroused at how angry she was at him for cheating on her. She got wet thinking about seeing Paul fucked. She drove across here wanting to see him. Wanting to look him in the eyes and see his reaction to his own shame. She utterly loved the sensation of all boundaries disappearing. She loved the absence of games. He had a cock. He was bisexual. He was weak. He needed, sought, leadership. She wanted it all. She looked down at him. The silence, the inability of him to look up at her, his submissive posture of trying to hide his cock. She was extremely aroused -- as aroused as she could ever remember being.

She could not find words. No idea what to say. But one thing annoyed her. He was hiding his cock and balls from her. He was hiding the fact that he had just came as she watched him. It was not fair that he hid himself. She placed her booted ankle between his feet and nudged his legs open. Paul complied. All willpower and sense of dignity utterly scorched -- he obeyed that first touch from Susan. He exposed his cock, his balls, his drying cum, still he hung his head in shame. She kicked wider -- his legs spread wider. His head stayed low. She behaved on instinct. Words, thoughts, not really working. She steps between his legs until both her boots were touching his cock and balls. His legs being forced rudely open. His head staring down at the floor. He could not avoid the fact that her crotch was right at his face. She stood in silence. Looking down at her boots touching his cock and balls. She placed one boot, ever so slightly, onto one of his balls. Catching a small nip of his ball sack under her boot -- she pressed down. She was high. She was aroused. The gasp from Paul somehow releasing something in her.

She stepped harder -- moving her foot just a little until she had one of Paul's balls under the sole of her boot. Pressing on his ball -- she could feel herself starting to cum. Never, in her life, had she felt such sensations. She was high on adrenaline, arousal, and she recognised it now, power. She had such power. Paul would do what she wanted. She need not worry about whether he liked her. She need not worry about whether he found her attractive. She need not worry about whether they would be a thing. She need not worry about what the sex would be like. She pressed on his balls just a tiny bit more.

"Please Susan, I am sorry." Squeaked Paul as his hands, seeking protection, wrapped themselves around her ankle. Not wanting to move or upset her but terrified of the pain and, holding her ankle, in some measure of protection for his ball under her foot.

Paul, saying sorry, pleading, begging almost, was too much for the headspace Susan was in. She leaned forward, pressing down on Paul's ball, pushing her crotch into his face. Pushing his head against the wall. Paul, struggled to hold her weight off his ball, but it did not prevent the short scream and the pathetic sob she had heard on that video from escaping his mouth. She let him hold her weight -- his balls could hurt. She, not thinking just acting, pushing her cunt further into his face. Squashing his nose, his head against the wall, against the zip of her jeans.

She did not wait for him. Undoing her belt. Her unzip undone. She opened her jeans and pushed the open zip into his cheeks as she felt his nose against her pubic hair. Her finger easily pushing between his forehead onto her clit. She started to masturbate herself right against his face. Grinding herself aggressively into his face, her zip scratching his cheeks, her foot on his ball, his hands around her ankle trying to protect his manhood, she quickly wanked herself into a very rapid frenzy.

Then, she started to cum, her aggression grew. Her foot no long over one ball -- but his entire cock and balls under her boot now. Her jeans and panties around her upper thighs as she wanked herself against his nose. The scratching from her zip drawing small speckles of blood as she face fucked Paul against his own wall. Her orgasms cumming. His tongue, as though he knew what to do, pushed into her cunt. His cock and balls under her boot. His tongue inside her. His face scratched from her zip. She started to spasm her orgasm against his face.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She shouted, and gasped, as she pushed and banged his head off the wall as she came on his face. Never squirting in her young life, she found herself coming and coming. Maybe it was the power. Maybe it was his tongue. Maybe it was the sadism of squashing his manhood. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. She was dazed as she squirted once, twice, three times over Paul's face -- soaking him and filling his mouth. She came.

She came on Paul's face. She face fucked him. She pissed on him. She stood -- now using the wall to hold herself up. Her cunt still against his face. His tongue still inside her -- as though he dared not move it.

"Fucking hell!" She stepped back catching her breath. Looking down at the soaked, pathetic, half naked Paul sitting on the floor beneath her.

"Fucking hell!" She stood doing her zip up. Shocked by what she had just done. Breathing. Shaking her head.

"Fucks sake! What was that!" She loudly spoke into the room. Not for an answer from Paul just to see if she could answer herself.

"You are fucking mine!" She breathed -- her adrenaline still high.

"You are fucking mine!" She repeated with confidence. With belief.