
This story contains sexual exchanges and activities, mostly semi-nc/reluctant and
a lot of it incestuous, between adults and an under-aged teenager or between 
teenagers, involving elements of punishment/torture, bondage, domination/submission, 
humiliation, exhibitionism, and lots of hard hot sex with multiple partners. If you 
can't bear to read such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please stop 
reading right here. Otherwise, enjoy!

This story is about 14-year-old Jimmy who lives alone with his step-father Harry, a 
big, bearish, boy-loving bisexual in his 40's. For some reason, Jimmy seems to bring
out the worst in his old man, and as time goes on, Harry finds more and more
perverted ways in which to use and abuse his step-son, even bringing in his other 
boy-loving friends, Jimmy's own school-mates and teachers, the school janitor, and 
pretty much anyone else he can think of into the picture. Unlike my other stories,
this one is told from the points-of-view of both Jimmy and Harry.

Comments and suggestions welcome at: sub_casey@yahoo.com.



Jimmy - Part 7: Breakfast at Joe's
(M/t, anal, nc/reluc, inc, public humiliation)

by Casey



It took longer to clean up all that piss than I thought.

"You have two minutes!" My step-dad hollered from downstairs just as I finished
licking up the last puddle on the floor.

Two minutes. Shit. I had no time now to take a shower and clean myself. I knew that 
Harry always did what he promised, at least whenever it came to tormenting or
humiliating me.

I got up, grabbed a towel from the wall and began to clean the piss that was by now
smeared all over my body, especially my hands, elbows, and knees. Satisfied that I
would at least no longer smell as strongly as a urinal, I threw the towel into a
pail for later cleaning and flushed the toilet before making my way back to the
master bedroom.

I had just over a minute now. I ran to my room but before I could open the wardrobe
my eyes caught sight of a small pile of clothes on my untouched bed. Harry must've
left them out there before going downstairs. I took the clothes and held them up. It
was the white t-shirt and the cut-off jeans. My shoulders slumped in despair. They
were not so much clothes as instruments of further humiliation. Still, I had less
than a minute to go and going to breakfast stark naked was worse, if only slightly
so.

* * *

I glanced at the boy as he climbed down the last few steps and felt my cock jump
slightly. I loved his outfit. I wondered if my 14-year-old step-son knew just how 
much he oozed sex, how much his every inch of skin and every little mannerism 
screamed for men to molest him. No boylover like me would've been able to take his
eyes off Jimmy even if he was clad in heavy egyptian robes, and certainly, no threat
of capital punishment would ever convince them to look away from the boy in the
clothes that he had on now.

To have such a beautiful specimen of innocent teenagehood arrayed for ravishment on 
my bed every night, his limbs all splayed out on the sheets with streaks of my daddy 
cum glistening on the fair smooth skin of his spread-open thighs, made me feel like 
I was the luckiest man alive. 

The boy had a slightly sick expression on his face. I had no doubt as to the cause 
of his discomfort and smiled contentedly as my gaze went to his clothing. The white
t-shirt, selected for being wide at the neck and two sizes too small, fit snugly on 
him like a second skin, displaying to the world his boyish delights, especially the
two cute protruding nubs on his chest. Most of the bottom half of the t-shirt had
been cut away, so that the tight hem clung to his body just under his sternum. It
was more like a wide bra then a t-shirt, and it left the boy's lean, smooth belly 
and the nice curve of his back completely exposed. Best of all, big bold red letters
proclaimed 'S L * T' on the back of it - custom made lettering, of course. I liked
how the actual word was left to the reader's imagination. Most people would 
unerringly come up with a 'U', but I'd gleefully tell them that an 'I' or an 'O' 
would be just as valid, too.

As much as Jimmy hated the t-shirt, though, he probably hated the jeans even more. 
They were very short cut-offs, for one thing, and for another, they barely clung to 
his hips at the top. I'd spent a fair amount of time looking for just the perfect 
pair, and even then had to visit a tailor to make some adjustments, but the final 
results really pleased me. The jeans were wide enough at the waist that they settled
very low on the boy's hips, probably just about an inch-and-a-half above his cock-
root - which also meant a substantial part of the top of his bums were visible - and
yet hugged his crotch very snugly. Correspondingly, I had the legs cut very high, a
mere half-inch at most below his crotch. It ended up looking like one of those very
skimpy cut-offs that slutty girls sometimes wore, except that the girls wouldn't
have a problem with it because they didn't have cocks and balls. Even from the sofa,
the shape of Jimmy's half-hard penis was obvious as it made a nice horizontal bulge 
across the front of the jeans.

