Date Night

Date Night 4

by Emile, 2010

Usual caveats apply.

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Nico had never been so exposed in his life.  They'd first gone up to the VIP balcony, where the writhing crowds dancing to the blaring music below were still close enough to see and be seen from.  All the other guests were well dressed - chinos and collared shirts, and cocktail dresses - and then there was Nico, his tanned blonde body strutting around like a fucking Playgirl model.  He got plenty of looks, all of them silently screaming "trash" at him - either in disgust or carnal lust.  Nico clung tight to Trent, who casually grabbed a gin and began chatting to other regulars, propelling them close to the railing.  Trent didn't like him hovering in the background, so barely interrupting his conversation, he pushed Nico forward to the edge of the balcony, clearly visible from below, and told him to "dance or something like you're enjoying yourself."  They pulled back a little, leaving Nico out there on his own.  He knew the gig, whatever pride he had he needed to swallow if he was gonna get paid tonight (or on any trick).  He plastered on a vacant smile and slowly began swaying, lifting his arms up and moving to the music, pretending in his mind this was just like some kind of hens night show or something, that he was playing to the crowd.

The jeans riding his buttcrack, grazing his gaping fuckhole made it difficult, both pain and electric pleasure at once, and as he bumped and grinded, his cock lurched and began to moisten.  Sure his friends might see him, he could always pretend it was a gig he'd agreed to do for the club or something - yeah, like modeling.  And his friends did see him, but from their vantage point below, their eyes were transfixed by his swaying jutting fuckslab, and the growing wet patch that flashed in the strobe light, beginning to drip towards the crowd.  In fact his whole body was dripping - still sweating and cramping from the spicy food - but their lasting impression was of their friend dressed like a go-go boy, getting off on thrusting his mega porker at the crowd.  The guys and girls might have joked about cock size and sexy dances before, but this was way to twisted for them.  In the weeks to come, Nico would feel an unmistakable chill from the guys at the surf club, his circle of friends - from everyone - as they silently judged him, never mentioning why, or giving him a chance to explain.

But Trent was easily bored, and soon he came over, putting his arm over Nico's shoulder in a possessive fashion.  'Whoa man you're soaked' he grunted, as he twisted a slippery nipple hard, coaxing him to haul the tight tank off, revealing his sexy inked torso to the crowd.  "Here" Trent demanded possessively, grabbing the tank off him, and tugging it through one of the rear belt straps, hauling the waistband down another inch or so, so the half moons of his bubble butt were showing. Now he looked more like the druggie dancing queens, only stone cold sober, and grinning, arms in the air for another man's pleasure.  To emphasise the point, Trent plunged his hand down Nico's arsecrack, two fingers scraping against his brutalised hole in an uncomfortable gesture of dominance, that a fair whack of his friends caught a glimpse of.  Hauling Nico against his body, he pulled him away from the balcony, whispering in his ear how edible he was.  "Okay candy boy, now it's time to see the real VIP section..."

That was hours ago, and Nico's mind was a blur from what he'd had to do that night, in public, in the car, on the balcony and now in the special member's room.  Nico's legs were spread wide as the Transvaal, the blonde ringlets matted to the tanned skin with exertion from holding his thighs so far apart.    The pretence of a prickpouch that had enveloped his dong as they chatted to the bouncer and walked upstairs was gone now, leaving his laced veiny fuckslab on full display, still arching out of his smooth crotch obscenely.  If the buff hunk wasn't naked and spread over the counter, he could have passed for any of the striking call boys lounging on the leather seats in the VIP section.  But instead of designer jeans slouched over timber armrests, or open necked shirts revealing glimpses of chest hair, there was nothing hidden about Nico - even his buttcheeks were pushed forward to the edge of the bench, rendering the dildo visible, while the curved arch of his back underlined his fat pec crease, despite having to keep his arms back against the wall.

But he wasn't just sweating from being on display, in fact the grinding humiliation of being so exposed to the VIPs and their tricks was receding behind his more immediate concern - avoiding being hit.  The club had a version of Dodgeball, played by the call boys for the VIPs entertainment, and Nico was learning how to be played.  They'd set up a tennis ball cannon a few feet away, and guys had a choice - either load the barrel with a tennis ball, or a nice full condom stuffed with their dickbatter.  If they loaded dick batter, they could aim above the belt, if a tennis ball, below.  Of course Nico could barely move more than an inch either way, and for the last few rounds, Trent had told him to keep his jaw wide open. The gut wrenching dry heaves if they smacked his ballbag and tackle, or degradation if they spattered his face and filled his mouth hole was their reward.  But if they missed completely, then they'd have to take his place.  Not only were these rent boys cruel, but their special diets made them cum fountains of thick viscous cream.  So despite being hit in the nuts, twice, Nico's main humiliation came from cock spatter coating his face and hair, filling his mouth and drooling out the sides, coating his pecs and shoulders like glue.

