Hidden Detention — Part 06

By Desert Pioneer

The move out the door takes Jack by surprise as he retreats behind a tree. Jack’s thinking that things are now ending is overruled as he watches Officer Merce light up a pipe full of weed and instruct all three to inhale. Soon Roy heads back in saying he’s got some cardio to do, while the other three remain outside for a bit longer. Giving them a few minutes to settle Jack puts his face back to the same peephole.

First off, Jack sees Feller at the jail cell that had bound Street Punk. Officer Merce is just tightening up the straitjacket on Feller and uses leather shackles to bind his legs at the knees and ankles. Merce carefully sits Feller on the floor with his legs straight out and secures him to the bottom part of the cell. He adds a collar that he also locks to the bars, denying Feller the ability to move his head. Merce tightens Feller’s hood and snaps the blinders over his eyeholes, leaving him without a sense of sight. Feller’s head is reduced to a pussy-like white-gray bushy circle surrounding his lips mounted on a leather-covered orb. Merce squats down using his fingers to inspect the hole that had serviced him earlier. Finally, he pulls up his chair in front of Feller, providing himself a full view of the others while he uses Feller’s shoulders for a footrest.

Roy is now in gym shorts and shirt, musky and wet from the aerobics that he went back in early for. His work out shirt is not skin-tight but clings to his middle from sweat. He uses both, hands adjusting and pulling at his sticky shorts, and bringing one arm up wipes his brow. Dropping his arms down at his side, he turns his palms out and motions upward with his fingers to tell Street Punk to approach him.

Street Punk is on his hands and knees as he moves toward Roy. “You got some clean-up work to do there,” Officer Merce yells to Street Punk. “You fucking better get started.” Street Punk crawls toward Roy and extends his hand out to stroke Roy’s sweaty abs. Suddenly Roy knocks Street Punk’s hand away.

Pulling his feet off of Feller’s shoulders, Merce jumps up and hurries over to Roy and Street Punk. “Hey, shit-for-brains, who told you that you could touch him?”

“You said to clean him up,” Street Punk offers.

“No one told you, you could fuckin touch my body with your queer hands,” yells Roy. “You wanta show how much you honor the privilege of gettin to clean me up, to fuckin clean the sweat and stink off my body. My muscles, biceps, abs, my fuckin solid tight abs which ya gotta ask for permission to touch,” as Roy strokes his chest with one hand on the end of his muscled-out arm, the other hand slides up and down on his abs. “My muscles are fuckin wet with sweat that I’m shootin out of my body. You don’t get to put your hands on that. My pecs under my soaked shirt gonna get cleaned up special, ya can’t fuckin do that with your hands. Got it punk?”

At the same time, Officer Merce is pulling Street Punk’s arms behind his back roping them together. “You don’t know shit about how to clean up a man, a muscle man, a man like Roy,” says Merce.

“There is no man like Roy,” Roy offers.

“Clean up a man like Roy with honor and respect,” repeats Merce as he finishes Street Punk’s binds. “Do you have any idea of what a shit like you does to clean up a he-man, to honor and clean up an all-man like the one in front of you? Look at him, what are you going to do for him?” With that Merce bends into Street Punk’s ear, “Here’s what you’re going to do for him.” Officer Merce reaches around Street Punk’s head and using thumb and forefinger pushes Street Punk’s mouth open and with the other hand directs his open mouth face up and into the middle of Roy sweat soaked shirt.

“Here’s what you’re going to do. Use your mouth, like you’ve been using it for every dick that ever ran into your face. You’re going to suck the sweat out of him like your sucking seed out of a muscled dick.” Merce pulls Street Punk to his feet by his head and into Roy’s flexed arm. Street Punk’s face is solidly planted into Roy’s rock-hard bicep. “Kiss the muscle, kiss the muscle, punk.” Street Punk’s mouth stretches over the rock-hard muscle as Merce goes on. “Kiss the muscle, kiss the muscle, you’re a faggot, a fucking faggot here to show Mr. Roy honor and respect. Suck the muscle, suck off his muscle like it’s going to leave a wad of man seed in you.”

Officer Merce continues to use Street Punk’s head and tongue up and down Roy’s upper arm while telling Roy to use the faggot like a cleaning rag all over his body. Merce is directing Street Punk’s praise of Roy while Roy operates under the notion that he is only there to be adored and worshiped. After all, his muscles make him the strongest man in the room. The most manly and potent man in the room.

Using one hand Roy grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to his neck. His sweaty solid pecs are highlighted with dark erect nipples. Officer Merce leans into Street Punk’s ear “Use your dick sucking wet mouth to suck his nips like you were sucking off his cock. And don’t make me come over here again.”

Jack, outside the blockhouse, has his eyes fixed to the hole in the wall. He has pulled out his dick, which is quickly growing and harder that what Jack can ever remember. Slowly stroking and edging, Jack turns his attention to Merce who is standing tall over Feller.

Officer Merce stands feet wide apart, straddled over Feller. He holds out his balls for Feller to worship and guides one nut into Feller’s mouth. He tells him to keep it there as he massages it deeper and deeper into Feller’s suck hole. Gradually Merce moves his second gonad into the willing wet mouth. With limited room for wiggle, Officer Merce orders Feller to use his tongue to stroke his sack.