It didn't surprise me that he was half-hard. For one, he hadn't cummed yet despite
the high-octane fucking just now. Two, he could never go completely soft attired as
he was in such slutty clothes. One part of him might've resented it, but the deeper,
wiser part was completely turned on and couldn't wait to be be paraded out in public
like a whore. I know. I've seen too much of that other part to be deceived. In fact,
it didn't even matter if I was mistaken. It wasn't like he had any choice. All that 
mattered was what I wanted. And I wanted him out there, virtually naked except for 
that tiny, ridiculously ineffective piece of cloth around his hips, so that I could 
bask in the satisfying, drug-like rush of power as the boy's shreds of dignity and 
humanity were torn from him, could enjoy as every stranger's eyes bore into him, 
subjecting him to a degrading, demeaning mental fuck.

"Come over here," I told him.

Jimmy stepped hesitantly towards the sofa. It tested my patience a little but I was
in too good a mood to get angry. As he approached, I stood up in my faded jeans,
wife-beater and studded leather belt. I nudged at his chin and he looked up at me.

I leaned over his angelic face, hawked up a big blob of spit, and let it fall splat
right onto the bridge of his nose. The boy's hands twitched but he knew better than
to bring them up and clean his face. I watched delightedly as my saliva dribbled
slowly down the side of his nose and cheek. Jimmy just stood there, blinking up at
me. The mere sight made my hardening cock push that little bit further down one leg
of my jeans.

"Go and start the car," I told the boy. "Then wait by the garage door. I'll be out 
in a minute."

As the boy almost shakingly pushed the front door open, I went back to our room to 
get one of the medium-sized buttplugs from the shelf (yes, I arrange them nicely on
a shelf so anyone could see and use them). It was a straightforward, six-inch-tall 
plug with a wide suction base and a flared section about 5 cm in diameter. Jimmy
could take it easily nowadays, but I still fondly recalled the early days when the 
slim, short boy would break into a cold sweat just trying to take that thing in his 
cunt, especially the first time when his sphincters tore slightly and he began to 
bleed all over the thing. Guess it was his body's natural defense, to bleed so that 
it had some sort of lube to ease his suffering. It happened not long after I first 
raped him over the couch. Sometimes it still amazed me how vicious I must've been to 
be able to stuff my huge cock up the tiny chute, considering it was considerably 
longer and thicker than that plug.

On the way out, I stopped by the kitchen and treated myself to a leisurely can of 
beer. Let the boy sweat it out for ten minutes or so. He must've been freaking out 
by now, jumping at every movement thinking that it was someone passing by and 
looking in his direction. Finally, I crushed the empty can in my hand and went out.

* * *

I was almost physically sick by the time we got to the eatery. My nerves were 
already badly jangled by the wait on the front lawn of our home and the drive 
through the town streets, but the realization that Harry had something ten times as 
worse in store for me made the world spin around. I barely even realized that the
car had stopped, but my step-father's voice brought me back to reality.

"Let's go, boy," Harry said. "Remember, twenty strokes for every time you fail to 
obey an order immediately. And another twenty for each second of hesitation." The 
possibility that I might not obey an order at all never seemed to occur to him.

I tried to adjust my half-hard cock as best as possible as we got out of the car. 
Despite my burning shame, the thrill of exposure along the ride had given me an 
erection, although I tried as much as I could to focus my mind on other things. Now 
I had no choice but to position my cock so that it lay diagonally over to one side. 
With the jeans being as skimpy as it was, any other alternative would simply result 
in exposing half or even the whole of my boycock to the world. Still, tight as they 
were, the pants left no part of my obvious bulge to the imagination. Worse, there 
was nothing I could do about my balls. The narrow strip of denim that remained of
the crotch mashed so snugly against my scrotum that my two testicles were in 
constant danger of spilling out of either side of it. Sitting with my legs spread in 
the car had demonstrated how little it took for them to pop out in the open, and I 
had no doubt Harry would find more ways to ensure that it would happen often in the 
restaurant.