It hadn't started this way.  He thought back to when they got out of the car, Trent got talking to the bouncer, so as they stood at the head of the line, all eyes on them, they chatted away, the burly dude occasionally brushing against Nick for a grope or squeeze.  Half a dozen party goers could all see at the man's meaty fingers slipped under the stretched prick pouch and fondled his curving prong, and Nico had no choice but to stand there, arms by his side, letting himself be touched up.  Finally, they'd talked enough, and Nico followed Trent up the stairs, leaving the crowd, and his friends, with one last glimpse of his broad muscular back and arsecheeks as he went in.  There was no way they hadn't seen him now.  He was pretty shaken, and upstairs he coyly followed Trent as he chatted to his friends, and let Nico dance his slutty dance, and get felt up again in front of his friends.  Then, when he'd ruined his reputation, Trent dragged him upstairs, safe from the judging eyes of the silent majority, and there found a comfortable booth to watch the floor action.

Action there was.  A big black dude was being pummelled with dodgeball-juice, and Nico saw the game with a shudder, glad not to be the centre of attention.  He eased into the booth, allowing Trent to grope him openly now.  He closed his eyes, pretending he was just at the beach with his girl, but the roving hands and occasionally passing gasps didn't let him keep that illusion for long.  Trent had ordered drinks and he sucked away at his cocktail, eager for something to take off the edge.  Another round and he was a bit buzzed, more than a couple of drinks should do.  In fact, he was quite woozy. Friends of Trent kept coming up, doing high fives and other lame 'bro' gestures, shooting he shit while they kept downing drinks and popping pill and snorting powder.  For all their 'gansta' style, the most mobster thing about them was how they kept their fuck dates hanging.  Whatever their hold over their dates - wealth, power, knowledge or - like for Nico - a perverse combination of all three, each of the guys managed to have a hot trim young plaything at arms reach, wowed and eyes dazzled, or kow-towed and eyes frazzled, depending on how much the fuckjobs were now in their debt.  But Trent was holding court, and Nico was clearly the prize catch - older, hotter and beefier than the others, and more fucked in every way.  As if to nail the point home, as Trent shovelled more coke his way, he heard him joke to a friend - "I better keep tabs on how much the dickditch hoovers, before he guzzles his way through his rent cheque.  I mean, fuck, he's gotta earn something..."  Inside, Nick wanted to scream, he was sore and blasted and he really just needed the money, and more than anything, he was angry and humiliated, clawing at the inked mega tattoo like he wanted to pull the scar of his fuck history away.  But like the damage to his mancunt, the damage they'd done was indelible, and visible to all.  Trent was a bit angry when he saw the dude kneading his chest - I mean he wasn't supposed to play with himself unless Trent told him to, so he asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.  Nico managed to splutter out that he wanted it to stop, he didn't want everyone to see him like that.

Trent signalled something to the waiter, and leaned in to Nico, cradling his muscular body in his arms.  Nico crumpled, semi-foetal in Trent's embrace.  "Man" he said gently "maybe you just need something to occupy your hands".  His tone was soothing, but then there was a pause, and Nick looked up.  The waiter was leaning in, half bowed, proferring a tray before them.  There, at eye level, the biggest, knobbliest black rubber dong he'd ever seen.  "What, but.." Nick began to blubber, but Trent just took his hand, guiding it towards the silver tray.  "Ssh, shh, just take hold and work that floppy dong up your buttcrack, like a good boy."  Gently, Trent wrapped Nico's blunt fingers around the prong - or almost around it, since it was thicker than the reach of his hand.  It didn't take Trent and his friends long to shuck down Nico's jean shorts, so his fat meat sprung free, and then grab a thigh each, pushing his legs apart like scissors, and guiding his hands, both wrapped around the mega tool, towards his winking trench.  "Shit, his cunthole's pulsing like a target", and "Holy crap, that thing won't fit" they said, relishing the site of the whacked out gay-for-pay stud try to work a slippery flexible tube of soft plastic  into his well fucked slot.  It took a while, a lot of grunts from Nick and hoots from the guys, plus onlookers, and more than one helping hand, usually of the pushing kind.  It was a mean beast, which was crammed with all their might up his sloppy chute, stuffing him fuller than he'd ever felt before, more exposed than ever, and embarrassingly stiff and leaky to boot, in front of all the guys.  Trent rammed it home with a slap, sending Nick into convulsions, and finally he sagged in his seat, tackle front and centre, buttstuffed and helpless.  The party drugs were wearing off a bit, and the coke was giving him an uncomfortable clarity, keenly aware of every eye's graze, every tiny hair left on his denuded skin, every whisper of a touch, from the shooting cramps to the tender stretch of his thighs, in technicolor.  He was, truly, fucked.

