This story is fiction, a figment of my warped imagination. Should the
characters in this story even remotely bare similarities to any real person,
living or dead, it was purely accidental and any such similarities are strictly
coincidences.
This story deals with mature subject matter and involves intimate gay sex. If
it is illegal for you to read such material, due to your age or location, then
please don't. If you are offended by acts of homosexuality between consenting
and non-consenting adults, then Do Not Read this story.
The author does not necessarily condone or subscribe to the behavior discussed
in this story. It was written strictly as a form of entertainment and acts
described should not be attempted by anyone that does not know what the hell
they are doing.
Story codes: M/M/Anal/Oral/Bond/NC/Spank/Hum/cbt/WS
This story (c) by Rob 2001, all rights reserved.
Comments to: robolder@excite.com or cumulust@yahoo.com
A Daymare on Kelly Street
by Rob
Part 21
Harold Gets Pissed
I was a little out of breath as I entered the bar. Again hardly anyone noticed
as I entered. I really liked wearing these leather pants. They gave me just
a little anonymity.
I went right over to Charlie and waited for his acknowledgement. He was talking
to Pat and finished what he was saying before turning to look at me.
"Where is Dinky?" he said with a mean look on his face.
My whole world collapsed. Dinky? No one had said anything about dinky. No one
had showed up to prepare me. What was the old bastard up to now?
"I wasn't told Dinky would be required tonight, Sir. Nor did anyone show up to
prepare him, Sir." I added quickly.
He turned and looked at Pat.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Sorry, Sir. We were not informed that you wanted Dinky here tonight." Pat said
with out any trace of fear in his voice.
"Oh, I thought I had made that clear this morning. Well never mind, we will
have dinner first then Pete and Larry can go and prepare him. I want Dinky in
the bar tonight." he said.
"Yes Sir." Pat replied.
I just gave a big sigh of relief. I thought I was in for more punishment for
something I hadn't done.
"Harold, do you like your new room?" he asked looking up at me.
"Yes, Sir. Very much Sir, thank you, Sir." I replied quickly.
"Well don't fuck up like this again or you will loose it, understand." he
growled.
Totally confused I did the only thing I could under the circumstances.
"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir."
Well, what the fuck would you do? Certainly not disagree with the cruel
bastard, that's for sure. But I sure as hell had to lie to him, I did not
understand. I was totally confused. How could I be held responsible for not
doing something that I hadn't be told to do?
"Why the fuck are you still standing there, Harold. Sit-down, boy, sit-down."
he commanded.
"Yes Sir, thank you Sir." I stammered sitting down real quick.
Charlie raised his arm and a moment later the kid came rushing over to the
table. The poor little bugger was still naked, had on the hood, and I assumed
the dirty rag was still taped into his mouth. That silly red ribbon, tied
around his dick and nuts, looked a little worse for wear, guys had been tugging
at it thats for sure. His eyes were almost completely red now, I could see
that he was very tired.
Charlie ordered beer for us all. Well, there goes another meal ruined, I
thought to myself. As soon as the kid was behind the bar getting the beer,
Harry came limping out from the kitchen and over to the table to get our dinner
orders. He too was still naked except for that silly black sock thing around
his cock and balls. It looked positively obscene.
He had two very nice choices for us, hot hip of beef sandwiches or BBQ breast of
chicken , with choice of potato and veg. The others all went for the beef, so I
decided to make it unanimous.
The kid had filled the mugs and was lugging them over on a tray. I could see
that he was really wiped out. It was obvious he was not going to last much
longer before collapsing from exhaustion.
He was very careful, placing the beer. He never spilled a single drop. After
serving us, he headed back to the kitchen.
"Medical opinion, Sir." Pat said.
"Yes Pat, what is it?" Charlie answered
"The kid is on the verge of collapse, Sir. If he does, he could hurt himself
pretty bad. He is a very valuable property, Sir. I don't think you want him
physically damaged." Pat informed Charlie in a no nonsense voice.