I was trembling as we made our way to the door. A big neon sign above the entrance
proclaimed the place to be "Joe's". I'd never been here before. Harry rarely took me
out for breakfast, anyway. Even out here in the deserted parking lot, I could see a 
couple heads perk up inside the restaurant at our approach. It wasn't one of those 
gay places, so they probably thought that I was some sexy girl making my way over at 
the heels of my big brawny boyfriend. Even so, the heads didn't turn away once we 
got close enough for them to realize I wasn't exactly a girl. For some reason, I 
felt slightly proud of this fact, which in turn also made me somewhat disgusted with 
myself.

A few yards away from the entrance, Harry stopped and I stopped behind him. He 
turned around, leered at me and fished around in one of his pockets. I stood there 
waiting in silent dread, and the dread turned quickly into despair as my step-father 
pulled out what looked like a studded leather collar affixed on one end of a thin 
silver link chain. I willed myself to stay still as Harry took a step closer and 
wrapped the inch-wide collar around my neck and velcroed its two ends together 
behind me. Then he took the clip at the other end of the chain and brought it to 
his waist. If anyone in the restaurant had any doubt about my status (unlikely as 
that was), they'd surely have no more reservations now.

As he fastened the clip to his belt, Harry said to me. "Once we're inside, you're
not to touch yourself in any way, not even through your jeans. Is that clear?"

I realized what that meant, but could only nod meekly in acceptance. Whatever
remained of my dignity now was completely at the mercy of my step-father and my own 
lust.

Harry turned and started for the door again and I had no choice but to follow. The 
chain was about an armspan in length, so it gave me considerable room to move, but
I could not prevent myself from almost stumbling twice as I followed my step-father
like an obedient dog. Harry pulled the door open, and all I wanted to do was run
away as fast as I could, but as my step-father always reminded me, my body was no 
longer mine to control.

All eyes fell on us, particularly me, as we entered the joint; little me a couple of 
steps behind big, hulking Harry. I saw an old lady shaking her head in disgust, 
while another, younger lady smirked condescendingly at me, although I thought I 
detected a hint of jealousy in the look in her eyes. The rest of the patrons 
consisted of kids and men. Most of the latter oggled me openly, some even blatantly 
looking up and down the length of me. One guy who was there with his little kid 
blushed and looked away. Despite myself, I felt a twinge of pity for him.

Harry leaned slightly backwards towards me and whispered. "Swish."

As he led the way deeper into the restaurant, I swished. Or at least tried my best 
to. As I swished, all I could think of was how almost half of my bubble-butts were 
showing above my cut-offs and how dangerously close my balls were to spilling out 
into the open. My boypenis which had gone almost fully soft with panic was also 
threatening to fall out completely from one of the leg openings. I heard a couple of 
wolf whistles and cat calls as we made our way between the tables but didn't dare to 
take my eyes off the back of my daddy's boots. When Harry finally turned around to 
face me and motioned me towards a seat by a window table, he was positively beaming.

The table was located near the back end of the restaurant and I was told to sit 
facing the entrance and in so doing also almost all of the other patrons. Many were 
still eyeing me with a variety of expressions on their faces, from distaste to 
curiosity to outright lust. The old lady was leaving her table with her grand-
daughter in a half-rush, shooting me disgusted looks frequently as she did so. The 
other woman was looking at us even more closely now, but she seemed to be staring at 
my step-father almost as much as she was at me. At one point, Harry noticed her gaze 
while looking around and proceeded to eye her up and down, leaving no doubt as to 
what he was evaluating before giving her a wink. This caused her to blush prettily 
and she shot me an embarrassed look, a look to which I replied with some venom, 
although I didn't really realize it at the time.

