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The Brutal Trucker - No.9 - by Danhol900

This is the ninth chapter. Recap  of Chapter 8 for context:

"Towering over me inspecting his handiwork Mr. Spignotti  seemed pleased and I couldn't help but notice with dread the same prominent  bulge in his crotch. He reached  down and picked me up by my hair as he set me onto a rug in the center of the  lounge.  Then he reached around my  head again in that power headlock and whispered in my ear, "Well fucker, ready  for some real fun now?  

My heart  sank at the dread of what this powerful sadistic man had in mind now.  Then Mr. Spignotti announced to the  horned truckers around us, "looks like the fucker's softened up enough for me  now, don't cha think boys...?  to raucous laughter and guttural testosterone  loaded shouts of glee all around .  

"Fuckin yeah"  came the almost simultaneous  reply...  

Brutal Trucker Sex Chapter 9:

"...know what faggot  Mr. Spignotti continued, "I feel like  getting my own bitch time on ya.  On  your knees and back that pretty little pink hole of yours onto this rock hard  cum-drippin Sicilian cock of mine , Mr. Spignotti sneered.  With that I heard the universally  recognized sound of a zipper descending and turned to see a rigid, tan colored  pole of flesh jutting from Mr. Spignotti's crotch with two massively heavy and  hairy bull balls swinging low and pendulously beneath.  Mr. Spignotti had the kind of cock,  produced over many Italian generations, designed to inflict complete domination  over every hole it fucked.  It was  at least 8 inches long and three inches across.  He was blessed with a wide mushroom head with a wicked powerfully flared ridge almost guaranteed to tear my battered hole to shreds and, worse yet, the enormous fuck pole thickened as it descended.  I dreaded the thought of that monster fucking me, especially with that powerful and sadistic man doing the driving.

But surprisingly Mr. Spignotti wasn't interested in raping my tender eighteen year old fuckhole just yet.  No, he knew  he would enjoy raping my psyche even more.  He instructed me to "back that pretty little pussy hole over this fuckin  cock, bitch.  Show all of us just  how much you fuckin want it, fuck not just want , he continued, "but how much  you fuckin need it. I want to see you fucking yourself on this rigid slab of meat, now!!  Show me and all these fuckers here just  how much you need to be used as a fuckhole by my huge drippin   cock, you  disgusting lowlife scumbag.  And if I see that pitiful little dick of yours hard, by god I'll god  damned sure as shit turn you over to that fuckin bastard Blackmore there to do with as he pleases.  You don't want that do you, pussyboy?  I don't  think even you want that, do you?   I immediately shook my head no and looked over at Blackmore; seeing that  evil look in his eyes and that prominent bulge in his crotch.  I knew I would have to do whatever Mr. Spignotti commanded if I wanted to get out of this "interview  alive.

Slowly and painfully I backed up and reached around to guide  Mr. Spignotti inside.  His cock was  hot and hard in my hand.  It jumped  and seemed to have a life of its own.  "No hands fucker.  It's only  my cock and your ass in this fuckin equation  he commanded as he smacked my hand  away.   I found myself fighting  back tears as I kneeled there trying to position Mr. Spignotti's hard cock at my  butthole.  I had never before felt  so humiliated.  Worse yet he playfully blocked me from my goal and forced to beg him for his cock.  The warehouse was as silent as a church as all eyes were focused on my endeavors.  I don't know how to explain this new humiliation to you gentle readers except to explain that earlier in my ordeal the only thing that kept me going was my hard cock and the tiny bit of pleasure it was giving me.  Now, with my dick forcibly softened by  Mr. Spignotti, I was being required to publicly degrade myself and actually  impale my bruised and battered hole around that nasty hard Italian cock jutting  out from the fine silken suit.  My  whole backside was still throbbing, tingling and convulsing and Mr. Spignotti  enjoyed watching me try to back onto his cock as he toyed with me; sliding to  one side or pulling   back just as I had him lined up. He was teasing me and forcing me to work  hard to get him inside my poor battered hole.  It was a cat and mouse game with me as the mouse.  The entire intricate interview process to this point had achieved his intended results; it had ceased to be fun and I was non-verbally begging Mr. Spignotti to make me his bitch.  Clearly he was enjoying his power and control he had over me.  A fact not missed by any of the truckers watching my pitiful  endeavors.

