Sucking Cock For Cash (Part 6)

I didn’t move, I couldn’t move, nor could I call out for help. My jaw ached from the gag, my limbs ached from the straps that held them and, as for my arse, it was sore beyond belief. All I could do was stay there and wait for someone to release me. A couple of drunken guests staggered by and one of them commented on how my upended arse was just waiting to be fucked. He had his pants halfway down and his prick out before his mate insisted that someone called Frank was waiting for them and, if they didn’t leave immediately, they’d miss their lift. Reluctantly he zipped himself up and left.
When it comes to realizing exactly how gullible you have been there can be few bigger wake up calls than finding yourself strapped over a pouffe, your arse open and available to any that should want it, while another man’s semen drips slowly down your face. I had thought myself so daring; it had felt so grown up to walk on the wild side but this brought home to me, more than ever before, just how far out of my depth I was. When he had first taken me on board Mr. Mason had seemed kind, fatherly, a protector from the violence around me. Now I was finding out that he was the one responsible for delivering me up to this violence.
In the end it was one of the waitresses who, as part of her tidying up, undid my arms leaving me to unstrap my thighs and take off the gag. It seemed that freeing the rent boy was as normal as collecting the glasses. I was stiff in every joint and barely able to stand but I managed to stagger to the nearest washroom where I...