Apart from the ladies and the man with his son, there were five other patrons in the 
restaurant, all of whom were men. Two of them sat alone and apart, while the other 
three sat together in a group. Of the loners, one was an older biker type with long 
greying hair, a moustache and goatee and sunglasses on his eyes. The other looked 
like one of those harrassed real estate agents, a balding man in his late forties in 
a light-brown suit who was sweating despite the mild weather and the air 
conditioning. The three-men group consisted of two hispanics and one guy who looked
to be a descendent of middle-eastern immigrants, all younger than the other two men, 
probably in their early twenties. The former were both clean-shaven but the latter 
sported a rough stubbled look. It was obvious that this group was where the 
whistling and cat calls were coming from.

Aware of Harry's eyes on me, I met their gazes the way I'd been trained to meet the 
gazes of all men. Any time our eyes connected, instead of immediately looking away I 
would let them look into my eyes for a few seconds before lowering my gaze to their 
shoes. This was to show my inferiority and proper submission to them. It was rude 
for a slutboy to look away when men looked at them, and to even accidentally do so 
spelled a vicious punishment from my step-father. The biker guy's face betrayed no 
expression when I looked at him, but the businessman wiped more sweat from his brow 
while the group of three smirked and nudged at each other as I showed my submission 
to each of them in turn. Afterwards, I could feel Harry's eyes on me and looked up 
to see real pleasure in his eyes. That made me feel rather good, which, of course,
made me hate myself in turn.

As we waited to be served, the thing I was most aware of was the feel of the collar
around my neck. I could see the thin chain extending from under my chin, going under
the table before disappearing on its way towards Harry's belt. More than my t-shirt 
and cut-offs, it seemed to proclaim what I was louder than any words. Slowly, my 
mostly shriveled boyhood began to fill with blood again.

Shortly, a plump lady in a chequered apron approached us.

"Good morning," she said in a high, rather nasal tone of voice. "What would you have 
today?" She'd tried to keep her tone polite but I could still detect the distaste in 
it. She was also going out of her way to avoid glancing at me.

Harry looked up at her and smiled congenially. "A double helping of bacon and eggs 
for me, sweetie pie," he said, "and also bring over a couple of those yummy-looking 
pancakes."

The waitress nodded and jotted something on her notepad. "Coffee?"

"Yeah."

She made another note and then waited. At first, Harry seemed to have already 
forgotten all about her, but a few moments later he looked up, seeming to be 
surprised that she was still there.

"Oh," he said. "And just a glass of milk for the boy, of course. We don't want her 
to start blowing up like a big fat cow, do we?"

I'd begun to feel the sharp pangs of hunger as Harry made the orders - after all I'd 
hardly eaten anything yesterday apart from cum and piss - but I knew better than to 
protest at getting only a glass of milk this morning. Still, the fact only added to 
my despair and I barely noticed how my step-father refered to me as both 'boy' and 
'her' in almost the same sentence.

Harry was staring down at me with a smile on his face as the waitress hurried away. 
Then I felt a tug on the collar around my neck and I realized that my step-father 
was pulling on the chain from under the table. I lowered my head obediently towards 
the table at each tug until my chin was only a couple inches above it. As I stared 
down at the salt and pepper shakers on the table, Harry whispered to me.

"Open your legs," he ordered. "Spread them as far apart as you can."

My heart thudded even faster as I moved hesitantly to obey. I'd been keeping my bare 
thighs pressed together and as I parted them I could feel my jeans hiking up even 
further. Unlike lycra which would've clung tightly to the base of my thighs, the 
crotch of the jeans could not stretch to protect my modesty but instead simply began 
to pull away from my skin. As I moved my knees further apart until my thighs spread 
to an almost 180 degree position, I began to feel the cool air caressing my balls. I 
stole a quick glance downward and saw that nothing would've blocked anyone's view of 
my balls if they were to look at me from either side. Even from the angle that I 
had, I could see my hairless, denim-mashed balls clearly, one spilling out from 
either leg-hole.

"Now lean back and relax with your hands by your sides," Harry told me as he 
loosened his grip on the chain. "Turn and face sideways a bit so that everyone can 
see how much of a slut you are."

