Useless Femboy Companion [dani_honey & midnite_run]

The Wayward Mermaid was an apt name for the ship that had quietly departed from the nearby city of Duskhaven; the small, speedy caravel had managed to elude the prying eyes of the port authorities, carrying on board both contraband and an unsavory cast of characters that would be enough to make most anyone balk. After word of a lucrative deal had reached the dark corners of the criminal underworld, the big-time crime syndicate plaguing Duskhaven had assembled a handpicked team of the city's finest... or worst, depending on who you asked. Their destination? A remote, uninhabited island just off the coast that was perfect for all sorts of illicit goings-on. The merchant captain – whose boat had been borrowed for this little venture – was on the take, and had no problems looking the other way while the smugglers did their thing. The ship's crew also had another incentive besides money to make sure that things went smoothly; the gang had put Maher, their most brutal enforcer, in charge of the group. There wasn't a soul in Duskhaven who wanted to cross a man with such a fearsome reputation.

Amidst the cut-throat rogues and hardened criminals, however, one person stood out...

The figure of a petite, young girl could be seen on the forecastle, leaning over the side. The gentle ocean breeze sent her long, strawberry blond hair aflutter. Her big, innocent eyes sparkled with the same luster as the blue, crystal-clear waters below. Her fair, flawless skin was milky smooth, in sharp contrast to the rugged, swarthy sailors aboard. She looked so out of place that it was easy to imagine her being some kind of angel who had fallen from the sky and washed up ashore, only to be picked up by a passing ship. Thankfully, the crew didn't have to worry about that old adage about women on ships bringing bad luck; that's because this pretty little thing was a boy. Standing only 5'3'' tall, his otherwise slender body was pear-shaped, with wide, womanly hips and a deliciously thick rump. The 15-year-old femboy was Maher's "girl", and he was no angel.

Fitted snugly around the teen's neck was a dog collar that had his name, "Romi", written on it in a glittery, girly white font. The left side of the boy's head was shaved, giving him a feisty look – a style that was all the rage back in Duskhaven... among whores, that is. His once-pristine body had been turned into a panoply of filth: piercings and lewd tattoos made the boy's position in the gang quite clear. The way he was dressed was hardly any more age- or gender-appropriate: he was wearing a tight tube top and sleeves, but the pink-tinted, rubbery material they were made of was entirely see-through... which meant that the boy's nipple rings were in plain view. Even though they were designed for big-bootied bitches like him, the cheeky black hotpants the teen was wearing left almost half of his ass exposed...! Not only that, but they were so low-rise that his underwear was peeking out! Ever since meeting Maher, boys' underwear was strictly off limits, so the little sissy had no choice but to wear humiliating lingerie like this skimpy, purple thong that seemed to want to bury itself into his crack as much as possible. The boy's adorably stumpy legs were wrapped within pink fishnet stay-ups – a staple in any whore's outfit –, and his tiny feet were held hostage in 6'' clear platform heels that looked better suited for swinging around stripper poles than for the dangerous journey ahead.

In other words... he was useless.

Romi knew that the only reason he was here is because he was Maher's cum dump. That's what he was; it even said as much on his tramp stamp. It used to bother him, but after being together with the bigger male for three months, the boy had come to accept his role. Most girls that got roped into gang life had been plied with drugs, but the only thing Maher needed to feed the little sissy to get him addicted was his big, fat cock. Thankfully, the femboy cutie never had to go through withdrawal, because his man made sure to give him his daily dose of alpha male jizz. However, not everyone was pleased with a tart like Romi tagging along...

"Hello, cum dump," a woman's voice called to him from behind. She followed up her crude greeting by patting the boy condescendingly on the small of his back, right over his vulgar tattoo.
That seemed to get the sissy's attention; Romi turned around, his pretty, effeminate features flushed with embarrassment.
"Leave me alone, Persia. I'm working on my tan, OK?" he retorted, annoyed, and turned his back to the woman in a huff. Above his tramp stamp, the girly teen's entire back was inked with beautiful, feminine hues, depicting a stylized, naked fairy. The faggoty art earned a mocking chuckle from the woman. Tall and ebony-skinned, Persia was a hitwoman working for the group, far above the boy in both rank and stature. Dressed in shiny black leather, she could be mistaken for a dominatrix. Unperturbed by the boy's hissy fit, she ran her hand up his spine – smirking midway when she brushed against the fairy tattoo's tits –, before reaching the nape of his neck. Without warning, she yanked the blonde sissy by the hair, bringing Romi's doll face up to hers.
"Ow, ow-ow...!" the boy cried out like a little bitch, unable to break free from her controlling grip.
"Listen up, you filthy little cockslut!" she snarled at him, her dark eyes gleaming menacingly. "I don't know how much Maher's ball slime you had to swallow to convince him to take you along, but I will not have you fuck things up!"
"I won't—" Romi began, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise.
"Shut the fuck up, cunt. I don't wanna hear a single fucking peep out of you during this trip! Maher should have you plugged and gagged. The only time your holes should be open is when they're stuffed full of cock. Slut. ...Open up!"
"Huh?" the teen stared at her with a blank, idiotic expression. He'd heard this command from his boyfriend so many times though that his mouth opened of its own accord. Persia could see the sissy's tongue piercing, and she had a pretty good idea for whose benefit the boy fellatrix had gotten it. Tilting the femboy's head back, the woman brought her face level to his and – much to Romi's horror – spat in his open mouth, forcing the boy to accept a large glob of her saliva.
"Swallow it," she ordered. In her own twisted way, Persia wanted to understand how Maher felt when he made this little cum guzzler lap up his bodily fluids. She eased up on the kid after seeing his throat obeying her. With a satisfied grin, Persia praised her sissy spittoon like one would a dog after it performed a new trick for its master, "Good girl. Enjoy your time in the sun."

After she left, Romi slumped to his knees, his pretty face still burning with humiliation. He wanted to believe that his boyfriend would have come to his rescue had he witnessed this scene, but knowing him, he would have probably found the whole thing amusing – two bitches going at it. Where was Maher, anyway? Probably still recovering from yesterday's bender...

The island loomed in the distance, but there was still plenty of time to bask in the midday sun. Finding a good spot on the weather deck, Romi stripped down to his undies and lay belly down, letting the sun kiss his curves. His perfectly round, thong-clad booty in particular seemed to be loving the attention of both sunshine and male sailor alike. The pleasant slosh of the waves soon lulled the boy into a light, blissful sleep – and, perhaps more importantly, into a false sense of security...

The rocking of the boat lulls Maher from his sleep. A groan rumbles from his broad chest as he shits up, throwing the sheets to the side. Standing at a full height of 6’4, his size is fully apparent. He’s a brute of a man, built like a warhorse, with massive shoulders and thick arms. The tattoos on his coal-black back flexes along with the thick layers of muscle, a variety of skulls, swords and phrases forming a story.

Looking around the small cabin room, he surveys the damage from last night’s bender. The floor is littered with whiskey bottles. There’s a variety of dildos and anal beads on the dresser. The smell of sex is stale, but still pungent, thick as fog. Maher looks to the side and is surprised to see that Romi left; the boy was usually in a fucked out coma for half the day after one of Maher’s benders. On one of the pillows is a smear of pink lipstick from where Maher shoved his sissy’s face into the pillow, muffled his shrill squeaks and screams while he stuffed another inch of fat cock up his faggot ass. The memory alone sends a tremor of arousal through his body and his dick begins to swell in his briefs.

