Playing at the party

I didn't think I'd make it to posting today. Bad things in life.

I hope that doesn't come through the story. Enjoy a tale of humiliation.

Playing at the party

Allen yelped as the shock tore through him, pain spiraling out from his neck. He reached for it instinctively. Chris laughed, then slapped his hand out of the way.

“If you don't like it,” Chris said, “then don't say no.”

Allen nodded, took a deep breath.

“If you take the collar off, we're done,” Chris said. “I'll stop everything and take care of you.” Allen nodded again. “Otherwise, you are my bitch, and you will do what I tell you to do. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

Chris paid the cover for both of them. He picked out the tags that would say what was okay and what wasn't, and attached the tags to Allen's collar. Then he went to find a seat.

Allen got him a drink at the bar. He knelt in front of Chris and held the glass out on his palm. Chris took a sip, then put the glass back on Allen's palm. He watched other guests arriving, tapping the controller for Al's collar against his cheek as he tried to decide what to do first.

“So many choices,” he said. “So many options. Maybe I'll have you crawl into the bathroom after someone. Let them use your tongue as toilet paper.” He pursed his lips, shook his head. “Nah, too easy. Maybe we'll let you go around to each person and kiss their left shoe. I wonder what you would say if they asked why you were only interested in the left foot.” He laughed, picked up his drink, and swirled it around before taking another sip. “Or maybe,” he said, “I'll have you go around and ask people to spit in a glass, until its nice and full. Then you can drink it in front of everyone.”

He leaned back and smiled, looking around the room. “I think we'll start with something simpler,” he looked over and pointed at a group of people talking. “How about you go over there, to that couple. Ignore the girl completely. Ask the boy if you can suck his cock. And most importantly, I want you to refuse to believe that he's straight.”

Allen opened his mouth to refuse, and Chris pointed the controller at his neck. He pressed it for a second, and the pain spider webbed out for half a second. “Go on,” Chris said. “Get to it.”

Allen nodded and stood, took a deep breath, and headed across the room. He tried not to look at the girl, tried not to notice the way her outfit hung together, the way it showed off the curves of her body in that perfect way that made her beautiful. He wanted to tell her that he loved the way she dressed for her size, rather than for some impossible standard of beauty. He wanted to tell her how amazing she looked, and assure her that she looked better than the skinny bitches on runways, because she was wearing clothes that fit her well.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't so much as say hello to her. He had to focus only on the guy.

He was tall, broad shouldered. Looked like a football player. Hairy, too. Not even a little bit Allen's type. He wore leather pants that were just a bit too small for him, and had let himself go just enough for a paunch to hang over his belt. It was held in by a t-shirt that strained against the inevitable. He had boots over his leather pants, boots with so many straps and buckles that all shape disappeared from his knees down. He had long blond hair that had as much life as the cow his pants had been made out of. He had a bit of a double chin, and his hair was starting to make a run for it.

Essentially, everywhere his girlfriend had made a good choice, he'd made a bad one. He looked like he was desperately trying to hold on to his youth, and the only one who didn't know it was a battle long lost was him.

He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, felt the collar move up a little bit. Then the let the air out, steeled himself, and stepped forward. Slipped into their conversation with his back to the girl, not even giving her an apologetic smile. Chris would be watching, and watching carefully.

The man looked at him, already angry. Allen was being rude, and he knew that. His skin was already starting to burn, and he cleared his throat to make sure his voice would be there when he spoke.

“Hi,” he said.

The man looked Allen up or down, eyes stopping briefly on the collar and the three tags hanging off it. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I just wanted to come over and say that you looked really sexy.” Allen fought back the gag reflex as the man crossed his arms over his chest, and the t-shirt finally threw in the towel, and a bit of pail but hairy belly made itself visible.

“I'm here with someone,” the man said. “Not interested in men.”

Allen laughed and shook his head. “Sure you are,” he said.

The man smiled and shrugged. “Look at me,” he said. “Do I look gay?”

Allen opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. Any other time, he'd apologize, he'd back away, and he'd berate himself for being so stupid. But that wasn't the rule. That wasn't the idea.

“Sure you do,” he said. “Pretty hair, beautiful clothes. You can't really expect me to believe you're straight, can you?”

