Fuced Up

I was just finishing up in the shower when Sara came into the bathroom. "Ryan - there's a man downstairs with a recorded delivery. He says it's from your boss, and he's got strict instructions only to give it to you."

"Oh fuck it! Sorry, love... what the Hell can that be? I don't usually get business shit delivered to the house," I said as I turned off the shower and got out, "Let me just get the worst of this water off, and tell him I'll be down in a minute." I towelled down hurriedly, wrapped it round my waist and went down to sign for the delivery. The envelope was marked 'Strictly Private & Confidential' and 'Urgent - Open Immediately.' I shut the front door and started back off up the stairs, tearing open the top of the envelope, whilst Sara remained downstairs getting breakfast for our two boys.

I was very curious to see what had justified the expense of mailing an envelope to me by courier first thing in the morning, but I was also still pretty wet, and running a bit late. I went into the bedroom, threw the half-opened packet on the bed, and started towelling down.

I'd come home from the gym last night with my head full of what I'd just done with Todd, and as soon as the kids were safely asleep I'd got my dick out of my jock and into my wife. The sex had been good, and the fact was that Sara was both very desirable and loved by me - but I couldn't help but think of Todd every time I closed my eyes. Wishing that my dick could feel the tightness and power of his arse again. Even pretending that I was fucking his arse. Having to be careful to call out her name, not his, at the moment I filled the condom. Briefly lost in my thoughts about the sex as I towelled down, I was shaken out of my daydream when the towel caught on my dick and pulled on it a little. I was fully erect, the whole ten inch fuckpole standing firm, proud and near vertical from my groin, with large hairy bollocks - emptied of seed once in Todd's arse, then twice more in Sara's pussy last night - hanging beneath. I felt like my balls could do with emptying again this morning, but I couldn't allow my surging testosterone to take over: I was running a little late for the drive to work, and whatever was in that envelope obviously needed urgent attention. With an effort, I tried to concentrate on something other than my erection, and that excellent fuck with Todd, and finished drying myself. I then realised that I'd forgotten to shave, and hurried back to the bathroom to deal with my heavy stubble.

Walking back into the bedroom, I found Sara there tidying up. She was picking clothes - her dress and bra, then my shorts and jockstrap - up off the carpet. We had been eager to get down to business the previous evening. I saw down here cleavage as she bent over, and felt my cock, which I'd managed to get to calm down by that point, twitch. Fuck, I was randy again this morning! Hurriedly I went for my underwear drawer.

"What was in the packet?"

"Dunno. In a bit of a hurry this morning, needed a shave. I'll take it down with me, have a proper look when I reach the office."

I picked out a grey Bike jock, slipped into it, and stuffed my burgeoning cock into the mesh pouch. I'd worn nothing but jockstraps as underwear since my late teens. When Sara and I had recently become an item and she saw me in one for the first time she had giggled, but when I explained that I found jocks most comfortable for what I kept in them, and then took it off, she stopped. Of course, I'd never disclosed to her that I also wore jocks because I'd liked the look ever since seeing them on lads in gay porn, that wearing them made me feel more masculine, and to enhance and advertise my endowment in the locker room.

"OK love," we kissed, and then she went off to put the laundry in the wash, "you'd best get a move on - will you have time for anything before you head out?"

"Nah thanks, I'll just nip in to say bye to the kids, then I'll be straight off out."

I rushed to get into my work gear for the day, and threw together stuff for the gym afterwards. I was going to rush straight down the stairs, but thought I had best see what was in that envelope before setting off, in case it was anything I was expecting to be up to speed on by the time I got to the office.

I picked it up and finished tearing the end open. Inside was a second, white envelope. I pulled it out, and read what was written on the outside: 'Wait until you are alone, then open this envelope and put the stick into your computer. View only in private.'

Curiouser and curiouser! What the fuck could it be? I put the white envelope back unopened, grabbed my gym bag and work laptop, and scuttled downstairs to the car - diverting to the kitchen just to kiss Sara again and wave goodbye to the boys.