It was then that the chant started going up from the men around us of, "Fuck the  bitch! Fuck the bitch!! Fuck the bitch!!    I was trying my best to get this  portion of the interview over as quickly as possible since without my hard cock to help me; my resolve was beginning to collapse.  The taunts and insults suddenly started to hit home and to actually hurt psychologically.  

Blackmore then rose from the surrounding  crowd, trying to get back into Mr. Spignotti's good graces I suppose and declared, "Make that faggot your bitch, Sir.  Use him like he's your own personal  bitch.  Turn the fucker into a real fuckin bitch so we can all enjoy him, Sir.    

At this point, Mr. Spignotti seemed to take to this new idea as I heard a nasty  little chuckle from behind me as he snarled, "Hey Freightliner, get your hairy  ass over to security and send Joe Bruno and Titus the fuck in here , as the men  around us seemed confused, shocked, then really very pleased by these new  developments.  Hairy trucker dicks all around the room got even harder and a cheer went up as Freightliner pulled  his pants over his hairy butt and threw a grimy flannel shirt over his sweaty, slick and hairy beer-belly and ran out of the trucker's Lounge.  I had no idea what this all meant, but everyone seemed pleased, especially Blackmore with his shit eating grin and hard dripping cock looking me directly in my eyes.  He seemed to love the thought that his idea was accepted and actually acted upon by Mr. Spignotti.  

Meanwhile I continued my attempts to get Mr. Spignotti inside  me despite his obvious toying with me.  I finally got that massive mushroom head just where I wanted it.  I could feel the cum-slick head pressing  into my tender and bruised puckered opening.  I was just about to push backwards, dreading the agony I knew I was about to inflict upon myself, when I felt Mr.  Spignotti hook his thick manicured thumb painfully into my butthole and twist  and turn all the while standing and bringing my upturned ass up with him.  

I was torn psychologically.  On the one hand the inevitable pain and agony of the self fuck was postponed.  On the other hand there I was dangling from Mr. Spignotti's other hand.  The sadistic bastard just stood there like a conquering warrior surveying his troops; his hard tan cock jutting from his suit trousers and me, his  conquest, struggling on my hands with my ass in the air.

I felt even more on display as everyone checked to make sure my cock was still soft.  It was and Blackmore seemed disappointed  but everyone else was pleased.

Mr. Spignotti cleared his throat like he was about to make a speech and in a voice full of dignity, nobility and righteous calm began his impromptu monolog.  It was a speech that has remained with  me till today and its value and truth still rings through.  "Gentlemen , he began, "My wise old grandfather once told me, ËœSon, when you fuck a whore you're not only fucking and dumping precious Spignotti seed into that hole, you're fucking every other bastard and low life that has fucked that hole before you' , he paused and looked around at each and every man in the room.  "Well men , he continued, "as I look out  around me and all of you  and he paused to let this sink in, "I feel the need to  use one of these  as he slowly and confidently pulled a Trojan brand condom from  his trousers pocket.  

The room was silent, no one laughed, no one joked, everyone was silent.  With this one statement, delivered when I was most vulnerable and at my lowest psychological ebb, Mr. Spignotti had concisely defined the entire dynamic of the interview process.  He clearly and concisely demonstrated  his predominance over the group.  After all, here he stood, surrounded by sweaty, dirty truckers who had  just enjoyed a night of depravity and sexual release.  These naked, sweaty "animals  had given in to their lusts while here he stood in his fine suit literally and figuratively towering above his men.  And I was clearly at the bottom of the sexual food chain.  

The  men were shocked, certainly insulted and maybe even angry yet they knew better  than to express any of these feelings to Mr. Spignotti; so strong was his power  over them.  The silence was  deafening as I dangled painfully from Mr. Spignotti's thumb, sweat beading on my  forehead and my deflated cock and hairless balls hanging down like useless  appendages.  Finally, the tension was broken by a half-hearted, "Umm Good idea, Boss  from Double Wide and  "Fucking right, Sir  from Brundt.  Mr. Spignotti took a minute to enjoy his triumph and silently challenged  anyone in the room to make something out of it.  

Clearly Mr. Spignotti didn't give a shit  hat his men thought, so strong was his self confidence and total domination over everyone.  No one dared "make something of it  as the Top Dog turned his attention back to me, his new bitch.

