They were prudently respectful. Even the new ones. Jason could see the discreet pointing as old hands filled in fresh meat on which tops to approach only with extreme caution and signed waivers.

  It slowly dawned on Jason that he wasn’t walking anymore. He’d ambled to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, city foot traffic diverting itself around him. Perhaps he wasn’t in the mood?

  He told himself he’d get in the mood. Sure, all he had to do was go there, and one or several eager bottoms would approach, and he’d beat the crap out of them until they begged to suck his cock. Or they’d suck his cock until they begged him to beat the crap out of them.

  Sigh.

  Not quite sure where he was going, Jason took a right instead of a left at the next corner. Then he wandered for a while, waiting for inspiration to strike. Soon enough, it did, in the form of a lean, young, extremely pretty boy lounging outside a bar. The sign read Sugar’s, and if this sweet thing was advertising, he was doing a fine job. Jason pictured him on his knees, naked, tear tracks on his cheeks, and suddenly found his interest in his sexual life returning.

  He entered the bar through, of all things, red velvet curtains. Inside he found a dim, smoky place. It was decorated in Early Drag Queen, with chaise lounges, zebra-print pillows, heavy crystal ashtrays, and—to complete the décor— numerous drag queens.

  Oh shit, he’d found their secret lair.

  Now, it wasn’t that Jason had anything against gay men dressed up as women—to the contrary, he thought they gave the Pride Parade that special something it would otherwise lack. The particular blend of high camp and cattiness never seemed to get stale. And the lengths they went to in putting themselves together—it was impressive, even to a man who had leather tailor-made for his body. But he didn’t sleep with them, and despite his air of ennui, he was looking to get laid tonight.

  Turning around, Jason was halfway back to the curtains when a tall brunette slid in front of him. Glancing down, Jason saw that she was tall due to six-inch platforms—probably a little on the small side without. Pretty, pretty girl, too. Must be a gorgeous boy. Oh well, back to the bar.

  Only she put out a hand, pressing her red talons against his leather vest.

  “Where you goin’ in such a hurry, Daddy? I think you out of your juris-dick-shun.” The Puerto Rican lilt of her speech softened her words, and it took him a moment to process that she’d stopped him to make fun of him. For cowardice, no less. Interesting.

  “Yes, well, I figured that out myself, actually. I’ll just be leaving you ladies to enjoy your evening.”

  She pouted, pushing out a full lower lip, shining with lacquer. “Oh, no, Daddy, surely you don’t mean to leave us girls here alone, do you? Is been so long since we had any entertainment .” She was pitching her words to carry, and laughter echoed from the nearest tables.

  Jason sensed someone behind him, too close, and jumped like a bullwhip had cracked in Macy’s. More laughter. He tried to see who it was, but found that the Puerto Rican queen in front of him had grabbed his face with her claws. “No, look at me, Daddy. Don’t you worry about her. She’s none of your business now.”

  Jason was pretty sure she was his business, whoever it was. She was right up behind him, pressing herself against his back. Long hair was brushing the skin above his vest. He could feel her hot breath on the side of his neck, and then she planted a feather-soft kiss in that perfect sweet spot.

  He couldn’t help it. He melted, just a little. His body shifted, his ass tilting up. When it did, he found it connecting with something he was familiar with—a nice hard cock, wrapped tight in fabric, pressing itself against him and straining to get free of its bonds.

  He thought they packed their candy away, like back between their thighs. Was this the boy, then? No, he’d had short hair. Someone he hadn’t seen in the back of the bar? Perhaps, but as he slid his hands back to gather information, he found a skirt, not pants.

  Then his hand was slapped, and he pulled it back. A mocking voice from behind said, “Getting fresh already, are you? Who said you could touch Jezebel?”

  Jason said, “Who said you could touch me?” That was better. It was time to regain control, and get the hell out of here before this turned into Hotel California.

  He was looking into mock mournful eyes, as she shook her head in front of him. “Oh, no, Daddy, you come into our place. We know better than to walk into your place. You think because you wear all that nasty cow and make other men cry that makes you tough? You think because you look like Biker- Gets-a-Makeover that we all goin’ to cringe and bow? Think again, papi.”

