A Tits Man
Story by Gruffy on SoFurry
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Illustration of Boy by KokuKokuBoo, used with his permission.
A Tits Man
a
fantasy
by
Gruffy
2018
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This is a commission for :iconkokuhane: found from Twitter also as https://twitter.com/KokuKokuBoo who wanted to see some more stuff about his OC “Boy” and his evil master -and I produced. This story is also delightfully illustrated by Koku - be sure to check out his work! I hope you have a good read, and I will look forward to your feedback.
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“Well, what do you think?”
Boy’s neck prickled when he heard Sir’s Friend laugh upon being questioned in such a manner. It was not the most cheerful of tones. To Boy, it sounded derisive. Something dangerous, unpleasant, possibly.
“Perhaps you should be a fashion designer,” Friend said.
Sir laughed.
“Shut up, faggot,” he huffed.
Sir’s Friend laughed too, joining in Sir’s laughter. Now they were laughing companionably, which made it sound different. Almost happy now. Boy didn’t know what to think about it. He knew that they were not only laughing together, but also at him. Sir wanted him to show off his new outfit to Sir’s Friend, and he had just stepped into the study where Sir and his Friend waited, in their armchairs, cigars in hand.
“But you do like it, don’t you?” Sir questioned.
Boy glanced towards Sir’s Friend. The greying man was older than Sir, but equally large and well-muscled still. The little speckle of silver in his beard and his hair only made him look more impressive, in Boy’s mind. It made his chastity caged cock twinge, and his asshole clench around the plug deeply embedded in his rectum. At least the cage was not directly visible though the skimpy leather jockstrap he wore, even if the bulge it made was unmistakable.
“I think it does the right thing,” Sir’s Friend said.
“Hah,” Sir opined. “Come closer, boy. We need to see you properly.”
Boy walked towards them on quick, short steps. He was barefoot, which only made his apparel look even more peculiar. Besides the jockstrap, all he wore was a leather vest of sorts. It had two metal buttons on the front, with a very generous neckline that exposed his chest fully. His body was out on display, and right now the outfit only highlighted the bare state of Boy’s rear and torso. His huge pectoral muscles practically burst out of the vest. The clothing only made them look more prominent.
He stopped two feet away from Sir and his Friend.
“Hands behind you back, Boy,” Sir said. “Show us what you got.”
Boy could feel the familiar submissive heat creep over his skin, chest, ears, cheeks. It was a bodybuilder’s pose, and was meant to show off the muscles on his arms, shoulders and chest from the flexing tension the posture created. He turned slightly to the right so that Sir and his Friend could see all from the profile. Boy’s dark skin began to glisten with sweat almost immediately. The arousal and humiliation of being exposed so much made his skin warm. His big, round nipples hardened.
Sir and his Friend watched with obvious glee. The two older men kept chewing on their cigars while Boy struggled to maintain the position he had been ordered to assume. Boy knew that once given such an order, he would have to stay in place until told otherwise. He was in good shape, but this pose was not meant to be kept for a very long time. Sir did not have such concerns. He just liked looked at his Boy, sweaty and aroused despite the humiliation of his state.
“Pretty, isn’t he?” Sir commented.
Boy almost moaned at being called that. It both thrilled him and shamed him. Males were not meant to be pretty, he knew. Men weren’t. But he wasn’t a man. He was a boy, meant to serve real Men, like his Sir and his Friend.
“Nothing prettier than a big muscle pussy,” Sir’s Friend said.
Cigar smoke flowed between his lips and towards Boy. He nearly gasped when the fragrant, strong scent reached his face. Even second hand smoke could make his head swim. Sir loved blowing his smoke at him. His friends, too. This Friend was not an exception.
“Damn right,” Sir said.
The Friend smirked at Boy.
“Big fat ass, perfect tits and a total faggot for cock,” Friend said. “With a pretty cunt between those fat ass cheeks too.”
The mention of his hole made Boy’s anus clench around the metal plug in his rear. The bulbous part of the plug rubbed itself against his prostate. His cock twitched hopelessly inside the solid walls of the chastity device. The men didn’t even have to touch him to toy with him., make him burn up in his skin and wish that they would use a heavy hand on him as a punishment for reacting so strongly.
“That’s him alright,” Sir said. “Keeping the good bits on display.”
Sir’s Friend looked at the Boy hungrily. The hand not holding his cigar rubbed on his groin through the grey pinstripe trousers. Sir’s Friend was growing aroused, that was for sure.
“How about I look closer?” Sir’s Friend spoke. He kept looking at Boy.
