Home Improvements - Part 4

By M. Greene published February 3, 2019
mgreene70@yahoo.com
Summary

Property transfers

Home Improvements

Part 4

September

It’s real early in the morning and we’re sitting in some kind of legal office someplace downtown. This part of the city is real dangerous and I would never dare to come here without my bosses by my side. The office is above an African-American nightclub. Not only does it look sleazy on the outside, it’s pretty messy within. The desk we’re sitting in front of is covered in folders and papers and there are more piles of legal crap stacked on all the other surfaces too, even down on the floor. Behind the desk is a middle-aged black dude in a flashy-looking suit. He’s passing document after document across his untidy desk for the three of us to sign. Although I can’t read anything these days, I can still just about write my name and Mr Wolf helps me out by pointing to the place on each piece of paper where I need to put my signature. Although the black dude says he’s a lawyer, he looks more like a pimp with his shiny bald head and all those gold teeth in his mouth.

“Okay, that’s the General Power of Attorney out of the way,” the lawyer says, giving one copy to each of my bosses and putting a third inside a folder. “The next set of papers concern the transfer of the mortgage and freehold of the property…”

I’m real bored listening to him droning on and can’t wait to get out of this dump. I sign my name again and again until at last the black guy says we’re done. It’s a real relief to get back out into the fresh air. We climb into the truck and head for Mr Lonnie’s tattoo and piercing place. As soon as I realise where we’re going, I start to become real excited. Getting tatted and pierced is a real turn on for me and I feel my dick hardening inside my jeans. This is very painful due to the bolt I got through the head of my cock the last time we came here, so my erection don’t last very long…

We go into a private area at the back of the parlour and Mr Lonnie tells me to get out of my clothes. As soon as I’m naked, he checks my Prince Albert piercing and then the studs through each of my nipples. “The PA will take a few more weeks to heal,” he informs my bosses, “but his tits are healed and ready for the new rings.” I watch as the bars are removed and replaced with a pair of steel rings similar to the ones my bosses have through their own nipples. They look real great…

Next, Mr Lonnie sits me down in a chair and adds a few new piercings to my face. I get one though my left eyebrow, which hurts like fuck, a stud through my right nostril and a couple more studs at the top of each ear. Looking in the mirror afterwards, I try to count how many studs and rings I have in my ears altogether now, but I too dumb to do it and lose count after ten. It’s a lot anyways…

After that, they make me lie down on a kind of bed so Mr Lonnie can add a new tattoo at the bottom of my back, just above my ass. I’m never gonna see it there, of course, but the tattoo artist tells me it’s gonna be writing in big black letters saying how I’m now owned by S. Mullen and C. Wolf. As the electric needle buzzes away, I think about this idea and smile. For my bosses to want to own me, I must be worth a fuck of a lot to them…

Mr Mullen and Mr Wolf have brought me here to Mr Lonnie’s place every week since mid-August, so I’ve already got quite a collection of body art. Not as much ink as any of them, of course, but I’m gradually getting there. My favourite is the colourful big snake on my right arm. The reptile’s head is high up on my neck; its vicious fangs and forked tongue threatening my right ear. Its body then winds down around my bicep and continues encircling my entire arm until its tail ends on the back of my left hand near my knuckles. It hurt like fuck when Mr Lonnie did it, but it was well worth the pain and it’s completely healed up now too.

On my left bicep, just above ‘TIMMY’ is the word ‘DIRTY’ in the same block capital letters as my name. I like this one because it’s true; I am a dirty little fucker as both my bosses keep reminding me. I hate washing and feel physically sick when I go anywhere near a shower. This seems to amuse them and I know they both prefer my body staying as funky and smelly as possible. Now the laundry room in the basement is fixed, I’m able to wash and iron Mr Wolf and Mr Mullen’s clothes, but only after I’ve worn them myself for a few days too. We’ve got a system going down there where their dirty washing bin has become my wardrobe. So I wear their grubby tops and shorts all the time now. Only their full length pants are exempt from this rule, as I’m way too short for them to fit me.

Almost completely healed up is the stars and bars flag on my left forearm. This tattoo is red and dark blue and probably the prettiest one I’ve got so far. The other week, I got two big tatts on my pectorals, just above my tits. The left one says ‘GAY’ and the right ‘BOI’ in black, rounded letters so large they cover each side of my upper chest. Thanks to my daily workouts in our new gym, my pecs are getting more and more defined and this new ink really sets them off. Last Saturday, the word ‘PIG’ was tattooed on my neck just below my left ear. This one is still raw and will not be properly healed for a few days yet…

Mr Lonnie works away on my back for well over an hour before he’s finished. My bosses return from the bar across the street just as the tattoo artist is smearing that protective stuff over it. I’ve gotta say that this one hurt about as much as the snake, but Mr Mullen and Mr Wolf seem pretty happy with it, so I guess the pain was worth it.