  Behind him, Jezebel’s hands were busy. They were running up his thighs, squeezing his biceps. Pressed up against him, she started working her thigh between his chap-clad legs. Then her hand snaked around to the front, grabbing his package with the familiarity of an old lover.

  “Maria, this Daddy’s hard. Feel this shit!”

  Oh, crap. He was, too. What did that mean? He was secretly yearning to be talked back to by mouthy drag queens? Or was he hoping to get some from these ladies in their clouds of perfume, their big hair and long nails? He was going to need therapy, definitely.

  Maria took the invitation, and Jason looked down to see ten long, graceful arches of shining red stroking the front of his jeans.

  He wasn’t into men who look like women. So why did his dick just jump?

  Jezebel left off fondling his cock and ran her hands down his arms. She gently wrapped her hands around his wrists, and pulled them back behind him. For some reason, it didn’t occur to him to resist. When she wrapped a length of cloth—a scarf?—around them, again he didn’t resist. When she pulled a knot tight, it occurred to him that perhaps he was being incredibly stupid.

  “Okay, ladies, you’ve had your fun. I’ll just be going back to my world now.” He pulled to free his hands, and found that the knots didn’t give. He pulled harder. No luck. Jason heard a distinctly nervous laugh come out of his throat. “Um, yeah, okay, could you untie me, please? I really do want to go.” Well, he could always just make a break for it, and get untied by a passerby on the street.

  Only they had company. Looking around, Jason saw that where there had been just two girls, now there were five or six. He was actually surrounded. Scanning their faces, he wondered how he’d ever dismissed drag queens as frivolous creatures before. They looked like a wolf pack. They glittered, but then, so do fangs. And knives.

  “Honey, you’re not going anywhere. We’re tired of giving each other hand jobs in the bathroom between bumps.”

  “Way too much of Mama’s home cooking. Time for a little spicy takeout.”

  They were moving in closer, all of them near enough to bite. If he was feeling like having his eyes scratched out and his teeth removed with eyelash curlers, that is. Hands were all over him. Was he really pushing his hips forward, trying to get a little firmer pressure from the delicate touches on his cock?

  “What do you think of this ass, girls?”

  More hands. Some of them got more invasive, pushing his asscheeks apart and running along the seam. “I think it’s good. Good enough, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but chaps can be deceptive. If they’re well made, they can work like a push-up bra, showing off a bit more than you got.”

  “Sing it sister!”

  “Let’s find out what he’s made of!”

  One pair of hands held on to his wrists behind, hiking them up enough to make him groan. Another pair, Maria’s soft hands, wrapped around his throat, tight enough to restrict his air. “Don’t move, papi. We want to see your meat, and you gonna give it to us, right?”

  Three or so pairs of hands stripped off his chaps and yanked down his jeans, in about five seconds. Jason realized he was standing in the middle of a bar with his pants down around his boots. His dick was waving in the breeze, betraying him to these harpies.

  “Whatchoo think, ladies? I can’t see from here!”

  “Oh, Maria, it is a good ass. Now you tell me, what’s the meat report?”

  “Grade-A U.S. Choice Prime USDA someshit like that.” They giggled. “Curve to the left, nice ridge, fat head. A tonsil-tickler, if you were one of his little slave boys and had to suck on that thing.”

  Jason felt he ought to say something. “You don’t have to be my slave boy to suck me. I’d let you, for example.”

  “Ha! Oh, you’re a funny Daddy. Are we going to suck his cock, girls?”

  “No!”

  “Hell no!”

  “What are we going to do with his cock?”

  “We’re going to decorate it!”

  From nowhere, they produced accessories. In moments, he had a stack of bracelets on his dick, jangling as he breathed. “Don’t let them fall off, Daddy. We’ll be very upset if you don’t properly appreciate our gifts.” Someone worked a large hoop earring around the head of his cock. It fit snugly, making him aware of the blood in his dick with each beat of his heart. He looked on in disbelief as someone drew a little smiley face in red lipstick.