“I'm here with my girlfriend.”

Allen turned towards the girl for the first time. He looked her up and down, gave her an approving smile. Then turned back to the man. “Beard,” he said. “Clearly a beard. Look, stud. I know you don't want people to know that you're gay.” He leaned in a bit closer, lowered his voice to a whisper. “I just want to suck your dick. That's not so bad. You don't even have to be gay for that. All you have to do is let me suck your cock, let me play with your balls. Let me slurp up your cum.”

The man reached up and grabbed the tokens hanging from Allen's collar, particularly the red circle. He pulled it tight, yanking Allen off balance and pulling their faces just a few inches from each other.

“Listen to me you pathetic faggot,” he said. “I'm not a cock sucking sissy, and I have need and no interest in having some random piece of filthy diseased human garbage coming anywhere near my dick. I'm here with a woman, and even she is more man than you.” He yanked down, pulling Allen almost to his knees.

“Not you apologize to the lady,” he said. “Tell her how rude and how stupid you were for ignoring her. Ask her to kick you in the balls. Then, after she kicks you, go back to your master and tell him what a failure you have been.”

He nodded, and the man tossed him to the floor in front of the girl. She looked down at him with a sneer on her face.

“I'm sorry I ignored you,” Allen said. “It was rude of me. You're beautiful, you wear your clothing well, and I am in awe at your beauty. I was an idiot for not fawning over you. I only thought your boyfriend was gay because there was no way someone as perfect as you could be anything but a beard.”

“Fuck you,” the man said.

Allen turned towards him. “I'd be happy to,” he said. “May I please?”

The girl gave him a quick kick to the crotch. It wasn't overly hard, but it was enough to curl Allen into a ball of pain. “Get the fuck out of my face,” she said. She spat on his face. “Go now, before I decide to do worse.”

Allen started crawling away. One of them kicked him in the ass as he walked away. By the time he got back to Chris, Chris was still laughing at the sight. He leaned forward and gave a consoling shake of his head. “That didn't seem to go well,” he said. “Probably a bad idea to go back and ask if he's sure.” Allen tensed, afraid it would happen. Chris laughed. “Nah. Let's step it up a notch.

“I'm only going to ask you to do two more things,” he said. “first, I want you to go from woman to woman and ask them to let you smell their asses. Then, I want you to go around the room again and ask all the men to spit on you.”

Adam shook his head, then collapsed to the floor, his teeth clenched, his muscles ripping in agony. He didn't scream, not entirely sure he could. It felt like every atom of his body was trying to pull away from every other atom, like his muscles and tendons were trying to snap free and run away. He felt the floor under him, felt the twitching and the jolting as he more and more power pumped through his body.

 It stopped, leaving him gasping for breath, slowly regaining control over his body. The spots in his vision slowly cleared, and he coughed as he rose up to his knees. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked up at Chris.

Chris smiled. “Was that a no?”

“I can't,” Adam said. His face was already flushed with embarrassment. Looking around the room, there were so many people. So many people to ask. He couldn't imagine the reactions when he asked girls for permission to sniff their asses. He didn't even want to think about the number of men who actually would spit on him.

Chris shrugged and pressed the button again. The collar slammed pain into Adam's body. He clenched his jaw so hard it felt like his teeth were going to shatter. His eyes watered, his spasmed, and when the pain finally stopped, he lay there whimpering, trying to ignore the laughs from around the room, laughs he was sure were aimed right at him.

“Go on,” Chris said. “Ask the girls permission to smell their asses. Ask the men to spit on you. Crawl around the room and ask them. It's not that many of them. If you're lucky, you get spat on ten times. I'll tell you what: you can even skip the couple you've already spoken to.”

Allen nodded and took a deep breath. He looked around at the half dozen couples around the room. He'd crawl around the room and sniff each of those asses. He'd crawl around and beg for them to spit on his face. And he knew what would happen next. Chris would make him wait there, would make him kneel for the rest of the night, with the spittle dripping down his face. Chris would make him sit there and wave at anyone who looked their way.

Allen would kneel there, looking at everyone who had played a part in the degradation, and he'd have to smile. He'd have to make eye contact, make sure he knew that they knew.

And this was just the beginning. Next time would be worse.

God, what would happen next time?