I pulled away from the slack chain and rested my shoulders on the back of the 
bench - it was one of those long seats that could seat two or three - with my arms 
hanging limply by my sides. I was acutely aware of how my slutty t-shirt clung to my
my ribs and exposed all of my lean belly and my belly button. I was also acutely 
aware of the fake leather of the seat sticking wetly to my thighs and the upper 
parts of my curvy buttock mounds as I sat there. As I lifted my head to show my 
obedience, I also became aware that my formerly limp cock was already half-hard and
twitching excitedly at my predicament. By the time I had my left knee jutting 
straight out over the side of my seat, anyone close by would easily be able to see 
the lump in my jeans growing horizontally with every thump of my heartbeat. 

I was no longer suprised that my body betrayed me once again.

Harry made me maintain that posture all throughout breakfast. A different waitress
delivered our food, and this one didn't try to hide it when she checked out one
exposed side of my crotch. In fact, she even winked at me before leaving.

My step-father found more ways to humiliate me during our meal. He instructed me not 
to wipe my mouth clean after I drank my milk - he thought I looked cute, not to 
mention slutty, with the milk staining my upper and lower lips. He also cut little 
pieces from his bacon and pancakes which he fed me and told me to suck on as lustily 
as I could. 'Make love to the food,' he said. At one point, he fed me the intact 
yolk of one of the eggs and told me to play around with it in my mouth without 
bursting it, making me open wide to show it to him occasionally as proof, before 
finally allowing me to puncture it with my teeth and suck on it slowly.

All the while, the patrons and most of the waitresses in the restaurant stared 
transfixed at my humiliation. The man with his kid had left the moment they finished
their meal, but the young lady was still there. She seemed to be biting her lip
frequently, and had her purse in her lap while her right hand moved minutely over
her black skirt. I could discern no change in the expression on the biker's face 
behind his sunglasses, but there was clearly a growing bulge in the crotch of his 
leather pants. The overweight businessman was now positively drenched in sweat, his 
soaked handkerchief swiping constantly at his balding head as he tried to look 
anywhere but in my direction. He also seemed to have a problem staying still in his 
seat. The two hispanics were openly rubbing their crotches under their table, while 
their companion simply stared at me with undisguised lust.

Just as we were about to finish the last of the food, my step-father leaned back in
his seat and gave me a nasty smile. "Sit back and relax, boy," he told me.

Then I felt something on my crotch. I looked down and saw that his boot now rested
on my seat. As I stared in disbelief, Harry extended his leg further and began 
grinding the sole of his boot against my cock and balls. Within seconds, my
heightened lust since the morning fuck began to take over.

I still had enough of my wits about me not to start humping my step-father's boot
right there in the open, but other things started to happen that was more or less
beyond my control. My breathing quickened markedly, and my chest and shoulders
began to heave with it. My toes clenched and unclenced on my sandals. My mouth hung
open now, my lips still smeared with drying milk.

I knew that many eyes were observing me with interest, but I was barely aware of
them now. My spread-open legs twitched and my hips trembled on the seat. Harry's
boot seemed to caress me at just the right angle, giving the illusion that it was
engulfing my penis completely and gently kneading my balls at the same time. I
realized that I wasn't even completely hard yet.

And then I came. It was so sudden and intense that it even took me by surprise. I
jerked in my seat as my still-growing cock let loose the first volley, then lost all
sense of time and place as my hips shook violently, my body shuddering as spurt 
after spurt of long denied orgasm filled my skimpy jeans. I remember accidentally
meeting the suited businessman's gaze squarely at one point - he was no longer 
pretending to try to look elsewhere. I wonder what went through his mind as he saw
me, my face twisted with blissful pleading and my mouth parted in a silent scream of 
joy.

As my orgasm subsided and weakness washed over me, I looked down to see my step-
father's boot leaving my crotch. The right side of my little cut-offs was completely
drenched - there was a huge dark stain on the blue denim. Even as I looked, I could
feel some of the cum sliding down my hip and thigh and starting to seep through the
leg hole. Panting in the aftermath, I looked up to see Harry smiling down at me.

Horrified, my gaze strayed to the others in the restaurant. The businessman was
staring openly at my soaked crotch. The biker was nodding to himself, though it
wasn't clear if it had anything to do with me. The young woman stared at me
longingly, strangely enough. The three young men whispered animatedly among 
themselves, though I could hear none of their words. One of them looked intently at
me and mouthed a word. 'Slut', he moved his lips with exaggerated emphasis. I jerked 
my gaze away quickly and stared down at the table, my cheeks flaming. The smell of 
cum filled the air.

