Trent has his fun!

The scene at the bar was a vortex, pulling your attention away from the conversation beside you. Sarah’s head was thrown back, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as Trent’s fingers continously worked inside her bikini bottoms. Her own hand was frantically rubbing the thick, formidable ridge of his cock through his swim trunks, a ****, pleading motion. And then, Trent’s eyes, dark and predatory, slid over and locked onto Justin.

A slow, cruel smile spread across Trent’s face. He leaned down, his lips brushing Sarah’s ear, but his eyes never left Justin’s. He said something to her that made her whimper, then he raised his voice, just enough to carry over the music. “Justin. Come here.”

Justin flinched but didn’t hesitate. He set his drink down and walked toward them, his movements stiff.

“Not like that,” Trent commanded, his voice sharp. “On your knees. Crawl to me.”

A hush seemed to fall over the immediate vicinity. Justin’s face burned a deep, humiliating crimson, but he quickly dropped to his knees on the cool stone patio and crawled the few feet to the bar. He stopped infront of them, his head bowed, waiting.

“Good boy,” Trent purred, his hand never stopping its slow, torturous rhythm on Sarah. “Now look at me.” Justin looked up. “You see your girlfriend? You see how good I’m making her feel? This is what a real man does.” Sarah moaned in agreement, her hand still stroking Trent’s length. “Since you’re useless at it, the least you can do is show your appreciation. Kiss my cock. Kiss it through my trunks. Thank it for giving your girlfriend the pleasure she deserves and that you could never give her.”

Your own breath hitched. This was too much. It was degrading, public, and for some reason utterly hypnotic. Justin leaned forward, his face a mask of shame and **** desire, and pressed his lips against the already wet fabric of Trent’s trunks, it looked like he kissed right over the bulging head of his cock. He held the kiss for a long moment.

“Such a good boy today,” Sarah cooed, her voice breathy and high. “You’re learning your place so well, baby. It makes me so proud and wet, to see you worship the man who’s pleasuring me.”

Trent chuckled, a deep, arrogant sound. “He is, isn’t he? See, Justin? This is your purpose. This is how you can be useful. Keep kissing it. Show me how much you love watching me take what’s yours.”

You tore your eyes away, your heart hammering against your ribs. You turned to Jamal, your mouth dry. “Jamal... he... he just made him... what is happening?”

Jamal just watched, a calm, almost bored expression on his face. He took a sip of his beer. “Relax, Emile. It’s just Trent being Trent. It’s kind of normal, for guys like him and girls like her.” He glanced at you, his dark eyes unreadable. “Justin knows the deal. He gets to keep his hot girlfriend, he gets to be part of our world. In exchange, he knows his role. It’s not a bad trade, is it? Everyone gets what they want. Justin gets to watch his girl get the fucking of her life, and Trent gets to have his fun. Don’t worry about it.”

But you couldn’t not worry. You looked back, unable to stop yourself. Trent’s eyes were scanning the patio now, and he’d spotted the audience. A few of his BSA friends were standing nearby, watching with smirks and appreciative nods. The show was for them, too.

“Alright, stand up, boy,” Trent ordered, pulling his hand away from Sarah to give Justin his full attention. Justin rose shakily to his feet. “My boys are watching. Let’s give them a proper show. Take off those trunks. Let them see what you’re working with.”

With trembling hands, Justin hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his small, tight swim trunks and pulled them down. His small, pale cock was revealed, encased in a clear plastic cage. A tiny padlock held it shut. A few of the guys watching laughed.

“Damn, Trent,” one of them called out. “You weren’t kidding. That thing is pathetically small!”

Trent laughed, the sound booming across the patio. He reached out to the small silver key, that dangled from a simple chain around his neck. He held it up, letting it glint in the light. “Oh, I got the key right here. And if this little bitch doesn’t start being more entertaining, I might just have to ‘accidentally’ drop it in the pool.” He looked down at Justin, who was visibly trembling. “Or better yet, why don’t you go be useful? See my boy Marcus over there? He looks like he could use a hand. Or a mouth if we're already at it. Go service him. And do it now. Or I’ll crush this key with my bare hand and you’ll be locked up for good.”

The threat was real, and it hung in the air. Justin’s eyes darted to Marcus, a tall, muscular Black man who was already leaning against a nearby table, casually massaging a growing, thick bulge in his own trunks and grinning. Fear won out over whatever shred of dignity Justin had left. He dropped back to his hands and knees and began to crawl toward the other man.

It was too much. The public humiliation, the casual cruelty, the sight of Justin crawling like an animal to service another man while his girlfriend was being pleasured at the bar. The **** churned in your stomach, no longer pleasant but sickening. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis.

You turned to Jamal, your voice shaking. “I... I can’t. I can’t watch this. It’s too much.”

Jamal’s arm was still around you, and he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, it’s alright. No one’s forcing you to watch. If you need a break, take one.”

“I’m... I’m going to go inside for a bit,” you mumbled, pulling away from him. “I just need... some quiet.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked quickly toward the glass doors of the mansion, leaving the sounds of laughter, music, and quiet, **** crawling behind you.