“You’re ours now, boy,” Mr Wolf says as he inspects Mr Lonnie’s handiwork. “Your new tatt says we own you…”

“Yes, Sir, Mr Wolf,” I reply, keeping my head bowed out of respect.

Mr Mullen approaches and places a heavy steel chain around my neck. Each link is about an inch wide and the metal feels real cold against my bare skin. “You will wear this twenty-four-seven to remind you that you’re our slave boy,” he says, slipping a sturdy padlock through the ends of the chain and snapping it shut. It forms a kind of chunky necklace; long enough to sit comfortably at the base of my neck, but far too short to pull over my head. I can’t remove it without getting the padlock unfastened and I don’t have a key.

“What do you say, boy?”

I bow my head again. “Thank you, Mr Mullen, Sir…”

“Good boy. Now thank Mr Lonnie properly for his time…”

I sink down to my knees and wait for the tattoo artist to stand in front of me. When he does so, I fumble with his belt and zip, opening up his pants to release his tasty meat. A second or two later, I’m slobbering on his hard dick for all I’m worth. I love sucking cock so much! Mr Lonnie’s dick is pierced with a bar running horizontally through the head and, although I only sucked him dry last Saturday, his foreskin is already packed with some more tasty cheese. The guy obviously never washes his junk and I’m such a pig these days that this makes me love licking it all the more… I’ve gotten so expert at cock-sucking that it doesn’t take long for Mr Lonnie to climax and I savour the first couple of spurts coating my tongue before getting to wear the rest of his load over my upturned face.

We return to the truck with my face still plastered with drying cum and, as it’s still only around midday, I get quite a few looks from the crowds of people we pass on the way.

Back home, the bosses take me up to their bathroom and order me to take a shit. I feel a little self-conscious sitting on the toilet with them watching, but after a short while, I manage to go. After I’ve cleaned myself up, they take me through to their bedroom next door and make me kneel down over the end of their bed. Mr Mullen pulls down my frayed denim cut-offs and holds my butt-cheeks apart, while Mr Wolf anoints my hole with a good squirt of jelly from a tube. It feels cold at first, but then he pushes it into my hole and soon has me squirming with pleasure. That feels real nice!

“It’s just some lube,” Mr Wolf says, taking a black plastic object out of a brown paper bag. It’s around five inches long and shaped like a poplar tree with a narrow trunk and a wide, flat base. “This is a butt-plug,” Mr Wolf explains. “We need to open up your tight virgin hole a little before you’re ready to be properly used.” He coats the thing with more of the lubricating jelly and then inserts it slowly up my back passage. It’s slightly uncomfortable as it feels as though I’ve got a big turd in there which I can’t get out. My shorts are pulled back up and Mr Wolf gives my bottom a playful pat, which pushes the plug even further inside and makes me yelp. “You will keep this in you at all times unless you need to take a shit,” he says. “When you’re ready for it, we will put in a bigger one.”

I bow my head. “Yes, Sir, Mr Wolf.”

After that, I get on with painting the picket fence that runs all the way around the property. I’ve been working on it for the past month, so my skin’s gotten quite tanned with being outside most of the time. Last week, Mr Wolf and Mr Mullen repaired the fence-posts, replacing any badly broken or missing ones and then set me to rubbing down the wood and repainting the whole lot afterwards. Although the fence is quite low, it’s real long, so it’s gonna be a while yet until I’m finished. Although the work is boring, it’s also relaxing and I zone out thinking my usual dumb thoughts…

After about an hour, a car comes up the bumpy road leading to the house and two strangers get out. My bosses come out to greet them and the four men walk over to where my red convertible is parked. I continue painting, watching as the doors of my car are opened up as well as the bonnet. The two strangers seem to be examining my vehicle in detail, staring at the engine and then going round to the back to look inside the trunk. One of them gets into the driving seat with Mr Wolf next to him and they drive off down the track towards the main road. I shrug and carry on painting the picket fence. My red car returns after about twenty minutes and the stranger and Mr Wolf get out. I see the stranger open a black briefcase and take out several packets, which he hands to Mr Mullen. I’m quite a few yards away, but even a dumbass like me can see that its bundles of cash. They all shake hands and then one guy climbs into the car the strangers both arrived in and drives off. The man with the money throws his briefcase onto the passenger seat of my red convertible, gets behind the wheel and then drives after his friend.