"Damn, boy," Harry said. "You've gotta stop making all these mess."

I said nothing. Harry did something and I could feel the chain now hanging loosely
from my collar.

"Go and wash up. Actually, just pretend to. Dab some water on your pants and come 
back."

The thought of getting up and exposing my shame even more clearly made me sick, but
the threat of a trashing at home galvanized my limbs. I'd risen half-way when Harry
continued.

"Take this to the washroom with you," he said as he threw a napkin towards my end of
the table. "Drop it on the way, four steps after you leave the table. Then bend over 
and pick it up. Don't forget to spread your legs and arch your back the way I taught 
you. Make sure you stay bent over for at least twenty seconds."

God, the things my evil step-father could come up with. As I continued to get up, he 
added, "Not yet. Once you get to the washroom, bunch up the seat and back of your 
pants so that they form a thin strand, like a thong's. Do it in the washroom itself, 
not one of the stalls. Then come back here. Four steps from the table, drop the 
napkin again. Drop it behind you so that you have to turn and pick it back up, as 
before. Remember, twenty seconds. And don't even think about touching your little 
cock at any time."

I wanted to die. He might as well have told me to parade myself naked among the 
tables.

I stood up and turned while all eyes in the restaurant followed me. I had no doubt 
that part of my balls and the bulge of my softening cock was completely visible to 
everyone. After four swishing steps towards the washroom at the back, the napkin 
fell 'accidentally' from my hand. I arched my back seductively as I bent over and 
thrusted my barely clad bottoms in the air. I could be mistaken but I thought I 
heard a muffled gasp from the direction of the man in the suit. It was tricky to 
find an excuse to stay in that position for twenty seconds, but the napkin managed 
to 'slip' from my grasp two more times before I finally got a good grip on it. As I 
straightened up, feeling the pressure on my backside lessen, I struggled to remember 
if I'd ever seen any whore act more sluttily than I just did.

I was burning red all over when I entered the washroom. Breathing a sigh of relief 
that no one else was about, I turned the tab and quickly dabbed some water on the 
dark stain on my jeans. It didn't really help much and my fingers came away sticky
with my own spunk. I considered cleaning all of the cum for real but dismissed the
thought almost immediately. That'd throw Harry into fits and it'd only happened once
before but I knew above everything else how I'd never let that happen again, so I 
only stared in dismay as the water made the stain expand even more without actually
removing any of the cum.

That decided, I quickly bunched up the underside of my jeans and crammed the 
resulting strip into my asscrack. Now almost the entire top and bottom halves of my 
butt were exposed, leaving only about two inches of my backside concealed by the 
jeans. Worse, all of this had quickly threatened to spill more of my genitals out 
into the open. With the jeans bunched up under me, almost the whole of my left 
testicle was now visible to the outside world. My movements also made my not-quite-
soft cock slip from its almost horizontal position to very nearly falling out of the 
right leg hole of my jeans entirely. After agonizing on the decision for a few 
seconds, I grabbed my cock and tugged it back to a diagonal position, letting it go
afterward as if it was a viper. Then I nudged it back down a bit so that Harry 
wouldn't notice. With my eyes almost starting to tear up in shame, I pushed the 
washroom door open and made my way back to our table.

I didn't even dare to look at the other patrons this time around. A few steps from 
my broadly grinning step-father, the napkin 'slipped' from my fingers again and I 
had to turn around to pick it up. I could feel the bunched up cloth pressing into my 
crack and it felt like everyone could see right into the depths of my boyhole. This 
time my little 'show' was greeted with more than one gasp and even a wolf whistle. 
It took all of my will power to stay bent with my back arched like that for what I 
hoped was the requisite twenty seconds. Then, I twisted around as I straightened up 
hoping to make a quick escape to the table. To my horror, this action caused my 
boycock to slip from its position so far that the head and another inch of it ended 
up peeking out from under my cut-offs!

