Broen

As Marty awoke, for a blissful moment he didn't remember the events of the previous night. He didn't remember the sick, twisted things that had been done to him – that he had allowed to be done to him. That he'd sucked on another man's cock. That he'd been folded in half and fucked like a well-used slut. That he'd been paid for the entire thing, then had in turn paid back his new master in full, and then some, all for the privilege of coming on his own face.

Now here he was, with no clothes, no car, and no dignity, in the middle of the woods in what was apparently the house of a deviant older man named Roger. God, he didn't even know the man's last name.

Or his real first name, probably, Marty scolded himself.

And to top it all off, his dick had straightened up as the memories came rushing back.

Marty groaned and sat up. He was exactly where he'd been left the night before – sprawled in a pool of cum on the house's hardwood-floored living room. The cum had crusted over as it dried, flaking off of him as he stood up and tried to get his bearings.

Over the smell of stale sweat and dried, the young man could smell something that made his mouth water – hot food. He timidly crept towards what was apparently the kitchen, then slowly pushed the door separating it from the living room open a crack and peered inside.

Roger stood over a frying pan at the stove, with his back to the door. He was dressed like a lumberjack – big work boots, blue jeans, and a red flannel shirt. He looked completely different than the previous night, but at the same time he retained a cocksure, casually dominant stance. Marty inwardly flinched at the sight of him, but at the same moment his cock surged even more erect.

"Come in, boy. Don't just stand there gawking," grunted Roger without turning around.

"H-how did you..." Marty mumbled.

Marty could hear the man's smirk without seeing it. "I could smell the cum on you."

Roger piled up two plates with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and juicy sausage, then laid them both out on the table. He calmly poured himself a tall glass of milk, using the end of a carton of milk, and seated himself.

Bewildered by his abuser's (and abuser Roger was, even if the abuse was consensual) nonchalance, Marty cautiously seated himself across the table from him. As Roger slathered everything on his own plate with hot sauce, Marty drooled over his food. Until faced with such a sumptuous meal, Marty hadn't realized how incredibly hungry he was. His hands were shaking with anticipation as he picked up his fork.

Before he had a chance to take his first mouthful, Roger offered him the bottle of hot sauce. "Want to add a little flavor?"

Marty barely paid attention to the offer, too busy attempting to shovel a little bit of each food onto his fork. "Uhh...nah."

Roger shook his head slowly. "No, no. That won't do. I won't have someone eating such bland fare at my own table. I'm not that kind of host."

Marty's eyes shot to Roger's stern face, while the youth's stomach dropped. He'd made some sort of mistake. "I...I'll take the sauce i-if it'll make you happy."

"Oh, it's too late for that. But there's another kind of seasoning I have in mind. Stand up."

Trembling a little, Marty reluctantly stood, once more exposing his naked body to the rough gaze of his tormentor.

Roger pointed to Marty's dick, which betrayed him by slowly rising like a dog to greet its master. "Use that little thing."

Marty nearly broke into tears. "What? But I'm hungry..."

"Quit crying like such a sissy. I made you a perfectly good meal, and you'll enjoy it the way the chef intended it. Now start jerking."

Marty obediently wrapped his hand around his inflating member and began to masturbate. Roger calmly watched him, slowly eating his own breakfast.

Under the older man's watchful eye, Marty didn't last long. He started to tilt his head back as his climax came, until a harsh cough from Roger forced his attention back to breakfast. The man's gaze never wavered as sweat beaded all over Marty's face and slender, boyish body.

"Every single drop better land on that food, boy. No waste under my roof," intoned Roger as Marty's knees began to bend.

With a pitiful little cry, Marty spurted his jizz onto his breakfast. His cock seemed to betray him further, as he squirted more cum, and for longer, than he ever had in his life. Every inch of the eggs, sausage, and pancakes were covered in a glaze of semen, with even more pooling around the sides. Even Roger grunted in approval.

When he was finally spent, Marty collapsed back into his chair, panting like he'd just run for miles.

Roger quirked an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you going to eat up, before it gets cold?"

Mind cleared by his orgasm, Marty thought about resisting, about refusing to degrade himself any further, but then he remembered the video Roger had made of the previous night. He could never let anyone see him do such...terrible...things.

