AgainstMyWill@gmail.com
Begging For It
March 2008
Donovan Flaherty made his way onto the crowded subway car and was just about to sit down when a woman hurriedly brushed by him, knocking his coffee and spilling it all over his jacket. His anger barely restrained, Donovan snapped the rubber band around his arm, a reminder to keep his cool. He hated living in the city, having to accommodate all the people around him, having to put up with their blatant rudeness and impositions, but as a lawyer he really had no choice.
He sighed as he got off the train and made his way to the subway station bathroom. His new suit coat was probably ruined. He blotted out as much coffee as he could, then just took it off. It was a warm day out, at least. Folding it carefully, he resolved to drop it off at his favorite cleaners’ on the way into the office.
“Favorite” was a strong word; he held them in disdain as he did just about everyone else around him, but they generally got the job done better than the others he’d tried and they tended to inconvenience him less than the others, too. Rolling his eyes, Donovan brought the coat into them, dropped it off without so much as a word, took the tag and headed for the door.
“Wait! Sir!” The owner of the cleaners called after him, “You have a balance. We can’t clean anything else until you’re paid up.”
Donovan, now late for work, nearly snarled at the man as he counted out a few bills and shoved them in the old cleaner’s bony hand. No tip. Spun on his heel and walked out the door.
As he briskly walked down the sidewalk, a homeless man stepped into his path, shaking his cup. Angrily Donovan just shoved the man aside, and as he reeled backwards, the homeless man tripped back over someone else’s rolling luggage and fell to the ground, spilling his cup of change everywhere. Donovan stopped, more out of surprise than regret, and simply looked on as two other people helped the man back up and he gathered his change.
As he did so, he looked at Donovan with hate in his eyes. “Too good for other people, are you?” he spat, “From now on, try it with tables turned, Mister Flaherty.”
Donovan was taken aback at hearing his name. “How do you... ?”
The homeless man sneered at him. “Never mind that. You’ll have more on your mind now. From now on you’ll be busy making up for lost time, serving others. And if you ask nicely enough, maybe they’ll let you serve.”
With that, the homeless man disappeared into the pedestrian crowd, and Donovan was left standing, bewildered and confused, but otherwise nonplussed. Shaking his head with curiosity, Donovan headed into his building and up to the top floor.
The day progressed without much of note, and Donovan forgot all about his confrontation with the homeless man by lunchtime. He worked on some cases, bilked some clients for small fortunes, and had a long “business lunch” with his attractive, married secretary, Janel. Per usual, they went into the clubhouse locker room afterwards so Donovan could have his way with her. It wasn’t an arrangement she was very partial to, but enough subtle threats from Donovan and she lived in fear of him. If she didn’t do what he said, she knew he could fire her and keep her from ever working in the law profession again. So she took his advances and let him fuck her mercilessly, but took no pleasure in it. It was very evident, and helped Donovan enjoy it all the more.
Today they went into the locker room and locked the door behind them. Donovan pushed her up against the wall with a smirk and reached down to unzip his pants. He roughly slid her skirt and underwear off all at once and was ready to plunge in when he realized, to his surprise, that he was completely flaccid. Confused, he looked down, gave his cock a few tugs, but it was down for the count. He got angry and roughly shoved Janel against the wall, to no avail. He just couldn’t get hard.
Finally he snarled angrily, blushed deep crimson, pulled up his pants, and barked at Janel to take care of the bill. “And go back to the office and get some work done for once,” he added, for no real reason but to mask his embarrassment.
Donovan spent the rest of the day in a state of near panic. He never had any problem getting hard, and never had any problem ruthlessly fucking his secretary, that was for sure. He stayed angry all day and didn’t get a whole lot more work done. Flustered, heart racing, Donovan sat trying to finish up some work at 8pm, when everyone else had left.
Just then, the janitor, a young Hispanic kid in overalls and a baggy t-shirt with a few facial piercings and a full sleeve tattoo, walked in to empty Donovan’s trash. Donovan took one glance at him and rolled his eyes and looked away. “Mental note,” he thought, “Find out why we let punks like this in the building at all?”
No sooner had he finished that thought, though, than he saw the kid’s hand reach for his trash can. As if it had a mind of its own, Donovan’s own hand darted down to grab the trash can first.
Donovan looked up at the startled kid, no less surprised, and to his own shock, opened his mouth and said, “Can I empty my own trash tonight? Please?”
The kid looked at him kind of funny and just as he began to shrug, Donovan said it again, with more emphasis: ”Please?”
At this, the kid stopped, abruptly, mid-shrug, and he blinked a couple times, as if dazed. Then, slowly, the faintest hint of a mean grin appeared at the corners of his mouth.
“You really want to empty your own trash, Mister?”
“Yes,” Donovan continued, still unsure why he was saying this, “Please, I really want to. Can I? Please?”
The kid’s grin grew into a smug smirk, and he looked down at Donovan and adjusted his posture, hands on hips, sneering at the powerful lawyer.
