The Arcade

by Marc Tremaine

Copyright© 2010 by Marc Tremaine

Erotica Sex Story: A dim, dirty, sleazy arcade, smelling of sex and piss and cum and disinfectant. Finest kind. Jeff: older, big, black tee, tight faded jeans, boots and black leather jacket. Craig: younger, handsome, arrogant, the type who tops and nothing else, and never with old faggots. Craig wants a quick suck in his booth, or a willing ass for his cock. He gets more than he bargained for, more than he ever thought possible.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma   Mult   Gay   BDSM   DomSub   Humiliation   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   .

WARNING: If you are offended by sex between men, sex between teenaged boys, or sex between a man and a teenager—where some of them may be related by blood, marriage or just plain lust—you definitely shouldn't be reading this story. If this type of sex is illegal, immoral or fattening in your particular state, province, country, or bedroom, stop reading now and go away. If, according to your local laws, you're under age, no fair peeking below. This story is a fantasy, and any resemblance to any particular man, teenager, penis or other anatomical part is just your over-active imagination.

Copyright© 1996-1997. All rights reserved. You have the right to download this story to keep on your computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice. You do not have the right to repost this, pass it on to anyone, or use it for commercial purposes, that is, you can't try to make a buck off this story. The only thing you have permission to do with this story (besides the obvious one) is stated above ... and nothing more. Get it? Got it? Good.

Flames will be ignored. Constructive comments are always welcome.


I was horny. Not kind of horny—definitely horny. What with a few icy beers with dinner and a slight buzz on, the idea of another jackoff session didn't interest me, so I drove across town to the video arcade to see what the action was like. Kind of dead when I got there. Only a few cars, so I was able to park out front. Well, hopefully there was someone inside who wanted to get his rocks off really good. I was dressed for it. Black tee-shirt tight across my big chest, tucked inside a pair of faded, pale blue jeans with the knees ripped out and the start of a rip at my crotch. The jeans were held up by a studded black leather belt. My feet were encased in shiny black boots. I was wearing my worn black leather jacket, with a couple of useful items (just in case) tucked away in the pockets.

Like I said, I was horny, so I was showing a nice hefty bulge that snaked down my left thigh.

I got some dollar bills for the arcade and began to walk the maze of dimly-lit aisles. Only one or two men were there, but they didn't do anything for me, not even a dick-twitch. Then I spotted the booth with the slightly open door. Saying fuck-it to the video cameras the store owners had everywhere, I peered into the crack.

I couldn't believe my fucking eyes! Goddamned stud heaven. Medium length dark hair, clean-shaven face shining in the glow of the video, mid to late 30's, a jeans jacket draped over the back of the chair, this guy had his jeans around his ankles, fisting a large piece of meat. He pretended not to, but he was watching the door. He didn't reach over to shut me out, so I quickly stepped inside.

His face was right at my crotch level and I was almost completely hard now, my cock stretching the worn jeans. He gulped and looked up at me nervously.

"I ... I've never..."

I smiled at him. "Don't worry, I have."

His huge dick was still hard, and as he played with himself I could see it was leaking precum. There was a gay fuck film playing on the video. I put another couple of dollars in it. I pulled a rubber out of my jacket, ripped the package open, and leaned over to put it on him. His mouth kind of dropped open, but he didn't argue with me.

A virgin stud. And he really had my asshole twitching. Wasn't what I'd come here for originally, but on the other hand ... or other hole...

He watched nervously as I unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them down over my thighs and to the tops of my boots. My own thick 9-inch rod stood out hard and proud from a really thick bush of crotch hair. He just stared at my meat, kind of licking his lips nervously, like he wanted to lick something else, but was afraid to. I dropped some spit on my fingers and shoved my fingertips up my asshole, and then did it a couple of times more until my hole was loosened just a little and wet enough. I moved in front of him, spread his knees, stood between his legs with my ass in his face for a moment, and then squatted and slowly began to lower myself onto his fuckrod.