"Ok Pat, you know I always take your advice......well sometimes." he said
smiling for the first time since our arrival.
He turned his head and called to Pongo. Pongo got up off his chair and came
over. Charlie gave him instructions to go get the kid and take him to the cell
room and lock him in the cell. Pongo went off to the kitchen and got the kid.
A few moments later I watched as they left the bar.
"After we eat you can go and take off the hood and remove the rag from his
mouth, Pete. Forget the punishment I ordered this morning. Let the kid sleep.
Start his sex training in earnest tomorrow. You might want to work Harold into
the training as well, I think he will be a big help." Charlie instructed Pete.
"Yes Sir, no problem." Pete replied.
Charlie then turned to me.
"Well I guess we won't be honoured by Dinky's presence tonight. I had counted
on the kid to help serve, but that is now out of the question. Guess you will
have to fill in, Harold. Right after you have eaten go in and give Harry a
hand."
"Yes Sir." I answered happily.
I really didn't want to be Dinky doggie tonight. I didn't want to serve these
bastards either, but if I had my rathers......serving was my choice. As it
turned out, a very bad choice.
Even that horrible bloody beer could not dampen my spirits now. So I just
sipped at the damn thing while I listened to Charlie nattering away about some
silly thing or other. I really wasn't paying that close attention.
"Harold." Charlie said in a voice a little louder than necessary.
Of course I jumped, I had been off in outer space some where.
"Yes, Sir." I answered promptly, at least I hoped it had been prompt.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I really had to think. What the fuck was I doing? Nothing. Well I was
drinking the beer, but if I said that he would surly send me back to Dieter for
being a smart alec.
"I am sorry, Sir, I don't know what I did, Sir." I was scared and had started
shaking.
"You fucking idiot, you are drinking beer that's what you are doing." he almost
yelled.
"I thought you wanted me to drink it, Sir." I said, bewildered.
"You can't be fucking drinking beer if you are going to work behind the fucking
bar, now push that damned thing aside and go get yourself a coke or something."
he ordered.
"Yes, Sir. Right away Sir." I said.
As I went behind the bar to get the coke I let out a sigh of relief. I though
sure he was going to order some kind of punishment. Fuck sometimes I think the
man is nuts. He ordered the fucking beer. He knows I don't like it. Makes me
drink the damned stuff and then yells at me for doing it. How was I ever going
to stay out of trouble when I had to deal with such a nut case?
I got my coke and headed back to the table. Well at least I got myself another
coke. I sat back down and paid very close attention to what was going on. I
didn't want to be taken completely unawares again.
The meal was excellent. Once I had finished I gathered all the empty dishes on
our table and hauled them to the kitchen. Harry gave me a big smile and
mouthed:
"Glad to have your help, Harold."
I smiled and took the dirty dishes to the sprayer to rinse them before putting
them in the dish washer. My main job this evening would be to serve behind the
bar until the bartender arrived and then I would just wait on tables.
The bar was filling up. Harry was busy taking orders at the tables and more
people were arriving. I had to leave the bar and go and take orders as well.
Harry went back to the kitchen to start filling the dinner orders. I told him
I would wait the tables and do the bar until things slowed down. That left him
free to prepare the meal orders.
I was surprised at how easily I had become a good waiter. I was kept really
busy, but everyone seemed satisfied. I had just delivered the last of the
current meal orders when the bartender finally arrived. I was now free to
provide good service at the tables.
The meal hours had passed and we were not getting anymore orders for food, so
Harry started to clean up the kitchen. The place was packed tonight and I was
busy running back and forth with drink deliveries and drink orders.
It must have been around 10 o'clock before things finally started to ease up a
bit. I had just delivered a drink order to a table with that guy that had
reamed my dick with the swizzle stick, Killer, was his name. All dressed in
black leather, tattoos on his arms, heavy beard sitting on his chest.
After I had placed all the drinks, I turned away to go back to fill another
order.