I drove to work as fast as I dared - I'd picked up three points and an £80 fine for speeding the previous year, and was in no hurry to meet the magistrates again - and pulled up in the car park with five minutes to spare. Just time to see what was in that envelope. I pulled out the mysterious white envelope and opened it. Inside, as expected, a USB memory stick. And also, a note:

'When you've watched this, ring the number below.'

'Do not go bitching at Todd. He was doing as ordered. You will understand this yourself, soon enough.'

'The Boss.'

And then, a mobile phone number.

Holy shit! What was on that fucking thing? Hurriedly, I switched on the laptop and willed it to finish booting quickly. I pushed the stick into one of the ports, and opened it. A single file was on it, entitled 'RyanTodd01.'

Oh Christ, it couldn't be... I looked around, couldn't see anyone around, then I clicked on the file.

The video may have been filmed using concealed equipment, but it was of good quality. A porn flick of my whole encounter with Todd down the gym last night. It started with our stripping in the locker room and eyeing each other up, and I felt a terrible sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, as I suspected that there was more. I fast forwarded a few minutes and, sure enough, the fuck itself in the showers was there in full. I was totally revealed by the footage as a willing and enthusiastic participant in hardcore, public gay sex. Fucking hell, how could I not have seen the cameras, or smelled the set-up?!?!

I thought about all the porn I'd watched in private moments online, but the locker room fucks were all staged - the genuine hidden cam stuff only showed guys going about their business washing. This one was actually for real! It was like Todd and I had been turned into fucking gay porn actors. I was confused, terrified - and my dick was throbbing, as I felt the bell-end had escaped its confinement beneath the jock waistband and was now rubbing against the fabric of my suit trousers, and starting to wet them with slick precum. I'd genuinely never felt such a combination of terror and steel hard fucking arousal. My head was spinning.

I checked around that nobody was there who could've seen anything, slammed the laptop shut and yanked out the USB stick. The clock ont he dashboard revealed that I was already ten minutes late for work, and I was seriously tenting my trousers. Fuck! One of the big problems with being hung, so much harder to hide when you're boned up, even with the help of the jock to try to keep it all in place. I would just have to button the suit jacket, and then use my laptop shoulder bag to help provide a bit more cover whilst I waited for everything to calm down. Must get into work, mustn't be any later - and yet, what was I going to do about this. The note. It could only be the work of a blackmailer. And something to do with Todd. Did the blackmailer have something on him? Any road, I reckoned the shit would need a good talking to next time we met. And I would probably be doing the talking with my fists.

I stuffed the memory stick and the note into my pocket, and hurried into work and up to the office. It was immediately obvious I wasn't going to get anything useful done. I was doing a good job of appearing calm on the surface, but underneath I was absolutely bricking it. Oh God, what if Sara saw that video? It would all be over. I dreaded being forced to talk to the filthy blackmailer who must be responsible for this, but there was no point in putting it off. Perhaps he could be bought off for an acceptable price? I think I could take out a loan and cover the payments without Sara being any the wiser, and there were one or two valuables of mine which I could sell and she - hopefully - wouldn't miss. I reckoned I could raise fifteen, maybe twenty, thousand pounds. I prayed it would be enough.

I went downstairs and locked myself in the disabled toilet, where I reckoned I could talk without being overheard. I pulled out my phone and rang the number on the note.

One ring, two, three... an age...

"Good morning Ryan," a man answered, "I'm so glad you got my little delivery. I take it that the little lady didn't see it? It would be such a terrible shock if she were to discover that her nice husband had a craving for - shall we say, a certain kind of gentleman."

I swallowed hard, momentarily struggling for a response, "What... what do you want? Name your price."

Laughter from the other end of the phone, "I think that's something we need to discuss in person. I'll e-mail you my address, check your inbox and acknowledge receipt. I shall expect to see you after work. No show, and I send copies of that video to your wife, and your work colleagues, and I post it online for all the world to see. Understood?"

Oh fuck. Oh fucking hell. "Yes, understood."

"Good man. Oh, and don't bother looking for answers from Todd, because you won't find him."

