Chapter 8
They were early and the living room of the small walk-up apartment was quiet, occupied by only three or four young men, all of them handsome young studs who admired Phil as he entered.
Gratefully Phil took the drink Kip thrust into his hand and soon was ready for another. He soon retreated into a corner to brood as the alcohol began to take effect.
He soon lost track of the number of drinks that Millie brought as the queen hovered over him, always ready with a full glass as one was emptied.
At last, feeling the need to take a healthy piss, Phil struggled to get to his feet. Only then did he realize what Millie had been up to. What seemed an innocent summer's evening drink packed a hidden wallop, and he weaved unsteadily, his stomach suddenly churning.
Phil fled to the bathroom, barely getting the door closed behind him before his entire dinner, the ice cream and the potent drinks came up in one bilious roar.
His vomit splashed into the commode, some spilling onto the floor and splattering his slacks. For several moments Phil leaned over the commode, gasping and retching until it seemed his entire insides were coming up. Finally he fumbled for a face cloth and, dampening it, sponged off his face, then dabbed in vain at the splattered slacks.
There was a knock, and almost immediately Kip slipped into the room.
"Oh, God," he cried, seeing the mess. "Okay now?"
"I feel a little better, but still woozy."
"Damn Millie anyway," Kip growled as he flushed away the ugly mess. "She's about as common as pig tracks. She was trying to get you drunk so she could take you off to bed."
"She did a pretty good job of getting me drunk, but I guess she didn't reckon on all the other crud I'd eaten fighting with the booze. Maybe I better go home, if you don't mind."
A frown crossed Kip's face.
"I-I don't know what to say, Phil. Eric and I sort of . . . but with you sick-"
"Don't worry, then. If you want to go, Kip, I'll be all right for a while. I'll just go find a quiet corner and rest."
"Why not go in the bedroom and lie down? Just lock the door behind you. That'll serve that bitch Millie right for getting you drunk. Eric and I won't be long. Then we can cut out and go home. Okay?"
Kip lead the way out of the bathroom and to the small bedroom. They were intercepted by a-suddenly anxious Millie.
"Everything okay?"
"He's sick, all that crap you tried to get him drunk with, you hussie. Better let him lie down and rest a bit."
Millie immediately was all comfort, quickly straightening the coverlet, turning up the window air conditioner and then standing by, eager to watch his young guest undress. Phil dropped to the bed, merely pulling his loafers off before sprawling out.
The hostess leaned over and started to unbutton his shirt, but Phil irritably pushed his hand away. "It's okay."
"But you'll wrinkle-"
"Damn it, I said it's okay."
"All right, dear, take a little nap and I'll look in on you again."
Then she pulled the door closed. Phil dozed off, forgetting Kip's warning to lock the door.
He slept for some time, finally awakened by the noise coming from the living room. He looked at his watch and saw it was after midnight. Kip still had not returned, so he fell back on the bed and dozed again.
The next thing he knew was hearing the door slowly open for a moment, then being closed and locked. Then immediately he was grabbed by half a dozen pairs of rough hands.
He cried out and struggled in vain to free himself as the muscular strangers, grinning down at him in the dim light, pawed him and started to unbutton his shirt.
From the other room he heard more drunken screams of laughter and, despite his cries of terrified protest, no aid came.
After he cried out a second time a rough hand grabbed him and held his mouth shut.
"Cry out once more and you'll wish you had no tongue," a voice hissed. "Now just relax and enjoy it."
Even with an arm around his throat, Phil tried to struggle as the studs tore his shirt and slacks from him, then jerked his shorts away.
"My, isn't that a lovely cock."
He looked up and saw Millie standing over him, a sneer on the face. "I gave you a chance to be nice, kid, but you wouldn't play ball. So some of my buddies decided they'd help me have some fun, and have a good fuck themselves."
Phil struggled again in vain as Millie leaned over and roughly grabbed his limp cock, played with it for a moment and then squeezed the heavy ball sac beneath.
"Okay, boys, break him in for me, will ya?" Millie growled. "I don't want to send him to the hospital, but I'm gonna fuck the shit out of him."
The studs pushed Phil over on his stomach and roughly jerked his legs apart.
Phil fought like a tiger until the stud who had held his mouth shut squeezed his neck until he gasped for air. Only then did he quit fighting.
"Oh, God! No, No! It'll kill me!" he screamed as the first cock brushed against his tight, resisting ass and then suddenly rammed forward, dry.