Jesus! I kind of gasped when that fat dickhead got past my assring. But right now I needed a really good fucking and this virgin was going to give it to me. He gasped even louder than me, and began to moan as I very, very slowly slid all the way down his pole until my ass was on his lap and every fucking inch of his thick meat was crammed up my tight, talented hole. He moaned even louder and then realized where he was and cut it off.

I started fucking myself on his meat, raising and lowering my ass and he began to help, grabbing me around the waist, guiding my movements, thrusting his hips up. The sensation of squatting over this cock was really hot and he was spreading my asshole pretty damned wide. Goddamn but it felt good, only I knew it wasn't going to last very long. His breathing was already getting heavier and heavier and he was clamping down real hard on my waist and hips and slamming my body down against his harder and harder and harder until he pulled me to him and thrust up from the chair in one enormous stroke and through his shuddering I could feel ropes of cum shooting up the length of his cock and collecting in the tip of the rubber.

Christ! There is nothing like a good fuck to start off your night.

When I was sure he was spent, and could feel his dick beginning to wilt a little, I slid off him, stood up and began pulling up my jeans. I used a tissue from my hip pocket to wipe the moisture off my ass, and then finished pulling the jeans over my hips, and started stuffing my still nearly-hard dick down inside.

"Uh, look man, if you want me to..."

Nice man. A virgin ... not faking it, I can tell ... and gentleman enough not to want to just "fuck and run." I shut him up with a kiss, which was clearly something else he'd never done with a man before. But he sure got into it real quick and our tongues were lashing back and forth. It got me hard all over again. But I finished the kiss and finished putting my act back together.

"Thanks, guy. But you gave me what I needed. Any time you want to plow some ass, and I'm here ... you just let me know." I grinned at him and he grinned back.

With that I stepped out into the dimly lit halls, feeling a glow of strong sexual energy streaming out from me. It was like I was a battery that had suddenly been brought up to full charge. And I needed an outlet.

That's when I saw him. A young guy. Late 20's probably. For some reason he looked familiar, although I was certain I hadn't seen him in here before. But there was something about him, even in the dim light ... his face, his build ... and my mind \connected this vague feeling with green. I looked more closely.

Good looking stud ... the kind that usually goes just for guys his own age or younger. And from the way he was strutting through here, the kind who is out to get his prick sucked or fuck some ass ... the "I'm always on top" kind. He glanced my way and I hid the laughter in my mind behind a slightly cold, slightly arrogant, lust-filled stare, as he did almost a double take, and then his eyes slid all over me like fucking hands stroking my body. I could feel the electricity building up. He lingered on my crotch, and I could feel my dick surging to full length down my leg, the kind of aching hardon that just begged for quick release. Then he turned away.


Oh well, he was acting just like the conceited young prick I thought he was.

Only. He stopped and looked back at me with a small smile as he opened the door to a booth and stepped inside.


I couldn't believe what I'd just done. Still, giggling silently and feeling a bit giddy, I made sure that the door was open a crack, and sat in the uncomfortable chair the management so thoughtfully provided. The booth was tiny, and smelled of sweat, old cum and new ... and something just a bit raw, like raw oysters. Crinkled tissues littered the floor, and the slick wooden floorboards were sticky in places. I loved it, and inhaled deeply. My cock twitched, and I rubbed it briskly. Where the hell was he? Did he need a fucking invitation? I peeked out the crack and saw him standing there, his crotch at my eye level. Talk about timing! I scootched back quickly, my cock throbbing almost audibly as I looked over this fine stud's body. Sure, he was older, but this guy was built! His basket was outlined nicely, a smooth chest and flat abdomen ... my breathing quickened just looking at him.

"Well, you gonna let me in, or drool over my cock all night?" he asked softly, thrusting his hips forward slightly. His hands were on his narrow hips, and I pushed the door open for him to enter. He stepped quickly inside, and latched the door shut behind him. I swallowed loudly as I smelled him, felt his presence.

I looked up at him standing there, kind of towering over me. He was huge in this small cubicle, and while I'm not exactly a tiny guy he made me feel ... small ... and ... this was what was really fucking weird ... helpless. Shit. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. These old guys were supposed to hop all over a stud like me, begging me to drop my pants so they could swallow my meat, or get it good and wet so I could shove it up the guy's asshole. But this stud ... in spite of myself, I started imagining me taking his cock in my hand, sniffing it, licking and sucking it.