"Where you going, boy?" Killer called out, loud enough for everyone in the bar
to hear.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart began to beat really fast. Fear
traveled down my spine as I turned around. This was not a good sign.
Something was about to happen that I was not going to like, I was postitive of
that.
"To get an order for another table, Sir." I said.
"Well that other table can fucking well wait. You are serving me at the
moment. Now get your faggot ass over here." he demanded.
I quickly moved over and stood in front of him.
"Those are real nice fancy pants ya got on boy. Did Charlie give you permission
to wear them?" he asked.
"Yes Sir. I had to do a special job today and Master Charlie wanted me to wear
them, Sir." I answered, I was really scared now.
This guy was just as crazy as Charlie and was capable of pulling just about
anything.
"Well now, I hear you got yourself some pretty tattoo's, is that right?" he
asked.
"Yes, Sir." I answered.
"Well, why don't you be a real nice boy and stand up on the table here and do a
strip tease for us. I think the whole bar would love to see your new tattoo's
wiggled and jiggled." this was presented as a request, but I knew it was an
order.
With no options, I climbed up onto the table. One of the guys went over and got
a tune playing on the jukebox and I did the bump and grid on that damned table.
They clapped and whistled and jeered. I felt like hell. I hated being centred
out like this, but had to do it. I removed my vest first and bent over and
pushed out my Eagle pec so he could get a good view. He clapped and cheered as
did the others.
Next I started to slowly unfasten the waist band that held up the pants. I
remembered once seeing a guy strip in a gay bar and tried to do the things I
remembered him doing. I figured if I did a good job he wouldn't hurt me too
badly.
I hooked my thumbs in the waist band and slowly lowered the waist of the pants a
bit then raised them, lowered and raised them, teasingly. I was getting great
cheers. The fuckers loved it.
I pulled down the back end just enough to make Charlie's ownership visible for a
second, then pulled them up. Then back down. I just kept doing things like
this until my pants finally ended up around my ankles.
Some of the guys at the table helped to get them off over my boots. I was now
dancing with just my black leather pouch and collar. The guys had all noticed
that my dick was hard and tenting the pouch.
I put my hands behind my back and unfastened the little clip that kept the pouch
tied around my waist. It came loose and I slowly removed the pouch to whistles
and screams and hoots. Now I was completely naked, dancing on the table, My
hard dick bouncing up and down and side to side. Long silver threads of
precum, dripping and flying all over from my gyrations.
The music finally stopped and I took a bow and went to get off the table.
"Oh no you don't." Killer said. "You ain't finished until you cum. We wanna
see you whack off. Now get too it."
How fucking depraved can people get. My face had turned scarlet I am sure. I
was shaking and just beside myself with embarrassment. The only part of me
enjoying this whole thing was my fucking traitor cock. Because of it, I would
now have to wank in public.
With no alternative, I wrapped a hand around my hot, swollen phallus and began
to wank. I figured the sooner I get this over with the sooner they will leave
me alone. As soon as I started to wank, everyone started to bang their tables
to the beat of my wank. It was so fucking embarrassing.
But my cock felt so good in my hand. I just couldn't help but moan from the
pleasure I was giving myself. It didn't take long before I was blowing my load
up into the air and out across the floor. The bar went wild with cheering and
whistles.
"May I get down now Sir." I asked Killer.
"Ya sure kid, ya can't lick up all that fucking cum standing on the table now
can ya?" he said.
"No Sir." I replied.
I should have fucking known he would make me lick the damned stuff up. The
fucking floor was filthy too. Shit. It had been a good night up till now.
As soon as I was off the table Killer called me.
"Get over here boy." he ordered.
I obeyed and he told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I
obeyed and he used a belt or something to tie my wrists together.
"Ok, boy, now you get down on your knees and go searching for all your fucking
cum shots. You make sure you lick up each one. Can't have a faggot bitch
going around shooting cum all over Charlie's floors. Now get too it." he
ordered turning me about and giving me a slap on the ass.