I was brusquely dropped from his thumb and fell painfully onto my knees. Mr. Spignotti gave one last challenging gaze at his men then got back down on his knees and slowly, carefully and ceremoniously opened and slid the condom   over his massive hard cock.  The tension in the room was palpable as  all eyes were on Mr. Spignotti's latex covered cock and his next  move.

Back  in position with his unsullied cock protected from my filth he again snarled at  me to Go ahead, Fuck yourself, bitch .  This time he didn't pull back and as I positioned his cock head at my  battered hole a new excruciating self inflicted agony began as I learned just  how much his whipping had predetermined that this was to be one on my most  painful fucks in my life.  All this excruciating pain; and me without a hard dick to help out.  The anger and frustration the men were feeling from Mr. Spignotti's insult boiled over to new more angry chants of,  "Fuck the bitch! Fuck the bitch!! Fuck the bitch!!!  

Blackmore made the taunt even more personal as he got down face to face with me as I readied myself to take Mr. Spignotti in balls deep he spit a great big wad of hot slimy spit right in my face and said, "Fuck you bitch, go fuck yourself on the Boss's cock  he snarled  with anger and hatred in his voice.  

Tears welled in my eyes at this new assault of my psyche.  The others joined in with angry and  cruel taunts of "Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself!! Go fuck yourself!!!   Just when I almost got over the pain of  forcing Mr. Spignotti's cock head inside my battered hole he gave me one last  thing to worry about.  

Mr. Spignotti  informed me that if I got even one drop of fuck juice on his fine tailored silk  suit the last thing I'd feel in this world was his cock cramming my hairless 18 year old balls and pitiful shriveled pink cock down my own throat.  I knew he was serious and a shiver went  up my spine when he brusquely checked my cock to make sure I was still  soft.  Blackmore caught his eye and  the two seemed to share a minute of mutual sadistic joy in the new taunt and the  idea that this could just happen.  

I of course was scared shitless and had a new worry to concentrate on.  After a night of brutal use by the gang of truckers I wasn't entirely sure I was up to this new challenge, but to paraphrase Madd-dog from earlier in the day, Ëœit didn't really matter if I was  ready, Mr. Spignotti was, and that was the important  thing'.

Slowly and painfully I got his latex covered cock inside me  and I clamped down with all my might to make sure no trucker fuck juices leaked  out.  It felt like all eyes were  focused on the junction of Mr. Spignotti's hard cock and my puffy, battered and  bruised hole.  I could almost feel  Blackmore willing my hole to leak, just so he'd get his kicks watching my  downfall.

God I hated that  bastard!  Mr. Spignotti didn't move  a muscle.  He let me do all the fucking work.  Even as he was  getting his sexual release he remained above the craven needs of the lowly  truckers and their new trucker slut play thing.  

He was letting his bitch do the fucking and provide him with pleasure, he didn't fuck truck stop scum.  Truck stop scum provided him the  pleasure, not the other way around in the least.  Not like the rest of them!  Still the taunts of, "Fuck you  and  "Fuck yourself, Bitch  intensified as my backwards thrusts increased to match the crescendo.

Suddenly the door to the lounge opened and in walked a dark  haired Greek or Italian man in a black security uniform with a German Shepard at his side.  The head of security for Spignotti and Sons was Joe Bruno and his assistant was a four legged Titus I was to discover later.  Mr. Bruno just  stood there watching the festivities with his arms crossed and a detached  superior and snide smirk on his face.  Titus on the other hand seemed particularly interested as the lengthening pink tube of flesh between his furry legs demonstrated.  

Mr. Spignotti looked over and saw it and  condescendingly spat out, "Fuckin stud knows a real bitch when he sees one, doesn't he Bruno?   Mr. Bruno just smiled and said, "Sure as shit does Mr. Spignotti, been a while for the both of us since we've had a good bitch hole to use, Sir.   Intimidated and scared I maintained my backwards thrust keeping one eye on the lengthening and dripping cock jutting from between German Shepard legs.  The taunts of "Fuck yourself, bitch  continued and even Titus seemed to  understand the meaning.

