BDSM Library - Story: Cody, Chapter: Part 4 Moneybags

Cody 4 - Moneybags

by Emile

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Cody was a fucked out wreck coming back from the motel, slouched in the seat, legs akimbo, cock flopped to one side, cum leaking out of his inflamed hole. It was hard to believe that the fuckbag musclestud with dull eyes next to me had only two weeks earlier been a cocky jock without a care in the world. Same taut muscles that would stretch an A&F tee and fill out jeans like a poster boy. Same sexy lips and chiselled jaw. Same musky aroma (although increasingly masked by the heady scent of dickcheese, arseslime and stale sweat) but unlike before, barely the glimmer of a fight.

Now I'm not one just for turning jocks into free fuckholes for guys to offload into, (although that's all good and well), and I felt I'd broken him too easily, like a christmas toy wrecked before new years. What I think he needed was a bit of time alone, with just the threat of exposure dangling above him, everpresent yet remote, to build up his sexy fear and resistance. Enough guys on campus had seen him that with all the goings on in the frathouse, I barely needed to intervene. So as we pulled in close to campus, I handed him a webcam, and told him I was going away for a while, and that all he needed to to was report in nightly to a site I'd set up for him, to check his progress. The site was a blog, already uploaded with pictures of the sleeping stud from that first night, to which the fuckfest photos would be added. He had two video entries to give a night - one "Cock Shots", with status updates on his hooting dicksleeve (narrated, of course), the other "Fear and Loathing" of his treatment by others. For that entry, he had to sit naked at his desk, ankles astride the monitor, and jerk his knob until he finished - a minimum 15 minute monologue. Before or after the Cock Shots update, can't be too demanding. Posting naked personal accounts on the big wide web should keep him nervous, and it was a good way of gauging when to come back (if his uncut dong didn't develop complications sooner). As well as face shots, full frontals, dick pics and soon the arse fuck session, the site contained his full name, college and frathouse, and a guestbook for visitors. All public, of course. I wondered how long it would be before someone stumbled across the blog when googling their campus, or frat.

I should mention that Cody came up excellent on camera - really photogenic, his thighs almost pop out of the screen as he hugs the monitor with his calves, dork arching up towards the camera, bloated and throbbing with need. After he returned, his unsatisfied dick plumped up to its previous, and now near permanent, half hard state, making wearing clothes itchy and uncomfortable, as his fat sausage rubbed constantly against his leg (his words). The juicy foreskin was pulled back a little from the dull erection, and the rim now hugs his glans just a little behind his wide piss slit, like a split peach. That makes the dribble of precum that almost constantly leaks from the stalk problematic, some encrusting around the edge, but the bulk still slaking off the head, staining shorts, keyboards and bedsheets alike. Apparently he's taken to pushing his stalk near vertical down one leg, so the tip is grazed by the hem, so when his cock drools, the rivulet of sap snakes down his leg and doesn't stain the pouch. Not sure how he gets rid of it (he glossed over that in the blog), I might have to give instructions on how often he can lick it up or leave it drooling. As it is, he says he sits alone in most of his classes, his classmates giving him a 2 desk berth on all sides, and he's not sure if its the smell of dickdrool wafting up from his crotch, or sweat soaked into the translucent tee, or just the sight of him slouching there, fat skin cigar poking out one leg of his tight shorts, beefy thighs and guns stretching the clothes to ripping point. Personally I think it's all three, and the vacant stare on his face that makes him look like a fuck flick fluffer. And thanks to Horace, I've now met a few.

See, to keep myself occupied while Cody struggled through college, I gave Horace's agent a call. They were back at the studio's ranch, already filming his debut with a stallion, when I rang. I told him I'd enjoyed working over the young stud, and would be happy to take a more permanent position. The agent thought for a moment. He said he'd really liked what I'd done, and they had quite a bit of trouble with Horace's oral work. He took pretty much anything up the arse now, but still had these sentimental qualms about oral sex, even kissing, he felt it was 'personal'. He'd really been freaked out when I'd tongued his tonsils in the surgery. The problem was, after all their cuts, there was only 16% of his income left, which went to him, money he needed for drugs and to send back to his poor family back west. "Not a problem" I said "I'll make him a willing puppy, you can pay me his 16%, which'll give him a great incentive to co-operate." The agent chuckled, and agreed.