Maher bursts out of the room, walks like a man with a purpose. The glare of the sun barely deters him from his goal. As he stalks down the halls, other thieves and criminals give the man a wide berth. Despite the fact Maher was walking in just briefs, seemingly as vulnerable as could be, they knew better. How could they not? Maher was the most feared enforcer in all of Duskhaven. He’d killed more men with his bare hands alone than most squads did combined. His combat prowess and ruthlessness had secured him a spot as the leader of a small but highly skilled group of thieves heading to an island to partake in a lucrative deal. Everyone in the group was a hardened criminal except for one; Romi. His “girlfriend”.

His cumdump.

He stood from afar, leaning against a door, as he watched Persia humiliate Romi. He was vaguely amused by the sight, how easily she put the boy on his knees. Maher could’ve helped easily. He could’ve crushed Persia’s skull with his hands. However, he needed Persia. She was too good a killer and every bit of muscle helped.

As Persia walked away from Romi, shooting him one last spiteful sneer, she locked eyes with Maher. The color in her face drained and a look of fear washed over her.

“…….Maher. Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt your little cock-sleeve. Probably isn’t even the first time he’s been spit on.” Maher chuckled, knowing full well it hadn’t been. Persia looked her ex boyfriend up and down, admiring his physique. Her eyes fall down to his crotch and sees the half swollen dick in his briefs like a resting predator. She bites her lips and feels her cunt clench as she remembers the way Maher would pound her into a babbling gaping wreck. Maher barely registers her presence, his hazel eyes regarding her the way one does a fly.

A few more tense seconds of silence passed before Persia worked up the courage to leave, brushing past him.

“Persia.”

Maher’s voice was like thunder rolling from somewhere deep in wide chest. It was enough to stop Persia dead in her tracks. The dark-skinned enforcer didn’t even bother to look Persia’s direction.

“Touch him again without my permission and I’ll pull your fucking teeth out.”

Maher walked away, leaving Persia in a state of primal fear. Walking towards Romi, he admired the boy’s body from afar. The body adorned with tattoos and piercings Maher forced him to get; he was always especially fond of the one just above his cock that read “Faggot” in a stylized script, two angel wings on either side. Maher snuck up on Romi, watching him rest, admiring the way his fat ass jiggled whenever he shifted his hips. He could see the faded bitemarks of his teeth on Romi's right cheek.

“Let’s go, bitch.” Maher rumbled as he yanked Romi upwards by his hair. He gripped the boy’s head, his hand big enough to easily palm it. “My dick’s cold.” The enforcer yanked down his briefs and his cock sprung out. It was monstrously thick, wide around as Romi’s wrists with a cock head like a battering ram. Fat veins ran across it angrily and a thick bead of pre-cum leaked from his pisshole.

Wimpy moans spilled out from the sissy sunbather as he was pulled up by his hair onto his knees. By now, Romi had gotten used to his long, pretty blond hair being used like reins to control him. Likewise, he knew not to expect even an ounce of respect from his boyfriend; despite his name being written on a dog collar, he rarely, if ever, was addressed by it. "Bitch", "slut", "whore" and "faggot" were among the most common names for Romi. It was a good reminder for the boy that he was not an equal. His place was between a man's legs, on his knees, like a good little sissy. And would you look at that, that's where the boy was!

The familiar sight of Maher's powerful legs – thick with muscle – and his big, black cock greeted the tiny teen. This pose always made Romi feel so small and powerless, but strangely, it was also very comforting. Seeing the man's oversized, intimidating breeding equipment up close evoked humiliating emotions in the boy without fail. As if justifying his brand of shame – his "Faggot" groin tattoo –, the sissy's puny, 4-inch cocklet stirred in his purple thong. Maher had really fucked with this kid's head; he'd fed him so much cock & cum that the boy would probably never get hard from pussy again. The demeaning tattoos on his body, whose only purpose was to make Maher's dick that extra bit harder, would irrevocably rob the boy's dignity, forever branding him as a homosexual plaything. He'd better get used to sucking cock! Luckily, the boy had.

Presented with cock, Romi knew what to do without being told. He kissed Maher's cockslit, tasting his boyfriend's pre-cum as his tongue teased the narrow opening. There was a metallic sensation mixed in with the warmth of his tongue – Romi's blowjob jewelry... er, sorry, his tongue piercing. Grabbing a hold of the black, veiny beast at its base, the white femboi could only marvel at its size. To say that it was as thick as his wrist was a lie; he'd held his dainty wrist next to it once for comparison's sake, and it wasn't until you went more than halfway up his forearm that you'd encounter such thickness. With his cute, tiny hand, Romi gave Maher's penis a few tugs, making it lurch awake. The super girly, bubblegum pink lipstick the boy was wearing had a sexy hint of shimmer, but the color looked even prettier now that it was wrapped around a darker shade – that of black cockmeat. Accompanied with noisy slurping sounds, Romi did what he does best, his amethyst hoop earrings jangling cutely as his head bobbed up and down on his man's cock. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that some of the sailors had stopped what they were doing and were enjoying the display. Trying to ignore them, the boy kept his gaze upwards, looking up at Maher with those big, pure, blue eyes that still held that childlike naivete in them, even as he was doing something as filthy and adult as this.

Half of the pleasure of it came from seeing Romi where he belonged; on his knees nursing the head of a thick cock. Looking down at his "girlfriend", he could see the faint light of purity, the one part Maher hadn't crushed underfoot. The belief that maybe he was more than an convenient cock-sleeve. He enjoyed making it slowly crumble, the slow descent into further depravity.

"Choke on it, boy," Maher grumbled, his eyes boring into him with an savage intensity. A simple thrust of his hips sent another inch of fat dick barreling down his throat. Rings of sissy pink lip gloss marked the depth in which his cock slide down, each mark a sign of how well Maher had trained him. He could feel the tongue piercing brush the underside of his cock, sending small bolts of pleasure racing through him. Other sailors looked on at Romi's expert fellatio; most would've had trouble standing up from the pleasure, but Maher was unlike most.

All it did was get Maher's engine running and soon he began to thrust into Romi's mouth with an increasingly reckless abandon. His hands gripped the sissy's head, closing them in a grip that could easily crush him and he fucked Romi's throat with a ferocity bordering on violence. The deck was filled with the sloppy sounds of choking and the erratic jangle of Romi's hoop earrings as he fucked the boy's throat with nary a care but his own pleasure.

"Mmmpf, mm... mh~," the boy was making indistinct, cock-muffled noises while sucking Maher off, blissfully unaware of the throat fucking he was about to receive. Despite three months of rigorous, daily training – better to start them young! –, the boy was still unable to fully take Maher's length. The sissy's gag reflex was still there, despite much effort to do away with it. That's why when he was told to "choke on it", Romi had little choice but to obey. The girly boy gagged, hard, when Maher drove his hips forward. Inch after inch of thick, ebony cock disappeared into the white teen, making the boy's throat bulge obscenely. Maher's donkey dick seemed better suited for copulating with some slutty tribe of Amazons or beast people than a young boy who was less than half his size, but clearly, the man wouldn't take no for an answer – he'd make it fit.

In a feeble effort to brace himself, Romi held on to his black lover's muscular legs, but there was nothing he could do other than gag noisily as he was held fast to his forced duty. As his cum dump, the boy had no right to complain. Romi knew that, but being the weak-willed sissy that he is, he couldn't endure such brutal treatment for long without bitching out. Unable to breathe, much less speak, the boy communicated his distress with his eyes, looking up at his boyfriend with a tearful, pleading expression. Maher's eyes, however, were as hard as his abs, and completely uncaring. It was clear that the boy being able to breathe was less important than Maher getting to bust a nut. His momentary resistance crumbling, the sissy resumed tonguing the underside of his man's penis, which he knew Maher liked. Even so, the oral violation was so intense that it made him want to curl his toes – he couldn't though, because of his platform heels. Romi understood that he'd only be getting up from his knees after that big, leathery sack containing two grapefruit-sized balls would be drained completely empty.