I reached out tentatively, and "smoothly" stroked his hips, like the experienced stud I was. Yeah, right. My fucking hands were shaking like I'd never touched a man before! And those hands weren't interested in being gentle, they wanted to tear at his zipper, to expose the monster I knew was hidden behind that soft denim ... but I thought I'd make it last, thought I could make it last. But my body was betraying me. My hands slid quickly up the front of his jeans, his heat nearly searing my hand. My palm cupped his growing erection, sliding over the ridge, and rubbing and squeezing. He pushed himself against my hand, his cock growing to enormous proportions. I moaned quietly and worked at the ... goddamn it! ... buttons. Damn them! Why in the world would anyone create a pair of pants that had buttons ... there. It was done. Now, the only barrier between me ... and it ... was soft cotton that had probably been sprayed on and then super-glued to his meat, it was so damn tight.

Very, very slowly, like he knew what he was doing to me ... thank god, he couldn't see my face in the dim light, so he didn't know, Jesus, he couldn't know ... he unbuckled his wide leather belt, popped the top button, and then peeled his jeans down around his knees. He had to lean down over me to do it and I could smell a heady mixture of sweat and cologne wafting out from his armpits. Then there was this ... incredible ... perfect, abso-fucking-lutely perfect hard cock, shoving straight out and slightly up over huge goddamned balls, right in my face.

I noticed that I was holding my breath and let it out quickly. Christ! I didn't know what was wrong with me. All I came into the arcade for was a quick blow job, or maybe a quick fuck ... shove my dick down some cute young stud's mouth or up his hole, get my rocks off and go home. And now this.

"This" was me: so fucking horny, and turned on by him, I was afraid I'd do anything for this stud. And let him do anything to me. Although I'd be eternally damned before I'd tell him that ... or let him know any other way. I ran things. All of the time. Well, most of the time. Aw, shit, I wasn't running a fucking thing right now, and I knew it, as he pushed his cock into my face, and I pushed my nose into it, smelling its manly musk, its headiness. Thank god, though, he didn't know any of this. I'll get him off quick, and then get the hell out of here myself. I could always beat off later.

The stud had other ideas, I guess. He started rubbing his fucking cock in my face. And then using it to kind of "slap" my mouth and lips and cheeks. I almost opened my mouth to let the bastard know I didn't go in for shit like that. Except I didn't say anything ... because my goddamned dick twitched every time he did it to me. Weird. Fucking weird. I liked it. I wanted him to do it more. Usually by now I had these guys foaming, ready to suck my cock or let me plow their ass. But now, I thought maybe the tables had turned a bit.

And I wasn't complaining! Jesus fucking christ, there's this man beating his cock in my face in a video arcade booth, and I was letting him do it!


The kid ... well, he was a kid to me ... didn't realize how well I could see in the dark, or how much light there really was from the video screen. He also didn't realize what his face was saying. I knew then and there, as I stopped slapping my meat against his mouth, that this would be great.

I rested the head of my dick against his lips. For a moment, he didn't do anything at all. Neither did I. He knew what I wanted, so I just waited. I guess he thought he was going to outlast me, but it didn't work. I just stood there with my very hard dick resting softly against his mouth ... no impatient pushing or shoving ... just quietly resting there with a slow even weight. He gave in with a very tiny, almost inaudible sigh, and opened his mouth.

I still didn't move. My dickhead was resting now on his lower lip and I could feel his warm breath, but I still didn't move. He knew what I wanted. And I was going to get it ... my way.

I did.

After another moment he moved his head forward, bringing his hot lips down around my cock, his tongue flickering against my pisshole and taste-testing the precum leaking out of it. I stayed very still and he gradually, almost hesitantly, slid his mouth down the full length of my shaft. He moaned very, very softly as his throat expanded with surprising ease to take in every inch of length and width, and then his nose was buried in my crotch and he was breathing hotly through a mouth and throat stuffed with hard cock.