The next day I drove to the ranch, arriving in the late afternoon. The sun was dropping, and they called the final cut for the day. I came in to see two wranglers holding a chestnut stallion, as another pair of guys dragged Horace off its rigid stalk. He'd been on all fours for hours, arse in the air, and yet still managed a gut wrenching howl as they pulled him off the enormous horse prick. I went over and joined the agent. "Ah just in time" he said. "Horse, you remember this gentleman? He'll be helping you get rid of your squeamishness." Horace looked up at me, his eyes wide in fear and recognition. He was so exhausted he could barely talk, and kneeled there, battered in horse cum, mouthing a silent protest. The agent continued "and since the poor man has to make a living, you'll be paying him from your cut - all of your cut - until you improve, alright?" He let out a quiet plea, something about his mama and two brothers, but with cum bubbling out of his lips, it was hard to take him seriously. His agent just clapped a hand on my back and let me away from the pleading star, loudly welcoming me aboard.

He took me to one side to sign the paperwork while one of the strapping lads that had unempaled Horace slung his beefy arm over one shoulder and guided Horace limpingly back to his trailer, still filthy and completely exposed, his protest turned to hoarse pleas. Horace seemed to be trying to cup his fat bouncing balls with one hand, and cover his thick tool with the other, but he was hustled along at a pace that left nothing to the imagination, particularly as he let go to wipe some cum drool from his cheek. Glancing up at my gaze, the agent told me "One of the boys always has to help him home". At his trailer was a security guard, a beefy guy I first thought was there to protect him, or something, but as they arrived at the beat up mobile I realised it was otherwise. The guard gestured for him to put his hands on the trailer, kicking his legs wide in a search position. He stood there, chatting to the rancher for a while, so Horace was fully exposed, his beefy arms and legs spread, wide shoulders and rippling back, arse up and tackle hanging low and heavy. His bubble butt was spread by the stance, and his thick thighs quivered keeping the stance after just having been fucked hard by stallion dick. Even from here I could see his exertion keeping his rosebud tight in that position - all the more embarrassing then when the abused hole winked, burping sloppy horse cum, the goop coursing down his inner thigh. A few guys took pictures with their cellphones, or just stared, laughing, until the guard finally felt ready, and began a slow, and somewhat pointless (since he was naked) pat down, caressing his body down to his arse. Every time he touched a sensitive part, Horace flinched, but he bucked violently when the search turned into a cavity search, the guy fingering his well fucked arse, scooping out horse cum and holding it to Horaces nose, like evidence. Whatever the search was, drugs or weapons, he eventually passed, and he and the rancher climbed into the trailer and out of view.

I signed the papers and the agent gave me a tour of the ranch, explaining how things work. There were four tiers - the top tier was the directors, producers, cameramen, agents and consultants, like myself. They all tended to be hard gay men, willing to do anything to produce and market a successful fuck flick. Part of their strategy for fresh blood was to recruit young bloods, 18 to 20, from their 'catchment teams' in latin america and eastern europe. They found these young hot studs, with lean bodies and handsome faces, and offered to take them out of poverty and to the west, in return for a few years indentured service at the studios. The studios paid well, and many a young 20 to 22 year old had walked out their gates and in to their dream lives of fast cars and consumerism. The pool of 'skilled migrants' was divided into two tiers - the second tier was the straight boys, including those who couldn't dick or be dicked for cash. They had the menial jobs, and it must've seemed to them that they were on the lowest rung - particularly as we on the upper eschalon took pleasure giving them the most uncomfortable jobs - oiling up the stars, mopping up the studio floors, cavity searching for drugs and alcohol (both strictly controlled on site). But they were the second tier, and they basically controlled the tiers below them. We didn't care how rough or careless they were when they scraped down a sloppy superstud, so long as he looked hot on camera. The rule was that anything went, so long as it left no visible scars. The third tier, who bore the brunt of their anger, were their gay and pay-for-gay comrades, who formed the background cast of fuckboys and eye candy for the movies. These mega dicked studs were underpaid and few made it the full two years becoming a fucked out wreck, either physically or from the constant abuse of the first and second tiers.