My two bosses have sold my car!

To be honest, I’m not really surprised by this. They sold my computer equipment a couple of weeks ago and took all my suits to some charity store in town too. The truth is that we’ve got the truck, so my car was never used in any case. Also, since Mr Mullen and Mr Wolf sold their old house and moved all their furniture here, there’s no room for most of my old stuff anyways…

The new phone my bosses bought for me pings. I fish it out of my back pocket and look to see which emojis they sent. There are four; a green shamrock, a wolf’s head, a glass of beer and a stove. Even a dumb fuck like me, who can’t read, can work out that these pictures mean that Mr Mullen and Mr Wolf want beers in the kitchen. I put the lid on the paint-tin, place my brush in a jar of spirit and head into the house.

“About time, Dumb-Fuck,” Mr Mullen says as I enter the kitchen. He and Mr Wolf are sitting at the table counting the cash they were given by the stranger.

I take two cold beers out of the fridge, open them and place them next to each of my bosses. I then stand in the way they’ve taught me, with my head respectfully bowed and my hands behind my back, awaiting further orders.

My bosses continue to count the bills, placing them in neat piles as they sip their beer. They ignore me completely for several minutes. “Yeah, it’s all here,” Mr Mullen says at last. “Twelve thousand, five hundred dollars.”

“Nice…” Mr Wolf sticks a cigar between his teeth and snaps his fingers. I take out the lighter I keep in the pocket of my shorts, step forward, spark his cigar and step back again. I’m real well-trained.

Mr Wolf exhales a stream of smoke through his nostrils. “We just sold your lovely car, Timmy,” he announces, looking up at me with his bright cobalt eyes.

“Yes, Sir, Mr Wolf.”

“Of course,” he adds, smirking, “it was our car, really…”

“Yes, Sir, Mr Wolf.”

Mr Mullen takes a swig of beer from his tin. “As from this morning, everything you once owned is legally ours. The car, your bank accounts, this house; everything…”

I nod my head. “Yes, Sir, Mr Mullen.”

Mr Mullen stands up and walks over to me. He grabs the chain around my neck and gives it a slight yank. “We even own you, boy. This collar is a symbol of that.” He chuckles. “We hold the keys…”

“Yes, Sir, Mr Mullen.”

“You like that, don’t you, Timmy? You like being our little pig slave…”

I nod my head again. “Yes, Sir, Mr Mullen.”

“Good boy. As a reward, you can get yourself a beer and have a smoke. We’ve got a few friends coming over later for a house-warming party, so you need to set up the barbeque things in the yard and fetch some bags of charcoal from the shed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, Mr Mullen.”

“Then you can get on with painting that fence. It’s taken you far too fucking long as it is…”

The party starts at about five, to take advantage of the last sunlight of the day. Mr Wolf and Mr Mullen cook chicken and burgers on the two big barbeques in the yard while I carry around a large silver tray piled with different drinks. From what I can tell, the guests are all gay men, like us. There are a few couples with their arms around each other and some of them are wearing leather. The black lawyer dude is also present. He’s dressed in a cowboy outfit complete with hat, boots, chaps and spurs, and has a white guy with him in a tight-fitting leather cat-suit. Some of the younger guys are slaves like me and one spends the whole time crouching on the floor barking like a dog. He’s naked except for a studded leather collar around his neck and some kind of metal sheath over his dick.

It’s all very different from the straight parties I used to attend…

Everyone’s chatting and laughing and eating and smoking and drinking and there are so many vehicles outside the house that the front yard looks like a parking lot. I go back into the kitchen to replenish my tray with more chilled beers and notice yet another car drawing up. To my surprise, a woman climbs out of it. It’s Cassie!

I haven’t heard anything from Cassie since the bosses took my old phone away. I knew she would have received the pictures and video of me sucking Mr Wolf’s dick and I guessed that she would not want to have anything to do with me after that. Seeing her standing outside tonight feels incredibly weird. She doesn’t belong here. Not now; not right in the middle of my new life…

I don’t want the bosses to know she’s here, so I hurry out to prevent her getting anywhere near the house. As I get closer, Cassie sees me and her eyes widen as she takes in my straggly goatee beard, Mohican haircut and steel piercings. I’m only wearing my shorts, monkey boots and the thick chain around my neck, so she can see all my tattoos as well.

