Billy and the Goon - 18. Chapter 18

Billy was coming out of the men’s room at his local gas station when a voice commanded, “Fifty.” There was no choice. But before he could drop, he was pushed next door into a small black storeroom. When enough light came under the door to see the goon’s bare feet, Billy dropped to the concrete and did his push-ups.

“Stand,” the goon ordered next, and Billy did. His shirt was quickly stripped off, though his tie was left neatly taut around his neck. His nipples were bitten, first one then the other. He was kissed – almost gently – then fighting that, his back was pressed against the hard wall, and his bare chest squeezed against the goon’s naked one.

Next, his pants were yanked away, along with his shorts, shoes, and socks. His dick was eased between the goon’s legs – landing somewhere mid-thigh – and the goon repeatedly danced against it, until Billy was lifting repeatedly on his toes. His nipples were bitten again, less politely, the goon’s teeth now pinching till Billy moaned.

One of Billy’s arms was stretched horizontal and his wrist tied – maybe to a rack. Then his other wrist was bound to something opposite – a water heater? Billy had never seen the room in the light. The goon then slowly kicked Billy’s legs apart, three or four inches at a time – left – right – left – right – till there was at least five feet between them, heading toward a split he knew he could never do. Just short of that, his ankles were tied, and he wondered how the goon could see so easily in the dark.

The goon tugged at Billy’s dick and nipped his balls. His wet finger went into Billy, followed by another, then three, then four. And they spread. Whoa! Billy’s pecs were grabbed and twisted, while Billy pumped the air, wanting so badly to shoot.

Instead, his chest was spanked – there was no other word for it – with the goon’s broad hand. Slap-slap-slap-slap. Slap-slap-slap-slap.

First one side then the other.

Slap-slap-slap-slap. Slap-slap-slap-slap.

Till his chest grew hot and his dick ran.

Slap-slap-slap-slap. Slap-slap-slap-slap.

He was permanently on his toes now and on the edge. Till he couldn’t stand it anymore and shot across the room, against some kind of metal sign – there was a definite ping.

Then there were noises he couldn’t understand, and the door opened, lights snapped on, and the room was suddenly too bright to see.

“‘Evenin’, bud,” the now fully dressed goon said – as the lights went out, door closed, and Billy was left in the dark again. Bound, dripping, but oh so pleased.