He hung up on me. I leant back against the wall and put my head in my hands. What had I done? This was a disaster, a total disaster. After a couple of minutes I pulled myself together, and headed back upstairs to try to do some work. I'd rarely been so nervous. I did my best to concentrate on what I was doing, but the hours until my meeting with the blackmailer, and with my fate, crept by as if time itself had nearly stopped. I did my best to be ready to face this situation down and not to panic, but that was going to be very hard. Almost as fucking hard as my dick, as my mind drifted once again to those images of me taking Todd up the arse, and the delicious memory of how good that had felt. I spent most of that day sat down at my desk, doing my best to keep the tent pole in my trousers well concealed.

************

5:15pm - at last, time to head out. Sara would be expecting me to make the usual trip to the gym after work, so it would be no trouble going to the address I had been given instead, which was off in a different direction but not much further away. I was soon pulling up outside a large detached house in a leafy part of town. My heart pounded fast, as if I'd just been on a hard run. What would I find inside? I turned into the gravel driveway, and pulled up near the front door.

One. Deep. Breath. Got out of the motor, went up to the door. Large, dark green, with heavy brass fittings. Had what looked like an intercom on the left-hand side. Pressed the buzzer.

"Good afternoon, Ryan," It was the same man from the phone call, the fucking blackmailer, "come on in, take your shoes off and then come straight up the stairs, first door on the right. If you get mud on my carpets it'll be you who cleans them. And don't dawdle - I can see what you're doing. If you keep me waiting you'll suffer for it."

The unbelievable fucking cheek of the guy. Take your shoes off, be nice to my carpets, hurry along now and come and kiss my arse. My blood began to boil, and with it my nerves vanished. I stamped straight up those stairs, still in my shoes - which were clean, although I'd have been sincerely glad if they had been covered in horse shit - and practically crashed through that upstairs door.

Before I knew what had hit me, I was grabbed by both arms and thrown bodily to the floor. The thick cream carpet helped to cushion my fall a little, but I was still winded. I rolled onto my back, smarting a little in pain, just in time to see two huge blokes in black jackets - wide, stocky, bearded brutes - stoop, pick me back up by the arms and haul me to my feet. They forcefully turned me round through 180 degrees to face my nemesis.

"Dear me, why do they so often insist on making an exhibition of themselves," he addressed his goons, rather than me, "and all to no useful effect. A total waste of time and of energy. Quite stupid, but I suppose I ought to expect no better, so I won't be disappointed." The man was, I would say at a guess, about fifty. Sat in the opposite corner of the room, behind a large desk. Dressed in a rather expensive looking grey suit, with plain white shirt and red tie. Full head of hair, albeit largely turned silver, slicked back. Pale blue eyes. An expression as well as a voice that conveyed a blend of weariness and disdain, rather than anger.

"I just... want to know what you want from me," I said, wincing mid-sentence as I felt some pain in my elbow.

The blackmailer rolled his eyes, "Then why didn't you just ask you fool, rather than charging around the place like a bull in a china shop? Not to mention the fact that you clearly ignored my instruction to remove your shoes. It's just as well you've not left muddy boot prints all over the place, or I'd have been very displeased. Now, let me guess, you think I want money from you? They always think it's all about money. Look around you man: I own this, and it's the smallest of my residences. I can afford to employ helpful assistants, such as those with whom you have just become acquainted. I have a portfolio of businesses, including the chain of gyms in which you keep that nice athletic body of yours in good shape. I don't need whatever pathetic sum of money you have to offer."

"Then... what?"

He leant back in his chair and, assuming a judicial demeanour, put his fingers together in front of him.

"Ryan, I am a collector. And my great passion is collecting attractive, athletic men. And you're just my type. I keep a substantial collection of men, all of whom give of their time and effort to please me and certain of my social circle, and in return receive valuable assistance."

I was genuinely confused, uncertain of what to make of what he'd just said. Who collects men, for fuck's sake. What was he expecting of me? Oh... wait...

"What the fuck? Are you expecting me to sleep with you or something in exchange for your not sending that video to my wife?"

"Finally, the lightbulb flickers into life! Yes, essentially: I like sex with fit men, and I know where to find the kind of men who will come running and give me what I want when I snap my fingers. Men like you, and Todd."

"Hell no! And where is that little shite? I'll fucking kill you first, and then I'll kill him."