“Well, well. You’ll have to ask nicer than that.” Donovan noticed that even the kid looked a little surprised by the whole situation, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was saying, either. Something odd was going on, but before he had more time to think, Donovan was on his knees in front of the janitor.
“Please, please, I’ll do anything. I just want to help you out. You need to let me. You need to let me empty the trash. I’ll do anything you want. Please, come on, man, please.”
The kid’s eyes glazed over for another moment and he shook his head, as if disoriented, but immediately the smirk was back and broader as he approached Donovan’s kneeling form on the floor. The janitor kid reached down with his right hand and grabbed his crotch, giving it a gentle squeeze as it approached Donovan’s face.
“Anything, huh?” he said, his smirk growing impossibly wider and taking on a hint of malice. “Seems like you’re pretty good at begging. Why don’t you beg me to let you taste my cock?”
Donovan’s eyes grew wide in horror and he shook his head no even as his mouth opened and out came words he never meant to say. “Please, sir, please let me taste your cock. Please let me suck on it.”
“Sir, huh? I could get used to this. Big, powerful laywer like you on your knees in front of me, the janitor, begging to suck my dick? You’re gonna have to do better than that if you really want it. If you really want it, make me believe it.”
Donovan was having a hard time keeping things straight in his head now; when the janitor goaded him he felt a rush of panic at the thought he might not be able to suck the kid’s dick. But why? He didn’t want to, he knew he didn’t want to. Donovan sat furious concentrating on the way Janel’s pussy looked in the club locker room up against the lockers after lunch, but it was doing nothing to distract him from his more pressing obligation. And as he opened his mouth to beg some more, he noticed how hard he was.
“Please, please, please let me suck on your dick, I’ll do it so well, I’ll make you feel so good, I want to taste it, PLEASE let me suck on it!” Donovan was so frantic he was near tears.
The janitor kid laughed. “OK, OK, take it easy, you little hooker, I’ll give you what you want.” At that he unzipped his fly and out fell his hard, 8″ dick, smelling of sweat from his full day of work. Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Donovan dove forward and swallowed the whole dick in his mouth. The janitor’s eyes went wide with surprise.
“Wow, man, guess this ain’t the first time you’ve done this, I’ve never seen any chicks swallow it like that. You must be a real slutty piece of trash outside the office if you know how to suck a dick like that.”
His words only egged Donovan on, and before long the kid arched his back, grabbed Donovan’s hair, pulled his face all the way down onto his cock, and cried out. Donovan felt the thick tube of flesh slide all the way down his throat and then pulse rhythmically, swelling each time the janitor pumped a load of spunk straight down into Donovan’s stomach. And just as the janitor hit the peak of his orgasm, Donovan let loose a scream muffled by the cock gagging him as his own dick blew a giant load of jizz into his expensive silk boxers.
By the time the kid came down off his high and slid his slick, softening cock out of Donovan’s abused mouth, Donovan’s whole crotch was visibly soaked through with cum. Reeling, he thought, how would he take these to the cleaners? Surely they’d know. He’d have to go somewhere else, somewhere they wouldn’t recognize him.
His train of thought derailed abruptly as the janitor kid started talking again. “Look, man, that was a hot blowjob. So I’ll tell you what. You stay until 8 every night, and you take out the trash on this whole floor for me, and if you do a good job, I’ll let you beg to suck me off every single night. You like that?”
Donovan eagerly nodded. His cock was hardening again. He did like that. He wasn’t sure why, but he just couldn’t say no. He needed to please this kid.
From that day on Donovan found he couldn’t bring himself to leave before 8. Even if he finished his work, he’d make up some busy work, some justification for staying late. Even when people asked, and wondered, and talked behind his back, he stayed. And every day at 8 the same janitor kid walked in and stood in front of Donovan, and Donovan fell to his knees and begged to suck his dick. Every night the janitor taunted him more and more and forced him to beg all the more pathetically, but every night he eventually let Donovan suck him off, filled the lawyer’s stomach with a big load of jizz, and them let him beg to take out the trash as a reward for a job well done.
Days passed and Donovan avoided speaking to anyone he didn’t need to. He didn’t know what was happening but he was afraid. To his undying irritation, living in the city meant he couldn’t avoid everyone, and finally one day his doorbell rang and he answered. In front of him stood two handsome young men wearing suits.
“Good day, sir,” they began. Donovan spied the pamphlets they were carrying and recognized them as Jehovah’s Witnesses. But before he could close the door, one of them managed to ask, “Do you have a moment? We’d like to talk to you.”
As if in a dream, Donovan slowly opened the door up all the way, looked them directly in the eyes, and said, with only a hint of urgency, “I’d really like you to come in.”
And again, just as with the janitor, their faces slowly changed, from the friendly, approachable solicitors’ gazes they’d had before to a look of mischief, an impossible understanding of Donovan’s predicament, and an irresistible determination to take advantage of it.