Sir just laughed. The tip of his own cigar glowed.
“As long as you remember the rules,” Sir said.
“I’m as much a stickler for rule as you are,” the Friend said. “They make life more fun.”
Both of them laughed. Sir enjoyed the smoke from his cigar before he replied to his Friend.
“Then you know what to do and not to do,” Sir said.
Sir’s Friend got up from his chair. He wafted the strong scent of the cigar with him when he approached.
“Keep that pose,” Sir’s Friend said.
Boy just nodded. He knew that being a quiet Boy was a virtue. Speaking overtly much could get him punished. And Sir’s Friend liked punishments, he knew that too well.
Sir’s Friend had his cigar between his lips. His eyes were brown and looked up and down over Boy’s sweaty body, measuring him up. The smell of burning tobacco leaves hung heavy around him. Sir’s Friend was puffing smoke even between the lips that were parted by the thick cigar between them. The smoke penetrated Boy’s senses, even when he tried not to inhale. It tingled inside his mouth and his nose. It tasted like roasting nuts over his tongue.
The greying man popped the cigar out of his mouth, between fingers. He turned to look at Sir, and the ash on the end of the cigar hovered dangerously close to Boy’s right nipple. Any extra motion from either of them would press it against his skin, and probably cause it to break off and fall to the floor. Boy could imagine sir going livid, not to his Friend but at Boy, of course.
“Still keep him smooth, I see,” Sir’s Friend told him.
Sir smirked.
“Not a single strand below the neck,” he sounded proud. “Anywhere.”
Sir’s Friend licked his lips.
“Good,” Sir’s Friend said. “Doesn’t deserve any.”
Boy flinched internally. The weekly hair removal sessions with the razor and the special cream were always uncomfortable and supremely embarrassing. The fact Sir’s Friend knew about it and spoke of it so openly did not comfort him at all.
“Nope...needs a clean little pussy,” Sir’s Friend said. His eyes narrowed darkly. “And big tits.”
Sir’s Friend swiped his thumb against one of Boy’s nipples. The pectoral muscle rippled underneath. Sir’s Friend looked Boy in the eye when he noticed this response.
“All about those tits,” Sir said.
Sir’s Friend pinched the dark bean between his fingertips and squeezed. Now Boy tensed more thoroughly. It wasn’t just the display pose’s doing, that much was for clear. Sir’s Friend rolled his nipple in his grip. Throbbing pain shot through Boy’s chest. He bit his teeth together, but tried not to show it. More drops of sweat rolled off his forehead.
“Of course he would be,” Sir’s Friend said. He pushed his cigar into his mouth with his free hand and puffed. To Boy it felt like both of them disappeared in a cloud of thick, curling smoke. He had to resist coughing.
“I’ve been thinking of having them pierced,” Sir said.
Boy gasped. Hearing Sir speak the threat aloud, the one he had made many times before, made it sound much more real than before. It had a witness, now, too. Sir’s Friend could egg him on to do it, too, Boy suspected. Sir’s Friend liked boy-tits a lot, too, perhaps even more than Sir himself, if possible. The way how he held the nipple in his vice at the very moment was a show of that sentiment.
“I bet the Boy would like that,” Sir’s Friend opined. “It makes them super sensitive...all the time…”
Next thing Boy felt was a brush of hot breath and then only the exquisite heat, wetness and pain of a mouth on his chest. Sir’s Friend bit down on his nipple. The teeth dug into Boy’s flesh, pulled and twisted in ways his fingers could not accomplish.
Boy’s fingers clenched behind his back. He desperately tried to maintain his assumed pose despite the difficulty caused by this assault on his senses. electric shocks flowed from the contact of the teeth on his nipple. It was impossible to stay quiet. Boy moaned. Sir’s Friend continued to chew on his fat tit. A hand landed to the other and gripped the entire pectoral muscle firmly. The bite made Boy think of the feel of the hard needle pressing into his flesh, piercing him, marking him forever.
“Got any milk?” Sir asked.
Sir’s Friend laughed. It was a hot chuff against Boy’s chest. His eyes flashed when he moved to the other side, swapping his mouth and his hand so that he could suckle on the other hard nub.
“Bet he wishes he’d do that,” Sir said.
Boy thought he would faint of arousal and shame. His Sir was incredibly perverted. Sir’s Friend was no different. Boy’s tits would be aching for hours afterwards once he was done with him.
“There are ways,” Sir’s Friend said.
Boy closed his eyes when he felt the still hot ash of the cigar press against his still spit-wet nipple, in its sweet, cruel burn.
*
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