Maher grinned at the sight of it, the light dimming in Romi's eyes. He always liked to give just enough to make Romi believe he'd go easy on him, just to brutalize him then and there. It's how he broke the boy, molded and bent him into his little homo, a fat-assed cum-guzzler who got hard at the smell of his man's meat.

"Fuck, I love you, you faggot. Get this nut, boy!" He wasn't sure whether he actually felt love for Romi, but it was moments like this that made him so intent about keeping him around. It's why he chose him over Persia in the end; she would always back away, attempt to avoid sex when it got too rough. Romi accepted his place and took every inch like the obedient bitch Maher wanted. Even when Maher busted his asshole open and left the boy with a week-long limp, Romi came back for more.

He fucked Romi's throat with an gradually increasing fury. His eyes were hard and merciless as he stared Romi back, as if to say this would end when he said so. The huge balls that were swinging and smacking the underside of Romi's chin began to bunch up, tensing as Maher's inevitable orgasm drew near. The other sailors looked on with an combination of arousal and pity, wondering how Romi hadn't passed out. Maher's dick swelled in the boy's mouth and he let out a growl that rumbled from his chest, like a beast finally letting loose.

His pisshole opened and thick streams of his cum began to shoot out, flooding his mouth and some going straight down his throat, filling that taut little stomach of Romi's with some of his ball slime. With a groan, he pulled out his cock, delighting at the gagging sound when the huge cockhead slid out with a pop, and aimed at the boy's face. He came all over the his pretty features, forming a lattice of extra thick cum. Sighing in relief, he let his cock fall onto the boy's face with an audible slap, semen leaking out of his pisshole and into Romi's hair. Maher cock-slapped his delicate features with the heavy length of dark meat, the head occasionally burping out another thick glob of cum, before dropping it on his head again; his cock was long and thick enough that it obscured most of Romi's face.

At this moment, one of his goons stepped forward, cringing at the pungent smell of cum and sex. "B-Boss, we'll be pulling into port soon. Might, uhhh.....be time to gear up, maybe?" Maher looked at him for a second, his eyes boring into him and the goon wasn't sure if Maher would acknowledge or pluck his eyes out.

"Pipe. You got a pipe?" The goon stared at him incredulously before realizing he was talking about tobacco. Rummaging around his gear, he pulled out a tobacco pipe and match. Maher snatched it from him and put it to his lips before grunting. The goon lit the pipe and Maher waved him off.

Taking a deep inhale, Maher basked in the afterglow of his orgasm, barely registering the absolute wreck he knew Romi's face was. This was what his face was meant for after all; a resting place for fat leaking dicks, beneath a sweaty muscular man who treated him like little more than a place to keep his cock warm.

"Looks like we'll stop here. Don't worry, though." Maher paused to grin down at him, his teeth forming a smile that seemed more fitting on a predator than a human. "This is practically a warmup compared to what else I've got planned for you. Get yourself cleaned up, slut. And pick out a good outfit. Wanna show you off."

By the time Maher was cumming, strength had begun to leave the sissy's nubile body, and his gagging had grown quieter. The only thing propping him up anymore was the thick black cock lodged in his throat, twitching as it unloaded its filthy, slimy contents. With nowhere else to go, the fertile sperm slid down into the teen's tummy – yummy~☆! As if thanking the black male for his protein-rich contribution, the sissy's throat spasmed, giving Maher an airtight massage. When the fat cockhead stuck in his throat pulled out just enough to spray its jizz onto the sissy's tongue, Romi was reminded of just how nasty his boyfriend's cum tasted. The tart, pungent ball juice tasted exactly like how something that one would imagine coming from a man's sweaty nutsack would – i.e. not good. It must have been nature's way of telling the 15-year-old that he wasn't meant to breed with muscular black men that were twice his size and hung like horses. His boyfriend knew better, of course: that's exactly what the little sissy needed.

His pretty mouth awash with cream, the boy knew he had to deal with it if he wanted to taste fresh air again. The labored *gulp* Maher heard let him know that his teen cum dump had performed his duty.
"Haah... haah... haah," the sissy panted, his breath stinking of fresh jism – yuck! His face was a mess, too. Rope after rope of sticky sperm formed a humiliating, white mask of shame, but then again, for a faggot like Romi, was there any look more appropriate?
"I loveh... you tooh...~♥" Romi slurred with a smile, clearly too drunk on cum to be taken seriously. However, after spending months as his bitch, the boy had certainly developed feelings for his man. Not only that, but he had become a full-blown black cock addict. Like a kitten rubbing against its owner's leg, Romi nudged the fat penis resting atop him with his forehead, loving its heft and musky, manly smell. To show his appreciation, the sissy let it flop down his cum-stained face and took the wide glans into his mouth, sucking it completely clean. After his boyfriend finally tucked his tongue-washed cock back into his briefs, Romi rose to his feet unsteadily.

Persia, who had re-emerged onto the deck, gave the sissy a contempt-filled look when the two passed each other, wordlessly slut-shaming the little cocksucker. She still couldn't believe that they'd have to put up with this dumb bimbo, who'd probably be preoccupied with fixing his make-up and choosing what color of panties to wear while the rest of them would be busy gearing up for the task ahead. To cool off her head, she peered over the gunwale, studying the approaching shoreline. The Wayward Mermaid would be arriving at the "port" shortly... not that the rickety wooden wharf could be called much of a port. In the distance, she could see the abandoned tower that the gang had repurposed for their needs. Surveying all of the island from atop a promontory, its size made it a small fortress unto itself. The rest of the island was a maze of uncultivated forest, steep, cave-pocked cliffs and pebble-strewn beaches. Save for the occasional indigenous critter, the island was completely uninhabited – or so it seemed...

After a short while, Persia joined up with Maher and the others, who had gathered near the ship's gangway. Grazz, a dark-haired smuggler who seemed about Maher's age, gave the woman one of his trademark roguish smiles at her approach. In charge of the "goods", i.e. the drugs they were looking to sell, Grazz was Duskhaven's most infamous drug pusher, but also a capable fighter, who was known to be quite the daredevil.
"As I just finished telling Maher, our 'friends' from Sirenia might not arrive until tomorrow, or heck, even the day after. The sea's been stormy, or so the cap'n says. Looks like we'll have to get comfortable here, heh-heh," the stubbly-faced man explained, seemingly unbothered.
The same could not be said of Persia, "You're kidding, right? We have to spend the night babysitting Miss sissy princess?"

At those words, the seductive clatter of heels could be heard as Romi appeared. All freshened up, the boy had ditched his hotpants and was now wearing a white fishnet minidress that somehow managed to look even more trashy than simply going naked. It did nothing to prevent men from ogling at his young, fuckable little body, nor did it hide his many, tasteless tattoos. Romi strutted up to his boyfriend, his wide, childbearing hips swaying sexily. The tiny sissy snuggled up against his tall, muscular lover's hard body, presenting Maher with a wonderful opportunity to place his hand on the boy's ass and paw it through the flimsy netting. That fat, womanly booty of Romi's made him look like such a pawg.