  Finally, they produced yet another earring, this one with a long fall of gold chain, or beads, or both. His vision was blurring a little, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Maria, I think you need to ease up a little.”

  “Oh! Yeah, I forgot. I like hanging on to them by their throats.”

  “Yes, we know, dear. All part of why you need to get them to adjust your meds.”

  “Claro que si, but not tonight!”

  The earring had a long arch of wire that held it in the ear. A platinum blonde was crouched down in front of him, methodically opening up the wire to a wider angle. She repeated the procedure with its mate. Then, she squeezed the top of his cock to open up his piss slit. She slid the wires in him, one after the other. The earrings dangled, light as air and yet so very there. He was still hard. Fuck.

  “Dance for us, papi. Shimmy and shake.”

  “Okay, look, you’ve had your little kidnapping and humiliation scene, here. Now, you know I’m not going to dance for you.”

  “We do?”

  “Oh, really?”

  The one who had been identified as Jezebel leaned around so he could see her face. She maintained her pressure on his hands, though. Bitch. Sexy, too. Pale skin, straight dark hair. Slightly narrow eyes outlined in garish shadow.

  Shifting her grip to free up a hand, she produced a lipstick in his line of sight. “See this, Daddy? I’m now going to cram this up your ass.”

  With that, the struggle began. Jezebel held his hands up at a painful angle with one hand. Other girls held on to his arms, keeping him from moving far. Hands were trying to grab his asscheeks, to open him up for the lipstick’s invasion.

  Jason started trying to dodge the lipstick coming at him from behind. He felt the creamy stick slide across his ass, and he’d jump.

  This went on for a while. Slowly, he realized there were a few girls in front of him, just watching and clapping. Then he realized he’d been dancing for them, making the jangling things shake for their amusement. He’d been well and truly trapped—he could make an open mockery of himself by performing, or he could make an open mockery of himself by being sodomized by that little tube of paint.

  For a dizzy moment, he realized he was outclassed. These girls could teach him a thing or two about sadism.

  He must have stilled with his epiphany, because he felt the cool pressure of the lipstick finding the hole it sought. He jumped, trying to get away, but Jezebel had found her mark and went with him. She pushed, and it went in. Despite all the messages screaming in his brain, something in Jason reacted the way it always did to an anal invasion.

  He opened up, and his dick sprang higher, arching toward his belly.

  “That’s it, Daddy. You give that ass to me, darling. I’ll make good use of it, I promise.” The cool metal of the tube was gone, and instead, a gloved finger was entering him. Jason kept waiting for a sharp edge, but he didn’t feel any. How was that possible? They all had fingernails like creatures man tries to render extinct.

  Well, however she did it, oh, it was a nice finger. He could feel it pressing itself around all sides of his asshole, just inside. There was a heavy feeling, something thicker than lube. Was there lipstick up inside him? What was she doing?

  He didn’t follow the quick conversation happening behind him, and then a cell phone was held out in front of him. “Look! It’s your asshole, all covered with lipstick. Now, with a sweet little bull’s-eye pucker like that, how can we resist your invitation?”

  Jason moaned and closed his eyes. It might take him years to get that image out of his mind. And they were going to have it forever, sending it to each other, pulling it out on party nights as proof of what they did to the leather Daddy who wandered onto their turf alone. Just don’t tell them your name, he thought.

  “I want to send that to Candy—she’s got to get down here!”

  “Let’s tell her who it is, too. Her roommate goes to that leather bar sometimes, he might know this guy.”

  Jason thought he’d cry as they rummaged through his pants, finding his wallet, and then learning his name. “Tell her it’s Jason Stockton. See if her roommate knows him.”

  Jason found himself begging. “Please, please, don’t do that. That’s my world, my life. Yes, he’ll know me, everyone knows me there. Please, it’s a small community—people would know no matter where I went. Oh, please, I’m not done being a topman.” Laughter. “You don’t look like much of a topman right now, do you, Daddy?”