But the lowest rung, the trash whores to all others, were the stars themselves. Drawn from the west, they were boys in money trouble, from drugs and gambling mostly, but sometimes the rarer addiction like Horace's, which wound them into trouble. An obliging network of friends would refer them, as an alternative to being dumped at the bottom of a harbour - and they too could work off their troubles for the studio. On camera they were the focus of attention. Off camera they were the focus of abuse. They were fucked and fucked up by everyone, from the janitor to the supporting cast, their trailers the revolving doors of the lot. I smiled, on top of the world, relishing how my luck had turned. We ending back near the trailers. He offered me my own, but I declined, telling him I'd share with Horace, so I could do some private work. He warned me against it, since his trailer was the "big party place" but I was adamant.

I wandered over to the star trailer. As I got close, I could hear grunting, and the trailer rocked slightly. I went up, prising the door open, to find Horace sprawled on the plastic table, arms limp, legs slung over the set-hand's shoulders, as the young tyke brutally fucked his arse. Horace saw me, and tried futiley to prop himself on his arms, his titan tits heaving with fear. From the waist up he could have been a wrestling champion, veins popping from his sculpted arms, chest slabs the size of hubcaps, but from the waist down it was all porn star - his shaved tackle throbbing, unreleased dick drooling, as he was skewered on the ranch man's pole. I told the guy to stop, and for the first time, he noticed my presence, jerking back with such force he almost fell out the door. His surprise soon turned to anger, at having spoiled the fuck. I looked down. His hefty cock (weren't the all?) was covered with a condom, slick with horse cum, and the tip was rapidly filling with oozing precum, since the guy had been close. I guess he figured the sheath was enough to protect his own dignity, although he was none to clean himself. "Take that off" I barked, "you can unload on his tongue."

Horace's eyes snapped open, and he begged me to let him go, but I marched right up to the splayed musclestud, grabbing his tackle like a vice. It was a move I'd practiced on him before - my middle fingers thrusting in his hole as my hand closed around his nuts, so as I closed my fist he'd get shooting pain in both his cunt and nads at the same time. I took a firm grip and thrust forward, sending him skitting across the table until his shoulders reached the edge and his head hung over. "Okay stud, ready to offload?" The brute stayed iron hard watching me manhandle Horace, and effortlessly flipped off the condom, walked around, and pistoned his tool into Horace's perfectly positioned throat. Horace choked and gagged, even after the guy slapped him, but no matter how bad the blowjob, he was so close to the edge that after a few seconds he came with a roar, filling Horace's gullet with scum. I'd released my grip on Horace and had wrapped my sticky fingers around his throbbing dick, wanking him off in time. By the time the dude pumped his last slug down Horace's throat, his own cock was hard and drooling prefuck onto his cut abs. "Now get the fuck out" I barked, and the guy couldn't have pulled his pants up fast enough. In moments the door banged closed, and we were alone. As I kept jerking, I asked him softly - "Horse, can you taste the cum". Quietly, a defiant yes, his voice still rich with bubbles of cum. Horace's dick was enormous, and bloated with fucklust, not having cum since his session with Cody. "Good boy" I purred, still jerking his fat tool. "You'll get used to that taste. Now why don't you run your hands over your sexy body, tweak your nipples, massage your bald crotch, like for the cameras. Yeah make yourself really hot. Now lick off the dudes cum from your lips, really savour it. No, don't gag, keep petting yourself - look you're aching hard now, your cock is almost popping out of my hand. Okay, now I'm just going to slip an elastic band over your dork like this - no moaning - and another one just below the head like this - excellent - see how your fat tool stays rigid and engorged. Now if you do just as I say, in an hour or so I'll let you take them off. If I don't, well, those bands can sure cut into ya! Okay Horse, now scoot up on all fours, so I can give you a nice sloppy kiss - although you'll have to swallow all that protein first. Yeah, get on all fours on the table, like a good little piggie. When we're done, you can lick that condom shiny clean, inside and out. No buts. And then we'll see how you can make space for your newest roommate.