"If little Romi struggles to walk in those fuck-me heels, I volunteer to carry her," Grazz offered with a sly grin. The man didn't bother to use the correct pronoun for the boy. In his mind, if it looked like a bitch, it was a bitch.
"Forget it. Let the slut crawl on all fours. I'm sure he's used to it," Persia chimed in. Looking around, she seemed confused by something, "Where the fuck are Bianca and Drake?"
Maher had sent two forward scouts, who had arrived days earlier. Among other things, they had been tasked to bring some toys and outfits to the tower, so that Romi would have a "fun" time. They were supposed to link up with the rest of the group, but there was neither hide nor hair of the two.
"Beats me. Passed out drunk, maybe? I'll give 'em a good kicking if I find 'em asleep in the tower," Grazz grumbled, before turning to Persia.
"Here," he kicked a small crate over to her, while picking one that was slightly bigger up himself.
"Pearl Dust," the smuggler said with a meaningful wink. "Those Sirenians will pay a pretty penny for this stuff, so don't drop it."
Bricks of suspicious-looking white powder filled the crates. A third, even bigger crate was on the deck, waiting to be picked up by the fifth and final member of their group...

Leaving Romi a cock-drunken mess, Maher returned to his quarters and geared up for the task ahead. He donned his heavy armor, a combination of plate and chainmail that made him nigh invulnerable to most damage. The entire outfit was too heavy for most people, weighing them down so much it’d be impossible to fight. However, Maher’s herculean strength and stamina allowed him to move in it with alarming ease. He strapped to his side his signature mace, a brutally flanged blunt object that left broken skulls and legs in it’s wake. Striding back out towards the ship’s gangway, he regrouped with the rest of his motley crew.

Grazz was there, an old acquaintenace of Maher and nuisance as much as he was invaluable. Grazz knew every drug den in the city and whenever Maher felt in the mood to raid one of them, Grazz could point him in the right direction. “You plan on pissin’ and moanin’ the whole time, Persia?” Maher grunted as he shifted around his armor, his face an contemptous sneer. He never could tire of how exasperated Persia was at Romi’s very presence; the boy was a walking fat-assed reminder of Maher dumping her like garbage on the side of the road. The sadist in him like to make sure Romi’s screamed every filthy expletive Maher could think of whenever she bunked near the two and had to listen to Maher bust his boipussy wide open.

As if the very conversation signaled him, Romi sauntered up towards the group accompanied by the rhythmic clacking of his fuck me heels. The wide-hipped femboi snuggled up against Maher’s leg, the fact that his head only reached up to Maher’s waist illustrating the shocking size difference. Maher’s hand immediately pawed and squeezed the faggot’s fat ass, giving it a vicious slap that cracked like a gunshot and left a massive red handprint on the fleshy cheek.

“Find yourself some used-up whore on the island, Grazz.” Maher growled towards his old friend, his eyes narrowing with a faint aura of murderous intent. As if to drive his ownership home, he grabbed Romi’s hair and pulled his head back before kissing him. It wasn’t the chaste and loving kiss one expected between two lovers, but a lustful and sloppy affair. There’s was a smacking of lips and one could see the way Maher’s thick and long tongue dominated Romi’s. One gigantic hand slipped in between Romi’s ass cheeks and prodded at the tight pucker of his asshole, as if warning him that he would be opening that tight hole soon. When he pulled away, Maher let some of his own saliva drip into Romi’s still open mouth. It was a show of pure dominance, like an lion savaging an small doe.

“This is my bitch. Ain’t that right, babe?” Maher grinned and asked Romi, knowing full well that the three months he spent breaking in Romi had the fag in love with him. The dark-skinned enforcer licked the side of Romi’s face possessively.

Maher’s eyes narrowed at the drugs Grazz kicked up. Pearl Dust was a hot commodity and even Maher was an occasional user, usually when on a drunken sex bender with Romi. He usually left the deals and negotiations upto Grazz; he was just there to beat in heads when needed.

“Ya’ll yammerin’ when we could be moving this damn product. Hate workin’ with kids.” That gravely voice belonged to Born, a grizzled old vet and Maher’s “mentor”. While Maher was still bigger than the old man, Born was a giant, a scarred bundle of muscle mass with an eyepatch and a shaved head. A seasoned veteran and former soldier, he’d seen more battles than most of the group combined. It was him that turned Maher from a undisciplined brawler into a walking war machine. He was the only man whom Maher treated with anything resembling respect.

“Let’s get this show movin, ya whelps. Old man only got so much tolerance for hearin’ ya’ll bicker.” Born picks up the last crate as easily as one picks up a discarded sheet of paper, hauling it onto one massive shoulder. Maher nodded and lifted Romi up with alarming ease, propping onto one massive shoulder, before trudging towards the tower. The sight was something, a massive ebony skinned man carrying this cornfed pawg, giving one of the cheeks a kiss.

The loud *smack* that Romi's big, round booty got was accompanied by the femboy's cute, pained yelp. His plump ass hadn't even finished jiggling from the hit before he found himself being pulled into a rough "kiss", which could probably be described more accurately as a tongue-fucking. Unable and unwilling to break free from the bigger male, Romi moaned softly into his domineering boyfriend's mouth as he felt the man's hands on his all but naked ass. Making his submission clear to the massive black stud who was his mate, the boy extended his tongue to catch all of Maher's spit, and then – without breaking eye contact – swallowed it, earning a derisive snort from Persia and a toothy grin from Grazz.

"Yes, daddy~! Romi is daddy's little whore," the sissy answered Maher without hesitation, giggling like a girl as his effeminate face was licked. Seeing a young boy call a man who – for obvious reasons – wasn't his biological father "daddy" made it pretty clear just what sort of a relationship it was.
"Sure, Maher, she's your bitch... but there's a reason why the gods gave her two holes, har!" the smuggler laughed heartily at his own quip. Grazz might have been joking around, but the way he undressed the teen with his eyes would surely give Maher some pause about leaving his prized femboy possession alone and unsupervised with such a womanizer.

Born's commanding, gravelly voice got them all moving at long last. After exchanging a few final words with The Wayward Mermaid's captain, the group was on its way. Overgrown with shrubbery, the path leading up to the tower was not exactly oft-traversed. The four of them had to watch their step, and what with being burdened with crates (and fat-bottomed femboys...), the going was rather slow. An island like this could be quite dangerous for the unwary traveler, but aside from Romi, everyone was well prepared for trouble. A wicked-looking scimitar hung from Persia's belt, its pommel jeweled, while Grazz was armed with a bastard sword and a multitude of smaller knives that were strapped to his padded armor. Whenever an unruly plant got in their way, Persia would hack at it with her curved blade, using her fancy weapon more like a crude machete. It wasn't strictly necessary... but seeing Romi's whore face all day had built up a lot of aggression.

Maher by far had the easiest time of it, since the tiny 15-year-old slung over his shoulder weighed next to nothing, and most of it was probably just his fat, juicy ass. Because of Maher's heavy armor, Romi had to adjust occasionally to get comfortable, but the man carrying him probably didn't mind the sissy's lovely butt squirming right next to his face every now and then. It really was quite embarrassing how helpless the boy was, but it wasn't his fault: the sky-high stripper heels he was forced to wear were only good for streetwalking, less so for regular walking. With his long, perfectly manicured nails – which were painted a glossy, bimbo pink –, the boy wouldn't be able to do much manual labor either. However, if the small, cute bulge in his purple thong panties was any indication, the little sissy didn't mind being this dependent on his big, muscular boyfriend. While admiring his man's powerfully built back, Romi's eyes were drawn to the tattoos which peeked from underneath the layers of armor. The story weaved within them reminded him of another one: the tale of their meeting.