Blackmore, still on his knees and in my face was enjoying this new turn of events.  He looked me squarely in my tear stained face and said, "Fuck this shithead  as he grabbed  my sensitive left tit and twisted.  The pain was incredible but even more worrisome was my, by now well know,  tendency to buck, thrust and weave on any cock inside me whenever my tits were played with.
Blackmore had anger in  his eyes and it was obvious he was hoping I'd slip off Mr. Spignotti's cock and foul his precious suit, so deep-seated was his hatred and sadistic needs.  

The  chants, the pain in my tit, my ultimate humiliation at the hands of this superior and domineering man and my soft and useless cock and balls all merged in my mind.  The chants from the truckers were like a type of tribal music and set the rhythm of my degrading  self-fuck.  After Blackmore spit another thick slimy wad in my face Kincaid stepped forward and not to be outdone twisted my head back, forced my mouth open and spit his own slimy load right down my throat, saying "fuck yourself, fuck face .  I endured this without missing the beat of the self fuck on Mr. Spignotti's cock.  By the time Freightliner was dropping a slimy spit wad down my throat the  rest of the truckers got the idea that this was a new game they could enjoy as I carefully thrust myself upon Mr. Spignotti's cock with my hole clenched as tight as possible, even through the involuntary spasms and thrusts from Blackmore's painful tit twists and the new humiliating game of "Truckers' Spittoon .  

I was  hypnotized by the feelings, sights and sounds around me and concentrated only on  the pleasure I was providing the latex covered cock in my butt.  

My own pain and humiliation were unimportant and I only concerned myself with getting through this with my cock and balls intact, in spite of Blackmore's intentions.  To this day I'm not sure if I heard a quiet whisper from behind me with my ears or my mind but I heard  hormone-drenched grunts of "Mmmm yeah, baby... fuckin feels great, keep it up bitch, Mmm mmn baby, yeah fuck my
dick, oh yeah, baby fuck my dick... .

Throughout this new humiliation my mind
focused solely on the voice of  encouragement behind me.  I concentrated on the dick sliding in and out of my battered hole determined to keep that fine suit clean while providing the maximum pleasure for that  soothing, comforting voice and the associated latex covered cock.  All the while truckers had made a new  game of twisting my head roughly around and landing as much spit as they could into my mouth and face as Blackmore kept up his painful assault on my overly sensitized tit.    

I  must have taken 30 loads of trucker spit on my face and down my throat without missing a beat by the time Mr. Spignotti finally grabbed my hips and started a  series of vicious, powerful pile-driving thrusts; demonstrating his instinctive  needs.  Even the majestic and noble  Mr. Spignotti was not above the biologic need to pump his seed deep into a  willing fuck hole.  I clamped down with all my might, hoping against hope I could keep it all off his  suit.

The look on Blackmore's face told me even before Mr. Spignotti's words that the suit  was in fact still pristine clean.  Mr. Spignotti pulled out painfully, peeled off his cum-filled condom and  threw it on the floor in front of me.  All eyes were on the bloated condom and I knew what I had to do without being told.  I picked up the slime  covered latex tube and putting the open end to my lips, I sucked every drop of  Mr. Spignotti's precious superior cum into my mouth.  With a look of amusement he turned me around to face him on my knees and playfully ruffling my blond hair saying,  "That's a great fuck hole you got there, kid.  I wonder how well I did turning you into  a real bitch like your bud Blackmore over there suggested.  What do you say, bitch, did I do a good  job?   I wasn't sure whether he meant his fucking or turning me into a real bitch but my instincts told me this  was not a man to disagree with.  I nodded my head and said, "You did a great job, Sir  as an evil grin spread across his face.  He stood with dignity and poise and slowly zipped up his trousers turned to Joe Bruno saying, "Well Joe, what do you say?  Do you think Titus here sees this piece of street trash as a real bitch yet?  

Bruno replied, "To be honest Sir, he'll  need to see the bitch used more like a dog would use Ëœem.  Want a demonstration, Sir?   Mr. Spignotti just nodded yes as the room became deathly quiet and the smell of sweat, dog and testosterone filled the midnight air of the warehouse of  Spignotti and Sons of Jersey City New Jersey.

End of Chapter 9. Please let me  know if you're enjoying the story so far.
Any comments?  Suggestions?  Insights? Your  replies are what keep me writing
and submitting this true life story.  

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