BDSM Library - Story: Nick\'s Summer, Chapter: Part 5

Nick's Summer Part 5 - Bathroom Duties

by Emile

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Nick took four hours to lick the grimy scummy bathroom clean, four long hours of scraping his tongue over tiles and lapping up the sea of piss and cum that covered the floor. There was so much that as he licked one section of floor clean, the crud from the rest would ooze over, slowly advancing to coat the new surface, so he was forced to go back over, and dam the cesspools with his tongue. The menthol laden grease soaked into his pants also streaked the floor as he crawled around, forcing him to ingest the lube, which made his stomach churn. He swallowed litres of tangy scum and piss, until his taut abs were aching with the pressure of his bloated gut, and his tongue was thick with other men's juices.

About half way though, he heard rapid footsteps approaching, and the door swung open. He was facing away from the door, and remembering the wrestler's orders, pushed his arse high and shoulders down in a low push-up, until his biceps trembled and his tits grazed the sticky floor. He waited, scared to breathe in fear, and in part to avoid his hairy pec mounds being pushed against the slick floor. He heard the guy come closer and crouch next to his waist, one arm stroking his back as the other cupped his arse, squeezing tight, fingertips digging into the arsering only millimetres from his stuffed hole. "Wow man, this is intense" the voice said, and Nick realised with horror that it wasn't the wrestler at all. He was out of breath, and went to push up and breathe out, but the hand on his back pushed down firmly, forcing him to expand his lungs, coating his chest with dicksnot. "Please" Nick begged, but the stranger's explorative hands didn't stop, his fingers inching into Nick's greased crack, until they found the jagged edge of the bat. He seemed fascinated by it, rolling Nick's pants down until they were a half-moon across his arse, and he could finger the bat in his hole directly. "I've been coming to this beat for months but you are the sickest piggie I've ever seen!" he sneered, forcing his fingers in around the bat, making Nick grunt. He forced four fingers in, stretching Nick wide, and popped the bat out a few inches, before jimmying it up and down, lightly fucking his hole. Nick groaned more, his dick hardening despite the circumstances.

His arms were shaking now, and after a few minutes, they gave out from him, his face hitting the tiles just on the edge of the approaching ooze. The guy stood up, and told Nick to do the same. After so long on his knees, it was difficult, but finally he scraped and hauled his sore body off the ground, standing bow legged as the bat still jutted out of his abused arse. Nick took in the biker - rough and unshaven, with lean hard muscles that bulged from his black singlet, and a glint of violence in his eyes. The biker also took in Nick, his face almost handsome if it weren't for the smear of scum and piss around his swollen lips and filth in his hair, his broad chest with the shaved obscenity and chest hair clogged with cum, the trash can and "Keep me droolin'" tattoos arching over his swollen donkey dong, jutting out from his body, stretching the greasy pants so tight he could see the pierced head even through the foreskin and cotton.

The biker grinned, and for a dreaded moment the air was silent, until his strong hand shot out, grabbing Nick by the jaw and marching him backwards into a stall. Every footstep dragged slime behind them. In the stall, he threw Nick back against the toilet, peeling off his pants and throwing them onto the floor. He hauled Nick's knees to his hips so his whole body was on display from his heaving pecs to his plugged pussy, his shaved dick throbbing helplessly against his scrunched abs. Pinned as he was, Nick just looked up pleadingly, arms hanging slack by his sides. The guy slapped him about, ordering him to play with his fat tits and cock as he prepared him, and Nick did, reluctantly. The biker began slowly fucking his hole with the bat, just enough to gently stimulate his prostrate. After a few seconds, Nick unthinkingly closed his eyes, giving his body over to the wave of pleasure from his tits, his hard dong and his stuffed hole. The pleasure grew, his breath ragged, foreskin retracted and burping precum.