Putting his feminine good looks to use, Romi had been working as a waitress at a seedy joint, which had become a popular hangout for Duskhaven's ne'er-do-wells. Despite his young, innocent looks, the boy had been quite the mischievous troublemaker back then, occasionally even stealing money from the customers while they were distracted by his curves. He'd only been working there for a week when Maher had decided to pay a visit. It wasn't uncommon for the gang to recruit talented pickpockets from places like that, but the moment Maher had laid eyes on the femboi piece of ass in his cute little waitress uniform, he had had other plans for the teen. Accepting Maher's invitation to sit on his lap, Romi had been happy to tease him, grinding his underage ass against the black male's crotch, all the while furtively glancing at the coin pouches dangling from the man's belt. Before the boy had even had the chance to snatch one though, Maher had pushed him forcefully under the table and had told him to work for his "tip". And just like that, Romi had found himself face to face with the biggest, thickest, veiniest cock he'd ever seen. The boy had begun by stammering about not being gay, but the evening had ended with him having taken two loads down his throat, and well... the rest is history.

Coming out of his reverie, the girly boy let out a deep sigh. He gently caressed his boyfriend's neck, his tiny hand tracing one of Maher's imposing, inky-black tattoos.
"Daddy?" Romi asked, his tone pensive. "How come I don't have any cool tattoos like you and the others?"
"Mine are a bit... umm..." the boy blushed, feeling a trifle self-conscious. "B-but I like the newest one! What does it mean, anyway?"
The clueless, silly teen was asking about his ankle tattoo. Inked onto the boy's slender ankle was a Queen of Spades tattoo, broadcasting his taste in men.

As they traversed the pass, Maher's hand casually palmed Romi's fat ass, the pliant flesh spilling from between his fingers like warm dough. Every now and then, he would look over to kiss and bite at one fleshy cheek, dotting it with hickeys and bite marks. The group was mostly silent as they trekked, Grazz whistling and twirling a dagger deftly between his fingers while Persia shot daggers at Maher and Romi, curling her lips in disgust every time Maher pawed at Romi's ass, earning a high pitched giggle from the sorry excuse for a male.

Maher was thinking to himself when Romi broke the silence with his question. The rest of the group snorted with the exception of Persia, opting to roll her eyes in exasperation instead.

"God, he's not just a faggot, he's a dumb-ass, too. You really do know how to pick 'em, Maher." Persia sneered, still hacking away at the bushes and obtrusive vines.

Born followed shortly behind, chewing tobacco loudly and spitting off to the side. "Considerin' you used to be his ole squeeze, don't say much about you, does it?" The old man guffawed, grinning broadly with yellowed teeth.

Maher was busy laughing himself, his gigantic body shaking from the bubbling fit that overtook him. It was several minutes before he calmed down enough to respond. "I thought you would've figured it out by now, you dumb bitch. It lets everyone knows your favorite kind of 'meat'." He flashed one of his predatory grins and nodded down at his crotch, the tell-tale bulge of fat cock meat that snaked down his thigh.

The day Maher took him to get that the tattoo done, he watched impassively from a chair as the little sissy squirmed. You would think he'd be used to it by now, considering his body was practically covered with various others, much more complex than the spade. He remembers the moment it was finished, the dark spade contrasting against his lilly white skin, just above that slender foot, toenails painted a faggoty bright shade of pink.

It turned Maher on so much that he, without a single comment other than "c'mere", yanked Romi by his long hair and dragged him to the bathroom. The patrons watched the boy kick and protest vainly. The bathroom door slammed with a shut and there was silence before the sounds began. The smacking of flesh against flesh, the wet slurping of rough anal with a cock that could barely fit in it's desired hole, and even what sounded like Romi being choked mid orgasm.

When they both stepped out, Romi was a sight. His make up was a runny mess, the stockings ripped open and there two bright bruises shaped like hands around his neck. As they both walked out, Maher sweaty and slightly winded, the other customers laughed at Romi's walk of shame, a limp with a stream of cum running down his leg.

The memory sent a tremor of arousal through Maher and he found himself suddenly very impatient. "Where the fuck is this fucking hideout? I got things to do."

"I'm not dumb...! D-don't laugh! Muuu~..." the boy, his pretty face glowing crimson with embarrassment, protested. The way he was dressed though wasn't really helping the sissy bimbo's case... And neither were the tattoos: even the most airheaded slut would know better than to let herself be branded with such filth. Chances were that getting cock slapped by big black cock day in and day out had robbed the teen of his precious few brain cells. Romi's belated realization of the spade tattoo's meaning sent a wave of humiliation washing over him, compounded by the fact that everyone else around him knew all along. Mixed in with the shame, however, another emotion surfaced: knowing that his young body was permanently marked to show his preference for black men, the bitch boi got a cute little stiffie. As Romi rubbed himself needily against his much bigger boyfriend's armored chest, it became clear that Maher wasn't the only one getting "restless".

Not long after Maher aired his impatience, the thick vegetation and canopied veil of the forest gave way to a wind-swept hill on which the smugglers' tower stood. On this side, the slope was quite gentle, but on the other side, the promontory met the sea, abruptly plunging down into wave-battered cliffs. As the group trekked up the hilltop, the moss-spotted stones and dilapidated battlements of the old structure came into view. It possessed a squat shape and was rather big – its interior refurbished by the gang, the place looked more like a den of iniquity now than a proper lookout tower.

Born – his keen senses honed by the soldier's life – was the first to notice that something was amiss. A faint, unpleasant smell lingered in the air and there were signs of a scuffle near the tower. Just as the burly old veteran raised his hand to signal a halt, large, green shapes appeared from the rocky outcrops that could be found here and there on the hillside. Orcs!

"What in the fuck?!" Grazz, clearly not expecting to meet anyone other than the forward scouts, whirled around towards the assailants in confusion.
"Greenskins!" Persia yelled, tightening her grip on her scimitar.

There were almost a dozen of them. Dressed in animal hides and wielding crude, primitive weapons, they were probably part of a tribe of orcs that was native to this island. Even back in Duskhaven, one could occasionally catch a glimpse of one of these green-skinned brutes in the city's slums, but these ones seemed different somehow; they were savage orcs, a feral breed of orcs who were more unpredictable than their brethren, but shared their propensity for violence and breeding... interracial breeding, in particular. Their leader was a huge, brawny orc who seemed to be carrying the unconscious body of Bianca over his shoulder. True to his name, Zorg Whoretaker had gotten himself a nice human bitch to mate with. Judging by the unfortunate, charred remains piled upon the ground, Drake had been less lucky.

"WraAagh! Kill! GraAagh... Take da bitch!" the orc chief barked orders in his guttural voice. Of course, the big orc had pointed at Romi instead of Persia when issuing his second command.

Everyone scrambled to drop their crates and unsheathe their weapons. Romi – who had been let down onto his high heels – clung to his boyfriend's strong, muscular body, trembling in fear. The wimpy femboy's beautiful, sky blue eyes widened as the orcs rushed towards them, "D-daddy...!"

The air whizzed as a glinting piece of metal flew at one of the advancing orcs, embedding itself into the creature's skull – one of Grazz's throwing daggers. The orcish oaf's charge was cut short, and he clumsily collapsed into a heap. Nearby, Persia dodged one of the attackers' ungainly swings, and countered with an elegant slash of her own that sent a red arc of blood in its wake. Noticing that these humans were stronger than the last two, Zorg used the commotion to his advantage and disappeared from the fray, leaving the battle between human and orc to rage on.

Maher was still mulling over exactly what kind of "treatment" he would give Romi when it happened. He realized it at exactly the same time as Born, that soldier's instinct passed onto Maher. It wasn't long before orcs had surrounded them, leathery green-skinned abominations, waving around makeshift clubs and cleavers with freshly dried bits of bone and brain stuck on the blade. The leader, a big muscular brute singled out Romi, his eyes glinting with lust. Maher chuckled, amused at their confidence, ignorant of what was coming to them. Maher had fought orcs before on rare occasions in the city, usually hired as enforcers for gangs. Most criminals balk at the very sight of them, unwilling to fight creatures the seem built for war. Maher was not one of those criminals. He had killed more than his fair share and found that killing them was the same as killing anyone else; it just required him to swing more than once.