I got down on my knees and crawled to the first of my shots, bent over and
licked the mess up. There was dirt or grit in it. But not a damned thing I
could do about it. If I didn't clean it up I was sure they would start hurting
me.
It took a while to find all the shots. A couple had been stepped on. But I
got them all. I was holding all the crap in my mouth, I didn't want to be
swallowing any of it. When I figured I had it all I stood up and went back to
killer. It was not easy but I managed to hold the dirt in my mouth and speak.
"I have cleaned up the mess, Sir. May I go back to work, Sir."
"Get down on your knees in front of me. Get right up close here." he ordered.
Damn, the bastard was still not satisfied. I did as I was told and got up
close to him.
"Open your fucking mouth wide." he ordered.
Oh shit, I was in big time trouble. I tried swallowing all that crap in one
gulp but couldn't manage it.
"What the fuck have you got in your mouth?" he growled, grabbing my cheeks in
one massive hand.
I made a second quick swallow and got rid of most of the crap.
"My mouth still has grit and stuff, Sir. It is hard to get it all swallowed,
Sir." I tried bluffing.
"Open up and let me see." he demanded.
I opened up and he stuck one of his big, fucking fingers in my mouth and worked
it all around. You can not know how degrading it is to have someone do that
to you in a public place until it happens to you. I felt like a nothing, a
complete fucking nothing.
"Ya, your fucking mouth is full of fucking grit." he said. "Here take a few
drinks of this to clean it out." he said handing me his beer.
"Sir, Master Charlie has forbidden me to drink beer while working, Sir." I said,
terrified Charlie would kill me if I took a drink.
"When did he forbid you, shit face?" Killer wanted to know.
"Just before I went on duty tonight Sir. I can not disobey Master Charlie,
Sir. I am sorry." I said, hoping he would leave me alone.
"Hey, Charlie." he yelled across the bar.
"The dork here says that you have forbidden him to drink beer while on duty.
Is the little fucker lying to me?"
"Ya, I did, but it is almost closing time anyway so he can go ahead and drink
some beer. In fact, why don't we have a wager here. Let's see how many
beers it takes to get Harold falling down plastered." he yelled back.
"Hey that's a great idea Charlie. Everyone else game." he yelled out.
Of course the whole fucking bar answered with a resounding yes.
"Ok, Charlie, why don't you get Pat to take the wagers. I got a hundred bucks
says he will be bombed at 8 beers." Killer yelled out.
"Yer on." Charlie yelled back.
I couldn't believe what they were doing. They were going to use my body to
play a fucking lotto game. Falling down fucking drunk, I don't want to get
falling down fucking drunk. Why can't the bastards just leave me alone. My
damned mouth is full of grit and tastes like hell. I got a gut full of shit
off the floor and now they want to fill me with fucking beer, of all things.
Damn.
I watched as the guys all crowed around Pat to make their bets. Pete got up
and went to the bar. The place was pandemonium. I was still on my knees in
front of this ugly fucking asshole. I noticed that he had slime or something
in his beard. It was disgusting.
He reached down and unzipped his fly, pulling out his hard cock.
"While we are waiting for the bets to get made, clean your fucking mouth. Wrap
it around the faucet while Killer empties his bladder boy." he demanded.
Ah fuck now fucking piss. Tears filled my eyes as I bent over and took his
dick in my mouth. I clamped my lips around it, figuring he was going to let
go, make a big fucking mess and then blame me, just so he could enjoy my getting
punished.
I was surprised however when he had complete control. His fucking piss was hot
and tasted very bitter. I tried not to worry about the taste, just
concentrated on getting the damned stuff down without puking.
He emptied his bladder and then stuffed his still hard dick back into his pants.
I had half expected him to make me give him a blow job as well, but he seemed to
be satisfied with just the piss. I would have rather it been the blowjob.
I sat back up on my knees and adopted the rest position. A few moments later
Pete appeared with a tray of large glass mugs full of beer. He placed the tray
on the table, that only a short while before I had been dancing and wanking on.