Firm hands were applied to my shoulders, slamming me to my knees.

"Now, Ryan, show some common sense as well as respect. You really don't want to make my associates cross, now do you? Now, let me explain your situation to you plainly, because I know that - inspite of your actions just now - you aren't stupid."

"Todd is one of the men I have previously collected. If you like, he is one of the stallions in my stable, just as you are now to be. I used the hidden cameras in the gym to review which other men might be suitable to join him, and I quickly identified you. The constant surreptitious glances at other men, especially in the locker room and showers. The particular interest in guys' dicks and arses. I can spot your type at a thousand yards. So, I set a honey trap with Todd as the bait, and you walked right in. I knew he was your type to begin with, but it certainly helped as well that he genuinely fancies you. Your prick slid into his arsehole like a hand into a leather glove."

"So, what does a married man who has sex with other men call himself nowadays? Bisexual? Bi-curious? Does it matter? No. At the end of the day, you fuck with other men, which, deep down inside, makes you gay. You're just too weak to admit it, and too weak to do what needs to be done."

"You can't stay faithful to your wife, because you crave men too much, and you're too weak to resist a tight arse, even for the sake of your marriage and family. You're too weak to stop yourself from fucking another man's arse in public, even when you fear the consequences of discovery. And you're too weak now to tell me to publish that video and be damned, to let everybody know that you have a big cock and you're going to use it exactly how you like, and to Hell with the consequences."

"In short, you, Ryan, are a beta male. A subordinate. A chronic underachiever who can no more turn his First from Oxford into anything better than a truly mediocre career than he can summon either the bollocks to live life as a gay man, or the discipline to control his urges and at least fight for what he's already got. Your body is first rate, but your mind is confused and directionless. You need someone to take charge of you, to help you to improve your life and to make some good choices."

"That is what I offer, and that is what you will accept. You will now demonstrate that you know your place by showing some overdue humility, and sucking my cock."

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Basically, this guy I'd only just met wanted to turn me into some sort of fucking sex slave. or what?!?! Instinctively I tried to rise from my knees, but the two goons shoved me back down. I didn't make further attempts to escape. My mind was still trying to process everything that had just been said to me. Was I really the weakling that this man had just said that I was? Undoubtedly I had failed Sara. Undoubtedly I shouldn't have been lured into sex by Todd. But now, it was too late to undo what had already been done.

My blackmailer walked out from behind his desk, and stood in front of me. Sliding open his zip, he produced a firm length of uncut cock, thick and veined, although not especially long - about six inches, I thought at the time. It had been a long time since I had last sucked a guy off, back in college when I'd been jacking off to straight porn with my roommate and things had got slightly out of hand (and into mouth.) He hadn't been so big either, and seemed to enjoy what I gave him. No more time to think: the cock was right in my face.

I parted my lips. He slid the first couple of inches between them. Then I began to suck.

"There now, Ryan. It's not so difficult to be obedient, now is it? That's it, plenty of moisture and pressure, like the good and willing cocksucker that you want to be. Mmmm, you surprise me - you have definitely done this before! But be very careful with those pretty teeth, you wouldn't want to wound my penis with them, and thus persuade my associates of the necessity to pull some of them out with pliers, now would you? I wonder, how many times just lately have you dreamt of feeling Todd's lips around your prick? I imagine that you would like that. And to fuck him again. But remember, Todd is part of my stable, so you only get to ride if I permit it. Make a good job of servicing me, and I'll think about that."

The dick was neither too wide nor too long to prevent me from taking all of the length. I felt a deep inner shame as I found myself giving into the desire to suck it, motivated by my memories of the time when my roommate came in my mouth, and the hard buttfucking I had given Todd last night, and the barrage of filthy language with which my still mysterious blackmailer continued to assault me. Now, he took a firm grip on my short, black hair, held my head just where he wanted it, and began to actively fuck me in the mouth. His balls crashed repeatedly into my chin as his two hired heavies looked on, grim-faced witnesses to my humiliation. Then, down between my legs, I felt the end of my cock break free of the jock waistband once again, and start to rub against the material of my trousers.