Chapter Six

(Thank you to everyone who's been reading so far! I would appreciate it if any of you would send me a message with any feedback or with specific things you would like to see in the future of this story. Thank you for your horny time!)

No way this is real, Charlie thought after he woke in the impossibly comfortable bed. He looked over and noticed that he was alone, so he went in search of his friend.

Sam was sitting on the couch, collarless, but, Charlie noted, was still streaked with dried cum. He was busy playing a game.

"What's up, man!" Sam said cheerily when Charlie took a seat beside him.

Charlie noticed for the first time the welts across Sam's cock and pubic area. Fuck. "Shit, man, I'm sorry."

Sam cut him of with a wave. "No 'sorry,' remember? I deserved whatever happened." He winked, and Charlie relaxed. "Besides, it's far from over." Charlie could not help but to shudder visibly. He had spent a whole day being really mean to a guy who could definitely overpower him in the right situation. Sam laughed and tussled Charlie's hair. "Relax, man. I'm not going after you yet."

Charlie took a deep breath. They chilled on the couch for a while. At one point, Charlie stood to get a drink from the kitchen, and yelped from a little smack that Sam delivered to his butt with a grin. Cocky asshole.

It was nearly lunch, and Charlie was about as relaxed as he would be at a spa. His eyes were closed, and he had just drifted into a nap when he was pulled hard by his hair into Sam's crotch. That giant dick was smashed against his face while Sam viciously smacked Charlie's bruised ass.

"What the--"

Sam growled into his ear, interrupting. "My fucking turn." He beat Charlie's ass hard, and just as Charlie opened his mouth to shout, Sam shoved his dick inside. Charlie had never had a cock in his mouth before, and the reality of it was amazing to experience. He choked and spluttered on it as Sam continued his ****.

Then suddenly, Sam **** Charlie to his feet. He was acting much more roughly this time, clearly hoping to compensate for yesterday. Charlie was secretly thrilled. Sam, sitting calmly, inspected Charlie's sweaty body as if they were at an auction. He lifted Charlie's balls, spun him around and spread his ass apart. Charlie burned with humiliation, nowhere to hide from any insecurity.

Sam kept this up for far too long, inspecting every little inch of his prey in great detail. Finally, mercifully, he muttered, "It'll work, i guess." The fuck does that mean?! Sam stood and slapped his ass once. "Stay, eyes closed."

Charlie shook violently, eyes squeezed shut. A few moments later, Sam returned, and Charlie felt something on his feet. Sam gave directions and Charlie complied, and was at last permitted to open his eyes again. He looked down . . . and saw that Sam had pulled a frilly pink tutu up around his waist! "Come on, no!" That outburst earned several smacks to his cock that was stuck out straight from his hips, poking out from the skirt obscenely.

"Shut your fucking mouth. Clean my house." Sam sat back, eyes glinting maniacally. Fuck. Wanting to avoid more pain, Charlie set about picking up clothes, taking dishes to the kitchen, cleaning the patio door glass. He knew better than to finish his job quickly, and milked it for as long as he could without doing it all over again, like a good maid.

Suddenly, Sam was behind him, his cock pressed tight against his butt. Charlie shuddered, and jumped when a strong hand grabbed his softened dick. Sam jerked it hard, and Charlie found himself grinding his ass against Sam like a needy bitch. His frilly, stupid skirt shuffled loudly.

Sam grabbed Charlie's throat and squeezed. Charlie came almost instantly, shooting thick ropes of cum all over the floor and couch. His body convulsed, and Sam, not giving him a moment's rest, growled, "You missed a spot." He shoved Charlie to the floor, his hand firmly gripping the back of Charlie's neck. He smeared Charlie's face in the mess, who whined and cried out uselessly. "Shut the fuck up."

Sam stood behind Charlie's bent form, and jerked his own cock. Charlie kept his face in his hot mess, unaware of what was happening until he felt hot streams of liquid hit his ass. He gasped, and Sam rubbed the cum into Charlie's skin--all over his cheeks, asshole, balls, and painfully sensitive dick. "Now you're really fucking mine," Sam grunted, out of breath.

Charlie sat there, his face pressed into the floor in his own cum, and Sam's load all over his most private parts. Sam got close to Charlie, and wiped his cummy hand in Charlie's hair. "You stay there for a while."

He only stood when Sam ordered it. He went about cleaning the floor, and then the rest of the house. When he was cleaning the front windows, doing his best to hide from any eyes outside, Sam appeared behind him again. Charlie was **** to cum on the floor and the wall, and was then **** to clean it immediately.

By the fifth orgasm, Charlie was openly crying and begging for mercy, which Sam seemed to not hear. If Charlie did not cum quickly enough, he was spanked harshly, only to be masturbated again. This continued until his legs failed him. He lay on the floor, a shuddering, tearful mess.

Sam was relentless. He pushed Charlie to his back, and pulled on Charlie's exhausted, sore dick roughly. "No more!" Charlie cried out. Sam growled. He spun, and mashed his balls against Charlie's face, never letting up on Charlie's poor dick. Charlie struggled to breathe, and any breaths he did get smelled of dominance.

He continued to cry, his nerves overloaded. He was almost entirely soft now, and Sam smacked his cock to attention. Without a word, Sam kept on going until Charlie at last **** out a weak, embarrassing orgasm that consisted of lazy globs of cum oozing out from his soft cock.

Sam stood over the quivering mess of a man, a foot by each shoulder. Over the day, Charlie had covered the tutu, his own torso, legs, and the floor in cum. Sam grinned. He let Charlie lay there pathetically for some time, until he felt like cumming again. He walked up to Charlie, and shot a heavy load on the man's tear-streaked face. "You make a better cumrag than you do a real man," he whispered. Charlie groaned. He had never felt so utterly spent, so horribly tired.

He nearly fell asleep right there, but jumped awake to a very unfamiliar feeling. A finger was just barely teasing his asshole! His reaction made Sam laugh. "Wakey, wakey. Make me food, cumrag." A slap to his dick got him moving.

The rest of the night went smoothly. Both men were at the point of exhaustion. As it grew later, Sam became less "alpha-y". He said, "Fuck, we have work tomorrow." Charlie did not want to think about that, and whimpered weakly. Sam patted his shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "This is just the start for us, my friend."

He offered to take Charlie home, but Charlie felt awake enough to drive home at least. He went to clean up, but Sam stopped him. "Oh no, not til tomorrow, little boy."

"Can . . . can i just stay here tonight?" Charlie's tear-and-cum stained face was cute.

Sam smiled. "Of course." He led Charlie, who was walking like a baby deer, to the bed. Charlie collapsed onto it, tutu sticking up off his ass comically. He felt a blanket cover him, and when the light was turned out, he was out with it.