Bite of the Belt
Another lil fetish story! It's a little experimental for me, I suppose. Hope you enjoy!
It was easy to spot an idiot in Martin's line of work; they came in all sorts and types, enough to categorize them. The idiot with the money was one. They were the loudest. Louder, somehow, then the idiot without any. There were more than that, subcategories, but that wasn't as important. Besides, there was only one type he got to smack around. The other he didn't have to talk to often.
Martin walked down a dimly lit hallway, enjoying the sound of his shoes clicking against concrete. It felt like a drum roll—a buildup. At the end of his walk, he'd see the kind of sight most had to pay for, yet he was getting paid for it.
The world was a dim room. Nothing to see but brick and nothing to hear but his own thoughts. What terrible things they were, oscillating between fear and anger fast enough to leave Corran exhausted. Focusing on them was all he could do, though. No windows displayed the world outside. The only light was a dim fluorescent that occasionally flickered, threatening to give the deer a headache.
This wasn't fair—none of it was. He wanted to scream, to cry, to break his restraints and b-line for the bastards that put him here. He didn't deserve this! He was a—
"Slave!"
The door opened with a screech. Metal against bare concrete. Corran's large ears flicked toward the noise. Heavy boots clicked against the floor while the door slammed shut. The deer strained to look at the bastard. Piss and vinegar bubbled hot in his chest alongside fear. Oil and water they were not.
The bastard was a bull—a big one. He was tall and wrapped in enough leather to make Corran wonder where his band was. Jacket, boots, gloves, the only thing missing was pants, which were just khakis, but black all the same.
"Boys bagged a nice one," he approached the deer with a grin too big for his face. Corran thrashed in his bonds, a bevy of insults muffled under a muzzle. The bull bastard seemed charmed by this, letting out a wistful chuckle.
"Some fight in ya too? Oh, that's just adorable!"
The bull stepped forward. Corran struggled. The sawhorse he was strapped over groaned and wobbled in response but wouldn't break. The bull paused a moment, eyes examining his latest victim. He mostly stared at the deer's ass, though. Given his profession, the bull considered Red to be a pretty nice color for an ass already. Well, the deer's fur was maroon, but no buyer would care about the difference.
"Feisty lil guy, huh? We gotta fix that. You act like this around a master and they'd snip those pretty antlers off of you to make you placid!"
Martin was pretty sure that's how that worked.
Master!?
"No wonder they sent you to me! Clear you need to learn some discipline before they put you out to market."
Market!?
Corran demanded what the hell the man was talking about through his muzzle, but all he managed was a few more huffs and a squeak. The bull laughed.
"Let's see here…"
Martin sighed, bypassing his victim to reach the wall in front of him. The wall Corran chose not to see as anything more than brick. Dozens of items hung on hooks, some metal built into the wall, others plastic attached with adhesive. Martin fingered a few of them, hand drifting between implements like he was picking screws at a hardware store.
"Can't use just anything, bud. Gotta find what really speaks to your ass!" The bull pulled a few belts off of the wall, compared them briefly, and then decided on thick black leather.
Of course, he chose the fucking leather.
"Larger surface area, more thud, but you'll still get a decent sting out of this boy."
He walked over to Corran and crouched to meet him near eye level.
"You know what this is?" The bull held the belt up to the deer's face.
"Your textbook."
Corran growled again, but his anger waned as anxiety grew. The bull doubled over the belt, then snapped the large leather strips together. The deer whined.
"I knew you were a belt guy!"
He walked back around to Corran's rear again. The deer tensed his bottom, desperate to prepare for that first awful smack.
The bull's hand came instead. Not a strike, but a grope.
"Whoever ends up buying this is gonna be verrrry pleased with his purchase."
Corran pulled away. He got as far as nowhere due to the restraints. The bull just enjoyed feeling him up for longer than was comfortable. Not that it was ever comfortable.
Crack!
"HGRRRAGHHH!" The belt bit down across both cheeks, flattening them under a wall of fire. Corran screamed. Half in rage, and half in pain.
Nothing hit like the first one. Martin firmly believed that a spanking, like a novel, should open spitting fire. A real hard, blunt smack to the jaw (or ass) that demanded attention and got it. Martin wasn't a novelist, though. His hands weren't made for growing calluses between his fingers but over them. Hard work. Judging by the tent in his pants, this work was very hard indeed.
The belt came down again. Same spot (almost). Martin didn't hit it as hard this time, but that didn't matter when you struck an arrow into another like Robin Hood. Corran cried out. More pain than rage. That sweet wail. The struggling. Lotta masters paid extra for cute guys who really couldn't take their spankings.
Crack!
"AAAAAAHAAA!"
This guy was a check on both counts.
Corran trembled. Tears welled up in his eyes. This was too much! Too fucking much! His ass burned like a forest after a gender reveal party. The pain in the center emanated out to the rest of it. He felt the heat even before the fireworks hit the dry bush and burned down a state.
Crack!
He was sobbing soon after. The bull began targeting the rest of his bottom instead of overlapping swats, giving most of his rear an even coating of fire, even if the center still burned the worst.