I clamped my hands on the side of his head, holding him firmly and for a split second I felt resistance, and then the resistance quivered and was gone, and I started moving his head back and forth, using his mouth like some sort of fuck toy. Not rough, but long strokes that ended up with his face as close to my crotch as if it were painted on. He just sat there, his body almost sagging as I used him.

Then I stopped. Still holding his head tightly, I pulled his mouth off my spit-dripping prick, and tilted his head to look up at me. His eyes were kind of glazed, and his lips were parted, glistening with spit and precum. I pulled him and he had a choice between standing up or getting his head lifted off his neck ... he stood. He was taller than me ... several inches, in fact ... but it didn't matter. I pulled his head back down toward me, lifted my face, and began to kiss him.

It was a gentle kiss at first, just our lips ... but my hands were on his head ... and he quivered just a tiny amount with uncertainty, as if he didn't know where to put his hands or his arms or his body. I controlled the kiss and pulled him deeper into it, parting his lips with my tongue, moving deep inside his mouth and throat and relaxing my own mouth so that he could respond and do the same. I moved closer to him so we were pressed against each other, my hard dick trapped between us and rubbing against his jeans and his still hidden erection.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around me and when I tightened my hold, he did the same, until we were so tightly against one another it seemed as though we were a single body. The kiss went on and on and on and I began to feel a whimper in the back of his throat ... and that's when it happened.

Not a cum. Something better. I suddenly knew this kid. Not his name, not his age, not a favorite color or position or what he did for a living. None of that. Yeah, all of that is important in knowing a person, but it was completely unimportant, irrelevant even, to the fact that I knew him, the essence of him, right down to the DNA level of him.

Entwined in each other in a smelly hardon making video arcade booth, I pulled my mouth away from his and whispered so softly he could barely hear me, "Strip."

He jerked in surprise. And whispered back, "What? You're out of..."

I stopped his words by pulling his lips to mine and this time the kiss was rougher, and I was holding him tighter so that he could feel the muscles in my arms swelling, making him immobile. He wasn't even aware that my hands were no longer on his head, but around his body; that he could have stopped the kiss at any time just by moving his head back. But he didn't. He just tried to blend his body into mine. And then I stopped the kiss, and whispered again, "Strip. Now."

He just blinked in the flickering video light. I released him and moved back just enough to lean against the door. He glanced down at the wide shaft and wider head of my cock thrusting out at him, precum glowing cool blue in the video light as it dripped onto the floor. He licked his lips, and then pulled his tee-shirt over his head. He started to drop it on the chair but stopped when I said, "Neatly."

He carefully folded the tee-shirt and set it on the chair. He leaned against the side wall and started trying to tug his tight jeans off over his boots.

"Strip means all the way."

"But..." he looked over at me and my expression told him I meant what I said. The floor was sticky and I had seen fairly fresh cum ... a lot of it ... down there when I came in. The boots came off, and his heavy socks were tucked neatly inside them. Then he peeled off his jeans, being careful not to drag them on the floor. He folded them and set them on top of the tee-shirt, and looked back at me.

He was standing with his back to the screen so he was outlined in the light, but my eyes had adjusted and I could see him. Hell, I didn't really need to see him when I knew him so well. He had a stocky build, with strong wide shoulders, large nipples with tits that I knew were hard, a stomach with rippling muscles, solid hard thighs and calves, and a good-sized cock hanging loose and half-hard over large balls. The expression that I couldn't see, but saw anyway, was tense and nervous.

I stood up straight and moved just enough to be so that the tip of my dick was almost touching him. With one hand I played lightly with his balls and then equally lightly stroked his cock into a full erection, while the other hand caressed his tits.

"Kiss me. But keep your hands at your sides and don't touch me otherwise."

He did what I told him. As his lips met mine, my right hand circled his ball sac just under his cock, and my left thumb and forefinger grasped his right tit. I squeezed both hands. Not hard enough to make the kid scream, but enough to make him wince. I sensed more than felt the most minute fraction of withdrawal of his lips, a near-instantaneous pulling away and reversal, as his mind caught up with his body and realized he wasn't damaged and that the sensations in his chest and balls were actually pleasurable.