"Hey matey" Trent said as Nico slouched in the seat.  "None of that now, there's a long night ahead.  Here, come over, there's a game we can play.  All you gotta do is jerk off your beautiful prize prong in a dicksheath..."  Nico was still confused, but also horny as all hell, and in moments, Trent had unlaced his prick, handed him a condom, and he was jerking off like a bronco.  Each thrust made the arse splitter pummel his insides, his hand stung, his horsecock was lacerated, but he kept pulling, still drawing quite a crowd.  In a few minutes, he came with a roar, filling the condom with quarts of dickjuice.  The scum overflowed, coating his hand and crotch, and leaking down towards the rubber invader.  When he calmed down, still sweating, Trent was forcing him up, tottering, now walking naked through the club, where everyone, even the other rent boys could see his swinging tackle and horsey gait.  Trent guided him to put the cum clotted sheath in some hole.  He could barely see straight, and the crowd was close on all sides, pressing on his sweet skin.  "Uh, Trent, I don't feel so good, can I just sit a while?" Nico begged.  But Trent half propped him up, guiding his hands to some lever, and while the world wheeled around his sweaty naked body, he pressed down.   'Whooee' he heard in a thick southern accent.  The black dude, coated in white jizz, came into his vision, still dripping.  "You missed, chump, and I'm taking the first answerin' shot.  I haven't unloaded these fuckbags in hours.  Here, let me help you up to the stage..."  Slowly it dawned on Nico what had happened.  "Oh, no, please, I'm sorry.  Please, I don't wanna play..."  But it wasn't his choice, anymore.

It'd be another half an hour, and two direct hits to the ballbag, that made his babymakers swell and throb in agony, before he finally got his release.  The guys had tired of him for a while, leaving him up there to ache and throb in his humiliating spreadeagle, the cum slowly clotting and drying on his flawless skin.  Then a cocky dark haired eurotrash callboy unloaded his thick yellowy cream into a thin condom and aim for Nico's chiselled jaw.  Nico jerked his head away, and the cream spattered on the wall behind, sending a spray of dickcheese across his face, but still officially missing.  The callboy was in shock, and then bolted towards the door, never having imagined that the sick game could turn on him.  In the shadows, a concierge buzzed into his sleeve, to alert the doormen - entry to the VIP section came at a price, and the Eurotrash guy was about to discover there were much worse things than Dodgeballjuice, in the unseen back rooms of the club.  But for now, the game was over, and two striking muscled guys helped Trent's dripping fuckspattered date down off the podium.    They walked (well hauled) him over to Trent, since his muscles were aching and numb from the stretched position he'd had to hold, one arm under each pit so he barely touched the ground.  He desperately wanted to cover his fuckslab, not just because of the pain of his tackle tugging at his crotch with every movement, but at the humiliation of being fully exposed, even now.  But they guys' shoulders kept his arms aloft, and when they brought him to Trent, they kept him there.  Trent was talking to a bunch of guys, his friends evidently, and they all grinned when he came over.  "Ah back so soon" Trent jibed.  "So my friends here don't get to play that game, so we thought we might start one of our own."  Nico visibly recoiled, almost crawling out of the guys hands, who held him firm.  Trent stroked his cheek tenderly.  "Aww, don't worry, it's a different game, look..." 

One of the guys had brought over the equipment for this game, and sure enough it wasn't tennis balls and condoms, but a container of bulldog clips of various sizes.  Trent grabbed a little clip, and opened the savage teeth, holding them about in inch away from Nico's pouty left nipple.  The cum had dried and flaked on his left side, exposing the tender flesh below.  "So this game is truth or dare.  we ask you questions, and if you don't answer them to our satisfaction, well.."  He squeezed the clip a few times for emphasis.  Nico tried to speak, coughing up a ball of rentboy sperm as he did so, begging to just go home.  He didn't care about the promises to Penn, the pay, anything, he was just desperate to leave, and put this behind him.  Somehow, the first chance he got, he would skip town, make a new life.  If he could just escape the horror.  "Ugh, please, how can I make it stop?" he mumbled. The guys grinned.  "Oh Nicky, don't you worry your pretty head about details like that, just play the game.  Now, I didn't like that answer, so here's clip one."  Nico bucked as he clipped the first nipple, but couldn't escape the hold.