"Shut up, damn it," Millie hissed.
"But it hurts!"
"That ain't nothing, kid," one of the studs said and laughed. "Wait till you get Millie's milk bottle cock up your pretty little ass, that's when you're gonna know you've been fucked."
The first cock was buried to the hilt, and burned fiercely because Phil could not relax and allow it to have free entry as he had done when Dan's dick had come into him.
The cock plowed deep and corkscrewed in and out, each time a little faster and a little rougher until he was slamming his cock with all the stud's force.
"I'm cumming! Here it is, take my load, you bastard!"
Phil felt the stud shudder and then the splash of hot acid deep in his bowels.
He buried his face in his hands and wept as the stud fell over on his back, breathing hard for a minute.
"Come on, damn it, give us a chance." It was another of the studs.
The first jumped up, jerking the other guy's half hard cock from Phil's battered asshole as he did.
Almost immediately another cock took its place, his fingers jabbing at the ass to guide his fat cock to the cum-slick entrance. Phil cried out anew as the second prick was rammed to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
Tears began streaming down his cheeks as-Phil felt the fat cock frantically thrusting into his bruised asshole; this was far from the loving interludes with Dan.
The stud came almost immediately, and roughly jerked his cock out of Phil's ass as others jeered him.
A third and then a fourth stud mounted him and slammed their cocks into his aching asshole.
Phil finally lost count of the number of times his ass was invaded; perhaps some even came back for a second fuck.
Finally the last cock was pulled out and Phil was allowed to rest for a minute, but the torture was not over.
"Turn him over-I want to watch his damned face when I ram my cock into him."
It was Millie, a new, masculine Millie with none of the mincing qualities he had detested. This Millie was even worse, for she promised even greater torture.
Phil was grabbed roughly and turned over on his back, his legs jerked up in the air and then spread apart with a stud holding each so he couldn't kick.
Phil watched as Milton dropped his trousers and moved forward between Phil's legs. A look of real terror filled Phil's eyes as he saw Milton creep closer, fondling a cock that had to be eleven inches long and almost as thick as a milk bottle. It would rip his asshole apart!
Phil struggled until he freed one foot which he drove hard into the pit of Milton's stomach.
"Damn it! Hold him down, will ya? Okay, baby, if you want to play rough, so can we."
He reached down and jerked his belt from his trousers, then raised his arm and swung at Phil. The belt whistled through the air before it slapped across the back of his legs, cutting into the tender flesh. No one was gagging Phil and he screamed.
As the belt whistled through the air again a rough hand clamped over his mouth. Again and again the sharp' slap of leather against flesh crackled through the room until Phil slumped, unresisting.
"Now, maybe you're ready for the fun," Milton said, gasping for breath as he dropped his belt. "I've been saving the biggest and the best cock for the last. You'll know better than to play hard to get next time."
His massive pile-driver prick was hard and he aimed it at Phil's ripped-out asshole, then slammed it forward.
Phil tried to cry out as the pain rocketed through his body, but his mouth was held tightly shut. He thrashed about wildly, both feet struggling to get free. The other studs held him down and again and again the excruciating prick plunges deep within his asshole pushed him toward the brink of unconsciousness.
When he felt he could stand no more, Phil felt the drives increase in speed and urgency. At last with a furious pounding, Milton heaved against him mightily, spilled his fiery cum deep in the ass, then fell back.
"Now you can say you've had a real fucking."
Phil slumped onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Blood dripped from his nose, apparently from a blow he could not even remember, and rivulets also trickled from the cuts inflicted from the singing belt. Perhaps his asshole also was bleeding; it felt as if it had been slashed to ribbons by the knifing cocks.
There was a commotion in the living room, and then a loud rapping at the door.
"Damn, Kip must be back," Milton snarled.
"What're we gonna do? He ain't-"
"Get his clothes on and take him out on the fire escape," Milton ordered. "He can find his way home from there."
"But-"
"We can tell Kip he got tired of waiting and went on home. I don't want Kip doing anything crazy, and he's the sort who might."
Milton pulled on his trousers and shirt and hurried out, barely opening the door as he did.
The others helped Phil into his clothing, then roughly shoved him down the fire escape. He slumped on the steps, so two of the studs half dragged him down the stairs and down the alley, finally depositing him on a garbage can.
"Now get the hell out of iiere, kid, and don't try to remember us or what happened or you'll really get it." Without warning he drove a fist into Phil's stomach. "That's just a' hint of what might happen."