Our only points of contact were lips and my hands. I let his balls go and slid my right hand up his body, the hard palm caressing and pressing until I reached his left tit. Both tits were hard as I roughly rubbed my thumbs over them, and then grabbed his pecs in my hands and twisted and squeezed them, too. He moaned and his hands moved forward towards my cock, but I clamped my hands down on his wrists ... tight ... until he whimpered. And still the kiss went on, while my hands roamed his body, kneading, stroking, caressing, shoulders, back, sides, armpits, arms, hands, fingers, neck, chest, stomach, cock, balls, crotch hair, ass cheeks, butt hole ... and the kiss went on. He was quivering and moaning through the kiss.

I stopped kissing him and pulled back so abruptly he almost fell on me. We were apart now, our cocks side by side hard and proud and thrusting toward the other's body, but not touching.

"On your knees, kid, and suck my dick again."

His breath was a hiss of inhaled air. And in the hiss I heard him say as clearly as if in words, "Bullshit! I'm not gonna get on my knees on that fucking filthy floor to suck cock. I'm outa here!"

But he didn't move except to slowly drop to his knees as I twisted both of his tits hard and used them as leverage to pull him downward to the floor.

He let me.

His DNA begged me to do it.

The soles of his feet were filthy, and now here he was, naked in a video booth, kneeling in cum and dirt and fresh precum, with a total stranger reaching out and holding his head tightly once again, and cramming his mouth down around a stud cock until he was inhaling the musky scent of my crotch. I held him there, letting him breathe deeply of that good man-scent, and then began a rough face fucking. Never so rough as to hurt, but hard enough that he knew he was being used for my pleasure.

I could feel his trembling eagerness to be able to touch me, anywhere, anywhere at all, just to have some contact other than through his eager mouth. I told him in a harsh whisper that he could play with my ass if he wanted to. He did! I let him continue face fucking himself, while I worked on his tits again, and he began feeling up my ass, and very, very hesitantly moving around to my asshole.

When I didn't stop him he got bolder, squeezing my butt cheeks, and then sliding the tip of one finger into my hole. I could feel his surprise at the ease with which it went in. I could feel his even greater surprise when he heard me moan just slightly.

He was quick to take "advantage" by starting to finger-fuck me with first one finger and then two and finally, boldest of all, with three ... all the while continuing his rapid blow job as his fingers jabbed across my prostate. His mouth smiled around my prick when he heard my moans get louder and I thrust my butt back to meet his finger-strokes. His precum-stained smile said, "Shit. All this stuff is crap. All this guy wants is to get fucked ... just a stupid goddamned butch act."

That was when I reached behind me and roughly stopped his finger-fucking, yanking his fingers out of my ass. I pulled my cock out of his mouth and still holding onto his right wrist with my left hand, got him to his feet.

"Your cock hard, kid?"

The smile was broader now, almost a smirk. "Yeah."

"Want to fuck?"

There was no almost about the smirk now. "Yeah."

"Good. So do I."

That's when I clamped the handcuff around his left wrist. He hadn't paid any attention to the fact that I was reaching in the pocket of my leather jacket ... or if he thought about it, he thought I was getting a condom or lube. The handcuff was so fucking unexpected that he froze ... which was all the time I needed to get his right wrist, and lock them tight.

He inhaled to start to say something, but suddenly found it was very difficult to speak when a large strong hand has been clamped down over your mouth. And it was a strong hand. Until that moment I don't think realized ... no, I know ... he hadn't realized quite how strong I actually was ... not in a fantasy sense, but in real life. He could barely breathe and for an instant there was a flare of panic in his eyes. I eased up a fraction.

My voice was still soft ... no one outside the booth could hear us ... but I could feel the vibrations of what I said melt into his skin, through every pore, and sink swiftly downward to be absorbed into the molecules of his being.