Where there should've been panic in his eyes, there was only cold determination in Maher's eyes. He hefted out his mace, the flanged head dropping onto the ground with such a weight that it cracked the surface. "Stop your screamin', faggot." Maher grunted before silencing Romi with another lewd kiss, pulling away and biting his lip. "Orc or human, they're all just meat for the butcher's block." As amused as he was by the pussy's fear, Romi was his bitch, the tattoo of Maher's name on one of Romi's fleshy cornfed cheeks permanent proof. Those that touched him without Maher's express permission tended to end up dead.

The first two orcs make a beeline for Maher, swinging their sabers wildly, both eager for glory. Maher smirked before swinging his mace upwards with an alarming speed, considering it's weight. The flanged head crashed into the jaw of the closest orc, mauling his face and sending him flying backwards. Grabbing the mace with both hands now, he turns and swings it at the next orc, the mace a blur. It bashes the second orc in it's chest, the loud crack of it's rib cage shattering ringing out in the dense forest. It dropped to the ground, screaming and clutching it's stomach before Maher pressed an iron boot against it's neck. The black man cocked his head in vague amusement as he slowly applies pressure, crushing it's windpipe until it popped and the orc stopped moving.

The sight of pure brutality gave the smaller orcs pause, realizing what they were up against for the first time and considering retreat. Maher doesn't give them the chance. The ebony juggernaut waded into a group of orcs, swinging the mace with a seeming reckless abandon, the sickening sounds of metal crushing flesh and bone under it's weight ringing about. Very few things in the world evoked joy in Maher. One of them was having a warm hole wrapped around his cock. The other was crushing people who thought they stood even the slightest chance.

One orc after another fell to mace, scimitar and dagger, leaving behind a grisly trail of dead greenskins. The stench of bashed-to-death orc seemed especially thick around the tall, dark-skinned enforcer who had slain more of the uglies than the rest of them combined. As the din of battle died down, Romi – who had been cowering behind Maher the entire time like a complete pussy bitch – fluttered open those big baby blues of his and took a look at his battle-worn companions. Save for a few nicks and bruises, none of them had sustained any significant injuries – not that anyone could tell in Born's case which of his innumerous scars were old and which were new. The boy spotted Persia off to the side, wiping blood off her blade with a rag. When their eyes met, she glared at him darkly, probably thinking how much better it would have been had the orcs kidnapped Maher's sissy snow bunny instead.

Next to him, Maher was pacing restlessly, like a bull looking to gore someone; the little sissy could practically smell the excess testosterone pumping through the giant, muscular negro's veins. The girly teen knew what it meant: the black male's bloodlust was quickly turning into a different kind of lust... And if he knew anything about his boyfriend's sexual habits, the more brutal the fight was, the nastier the sex would be. As everyone gathered together, Romi took his place by Maher's side, pressing his underaged, fishnet-covered body up against 250 lbs of ebony muscle that he knew he'd be forced to satisfy soon.

Catching her breath, Persia was the first to speak.
"Now what? Those fuckers have one of ours!"
Grazz clicked his tongue, looking annoyed, "You're welcome to search for the dumb broad, but I ain't no fuckin' forest ranger boy. We've got a deal to pull off here. Got no time to look for Bianca's sorry ass."
"He's right," Born agreed, thoughtfully running a calloused hand over his scraggly, graying stubble. "With only the four of us here, scouring an island of this size would take too long. We'd need a tracker."
"Well, here's one," Grazz kicked the charred remains of Drake, sending bits of the former scout flying. "Much good the fucker will do us now. Unless someone's hungry and wants some well-done Drake-on-a-stick, heh-heh."
Persia muttered a curse under her breath, but it looked like the matter had been settled; they'd stick to the plan and stay here for now.
"Secure the tower. I'll clean this mess," Born grumbled, before seizing one of the bloodied orc corpses, and dragging it towards the edge of the seaside cliff.

The sturdy, thick door leading to the tower showed signs of being damaged, but the savage orcs had apparently been too stupid to get past the lock. With a twist of his key, Grazz opened the way to the gang's secret hideout. Inside, the place looked like a cross between a strip joint and a drug den; not exactly the kind of place to bring a 15-year-old to... In the center of the slightly cramped room, there was a raised platform that featured a stripper pole for sluts to grind on. It was ringed by comfy-looking loveseats and ottomans that had been haphazardly arranged; seeing as all the new furniture came from a Duskhaven whorehouse, it had a rather particular style to it, that's for sure. There was even a small bar and a glass coffee table meant for snorting lines of Pearl Dust – perfect for business and pleasure. A steep staircase led to the upper floors, of which there were two, and beneath a carefully hidden trapdoor was the way to the tower's cellar... which may or may not have been converted into a sex dungeon at Maher's behest...

The long trek and the unexpected skirmish had taken a toll on everyone, and after carrying in their illicit merchandise, Grazz and Persia sat down, spent. Even Maher had gotten all sweaty, and would need to take off his heavy armor. He had Romi to "help" him with that, which mostly consisted of him undoing the straps on his armor just enough to allow the femboy's tiny hand to slip inside his briefs and play with his cock while he did all of the actual work.
"You were so strong out there, daddy," the tiny boy looked up at his man with adoration. At times like these, the shame of his tattoos was forgotten, and he felt proud that he had been permanently branded as Maher's fuckdoll, as his property.
"So manly... Mm~, so... big..." at that word, there was a pause, followed by a firm squeeze on the base of the massive black penis that threatened to burst out of its snug confines. Smiling at his black daddy's reaction, the sissy cocktease withdrew his hand from the man's briefs, and without missing a beat, slipped those fingers – still shining wetly with Maher's ball sweat – between his bubblegum pink lips and into his pretty little mouth. The act earned a disgusted hoot from Persia, but that didn't stop Romi from sucking them clean.

As the last orc crumpled to the ground, Maher stood amidst a ring of corpses, battered and lifeless. His massive chest heaved as he breathed heavily, his eyes closed. Maher enjoyed very little, always bored and disinterested in everything. It was in a battle, he actually enjoyed himself. All of the fighting had his adrenaline cranked up to 10 and the blood was still rushing in his ears. His cock strained against his crotch, yearning to break free and find something warm and wet to rest in.

His dark eyes laid upon Romi as their gazes met. The femboy knew what Maher wanted. For Maher, sex and violence were essentially the same thing. The warrior's mind buzzed with all of the things he wanted to do, all of the sexual violence he would inflict on the fat-assed faggot, leave his personal pawg a broken mess with a wrecked asshole and a bruised throat.

He followed Persia and Grazz into the hideout, having added to the debate on whether to find their missing comrades a mere grunt. Nobody was surprised as Maher was notoriously ruthless; he was more than willing to leave a comrade to die without blinking. They walked into the hideout, the kind of place that Maher felt truly at home. Strip poles and tables meant for snorting lines of dust. It reeked of alcohol and stale sex, similar to the place where Maher met Romi for the first time.

Like the obedient femboy he was, Romi got to work undoing the straps on his armor while Maher tugged the steel plate off. Each piece fell to the floor with a thunderous clang, making one wonder how he managed to even move in it. He wasn't even remotely surprised when Romi fished his fragile hand into his pants, feeling the boy's soft palm on his hard cock, throbbing in his grip.