I almost made the fatal mistake of touching myself with my hands then, but I managed 
to freeze my limbs at the last minute. Wishing that I'd just die right then, I 
practically ran for the table and plopped myself down across from my step-father, 
pressing my thighs together as I did so. The sounds of muffled laughter echoed in my 
head for a long time.

Harry was still smiling, but his eyes had a hard edge to them. "I didn't tell you 
that you could put your legs back together."

I hung my head in both fear and shame and started to push my legs apart once more. 
Despite my mortification, the public humiliation was getting to me again and my cock
began to harden, jutting as it was out of the cum-smeared hole of my jeans. It felt
so unreal sitting there with my thighs far apart and most of my private parts 
exposed to the world.

"I'm very disappointed in you, boy," Harry grated at me. "I didn't say you could run 
back to the table, and I could've sworn that I told you twenty seconds."

Despite myself, I looked up and started to protest before clamping my mouth back 
shut.

"The first time, you only stayed down for fifteen seconds. And the second time, only 
ten. I'd thought that we'd managed to break you of your bad habits."

I knew that tone of voice very well. With no obvious transition, I found that my 
lower lip had begun to tremble and that tears were starting to gather in my eyes.

"It appears that I'm wrong and you will need a few more lessons in discipline and 
obedience after all. After that, we will come back here and you will be made to walk 
naked without a single thread of cloth on you from the car all the way to the 
washroom and back out again. Maybe I will ask if they'd let you serve the customers 
completely naked for half-a-day or so. I will expect full obedience then."

The horror was too much for me that I had to stifle a sob. I could not even imagine 
what it'd be like. I wanted to beg my father to show me some mercy but I knew for a 
fact that at this point, that would only make matters worse. I didn't want to end up 
being made to stroll naked through school or from one end of the town to the other.

Something long and black suddenly appeared beyond the haze of my teary vision. I 
blinked my tears away to see Harry extending a familiar, medium-sized buttplug 
towards me across the table. He didn't bother to conceal it from the sight of the 
other customers.

"Spit on it a little and shove it up your pussy right now, boy. I'd wanted to let 
you use some lube, but consider this as the first part of your punishment. A very 
very small part."

As I took the plug from my step-father, I stole a quick glance at the other 
customers. They were all staring at me intently, and I quickly snatched my gaze 
away and yanked the plug under the table. Oh God.

I tried my best to shut out the rest of the world from my consciousness as I smeared
my fingers with saliva using my tongue and used them them to coat the plug with my
spit. The shiny, bulbous head of the plug stared at me like an executioner's sword.
I brought it around behind me and lifted my scantily clad butt a few inches from the 
seat. Then, using one hand to pry the bunched up jeans away from my hole, I began to 
lower myself onto the spittle-wet plug.

Have you ever been stripped practically naked inside a half-full restaurant in broad 
daylight and then made to impale yourself on a big black buttplug while the other 
customers watched on? The feelings that ran through me then was impossible to 
describe, and you'd only really understand if you were forced to do the same thing 
yourself. Suffice to say, by the time I got the whole plug inside me, tears of shame
were running freely down my cheeks and dripping from my chin, and my boycock was 
painfully bloated and as hard as a steel pole. I could not even maintain my silence 
when my hard-on pulsed and half-spurted a big blob of precum the moment my asslips 
closed up around the neck of the plug, and my loud sob echoed resoundingly from the 
wall. I hung my head in utter shame and stared vacantly at the exposed head of my 
penis as more precum leaked in pulses and dangled in long sticky strands to the
floor.

Harry let me stew like that for a couple minutes.

"Go to the washroom and wait for me in one of the stalls," he told me then.

I pushed myself up off the bench woodenly and hardly even cared any more as more 
than a half dozen strangers watched my firm, rounded, half-naked rump wiggle around 
the big black plug protruding out of my boycunt with the bunched up seat of my jeans 
pushed out of the way to one side.

Harry came into the stall a couple minutes later and immediately began to strip. His 
huge cock was raging hard with his desire and he hardly wasted a moment before 
roughly pushing me forward to lean against the toilet seat and yanking the plug out 
of my hole. He paid no attention to my sharp yelp as my asslips protested at the 
savage withdrawal and instead simply grabbed the bunched up part of my jeans, yanked 
it away to one side and started to jam his throbbing cock into my hole.