"When I let go, you're going to turn around and face the video screen. You are going to bend forward. You are going to brace yourself if you need to on the chair or the wall. From now on, you will do what I tell you to do ... and you will do everything I tell you to do, and only what I tell you to do. You are not to speak unless I give you permission, with one exception. You can ask for permission to speak, but otherwise you say nothing, you don't make a sound.

"There are four signals you will use. If you are unable to speak, you will grunt twice if something is wrong and you need for me to pause momentarily. You will grunt three times very quickly if you want everything stopped immediately. If you can speak, and you want a temporary stop, you can say, 'pause, please' at any time. If you want everything stopped, all you have to do is say, 'please stop.' The signals will be honored.

"Now, I'm going to take my hand off your mouth. After I do, if you've understood what I just said, nod your head once. If not, shake your head."

I let my hand drop, and began playing with the kid's cock, which had wilted from the shock of his being handcuffed, but which had risen to full staff before I even touched it. The kid's mind didn't know, but his body knew, as I knew. After a moment he nodded once.

He turned around and bent forward, bracing his handcuffed hands on the video screen wall.

"You have a choice, kid. Here and now. You can stop this. I don't want you to say anything yet, but in a couple of minutes I'm going to ask you what you want to do. If you say 'please stop, ' I will and I'll take the cuffs off and leave. If you say, 'don't stop, ' you've made your choice. Nod if you understand."

He nodded.

I reached around him to feed a couple more bills into the video, and then rolled a condom down the length of my dripping cock. I pulled some lube out of my jacket and greased up his hole, which opened eagerly to my fingers ... all the while his mind was screaming, "No! I don't get fucked! I don't!"

I pulled my tee shirt so it was up and over the back of my neck. I was basically naked from chest to knees. I bent my knees slightly and guided my cock head to his hole. With a hard shove, I punched through his tight assring until just the dickhead was inside. He gasped, but didn't say anything. I gave him a moment, but only a moment, to get used to having hot hard wide meat up his ass and then with a smooth steady stroke I slid my cock all the way up inside him. With my balls resting on his ass, I bent over so my hairy chest was touching his sweat-slick back. I reached around him and got hold of his tits with my hands, and began squeezing them with a steadily increasing pressure as I started a slow slide in and out of his hole.

When he was writhing and whimpering in almost perfect silence, I asked him what he wanted to do.

Once again, I knew. His mind was raging, "You bastard! You unfair, cocksucking, motherfucking, son of a bitch! It's not fair!" But I never promised him I'd ask the question fairly, just that the question would be asked. His tits were hard under my hands, and his body was shivering with lust as I worked his tits harder and harder and thrust my cock up his hole just a little faster while he thought and finally really and truly whimpered, "Don't stop."

As I worked my dick even faster, I asked, "What's my name?"

"How the fuck ... unnnh!"

The gasp was loud in the room, probably outside too. It should have been. I'd really hit hard on the tits. I didn't stop ramming up his hole, though, and he started tiny little thrusts backward.

"My name, kid."

His mind caught up with his DNA. "Sir."

My smile was broad in the dark above his back and I leaned down to tenderly kiss the back of his neck. "And you should have said..."

"Don't stop... sir."

As the word came out of his mouth, he submitted. Absolutely. Deeply. With every particle of his soul. Oh, there would be rebellions. Even the angels rebelled. Some of the rebellions would be in his mind. Some would be in his body. Some would be out loud. But in that moment, in that infinite instant he had become mine ... without realizing how much I had become his as well.

"I'm going to cum soon. I don't want you to cum. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered softly, reveling in the sounds.

Once again I increased the speed, pulling my cock out of his hot tight hole until only the tip was left in, just enough to keep that hole spread and ready, and then I'd ram it back in hard. The kid started whimpering again. I told him to tell me what he was feeling, what he wanted, that it was okay to talk. He started whispering back at me, but I stopped him and told him I wanted to hear him.

I could feel the blush over his entire body. There were other men cruising the arcade by now. We could sense someone in the next booth. If he spoke any louder he was going to be heard ... and that was fucking humiliating.


I stopped fucking him when the hesitation went on too long. Not long enough to be disobedience, but long enough not to reward him with a good fuck. He gave in.

