Things That Happened To Sam. Chapter 7 - The actual paddling

The actual paddling went by like a blur. Sam felt the first few strokes of a large, flat, wooden implement but then his ass went numb and his mind couldn't step away from reliving the experience of his exposure, and the unspeakable humiliation it brought. They weren't faking it, like the girls on the websites or on the phone, pretending to laugh at him. They were, genuinely, truly, absolutely entertained by his sexual inadequacy. On and on his little rodent of a brain went, spinning like crazy in the delightful, irresistible new toy. He was naked, before everyone. They could see. They made him be naked. They laughed, they all laughed. On and on and on it spun.

When Rodriguez, apparently done paddling him, finally ordered him to remove his shoes, Sam was placid, entirely compliant. He bent down to undo his laces without question, without thought. He pushed off his shoes, he stepped out of his bunched up pants. Two strong hands grabbed solid hold of his sides, preventing him from standing back up. Then he felt it. It. At the entrance, on his asshole. It was going to go in.

Fear of unmitigated, unmitigable proportions gripped Sam to the very core of his being. His kidneys froze. His bladder froze. His heart jumped. He's going to be exposed. They are all going to see. They are all going to...

You see, Sam had read at some point on some dedicated forum that you can always tell when a man has been playing around. Even if he doesn't want to admit it -- his asshole will.

Sam had for many years been fooling around down there. He never said a word to Pam. He wouldn't think of it. He never bought any dedicated implements, either, not so much for the fear of being discovered as out of the sheer unthinkable nature of buying dedicated implements for that purpose. He couldn't say a word about it to himself, either, as it turns out. He wouldn't think of it. And so he used whatever he could, on the spur of the moment so to speak. Vegetables made reliable fodder. Random packaging on occasion -- a certain bottle of sun tan they had a few years back gave him enduring, oft repeated delights he still recalled. It was particularily well shaped.

He enjoyed the whole thing even more after reading that comment, about how his asshole would give him away if he ever ended up in a situation. It made it even better, for him, to think while doing it that he's not just fucking himself in the ass, but that he's training his asshole for one day, when it will betray him, and make it clear, make it obvious to everyone... But today, as he felt the tip of Rodriguez' penis on his asshole, all that history came crashing down and he was frozen in an unspeakable panic. The fear of the young maiden in love for the first time, wondering if the object of her affections will see the woman still mostly buried inside her, or rather be fooled by the decaying child, falling off her at the seams but still firmly attached in many joints and places. Will his asshole betray him to Rodriguez ? Will he be made whole ? Will daddy finally take him home ?

Rodriguez slid right in, without much difficulty whatsoever. He didn't go very fast at all, but he was thick. As he felt his asshole stretched, his walls give way to the man, a different panic flushed over Sam. "No condoms ?" he turned around, eyes wide.

"What for ? You are a virgin, aren't you ?" barked the Sergeant mounting him.

Sam made no reply, and Rodriguez slapped his ass, hard. "Are you a virgin, little bitch ?" he barked.

"Yes!" came Sam's yelp.

"Call me sir!" and another, harder slap. Sam's ass was tingling with the sensation of having been roasted over hot coals.

"Yes sir!" Sam yelped again.

"Yes sir what!" barked Rodriguez again, moving into a comfortable, regular stroke.

"Yes sir! I will call you sir! Yes sir! I am a virgin sir!" grunted Sam at regular intervals.

"A virgin what!" responded the other, increasing his speed, and reaching deeper into Sam with each stroke.

"Yes sir! I am... yes sir! a virgin... sir! little... yes sir! little bitch! sir!"

"Do you like it in the ass, bitch ?"

"Yes Sir! I like it sir! In the ass, yes sir!"

There was a pause. Rodriguez said nothing, his balls rising to meet his shaft. He concentrated on fucking the shit out of that asshole, while Sam continued to yelp and grunt in cadence. "Yes sir! In the ass, sir! Fuck me! Yes sir! Give me your cum sir! Shoot in me sir! Make me pregnant! Yes sir!"

The audience was completely silent. It was almost like a religious experience, a particularily well delivered oration, a Mass to be remembered. Nobody laughed, nobody spoke, there was not a whisper. The breaths were shallow, unaudible. Rodriguez finally complied, voluminously, with the little bitch's insistent requests. He then walked casually around the quivering, still bent at the middle mess of Sam and stuck his penis in his face. Behind Rodriguez, Sam could see some guy putting on his foot something looking just like his shoe. There was a pile of burning debris further down the road, but Sam wasn't wondering where his clothes ended up. He was still wearing his shirt, anyway.

As he gulped down Rodriguez' dirty shaft, the pungent, copper-like odour of feces together with the strong, iron-like taste of blood struck him. The savory metals man's made of made Sam gag, but Rodriguez grabbed his ear and that magically made the gagging go away. Every thought left Sam's mind, leaving behind a delightful, loose, relaxed emptiness. His brain was finally one with his ass, and Sam experienced simple, straightforward bliss while licking and slurping his faeces and fluids off the other man's rod. Rodriguez grabbed Sam's ass cheeks in his hands. While kneading them roughly, pushing them together and apart he invited anyone to come take his place. The boys weren't interested in actually plunging their youthful rods down the brown well, even as they couldn't take their eyes off the gringo, dutifully sucking and suckling away. A few men took their friend, or neighbour, or countryman, or whatever up on the open offer of another's booty, but Sam couldn't really feel anything. Rodriguez had forever captured his heart.

Sam woke up from his trance briefly now and again during the night, once to find himself kneeling on the same indistinct item he had seen Pam kneeling on, other times in other circumstances. They all ran together. Eventually the crowd died down, and they had evidently moved inside. Sam woke up with the retracted, exhausted penis he had admired Pam worship in his own mouth. It wasn't nearly as immense now, or perhaps it just didn't feel as immense. It filled his mouth completely, stretching out his cheeks, resting comfortably on the very back of his neck, its tip bulging slightly down his throat. Sam felt great, with his mouth tightly wrapped on the monster he felt safe, and protected, and well at ease. His asscheeks burned, his asshole burned, but he didn't want to move.

Dried cum prevented him from opening his left eye, so he closed the right one too. He then felt a soft caress on his cheek, and looked up. It was Pam, she was kneeling in front of him, her left breast rubbing on Rodriguez' brother's right knee as she moved.

"Oh, baby!" she whispered quietly. Sam looked at her as the thought of stirring crossed his head. He couldn't do it, plain and simple, just didn't have it in him. "What did they do to you" she cooed, aware he could hear her, uninterested in any particular response. "They fucked you right and proper, baby, didn't they" she continued. "They fucked you in the ass", she whispered "lots and lots and lots". Then after a brief pause, "You liked it, didn't you baby. You liked it when the men fucked you in the ass. You loved it, didn't you." Her questions were entirely rhetorical, had a sing-song-y quality rather suggestive of a nursery rhyme. "It's good in the ass, isn't it baby. It's the best in the ass. Stretch you nice and wide, all the way. All the way it goes, and more then. Open you all up to them, to take their cocks in. Oh, baby..."