“Tim? Is that really you?” Cassie gulps and puts a hand over her mouth as though to stop herself screaming. She lets out a strangled sob. “Then it’s true… You really have turned gay. I didn’t want to believe it… Even though your parents told me I wasn’t worth coming out here, I hoped that…”

“You need to leave, Cassie. It’s over…” I manage to keep my voice flat and emotionless even though I’m feeling torn up inside.

“Hey! You! Bitch! Fuck off outta my land!”

Oh no! It’s Mr Wolf! He’s seen us! I cringe, not knowing what the fuck to do for the best. A few seconds later, my boss is standing in front of Cassie, shaking his fist at her.

“Are you deaf, Bitch? I told you to fuck off!” Mr Wolf pushes her backwards with the flat of his hand. “Go on! Move it! Get your ugly ass outta here!”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Cassie shouts. She points over to where I’m standing with my head down, wishing the ground could swallow me up. “Tim was my boyfriend until you bastards got your claws into him. We were practically engaged and now look at him! He’s a fucking mess! I don’t know how you’ve done this to him, but let me tell you that you haven’t heard the last of it!” So saying, she jumps into her car, slams the door shut and drives away down the narrow track leading towards the main road.

Mr Wolf comes over to me and slaps me real hard around the face. The blow hurts like fuck and I’m sure there will be a red mark on my cheek for days. “Get back to your duties, Dumb-Fuck!”

Hot tears stinging my eyes, I bow submissively. “Yes, Sir, Mr Wolf.”

The party continues for several hours. The night air is balmy, so the bosses get me to move their massive HIFI speakers out into the yard and, as the music starts, the guys get to dancing with each other. Some more drinks later and quite a lot of sex action is starting to happen. Guys begin kissing and fondling each other all around me. I see that the dog boy is sucking his master’s dick while another guy wearing only a leather waistcoat fucks his ass. My bosses have each found a different partner and are dancing close with them, kissing all the while. Soon, they will start having sex; of that I’m sure. I carry on ferrying beers around, but most of the guests are now more interested in fucking than drinking…

“White boy!”

I turn around to find the bald headed black lawyer standing right next to me. He smiles and his gold teeth glint in the lights shining out from the house.
He tilts back his cowboy hat with one hand and lifts my chin with the other. “You a pretty lil’ white boy, ain’t ya? How about you suck on my big black dick for a while?”

My bosses have already told me that I have to obey their friends as though it was them giving me an order. I therefore don’t hesitate. I set down my tray of beers and kneel down on the concrete patio in front of him. The black dude opens his flies and hefts out the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life. It’s got to be over ten inches and thick with it. He’s circumcised and the brown shaft has pulsing veins running along its length. The head looks dark purple in the dim light. I set to work and, although I can’t fit more than about five inches of the thing into my mouth without gagging, he’s soon gasping with pleasure, so I know I’m doing a good job. His big brown hands clasp the back of my skull and he begins forcing me to take his cock right to the back of my throat. I splutter and gag a few times and my saliva begins running freely, coating his dick with ribbons of thick slime.

“Yeah… Take that daddy dick…” He moans, tightening his grip on my head and pushing his cock even deeper into my mouth.

Eventually, my gag-reflex seems to give up under the onslaught and he’s almost able to get his entire monster dick inside me. I’m staring up at him with bulging eyes, as he bucks and thrusts away, treating my mouth as though it’s a pussy-hole made for him to fuck. A number of other party guests have started to gather around us and a few are taking pictures or videoing the scene with their phones.

A few seconds later, the black guy comes and fills my entire mouth with his thick sperm. He doesn’t withdraw until he’s spent and there’s so much of the stuff I almost choke. Some of it somehow even ends up inside my nose. Unable to breathe, I snort the mess out through my nostrils and feel it trickling down over my lips and chin. When he finally releases my head from his iron grip, I fall forwards onto the ground, coughing and spluttering.

Black lawyer dude turns to my bosses who have been watching the whole scene. “Now dat’s what I call a good face-fuck,” he says. “If you ever wanna sell him, I’ll give you a good price for his pretty ass…”

The party ends at around three in the morning. As the last guests depart, I go around the yard collecting up the discarded bottles and cans in a black bin liner. I feel exhausted, but happy that I served my bosses real well today.

*To be continued… *

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