Of course.

"Please, sir, don't stop fucking me. I ... I need you. I need your cock up my hole, oh god, fuck me, sir, please fuck me, fuck me hard."

I obliged him. I was shoving my hips against his ass so hard he had to really brace himself to prevent being shoved through the wall. But as I began plowing that hot tight butt harder and faster and deeper, so that he knew from the speed and the way my cock was expanding that I was getting close, he did what he knew I wanted ... he let loose and began moaning loudly and crying and whimpering and begging me to fuck him. When I made the final hard lunge up his hole that started a fountain of cum spewing out of my cock, I'm sure his "Oh, christ, yes, yes! Oh, god, fuuuuuuuuuuucccccccccckkkkkkkk meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" was heard if not 'round the world, then probably by every horny faggot in the store.

He was sagging, barely able to stand, panting heavily, his cock still achingly hard as I pulled out slowly and stripped off the rubber. I emptied it on his back, rubbing it into his skin like body lotion and he quivered at my touch.

"Get dressed."

While I pulled my tee-shirt down, and pulled up my jeans, but leaving my softening cock hanging out, he turned around and sort of collapsed into the chair. He looked at his cuffed wrists for a moment, and then awkwardly reached down to grab his boots. He pulled one sock on and then holding his foot in the air, he pulled the jeans out from under him and got one leg partially on, with the other bunched up so it didn't touch the floor. He repeated the process until both legs were stuck out in front of him, up in the air, and then he tackled his boots. Once they were on, he stood up, pulled up his jeans, and managed to get his almost completely hard dick back inside. He mutely held out his hands, asking me to take the cuffs off so he could put on his tee-shirt.

My grin must have been less than reassuring when I shook my head no. Even in the dimness I could tell he'd gotten kind of pale. But he finished zipping up his jeans and buckling his belt. He just stood there. A handsome, six-three, six-four young stud, naked to the waist, a nearly hard dick outlined under tight jeans.

"You're mine, aren't you, kid?"

"Yes, sir," his voice said. His body sang, "YES, SIR!"

"To use any way I want until I decide to stop, or you signal?"

"Yes, sir," his voice said. His body yelled joyfully, "Oh, God, yes!"

"On your knees. Sit back on your haunches. Hold your arms up and out of the way."

He dropped instantly to his knees, although his face said, "Out of the way of what?" And then as he saw me take hold of my cock with my thumb on top and two fingers beneath, he knew. A look of dismay passed across his face.

At first just slightly, and then with full force, I got rid of all the beer piss I'd been holding in, soaking his crotch and thighs, raining down on his bare chest. I finished pissing on him, stuffed my cock inside my jeans and buttoned them up, told him to stay where he was, and walked out the door, shutting it behind me ... all before he quite knew what was going on.

I stood motionless outside the closed door. I knew this man. It wasn't telepathy, but I could feel his rising panic, his fear that he'd been abandoned, his humiliation at how he'd allowed himself... allowed himself when he could have said no ... to be used for another man's pleasure. And still he stayed on the floor, because I had told him to.

I waited longer ... and longer still. While his panic rose. Half-naked in a video arcade booth, kneeling in piss and dirt and cum, jeans wet like he'd pissed on himself, handcuffed, trembling, afraid to move because he'd been told not to, afraid not to move because someone might walk in on him at any second. He had to move, to get up, to get the fuck out of there. The crazy old bastard who'd fucked with his mind and fucked his ass had just abandoned him, walked away, was probably laughing his ass of about the stupid faggot he'd left behind.

He had to move.

He couldn't move.

Because this was a test. That's what it was. A test, to see if he would obey, if he could obey. He had never had to obey anyone since he left home ten years ago, and he certainly didn't have to now. Yeah, no one was holding him here. All he had to do was get up, and walk out ... and die of embarrassment.

The conflict was starting to tear him apart. The tiny sniff that accompanied the first tear that ran down his cheek could not possibly have been heard by anyone. But I heard it, because I knew this man. And then he was crying ... but silently. His chest was heaving, it had to be heaving as he gulped for air and shivered and cried but the tears were noiseless. Because I had told him he could not say anything at all, not a sound.