"Broken already? Man, it hasn't even been an hour—guess I'm too good at this!"
He was. Or maybe he was just cruel. Mindless cruelty was often mistaken for skill. Corran slumped in his bonds, defeated.
"I'm doing this for you, kiddo. Any guy we sell ya to could be wayyy worse than this. You'll thank me one day!"
Thank him!? THANK HIM!?!? That old indignation forced its way to the front of Corran's mind again. He struggled and glared at the man with tears drenching his face. He tried talking back, screaming, and swearing, but all he managed was a stream of nonsense.
Martin frowned. Second wind? Slaves weren't allowed that kind of thing. Not with him. He raised the belt, and the lights above them flickered, he waited for them to settle, then smashed down hard on one of Corran's sit spots.
The deer's second wind turned into another flailing, screaming sob.
"I can hit that again if you want," The bull raised the belt high enough that Corran could get a good look at it. Thick, horrible leather.
Corran went limp.
"Good boy, this is what obedience feels like." The bull slammed the belt down one last time. A blunt smack followed by a fierce, lingering sting. Corran writhed, the sawhorse groaned, and the bull laughed.
"Tell you what, kiddo, I can end this early—tell boss you took all your lickings and maybe a few extra. Learned your lesson as well as a brat could. All you have to do is," he leaned in close, giving Corran's rear a playful slap that made him grimace.
"Suck my dick."
Corran's eyes shot open wide. Blow him? This fucker!? His abuser! His torturer! He'd take the beating, embrace it. Anything to spit in the eye of this smug bastard!
Then he glanced at the belt again. His ass throbbed like hell. His dignity could take a hit, while his body couldn't or didn't want to.
He nodded at the bull, avoiding his eyes.
"Good boy!"
Martin felt an unbelievable sense of pride as he unzipped his pants. He tugged his cock out, fighting a bit with getting it through the double door of his underwear and pants crotch. He walked around the deer, letting him get a goooood look at his girth before reaching down to the rings that connected the chains to the floor. The chains themselves were very long, but they fed into devices that could be loosened or tightened as needed, giving or taking as much as they wanted. Pressing on a button, the bull gave Corran more chain on one device, than the other. The deer slid off the saw horse, landing on his knees with a whine.
"Fight back and that ass is gonna look like a Picasso when I'm through with it."
Martin walked around to the other side again, pushing in front of Corran and the saw horse, between the chains attached to both hands. He had Corran step back a bit, then reached his hands over to the back of his head and undid the muzzle.
"Open wide! Any teeth and you know the drill—not that I should be worried. Deer have flat teeth, right?"
Flat teeth can grind, asshole.
Corran didn't respond. He just opened his maw. He hoped the bastard wasn't too--"HULLK!"
Martin wasn't one for ceremony when it came to his dick. He shoved it in, spearing Corran's throat with what felt like 10 or so inches before he was ready for any of it. The deer gagged, struggling to breathe through the bull meat.
"Through your nose, dumbass. Pace your breathing."
Martin didn't give Corran much time to adapt, but he was forced to immediately. He took labored, deep breaths, all the while still feeling like he was being smothered to death by a cock. The bull pulled out just a bit, part of his cock slick with the deer's saliva. He jammed himself back in, eliciting another strangled gag. Tears slid down Corran's face. His maw arched as it was forced further open.
"You're a fucking natural!" The bull exclaimed, moaning as he picked up the pace of his fucking.
"Maybe I should splurge a bit and buy ya for myself!" Martin said in between huffs.
God no. Please, don't fucking do that to me.
Martin was going faster now. Faster. Pre leaked from his tip, slathering Corran's throat and tongue with the salty taste. The bull grabbed the back of the deer's head and began slamming his cock in, fucking his face with all the force he could muster. Corran could at least say it got a bit easier as it went on. The bull's meat, now slick with saliva, slid down easier than it started. He shuddered. He didn't want it to get easy. He didn't want it at all.
"F-fffuccck!" Martin came. He felt the deer try to pull away as thick loads of bull cum coated his throat white. Martin wouldn't let him, though. He held the poor bastard as he gurgled and struggled.
"Take it all, deer boy! Milk does a body good!"
Corran could never drink milk again.
After an eternity, the bull pulled out. Not content to leave injury without insult, he wiped his spend cock off on Corran's face, touching up his fur with whatever small amount of cum remained on it.
"Alright, you're clear." He pulled Corran to his feet.
"See you next week."
"What!?" Corran blurted out without thinking. The bull didn't seem to mind.
"You thought this was a one-time thing?" Martin smirked.
"Once you open that pretty maw, you can't close it. I'm gonna fuck you like that every week till you're bought, or I can flay your ass with the belt every day. Your choice."
Corran clenched his fists. This wasn't fair! Beyond unfair, this was unjust! Hot tears stung his face, worse than before. He wanted to strike out. To wrap his chains around the bull's neck and choke him like he was choked. To make him suffer like he did.
He couldn't, though.
He was too weak.
The bull patted him on the head, ruffling his hair.
"I'll leave ya here to give my report," he ducked around Corran's chains, leaving him alone and furious.