Slowly, Marty picked up his fork and skewered one of the small sausages that were nearly floating on his plate. He picked it up, cum drooling from the end, and then popped it into his mouth before could he could think better of it.

Roger smiled for the first time that day as he watched expressions of horror and disgust play across Marty's face as he chewed his food. "You're going to clean your plate, of course?"

Unable to think of anything to say, Marty nodded as he swallowed.

Glancing at the tall glass of milk he'd poured himself, Roger asked. "Care for something to wash the flavor out of your mouth with?"

Marty nodded again, gratefully.

"Well, I'm out of milk, but I think I have something even more delicious for you." Roger's words were punctuated by the sound of his fly unzipping.

Marty paled, but he was still trapped – transfixed by circumstance and his own suppressed deviant desires into this man's helpless toy. He slid under the table and crawled over to his master's lap.

Trapped down there between muscular thighs and the underside of the table, Roger's enormous erect cock and egg-sized balls seemed like the center of their own dimly-lit little world. The scent of sweaty musk filling his senses, Marty hesitated inches from Roger's imposing phallus.

"Suck my balls, bitch," came Roger's calm voice from some uncertain distance above. "Get that milk flowing."

All thought disappearing, Marty opened his mouth and slowly sucked in one of the huge testes. With his nose rubbing against the hot underside of Roger's erection, Marty's mouth was completely filled by just one of his master's balls. Marty carefully tongued every bit of Roger's sac, tasting his sweaty scrotum. After a minute or two, he switched to the other ball.

Eventually, his master grunted. "Get on to the main attraction."

Marty pulled back, releasing Roger's scrotum with a wet pop, then trailed his tongue up the underside of the cock in front of him. When he reached the top, he found that he'd the milk was indeed flowing – or rather, it was a generous amount of precum that was flowing out of Roger's cock. The neutral-tasting wetness slowly washed the taste of sweat, cum, and sausage from Marty's mouth as he continued to suckle on Roger's cock-slit. Once he'd momentarily run out of juice, Marty slid his wet mouth down over the shaft, until he could feel the head against the back of his throat. He then pulled back, until only his lips were wrapped around Roger's cockhead.

Slowly at first, then with a gradually increasing pace, Marty repeated the technique, swirling his tongue across the sensitive underside of Roger's cock the whole time. Even so, it was a long time before Roger stopped him with a hand in his hair, holding him still at the top of his stroke. "I hope you're still thirsty, slut."

After just a moment's pause for his words to sink in, Roger slammed his cock upward, impaling Marty's mouth and driving his head into the bottom of the table. Roger held him there as the young man choked on cock, then the older man relaxed his impeccable control. An entire mouthful of hot, thick cum flooded Marty's mouth and throat in an instant as the boy gurgled in alarm. With Roger's huge cock taking up his entire mouth, the cum had nowhere to go; Marty had no choice but to swallow as though his life depended on it. Spurt after spurt of jizm shot into his mouth and then his stomach. If Marty had thought he'd cum a lot on his food, it was nothing compared to deluge he was forced to drink now.

Finally, the torrent slowed and then stopped. Roger relaxed, allowing Marty to crawl out from under the table, gasping and spluttering cum and saliva all over himself. His hair plastered to his face and his body covered in sweat, Marty crawled weakly back to his seat and pulled himself up.

Roger watched him the whole time, breathing deeply. Despite the orgasm, his cock stood tall, shining with his bitch's spit.

It seemed like an eternity passed as Marty tried to collect himself.

Suddenly, Roger leapt to his feet. "Aw, fuck being playful."

The older man lunged over and grabbed the slender young man, despite Marty's kittenish attempts to bat his hands away. Roger roughly hauled Marty to his feet and spun him to face away from him. Too weak to resist, Marty was bent over the kitchen table, his face inches away from his breakfast porridge of eggs, sausage, mostly dissolved pancakes, and cold jizz.

"Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, my little boy-whore."

With that, Roger slammed his monster-cock to the hilt in Marty's ass, eliciting a shriek that could probably be heard by dogs from miles away. Giving him no time to adjust, Roger immediately pulled all the way out and then skewered him again before falling into a hard and fast tempo of merciless assfucking.