The tears and his agony wrenched at my gut, but I had to do it. I knew. I had known from the moment I kissed him. But he had to know as well. He did ... though he was still hiding it from himself. All he had to do to be free was to speak two words, "please stop." Just two words and he was free. Even if I was not there to come in and take the handcuffs off ... if I had in fact betrayed him and left him there ... alone and helpless ... two words would have set him free of me, free to free himself.

But he didn't say them.

I opened the door and quickly stepped inside. His gasp was loud as he thought a stranger ... some other stranger ... had come into the booth, and then he recognized me. Still crying with a depth and passion I had only hoped he was capable of beneath that fuck-you stud exterior, he stammered, "Muh ... muh ... muh-may I speak?"

He paused only a fragment of a second before adding an only slightly-stammered "sir."

I told him he could as I reached for his hands and gently pulled him to his feet. But before he could actually say anything I silenced him with one finger on his lips. "You're out of status now. And you have one more chance. After that, no more options." I took my finger away from his mouth.

"You came back," he whispered, as if he hadn't heard what I had just said. "I ... I thought you'd left me."

I picked up his tee shirt and began gently wiping his chest, drying him. His smile grew broader as my hands began caressing him once again. I dropped the shirt on the floor and stood on it. I pulled his face down to mine once again and kissed him deeply, all the while working on his tits, beginning to twist them harder until sharp pricks of pain began shooting through his chest, causing his body to tingle. I could feel the heat of his growing erection in the wet jeans. I stopped kissing him, leaving him gasping.

He reached up with his hands to hold my right hand down on his tit, silently urging me to increase the pressure until he inhaled sharply and moaned. And then he ... grinned. A wide, joyful, shout! of a grin. "Am I still out of status?"

I nodded.

This time it was he who cupped my chin with his cuffed hands, and bent his head to kiss me. It was soft, and lingering, totally at odds with the whimpers at the back of his throat as I continued to work roughly on his tits. This time he was the one to break the kiss, and smile down at me. "I think I'm going to like being in control," he whispered. "Sir."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes, sir. I do, sir."

I told him to hold out his hands, and then uncuffed one wrist. He looked at me strangely, but quickly understood when I told him to pick up his tee shirt and put it on. Oh, yes, he was willing to obey ... so he said with his head ... but I knew him ... and could feel the carefully hidden shiver of dismay, anger, disgust, at having to pull on a tee-shirt with ground-in dirt and piss-stains and cum. He casually put out the uncuffed wrist, because he was by god gonna show me ... and I handcuffed him once more. I stepped back against the door, and looked at my handiwork in the dim light: a filthy tee-shirt, jeans that had clearly been pissed in and were wet down to his knees, and knees that showed unmistakably that he'd been kneeling on the floor of one of the booths.

As he felt my eyes sweeping him it suddenly dawned on him where he was ... and the fact that the video store outside the arcade was brightly lit and very, very big, so that it was a long walk to the front door. And unlike a lot of areas where adult bookstores were dimly lit outside, the entrance to this one was under an extremely bright street light. He was going to have to walk through all that, looking like he did. He was going to have to walk past friends, and men he'd fucked, and men who'd been grateful because he let them suck his cock, and strangers, and store clerks, and passers-by, and people driving by.

Shit. He might as well have a huge neon sign over his head shouting "whore!"

I reached behind me to open the door of the booth, stepped back, and held it wide. He just stood there in the deeper darkness of the booth. "Please, oh god, please don't do this to me," his mind whispered to me.

I released the door so that it stood open, and said in a loud voice, "Well, are you coming with me or not?"

That shot hit him and hit him hard as I turned and began to walk away. The chain that linked our souls stretched out and out with every step I took. I was cold and arrogant ... and very afraid that the chain would break at any moment, but I kept walking. If he knew as I knew, he would follow. If not ... I planned on getting very, very, very drunk. And suddenly there was a slight tug on it, and the tension on the chain eased.

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