“Massage the seed in my ball sack with your tongue, I got all my seed in your pie hole right now. Suck on the load that I’m going into put into you tonight.” Merce reaches up and grabs a fat gordito off a small shelf. After lighting up and puffing enough to get a solid burn, Officer Merce strips off Feller’s blindfold. “Look at me,” he demands. With both of Merce’s balls stuffed in Feller’s mouth, he looks up to the man’s vainly cock directly over his face. He feels the man’s moist hefty weight resting on his nose and eye. Further up he sees a fat ring of fire on the head of a big stiff pole poking down directly at him. The amber ring of fire glows deeper and pungent leather smoke clouds the air.

Officer Merce feels the worship of the obedient faggot who’s face is between the man’s legs, doing his all-out effort to properly service his man balls. Merce feels a rush from humiliating a groveler by keeping his mouth stuffed with his rocks, his plump dick laying on his face and cock head rubbing into the faggot’s eye. “Look up, look up at me, look up at the man standing directly over the faggot,” Merce demands. In his superior stance and smoking a fat cigar he overloads Feller with the smoke and aroma of fermented tobacco.

At Merce’s direction, Street Punk, who has somehow escaped the knots that were holding his hands, is pushing his face up on Roy’s quads silently begging for the muscle crotch. Roy keeps pushing Street Punk away in kind of a touch me/touch me not contest. “He knows you’re a homo, show him your mouth, show him how much of a fucking your throat can take. Show him your face is made for the kind of power fuck he can put down your throat.” Roy continues to get off watching himself in the mirror pushing the faggot away who keeps begging for a muscle fucking.

“Show him your dick, show the cock sucking fag what a muscle boner on a man looks like,” yells Officer Merce, whose own rod is now slowly pumping in and out of the hole in Feller’s face.

Feller’s head is immobilized by the bonds Merce has attached to the jail bars. He accepts the man’s authority over him and looks up at Merce as the throat fuck gets harder and deeper. He sees a tough hard man arrogantly burning smoke and carrying the power of a CHIP authority. Officer Merce is using long strokes in order to watch most of his boner come out and go back into the hairy bush. Maintaining his superior stance, Officer Merce uses two fingers to move his cigar to the side. Without warning Merce directs a wad of spit at the suck hole around his cock. The drool lands just under Fellers nose and drips down over his lip hair, over his thick lips, and around Merce’s rod.

“Make that fuckin bitch worship you man. Make sure he knows there’s a man shoving his bone into him. Make the fag worship your seed, make him beg for a face fuckin,” yells Roy, watching Feller take a deep hard thrusting form the CHIP clad man. Street Punk is now on his knees behind Roy pushing his tongue up and under Roy’s shorts making its way to Roy’s muscled bunghole.

Roy turns around and back from Street Punk looking at himself in the mirror. Roy lifts off his shirt, showing his massive chest supported by hard abs over the gym shorts which are tightened by Roy’s growing hardon. He grabs the top of his dick through his shorts announcing to the entire room.

“All fuckin man, look at my fuckin powerful body; faggots gonna do anything to get at me, to respect these,” Roy pulls both arms down from an upward flex and grabs his hands low and behind his back. Pushing his wet sweaty chest out to its max he yells, “You want this don’t ya, don’t ya faggot. Ya wanta feel what it feels like when I use these muscles, the power of my big fuckin muscles to plant my sperm into ya. Ya lookin for a big shooter, are ya? A big fuckin load that I leave in your mouth. Your gonna hold it, hold it in your faggot mouth, let it coat every fuckin inch of your fuckhole mouth. Keep my juice there like it belongs there all the time. Keep my big load a fuckin cum in your cunt mouth cause I say so. I tell you when ya can swallow all my jizz down into yer gut. My seeds goin’ into yur gut tonight. Maybe I’ll put it there through your pussy asshole, you’d like that wouldn’t ya, ya know why, cause you’re a homo, a prick juice seekin homo who’ll do anything to get a piece of a man like me in ya.”

“Fuck him, fuck the punk,” yells Merce as he continues to drive his hips into Feller’s face. “Piss on him, piss on the bitch, slap him up his fucking head up against the wall if you need to,” continues Merce, who is so absorbed into the power of commanding a cock sucking queer to service another man that he doesn’t realize for how long and how deep he has been in Fellers throat, yet sensing he may be coming close.

As if in sync with Feller’s face fucking from Officer Merce, Jack is stroking deeper and harder as if he feels the promise of Roy’s power fuck into Street Punk along with Officer Merce using his fuck rod destroying Fellers throat. Jack can almost feel Roy’s stiff prick up his throbbing ass and Merce’s boner in his own throat. So hot and close to the edge Jack shoots letting out a distinct moan as he fast jacks all the cum out of his balls and dick.

Officer Merce, hearing the noise from outside, quickly jumps and pulls his boner out of the bushy pussy hole lips of Feller. Without taking the time to get his dick back in his pants he leaps for the door to nail the intruder. Standing outside on the wooden porch and coming down from his rush, he sees only darkness while Jack is already halfway to the trail where he disappears from sight.

The end

Metal would like to thank the author, Desert Pioneer, for this story!

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