He then went away for a moment but soon returned with a chair.
"Ok, Harold get up here and sit in the chair." he ordered.
I got up quick and did as I was told. I didn't want any trouble if I could
still avoid it. I sat there and watched as the patrons continued to place
their bets with Pat.
"Ok, Harold here are the rules." Pete said.
"As this is a major wager, Charlie has instructed me to be the official judge.
I will hand you a mug of beer, you will chugalug it, I will hand you another and
you will chugalug that as well. You will keep chugalugging until you fall out
of the chair. The last full beer you drink before you fall is the one that
counts. Do you understand?" he asked.
"Yes Pete. I understand." I replied.
"Don't worry Harold, Pat, Larry and I will look after you when this is over.
You will have a bit of a hangover in the morning, but other than that you will
be ok. Just hang in, ok?" he said softly so only I could hear him.
"Ya, thanks Pete." I answered.
"Ok, the bets are in. Let the contest begin." Charlie yelled out.
Pete handed me a beer and I started drinking. If you have never chugalugged,
it is not an easy thing to do. I did the best I could, got the first one down
and started on the second.
By the fourth I was getting full and I was starting to feel the effects of the
first three. My lower lip had begun to tremble and I had a bit of a funny
feeling in my head.
By the sixth, both my upper and lower lips were numb, as were my cheeks. I had
funny vibrations in my fingers and had trouble moving them around. My vision
was beginning to blur and I had to fucking pee.
I just could not drink number 7 as fast as I had drunk number 1. My gut was
full. I pulled the glass away from my lips.
"Pete, I gotta haba pish." I slurred.
"Can't drink endy more lesh I pish." I was having trouble keeping my balance in
the chair.
My vision was badly blurred and I would swear the room was starting to swirl
around me.
"Well if ya gotta piss then do it right where you are, but keep drinking. You
are not permitted to stop." Pete said.
It took a few moments and him repeating that a couple of times before it sunk
into my head what he was saying.
"Okey, dokey." I answered. "One pish cumin' up........or out." and I began to
giggle.
I felt the hot liquid leaving the end of my dick and looked down to watch the
pretty little fountain. This only brought on more giggles. I giggled so much
I almost fell out of the chair.
They didn't have to encourage me to drink now, I just automatically brought the
mug up to my lips and started chugalugging.
Pete handed me another right away and said number 8. Mmmmmmm I thought, what
is significant about number 8? I seem to remember something about number
fucking 8, now what could it be. This was running through my alcohol soaked
brain as I drank down number 8.
Then like a flash it came to me. Killer had bet that I would fall off the
chair after number 8. Well the miserable fucker could go to hell. I wasn't
gonna fall off this fucking chair at 8 and let the prick win. No way, no how.
I finished number 8 and was now having a real difficult time staying in the
chair. Number 8 stayed with me. I had to finish number nine to make sure he
didn't win. That was all I could think of, get number 9 finished then I could
go to sleep. Killer could go to fucking hell, for once I was going to beat the
prick.
As Pete pushed number 9 into my now numb fingers, my bladder was screaming to go
again, so I just let it go and giggled.
"For get the giggling, Harold." I heard Pete say from a long ways away. "Just
drink."
"Righty'o oh Masterplaster." I giggled and took another long drink.
At this point I was too far gone to worry about their silly rules. Number 9
went down, not very fast, I couldn't hold the damned mug steady enough to
chugalug any longer. So I just took great bing drinks, and giggled in between.
Before I knew it number 9 was gone and I was working my way through number 10.
I seem to remember that I had started to sing in between gulps of number 10,
however sitting up was becoming almost impossible, my vision was completely
blurred now and the room was starting to spin really fast. I drank the last of
number 10, Pete grabbed the mug and handed me another. That mug being pressed
into my hand was my last memory of the night and my memory of waking up in the
morning was a memory I would rather forget.
To be continued.
This story (c) by Rob 2001, all rights reserved.
Comments to: robolder@excite.com or cumulust@yahoo.com