“You’ll have to ask nicer than that if you want us to come into this dump,” the blonde one said, abruptly.
“Yeah, look at you,” the brunette added, “You’re worthless, you’re a waste of our time. Why should we bother? We made a mistake. We have to go.”
Donovan began to stammer, panicking. “No, no, you can’t go! Please, please! I need you to come in. I need you to come in! I know I’m worthless, but please! Please don’t go!”
The blonde one’s face widened into a wicked smile and with a twinkle in his eye he coyly asked, “And what would you do, if we did come in?”
“Anything!” Donovan was desperate now, raving. “Anything, I’ll do anything!”
“Really? Anything? We’ll see about that.”
They shut the door behind them and immediately set upon Donovan with taunting and teasing. “Looks like this one has a pretty nice ass, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would. Let’s see it, slut, strip.”
Donovan nearly tore his suit trying to get it off fast enough.
“He’s quite good at begging, wouldn’t you say? I think he likes it. And I wouldn’t want to deprive a desperate little fag like him from what he likes best. So beg, slut, beg me to rip off your underpants.”
As Donovan heard the order to beg, he felt in his head an urge, like a horrible itching, like if he didn’t get those underpants off him that very moment he’d simply die. He couldn’t help but plead. “Please! PLEASE! Please tear them off, get them off of me!”
“I don’t think he really means it. Do you?”
“No, it doesn’t sound like it.”
Donovan’s voice went shrill and a bit maniacal as he begged further. He wiggled his ass at them alluringly, desperately wanting the hated underpants off, but unable to do it himself. “PLEASE! PLEASE RIP THEM OFF!”
Finally the brunette laughed a mean little laugh and with a quick stride, walked behind Donovan, grabbed the waistband of his briefs, and tore them off his body. Donovan sighed a loud sigh of relief and his hard cock sprung forth from his body, leaking a glistening stream of precum at the floor.
“Oh, look! He really likes this, apparently. Do you like it? Do you, you disgusting little worm? You like begging us to abuse you, you filthy little fag?”
“Yes,” Donovan wheezed out, “Yes, yes! I can’t help it, I can’t stop it, please, don’t stop!”
“Oh, we’re not about to stop. We’re just getting started. Why don’t you beg me to lick my fingers and finger that tight asshole of yours?”
Donovan’s head was on fire. He didn’t want a man’s fingers in his ass, but then he didn’t want these two in his house with him, bare-ass naked on all fours on the floor. But what he wanted and didn’t want seemed less and less relevant. As soon as the boy told him to beg for the fingering, the itch returned, this time deep inside his ass, and his hole started twitching hungrily and he became even more consumed with desperation.
“Please finger my hole!” The blonde sidled up behind him and began to suck on his fingers, but made no more move.
“Please! Please! Please shove those fingers in my hole, I need them!” The blonde continued sucking and then knelt down behind Donovan and blew cool air onto his twitching, spasming, desperate little hole. Donovan just moaned and kept begging.
“PLEASE! Shove your fingers in my hole! Please, I’m begging! I’m begging, I’ll do anything, I just want those fingers in my asshole!” Just as he finished, the blonde boy teased just the tip of his middle finger into Donovan’s asshole and began to twist it around. The sensation was driving Donovan insane and he began to cry and laugh hysterically as he continued pleading.
“PLEASE FUCK ME WITH YOUR FINGERS, PLEASE, GOD, PLEASE JAM THEM INTO ME!” And with that, the blonde smiled and obliged him, burying his fingers knuckle-deep in Donovan’s velvety asshole.
The two polluted missionaries toyed with Donovan all day, didn’t make it to one more house to preach their message of good news, so busy were they tormenting their hapless slave. They took turns getting blowjobs, they fingered him, made him rim them, and finished the day by fucking Donovan on his hands and knees from both sides at once. First the brunette took his mouth and the blonde fucked his saliva-slick ass, and then they’d switch, walking around and making him beg anew to have the dick from his ass shoved in his mouth, and the one wet from his mouth driven into his ass. Donovan could only look on in horror and revulsion at the whole sordid scene, but as he looked on in horror, his mouth and asshole were begging for the stuffing they received.
The day ended with the two boys fucking Donovan at both ends while he screamed muffled pleas into the cock solidly filling his throat. Every time the one fucking his mouth pulled all the way out he’d gasp for breath and beg some more.
“MMMMMMPPPPHHHHH—gasp PLEASE FUCK ME FUCK ME HARDER PLEASE I NEED IT I’M BEGGING Y-MMMMMMPHHHH!!”
When the Jehovah’s Witnesses left, they left large puddles of bodily fluids all over Donovan’s living room floor; jizz, saliva, and sweat pooled under his abused, heaving body. They gave him instructions to be at home the next Saturday, too, and he already knew he was powerless to resist. As they left his house, the two boys blinked, as if waking up from a long nap, looked around, and walked back to their car, done with their proselytizing until next weekend.