Maher grunted at the contact and watched Romi pull his hand out of his pants, those dainty and manicured nails tainted with his nasty ball sweat. Watching his slave suck the residue off his fingers, looking up at him the whole time, Maher's gaze intensified. His eyes bored into Romi's with a hunger that would terrify anyone else. A fight always got Maher's engines running and he wasn't easily sated. Every sex slave before Romi ended up either dead or broken mentally, thrown away like trash. As puny and useless as Romi was, the slut could take some of the most demeaning and brutal sexual punishment Maher had and still live, albeit barely. Maher had never met someone so hungry to get destroyed as Romi.

One massive hand reached out and clasped itself around Romi's slender neck and squeeze, choking the boy. "I want you take your fucking clothes off," Maher growled as one hand reached out to palm the boy's fat sissy ass, giving it a slap and squeezing. "Get on that stage and fucking twerk for Daddy. Earn what's coming next." He let go of Romi's ass and pried open Romi's mouth so he could spit in it, reminding the boy of his humiliating place as Maher's bitch.

The sissy's cute, teasing expression faltered once that giant, dark-skinned hand wrapped itself around his neck. His gorgeous, feminine features twisted in discomfort, but there was nothing he could do other than hope and pray that his daddy would let go... eventually.
"...u-...ghhh...khh...nnn," feeble sounds escaped from the choked tart, who was gritting his teeth and trying not to drool (too much).
Unfortunately for Romi, he looked so cute being choked that it probably encouraged his boyfriend to hold onto him for just that tiny bit longer. The interplay of asphyxiation and ass-groping had left the femboy unable to resist his daddy, and he soon found himself accepting Maher's offering of gooey spit in its entirety. Good boy! Daddy was such a nice person, allowing a sissy fag like him to breathe... for now.

Feeling utterly humiliated, Romi climbed onto the stage clumsily. A boy his age looked a tad too young to be clinging to a stripper pole, but compared to the things his daddy had in mind for him, it was quite tame. Circling the pole seductively, the sissy blew a kiss to everyone in attendance – including Persia, which seemed to tick her off –, before stopping in front of Maher, who had the best seat for the show. Turning around, the crossdressing faggot lifted his fishnet minidress, sliding it up his young body to reveal the thick, thong-clad booty that bore Maher's name. As if it wasn't clear enough who owned this femboy and what his purpose was, the tramp stamp above his fat ass let everyone know that he was "Daddy's cum dump". Letting the flimsy white fishnet fall down to the stage and kicking it in Maher's direction, Romi followed it up with one piece of slutwear after another, until he was left grinding the pole in nothing but heels & panties. His big blue eyes sparkling not-so-innocently, the little sissy stripper licked the chrome pole, polishing it with his tongue... before grabbing it with both hands and stroking it like a big, fat cock.
"Mm~, I think daddy tastes better..." the sissy boi said with a wink as he made his way towards Maher, his curvy hips swaying with each mincing step he took in those kinky, 6-inch heels of his.

Presenting his plump, round ass to the muscular black male behind him, Romi assumed a squatting position, and with a shake of his hips, sent those fat cheeks of his jiggling. The height of the raised platform was such that the teen's deliciously thick booty was level with Maher's face, giving the seated male a lovely view of the petite teen doing his booty dance. Romi's ass was a thing of beauty; perfect for slapping and fucking and twerking – the boy was born to please black men and be their big-bootied bitch boi.
"Work it, girl!" Grazz encouraged the sissy to keep poppin' that booty.
Even Persia seemed somewhat hypnotized by all that smooth, white boi ass flesh bouncing up and down, "Yeah... make that ass clap, faggot!"
Getting off on the praise – especially from his daddy –, Romi kept shaking his almost bare ass like a cheap ghetto hoochie. "Look but don't touch" was not something that applied to the audience here; Maher, who was sitting only a foot or two away from the small stage, could freely cop a feel and fondle his femboy as the little sissy gyrated his ass so close to him. Romi kept it up until he felt his legs get tired from all the squatting. Plopping his cute bum down onto the edge of the stage, the boy sought his man's approval and touch, "Did I do good, daddy~?"

Romi took the stage and everyone grew silent. Stripping himself of all clothing, the little faggot showed off his sinful body, lithe and slim but with thick thighs and an ass that refused to quit. Those round white ass cheeks moved and clapped in tandem while Romi licked at the stripper pole like it was a fat leaking cock. He was twerking and moving like a bitch in heat, begging it's owner to mount him and put him in his place. He could see even Persia watching the boy with something akin to amazement, jeering and cheering the femboi on. This was the difference between Romi and Persia, why he dropped her without even blinking, barely giving her the time of day now. Persia had limits, lines she was afraid to cross. She didn't have what Romi had, a pure devotion to his daddy, a burning desire to do anything to keep his daddy feeding him cock. If he abandoned the boy, he'd have no idea what to do with himself and that's the way Maher liked it.

All this did nothing more than stoke the fire of Maher's urges. He relished the sight of watching Romi debase himself without question, a boy who was much too young to be doing this doing so with so much joy. His body was a canvas for Maher to brand him with whatever sick insult he could think of. The more he humiliated Romi, the greater his lust for him grew. The boy was little more than a fleshy toy for him to twist and bend and choke and smack and crush in whatever way he desired. "Come on, you fucking sissy ass white boi! Shake it harder! Earn your fucking place!" Maher bellowed from deep in his barrel chest, knowing the very sound of his voice sent tremors of pleasure through Romi.

When all was said and done, Romi planted his thick white ass on the stage, the globes gleaming with his sweat. Maher picked himself up from his seat and walked up to the stage, finally having shed all of his armor and wearing only his breeches. "You did good, you lil' slut," Maher mumbled as reached out to grab and grope that pale ghetto booty, kneading the soft flesh like dough between his fingers. He never tired of how it felt in his grip, running his long tongue along Romi's right buttock. Sticking one of his fingers in his mouth, he applied a liberal coat of saliva while grabbing the floss of thong buried in between Romi's huge ass. "Get this shit off. Daddy's gonna give you a reward." Ripping the thong off as easily one would wet tissue paper, he spread the faggot open, exposing his asshole. Maher's thick finger slid in with alarming ease; considering the anal punishment he'd endured, nobody was surprised.

Romi's tunnels clenched around his finger as he dug around until he found it; the sissy's little p-spot. Grinning, he started to rob and prod at it with increasing force. Whenever Maher cored the boy like an apple with his bbc, he always made sure to hit that spot with every thrust, milking the sissy faggot out of every drop of cum his excuse for a cock could make. His favorite past time would be to bang on that button until the little sissy passed out from orgams, with his dick still buried in his hole.

Romi flinched when his faggy purple thong was forcefully ripped off and tossed aside. The boy had gotten so used to wearing girly underwear that he felt a bit vulnerable whenever he didn't get to feel that silky material nestling between his ass cheeks. If the little slut wasn't crossdressing (and looking fuckable), he was naked (and probably being fucked) – those were the sissy's only two choices, both of which served only to make his daddy's dick happy. But it looked like Maher wasn't the only one getting excited; having escaped its humiliating panty prison, the teen's cute little stiffie came into view... and it seemed to grow more noticeable as soon as the boy felt large, male hands spreading him open. Parting those soft, pillowy cheeks revealed the most innocent and cute little pucker imaginable; it was hard to accept that it had been converted into nothing more than a holster for black cock, a mere depository for a daily load of nasty nigger nut.