I wriggled and squirmed under the overwhelming, inexorable assault and prayed only 
for my boycunt to adjust as quickly as possible before my step-father started to 
really ram his humongous tool into me. Luckily, the plug and the earlier morning 
fuck must've loosened my pussy enough that Harry bottomed out in me fairly quickly. 
Unfortunately, he must've been so turned on at my public humiliation that what 
followed felt like a bullet train punching in and out of me with tremendous speed 
and crushing force.

The fuck was so brutal and unrelenting that I could not help but to start screaming 
in both pain and unadulterated lust. We made so much noise that I had no doubt 
everyone in the building heard our rutting. With my hands braced on the toilet seat, 
my shoulders kept banging onto the porcelain tank above it with every thrust. Each 
time Harry pulled his cock out, his own butt banged against the wooden door behind 
him so hard that I half-expected it to break into splinters at any time. And then of 
course there were the sounds of my moans and screams, primal and unbridled, begging 
for both mercy and more savagery at the same time. My feet were lifted clean off 
the wet floor at each thrust and all I wanted was to be impaled and bouncing on that 
magnificent mancock for the rest of my existence.

I shot another load quickly, my toes curling up as I let loose a volley of seven 
shots that sprayed to one side of the toilet seat, the floor and the wall. My eyes 
rolled back in my head and I swear I felt both my consciousness and my sanity 
evaporate from my physical being at that point. I was so caught up in my explosive 
orgasm that I never realized when Harry cummed inside me. Over the next few minutes 
or so, I was only dimly aware of my step-father plunging the buttplug back into my 
chute and of the sensation as some of his fuckslime leaked out around the plug.

As Harry dressed up and propelled me out of the stall, I could hear a sound coming 
from the main washroom door and looked up in time to see part of a brown suit as a 
man disappeared beyond it.

* * *

I left the boy standing there in the middle of the room while I went to pay at the
counter. He looked so cute, so lost and so dejected as he stood in plain view with
his cock and balls peeking out and the base of the black buttplug shoved up his
barely covered rump. He was still flushed from head to feet but I wasn't sure if he
was even aware of it. I looked at the other customers and could only imagine how
hard each man must've been for the boy. My boy.

Despite having just fucked the brains out of the boy, I was still somewhat hard, and
I didn't bother to hide it, just as I let the other men see my huge, hungry snake 
throbbing down one leg of my jeans as I followed Jimmy to the washroom earlier. I
wanted them to know that I was going back there with the boy for one reason and one
reason only.

On the way out, I grabbed Jimmy's collar and leaned down over him. "So, did you like 
it here, boy? The food and everything?" I asked him solicitously.

Jimmy looked up and nodded dumbly. I chuckled. "Well, I'm sure everyone else liked 
it, too. Guess that means we'll be coming here again next Sunday, then!" I announced
quite loudly.

I grabbed the chain hanging from his collar and started to walk out, tugging my boy
behind me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see every pair of eyes in the
restaurant following Jimmy's every step. I'm sure they were still staring right up
until we got into the car.

After starting the ignition, I made Jimmy shuffle forward on his bum until he sat
near the edge of the passenger seat. Then, I pushed his chest back so that he was
leaning into the seat with his butt fairly high.

"Put your feet up on the dashboard," I told him. "Wide apart."

A flicker of emotion lit his eyes then, but he moved to obey. The boy smelled of
sex and cum. Delicious.

"Now as we drive, you're gonna stick your fingers into your boypussy around the
buttplug and scoop out as much of my cum as you can. Then you will eat every single
drop of it. Keep doing it until your fingers come out clean."

I could see the slight trembling in his body now. The slutboy was mistaken if he
thought that his ordeal was over. Far from it.

"You'd better hope the cum on your pants dry up soon, too," I told him. "'Coz we're
going to the mall, after this. You wouldn't want all those hundreds of people to
know that you've been a bad boy and have been cumming in your pants, do you?"

Jimmy's head turned slowly to look at me. That beautiful plea for mercy in his big,
teary, expressive eyes showered me with bliss.