  “No, ladies, I don’t. Please, I’ll do whatever you want. I’m begging you.”

  Maria giggled. “Papi, you’re going to do whatever we want anyway! We already got you to dance your little pee-pee for us, and we fucked you with a tube of pretty paint, and we have photographic evidence. You think we’re not going to fuck you, too?”

  Jason hung his head. He felt a tear slowly make its way down his cheek. Was this how his bottoms felt when he gave them impossible problems to solve and then mocked their inability to think clearly?

  Then inspiration came to him. Really fucked-up inspiration.

  Oh, wow. And he was really going to say it, wasn’t he?

  Yes. He was. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want again. I’ll come back next month.”

  He could feel the delight, as if they’d sheathed their claws for a second and started purring. “Yes, that’s a nice idea. Only you come back every month. Forever.”

  “And as soon as you miss one, we send out the picture.”

  “Well, yeah, along with the other picture.”

  “What other picture?”

  “The one we’re about to take, of him bent over a table with Jezebel’s candy up his ass!”

  Jason felt a second tear trail down his face. His dick was still hard.

  Laughing, the girls dragged him over to the nearest rickety bar table. They pushed him over it, having to pull his dick away from his body to stick it under the table. “So you don’t scuff my pretty earrings, darling.” The bracelets fell to the floor with a tinkling clatter. His head hung over the far side, which was just as well. He didn’t want to see anything or anyone, ever again.

  Jezebel walked around in front of him and slapped his face. “Lift up your head, Daddy. I want you to see what you’re getting into.”

  She hiked up a short red skirt, showing stocking tops, garters, and black lacy panties. Her cock wasn’t terribly long, but it was nice and thick. He could see its outline clearly through the shiny fabric, and his mouth watered.

  Stroking it a couple of times, Jezebel grinned at him. “You’re still having a good time, aren’t you? Sick fucking bastard.” Then she pulled it out. “Here, get it good and wet. It’s for your own good.”

  “Such a cliché, but still so true.”

  As she stepped up to his face, Jason couldn’t believe the smell of it. It was soft and girlish, a sweet powdery smell. And then there was the ripe musk of a man, the heady scent coming off her balls, the glistening drop of pre-come oozing from the slit. His head had no idea to do with this contradictory input.

  His mouth did. It opened wide, his tongue reaching to wrap around the head and stroke it. He slurped it in, pulling with his lips to try to get it further into his mouth. Jezebel obliged, moving closer to him. He was fully plugged, balls up against his chin, sucking and licking the thing like it was his only salvation. Finally, something he could hang on to. He knew dick. Definitely.

  All too soon, she pulled out, his spit trailing after her, connecting her dick to his mouth. After she’d walked out of his line of sight, it was only seconds before he felt hands on his asscheeks, opening him wide. The feeling of cool wetness from his spit was quickly superseded by the hot flesh that followed. Jason felt a wave of hot shame, remembering the bull’s-eye she was hitting.

  Not that it mattered as she sank inside her target. Jason arched his back, wanting to fight against the startling girth entering him, and at the same time trying to relax. He wasn’t fucked often enough for it to be easy.

  Bless her wicked heart, once Jezebel was all the way in, she stopped. She stayed there, breathing with him, allowing him to catch up to the size of her. His must not be the first tight ass she’d fucked.

  Before he was quite ready, she started moving again. Stroking in and out, she started talking to him. “That’s right, Daddy, you like it like this, don’t you? Your ass is ours, now, forever. We’re gonna do you like this, one after another, every single fucking month until you get too dried up for us to want to touch. And then we’ll bend you over our walkers and fuck you with our canes, because we’re that kind of vindictive bitches and we own you. Yeah, we own this tight ass, and that willing mouth, and your fucking leather pride, and all the rest of your safe little world.”

  “Speaking of mouth, I want me some-a that.”

  Glittery high-heeled platform boots appeared in Jason’s view. Yeah, she probably did. He was spared the effort of lifting his head when she just yanked him up by the back of his vest. Before he could even find out what color her panties were, she had speared his mouth with an impressively long, uncut cock.

 

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