"Yeah... slide it in, daddy," Romi pleaded, his girly voice brimming with need.
The boy arched his inked back in anticipation; his long, strawberry blond hair may have partially obscured the naked fairy tattoo on his back, but there was no hiding the fact that he was a fairy. Maher was rewarded with a cute little moan from his bitch when his digit disappeared inside the femboi's bootyhole. It didn't take long for his weak spot to be discovered; the boy's entire body gave a small jerk as soon as Maher's finger made contact with his prostate.
"Ooh... Yes... YES! T-that's... That's the spot, daddy! Fuuuck~☆..." Romi's silly whimpers grew louder with each poke.
Taking advantage of the boy's sensitive butt, Maher had trained him to cum like a bitch – prostate orgasms only, until the little sissy had learned to associate pleasure with taking cock up his ass. It had worked... maybe even a little too well! Romi had trouble getting off by himself most days; he needed to feel thick cockmeat pressing up against his sissy button in order to achieve release. There was no going back for Romi: he knew how good it felt to have his boipussy filled up and stretched out. And he knew that only daddy's big black cock could do it for him.

"Daddy...?" calling out to him in a shaky voice, the boy looked over his shoulder, and grinned mischievously. The shaved side of his head made Romi look like a rebellious teenager, even when he was being a good girl for his daddy, like now. Licking his glossy, pink lips, the boy parted them just enough to allow a finger or two to slip in. "I want a lollipop~!"

"God, you're such a greedy fucking bitch," Maher grunted as the sissy trembled in his group, his weak moans and groans filling the room. His asshole clenched and seized around his fingers as he prodded that sweet spot in the faggot's fat ass. It brought back memories of him training Romi, making it so the boy would never get off with pussy again. Fingers, beads, dildos and his own cock. Maher experimented and trained the boys hole for hours on end, milking him dry all of his pathetic semen. He stretch the boy open with his cock and pound his hole, ramming and rubbing against his prostate, sending the boy into squealing orgasm after orgasm. Even when Romi begged and pleaded to stop, oversensitive to the point of mild pain, pathetic cocklet dry and limp, he kept railing him.

The boy's whining woke Maher up from his memories; he was pleading for something to plug his mouth, something thick and hard. It was practically a Pavlovian response for the lily-white faggot; any time he was hot and bothered, he needed Maher to plug up his slut mouth. Grinning, he reached out and shoved his fingers in the slut's mouth, giving something his warm tongue to play with while he worked out the boy's asshole.

Maher could tell Romi was getting close; he had done this so many times, it was practically a science. The trembling, the whimpers, the way his puny excuse for a cock would begin to leak pre-cum like a broken faucet. That was when Maher would turn up the intensity. Slipping in a second finger, he began to go town on the boy's hole, jamming and prodding that prostate like he was trying to push the cum right out of him. The width of only two of his fingers was probably larger than the average cock, spreading him out good. Of course it wasn't even close to the size of the thick black cockmeat Maher fed the BBC slut every day, but it was a good appetizer and a way to stretch him out for what was next.

"Come on, you fucking homo! Cum! Daddy's got a lot more planned for you," Maher growled as he yanked his fingers out of Romi's mouth and yanked on his hair, wrapping the long mane of strawberry blonde hair and gripping it. He wanted to make Romi feel like a toy, a piece of soft and pliable meat that meant nothing but a way for him to bust a nut. He was a slave for huge nigger dick, the space tattooed on his slender ankle broadcasting his purpose.

"Yeah, yeah~, God that feels g— mmmpf!" the boy's silly moaning came to an abrupt halt as several fingers were forced into his whore mouth. "Mmmgh... sho 'ood... mmf... *slurp*... mmh..."
Getting to lick his boyfriend seemed to calm Romi down – almost like he had been given a sissy pacifier. As his tongue played with each finger, Maher got to feel the sissy's tongue stud; of course, the only reason the boy had one was because he was told that it would make blowjobs feel better for daddy. Romi should have probably been concerned by the fact that his young body had been trained and turned into nothing more than a cockpleaser, but how could he, when it felt so fucking good? Having his ass played with excited the boy so much that he had reached his full, erect length... an impressive (giggle) four inches. He needed release so bad, and he knew that the only way it was going to happen was to let himself get anally milked, like a little gay bitch. Realization and humiliation dawned at the same time, and the boy felt it: he was getting close...

The baby-faced slut winced in pain as his pretty blond hair was pulled with wild abandon, but instead of a pained yelp, the only thing that came out of his now-freed mouth was a sex-crazed groan of pleasure. Romi loved every second of being treated like a cheap whore; the only thing that gave him more pleasure than those two fingers fucking his pussy prostate was the knowledge that he was this powerful black male's sissy sex toy – that his only purpose in life was to be this huge, muscular thug's jailbait ball-drainer. It was a good thing that Maher kept his grip tight – using the blonde sissy's hair like reins –; with his anal orgasm approaching, the little homo's movements were getting more and more restless.

"Oh God...! I'm gonna... Mmm~☆, d-daddy... Daddy, I'm gonna—" Romi jabbered like a dumb slut, his words almost too rapid to follow. "—ohfuckohfuckohfuck! Hwaaahhh~♥...!"
His small, silky smooth sissy balls tightened until he couldn't take it anymore. Beset by fitful twitches of orgasmic bliss, Romi's petite body quivered, clearly unable to resist obeying daddy's command. In sync with each squirt of femboi juice, the boy's asshole contracted around Maher's fingers, squeezing them with surprising force. The intense waves of pleasure were followed by even more intense waves of humiliation as the boy realized that he had just painted the stripper platform white with his sissy cummies while the others watched. Romi was met with Grazz's lecherous grin and Persia's icy glare, which seemed like a strange mixture of disgust and sheer astonishment that a boy could be such a fucking faggot as to cum from something like this. While still reeling from his sissygasm, Romi's attention snapped back to his man when he felt Maher's thumb running over his Queen of Spades ankle tattoo, reminding the little mud shark that he had a black stud to take care of...

Maher fingers never stopped moving. It was little effort to hold the bitch-boi in place while he wrtihed kicked, painting the floor with his pathetic cum. The thug snickered at the sight of Romi's cock, a laughably short length, enough to question if it even deserved to be called one in the first place. "Get it all out, you fuckin' faggot," Maher rumbled, his voice like rolling thunder. He pulled out his fingers slowly, making sure they curled and brushed the boi's p-spot along the way. His fingers were slick with the young boy's ass-juice and he licked them clean. Maher's free hand roamed near Romi's foot, his calloused thumb running across the boy's slender ankle. It pauses on the Queen of Spades and presses against it. A warning to prepare. Maher had enough fooling around and was ready to split Romi in half. THe ebony-skinned enforcer rises to his full height, looming over the much smaller boy. His barrel chest rose up and down.

"Get ready, boy," Maher spoke as he unbuckled his pants. Persia watched from the corner with rapt attention, unable to fully hide her desire to see the cock that had once been hers. Grazz licked his lips, his hand roaming towards the hem of his own trousers. Maher finally shrugs off his pants and his cock is freed, bobbing lewdly. Angry veins criss-cross the thick length. A nine-inch monster, thicker than Romi's forearm, black and unforgiving. The head resembles a flared battering ram, fitting given it's purpose. Maher drops down to his knees, grabbing a small vial of lube from a pouch on his armor. He pours the liquid onto his length, stroking it in one meaty fist, smearing it with a liberal amount of lube; god knew Romi would need every drop. Finished, Maher grabs Romi by his hips and pulls him closer. He gives one cheek a vicious slap, the sound cracking like a gunshot. Lining the head of his cock against Romi's slightly gaping hole, he grins as he begins to push.

"Hope you got something to bite onto." Maher feels resistance from the ring of Romi's hole and ignores, slowly burying his massive cock into the fairy's asshole, reveling in the tightness and warmth. A few more minutes and he's balls-deep in the faggot, his sweaty and leathery sack touching against Romi's. He pulls back with a slick noise until just the head remains inside. With a powerful swing of his hips, he thrusts the brutal length in again with a loud squelching noise. Soon, he's reaming the boy, his hips clapping against the little pawg's fat ass, sending ripples through the plush cheeks.