"So, first question - tell us about the first time you were fucked."  Nico sucked in breath, pain radiating out from his chest, but saw Trent holding a similar clip over his right nipple, so he quickly sputtered out "It was Penn!".  "More information" Trent prompted.  "Uh, so I was seeing this chick, and we were both pretty broke, so we crashed college parties - lots of food and booze.  Went to this one, and Penn was there - I didn't know who he was then - but he just walked right up to Cindy and tweaked her nipple - my date, and while I had my arm around her and all.  I got angry and went to fight him, but Cindy stopped me, mumbling something about working with him to get some cash..."  He felt the clip savagely bite into his nipple, before slipping on balljuice and shooting back off his skin, bounding off on to Trent.  For that he received a stinging slap to the cheek, while Trent wiped off the cum from his chest, savagely clipped a bigger bulldog clip on, taking a big pinch of pecflesh with it, and stuck his cum coated fingers into Nico's mouth, choking him off his story.  "Yawn, we don't give a fuck about her, just get to how he managed to pop your cherry!"  Nico flushed, and when Trent withdrew his fingers, he started speaking again.  There was a tear in his eye now, but that could've just been because one of the guys had grabbed his low hangers and was tugging down on the tenderised sac while he spoke.  "So after they went off, I hung around the party and got plastered - like I could barely see anymore.  I was trying to find the front door and I could just hear people laughing, and then someone kinda grabbed me and led me toward a door.  I thought they were helping, but then instead we ended up in this bathroom, the guy shoving me against the vanity.  It was Penn.  He pushed me up on the sink, grabbing my jeans and pulling them down off my arse.  They were pretty old, so they slid down, and I was freeballing, so my tackle just flopped out there, and my buttcheeks touched the cold porcelein, my knees straddling him in the narrow washcloset.  I thought he was trying to help me piss or something, I tried to explain I just wanted to go, but then he leaned forward again, and I realised he'd hauled out his own fucker.  Maybe cause I was drunk, but it looked huge, thick and veiny, and it just hung there between us.   He leaned in, forcing his pelvis between us, and planted his hands on mine, trapping me there.  I just stared in shock, but he leaned in, rubbing his horsecock on mine, planting his tongue down my throat and roughly making out.  My head hit the mirror and I freaked out, but I was too drunk to do anything, and he just kept roughing me up until I hyperventilated and started getting dizzy.  Seeing the chance, he leaned back and grabbed the back of my knees, lifting them up to his waist and scooting me forward.  With one free hand, he lined up his mushroom head against my hairy pucker, and then leaned back forward, putting his paws back over my hands, trapping them there with my wide spread thighs between our arms.  I think that's what sobered me up - it was like a cold shower.  Suddenly, I was staring straight into his eyes, his chest pinning mine to the wall, and I could feel every cell on his cockhead as it pressed against my sphincter.  Time stopped for a second, and I willed it to stop forever, but then my pucker betrayed me, unclenched, and he rammed into me with force.  It was like he punched me in the gut.  He whispered into my face that he usually lubed up for virginal fucks, but that he had wanted me to remember this one.  And then as I opened my mouth to scream, he faceplanted himself again, cutting off my screams with his tongue, as he slowly punched his ramjet prong up my chute, ripping and gripping my arselining with every thrust.  He fucking raped me, that was the first time - it was rape!"

Trent withdrew the bulldog clip, and Nico relaxed a little, maybe now the worst was over.  Suddenly he felt a sting at the base of his cock, and he almost clawed up the two guys holding him, his toes dancing off the ground.  One of the other guys had grabbed a small clip and had tugged down a fold of dickskin, punctuating the end of the story with the clip.  The weasly guy that had done it just shugged, sneering "well he didn't tell us how he came or anything!".  Trent ignored it, leaving the clip in place, and Nico was now sweating from the points of pain.  Trent rummaged around and found a large bulldog clip, and reached towards his foreskin, stretching the hooting flesh wide and feeding the clip in one side at at time.  The shape meant the skin was stretched either side - turning his flesh cigar into a hammerhead shark.  Trents fingers were still on the levers, and he opened the jaws a crack inside his foreskin, so his dicklips brushed against the teeth of the clip.  It was like having a blade held against him.  "Okay, second question, a little harder now.  What made you become a male fuck whore?"  Nico groaned, the twin fears of revealing his inner secrets, and of having his previous body tortured, hovering over him.  "Oh, and 'Penn made me do it' isn't enough" Trent offered.  Nico let out an inhuman moan of anguish, but the guys just leaned in closer.  "C'mon now" one said, fingering one of the titclamps "it's, like, question two!"