Marty's initial scream faded quickly into a series of yelps and gasps as his assault continued. It felt like someone who didn't like him very much had shoved a baseball bat up his ass. But this was no mere length of wood – it was the hard cock of another man, a dominant man who had taken everything from Marty and replaced it with cock, submission, and semen.

After a few minutes of hard fucking, Roger yanked Marty's head back by his hair and whispered into his ear. "Think of your family now, seeing you like this. A cockslut in his chosen role – being ridden like a mare in heat."

Roger slapped Marty's ass, hard, but kept talking. "Imagine the looks on their faces: the shock, the horror, the revulsion at what you've become. Your father watching his little boy take inch after inch of man-meat, and loving every minute of it. You mother's face as she realizes her son was no astronaut, no politician or rock-star – just a natural-born ass-whore."

Each cold, taunting sentence was driven home with a hard thrust and a slap on the ass. What was worse was that Marty could visualize it; he saw them as clearly as if they were standing in the same room, forced to watch their son's continual loss of manhood.

Roger quickened his pace even further as he pulled Marty's head back until the youth felt as though he'd surely break in half. "Oh, and boy? I told you to clean your plate!"

At that, Marty's face was driven into the jizz porridge in front of him. Roger smeared his face across the plate, and then pulled him back up again. "And you aren't going to disappoint your new Daddy, are you?"

Face covered in a slime of cum and eggs, a bit of pancake on his cheek, and a slime-covered sausage sticking cartoonishly from his mouth, Marty shook his head frantically. Rocked back and forth by his master's cock, the boy quickly sucked the cum-slathered sausage into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "No, Daddy! I promise!"

With a hard slap to the ass as warning, Roger released his grip on Marty's hair. The young man desperately dove into his plate, lifting it up so that he could pour his cold, slimy meal straight into his mouth. As he licked his plate clean of the last drops of his own semen, Roger roared and buried his cock hilt-deep in his young slut's ass. Volley after volley of hot cum shot into Marty's ass as he frantically slurped scraps of slime-covered sausage and egg from the table-top.

Roger laughed mockingly as he picked up his own half-full plate and glass of milk, and then poured it all over Marty's sweat-covered back. Even though he'd just cum for the second time in 20 minutes, Roger didn't even slow his fucking. He kept the same breakneck pace as he smeared cold food all over his completely demeaned slut-boy's back, then gathered up a handful of cold eggs in his hand. He reached under Marty and roughly grabbed his cock, then began to jerk him off, egg squishing between his fingers.

Without removing his hand from around Marty's dick or his own cock from Marty's ass, Roger leaned back and picked the slender young man up – he hung suspended only by cock and Roger's power, tears of shame filled his eyes. Tears because this was his fate, to be a powerful man's ass-boy, or perhaps because some deep, dark part of him loved it.

Whatever the actual reason was, Marty was about to cum again, to cum while impaled and bouncing on a huge cock. His new daddy's cock.

As if he could sense it, Roger leaned further back and pushed Marty's down as far as it could go. The first flying ribbon of cum hit Marty in the face, leaving a string of goo from his left eye to his right cheek. The second and third went straight into his mouth, and the rest left a trail down his chest.

Spent, Marty went as limp as a rag doll. Roger bounced his almost comatose body on his thick shaft for another minute, before rudely dumping him onto the now-filthy floor. Roger quickly jacked off his own cock for a few strokes and pulled Marty up to his knees by the hair, then shoved his erupting member into his slave's mouth. Far too gone to resist, Marty just swallowed as fast as he could, too far gone even to marvel at the amount of jism, considering this was Roger's third orgasm.

Just as it seemed Marty could not possibly swallow another drop of Roger's viscous semen, let alone a few more spurts, Roger pulled out and finished off by soaking Marty's face, hair, and chest.

Roger paused for a moment after he'd finished and looked down at the young man he'd found less than twenty-four hours before, as straight as an arrow and with a quiet confidence that he could handle what the world brought to him.

Now he was smeared with a mixture of his own cum and that of the man who had taken his male virginity, his ass, his self-respect, and his future. He lay naked, far from home, filthy, with a future consisting only of humiliation and degradation.

Marty stared vacantly ahead, cum dripping steadily off of his face. He was completely broken.

Roger turned and walked out of the room. He hoped one of the cameras he had hidden throughout the house had a good angle of that action. He knew some people online who'd pay a lot of money to see a promising young man broken like that.