Sometime later from this caption.
I can’t stop. If I stop, Rod will take me. Has Rod already taken me? Aren’t I his already? I can hear him screaming in my basement dungeon now. Pull on the last of my leather gear–this shit I always thought was so disgusting is so…damn comfortable now. Pull on a hood, because I don’t want him to know it’s me, not that it’ll matter much soon, if he sees my face or not. I suppose some of it just my own shame, my own embarrassment, but that’s waning now too. Light a cigar–have to have a cigar, of course. One last look, and head downstairs.
“What the fuck is this fucking shit! This some fucking pervert thing? You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with–I’m very important! People will notice I’m missing!”
People would notice, but no one would expect to find a man like him in Pigtown. But only for a few days, and then it would be like he’d never even existed, just like all of them. He’d lost count, now. Rod needed one a week…and he’d tried to resist taking this one for a while now, but he needed him in a way he couldn’t exactly explain.
Down the stairs, and there he was. Ropes tied meticulously over his suit, tie over the top, bound to a post behind his back. Legs wide. Eyes wide with anger…and a bit of fear. I didn’t want to see the eyes, I hate the fucking eyes. I go over to the toolkit Rod’s provided me with, a present that came with the dungeon, pull out a hood, walk over and pull it down over his head, watching the leather suck against his skull, clamping under his chin and around his neck, shutting his mouth. He struggles, I watch. stubble growing along his bare mouth…I tease it with my bearded lips, listen to him let out a deep, guttural moan of desire, and kiss him, feed him smoke for a few minutes. He begs for a few minutes, pleading with me to not take his mind, but then…just grunts, bucking against the post.
I’m horny now. I tear open the front of his suit, find a cock ring and fit it around his short thick cock and big balls, and they start to inflate inside–I get down and start sucking. I missed a drop off once–need the cum now, all the fucking time. Mine, or anyone else’s, or I feel sick.
“Yeah pig, suck it…” the man’s mouth says, “Suck daddy bear’s big dick.”
I don’t want to do this anymore, but I don’t know how to stop. The man is thrusting down my throat now, his cock longer than a foot, but I have no problem taking it all, somehow. A…daddy would be nice, I suppose. I don’t owe him to Rod until Monday, so we have all weekend. Yeah, some daddy time would make me feel better, I’m sure of it.