He heard a zip and opened his eyes to see the biker haul out his own veiny cock, and begin pumping it in time. In seconds, wads of precum began dripping out and on to Nick's beating hand, and Nick could smell the dickcheese as he drooled. Despite the humiliation of being fucked with a baseball bat in a toilet by this horny stranger, Nick began to groan, ready to shoot. Just as he neared, the biker jammed his legs wide, making Nick support himself by his toes against the stall walls, and slapped Nick's hand beating away. He quickly wrenched the bat from his arse and replacing it with his own hard cock. He grabbed Nick's balls, using them as leverage to thrust deep and hard, while he barked at Nick to keep tugging his nipples. Nick grunted helplessly, his cock throbbing with each ball-burying thrust, squeezing his pouty nubs, his big feet sliding helplessly down the walls until he was skewered on the guy's cock as his only support. The guy thrust harder and tugged harder, until the pressure on Nick's balls made him scream and pass out, just as he flooded Nick's guts with cum. After a few moments of recover, he pulled out, taking in the sight - Nick was sprawled on the toilet seat, cum seeping from his hole, his dick still hard and horny, body covered in juice and sweat. His arms were slack by his sides, stretching his chest from pit to pit and making him look even more vulberable and abused. The biker whipped out his mobile, aiming it at the spreadeagled jock, snapping a couple of pictures.

When Nick awoke, there was a card on his matted chest, which he groggily picked up. It had a website, nothing more, and Nick had the horrible feeling he'd be splashed online for all to see. He wouldn't know for sure until the end of the summer. The floor of the bathroom was more than half covered with oozing filth again, not to mention the puddle under the stall. He was fucked.

The rest of the dirty job Nick carried out with the stabbing pain in his arse each time he crawled about, his own heavy cock bouncing below him, still swollen from the jerk-off, stubbornly refusing to go down. His pants and shirt were soaked, and he draped them over the washbasin, strings of slop collecting at the plughole while he finished, buck naked. He finally finished up, pulled the sloppy clothes over his skin and opened the bathroom door, thankful for the fresh air replacing the constant stench that filled his lungs. But his freedom was shortlived - a beefy hand shot out - Trev pushing him back inside, so he fell sprawling on his sore tail. He inspected the room, which shone from Nick's ministrations, and for a moment, Nick through he'd pass. That is, until he got to the washbasin, still clogged with grease, cum and piss from his sodden clothes. The soupy mix had caught on thick hairs in the basin, filling the bowl with 4 inches of creamy gunk. He grabbed Nick by the hair, shoving him face first into the soup, filling his mouth and choking him. Nick grabbed the edges of the bowl, pushing up with all his might, shoulders straining, but only managed to lift himself a few inches, Trev holding him there with a firm grip on the back of his head. With his free hand, Trev grabbed at the pants, popping the buttons off the fly. The pants fell, letting his mule cock and babymakers spring free. Trev whacked his balls with a frenzy, clipping Nick's fat dong with a few bruising blows as well. Nick howled, sending a wad of cum into his face. Trev pressed his face down, forcing his lips into the soup. He swallowed a mouthful of scum before he stopped, his stomach churning all over. He fought his way up for air, fighting the urge to gag as the wrestler kept pummeling his balls until his tree trunk legs collapsed in pain. The wrestler grunted, giving him one last kick in the groin. "Right faggot, now you can crawl home". He walked out, whistling a self satisfied tune, leaving Nick sprawled on the floor.

In agony, Nick managed to pull the stained white cloth up his legs, screaming in agony when the tight crotch hooked his swelling balls. His already oversized babymakers were throbbing, already sensitive from the constant abuse on the farm. The skin was purple and blotchy, angry welts on the sensitive nutflesh. He wasn't allowed to haul his balls and horsecock into his pants, even if he could get the swelling package into the ruined pants. In desperation, he pulled the shirt through the belt straps, tying it over his throbbing crotch, and began to hobble out of the motel. Outside, the low sun was still searing hot and dry. He looked like a used fucktoy, and all the world could see his obscene tattooed body. Passing guys cheered and hooted, pelting him with beer bottles so he fell in the dirt dozens of time as he headed up to the farm. His cock, balls and arse were mountains of pain, and when he finally hauled himself past the front gate, he slumped down, unable to move. Lewis found him, splitting tobacco on his cramped body. "You're late cunt! " He kicked the shirt aside, whistling when he saw the obscenely swollen balls and misshapen bruised cock. "Yeah man, that guy worked you good! Now get your arse to the barn, you've got new duties now. Making the stallions happy, and milking the bulls. Whoa yeah, your punishment ain't even started yet." Breathlessly, Nick stammered "What for?" Lewis smiled. "You were late boy. Not get that arse up, and start walking."