86th Batch Of Fics: 10th Fill
Gus/Sam/Willy – cont of patreon fic – Part ½ – punishment; sam in stocks; public usage – Sam has committed a crime and has to serve the time :)
(The first part of this is a patreon fic sooo... become a patron (5€ or 7€ tier) if you want to read that :) )
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Time creeps up on Sam. He would have thought that being locked in the stocks and fucked for hours on end by all kinds of guys would be an ordeal that he’d never forget, but one moment it’s early morning and the next it is late afternoon and by the life of him he couldn’t say whose had a go at him.
Not everybody made it obvious, after all. Some just came – hehe – and went again without speaking. Hell, some could have fucked him twice even. Maybe Clint had a little break half-way through and came back to pump out another load?
Sam’s hole certainly is swollen enough that he would not have realized that the blacksmith with the fat cock had given him another round.
He’s just suitably sure that Mister Mulner and Morris did not come back for a ride but only because they wouldn’t have been quiet about it. He thinks. They enjoyed too much taunting him.
The sun is warm on his back but not burning him. The stocks also helps him be upright. Somewhat, that is. Obviously. He’s forced to stand bent over but at least he can relax his knees a little bit from time to time-
“Oh dear. Poor boy. You’ve been at it for a while now, haven’t you? Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
A shadow falls over Sam’s head. At first he doesn’t even recognize the voice; all he does is stare at the front of the dark green slacks of the guy that appeared, immediately wanting to suck dick.
After a second or two, he does look up though. It’s Gus who looks remarkably unperturbed by the situation Sam is in.
“I… uh…” He has to cough a little, suddenly aware of just how parched his throat has become. In Gus’ elbow he’s got a large basket hanging and the scents coming from it are mouth watering. Oh fuck, Sam is starving.
“Well I’ll be!”
Before Gus can reply to Sam’s stuttering, there’s another voice piping up behind him. This time his brain is faster to supply him with a name – if only because he can smell the scent of fish. Willy.
“Been a dog’s age since I last saw someone in the stocks. Aye, that brings up some memories. Nice ‘ns, mind. It’s a good tradition. Builds character, as my pappy used t’ say.”
Gus slowly puts his basket of goods down on the ground. Sam stares at it. There’s a dainty little napkin spread out over the top, denying him a view of the contents; but it still gets his mouth watering something fierce.
The barkeep wanders around him, apparently more interested in Willy now than to feed and water the ‘poor boy’.
“That so? I think I heard the Mayor speak about it once or twice but I didn’t think he was being for real…”
“Thought he was just horny, did ya?” Willy replies, sounding very tickled by it all. There’s a gentle tap at the small of Sam’s back, though from how warm and smooth it is he thinks it might have been the belly of Willy’s pipe, casually knocked against him.
“Aye it was a nice tradition. Stopped about a handful o’ years before you came to town, methinks. Why, sometimes I’d be actin’ up just to give ‘em a reason to punish me!”
They both laugh. Sam tries to wrap his head around a younger Willy, maybe even around his own age, getting locked up in the stocks and fucked. It’s pretty much impossible to fathom. Not because of the stocks… but just because a young Willy seems weird.
No, the stocks is… well uh… he kind of enjoys it.
A lot.
A whole fucking lot.
Enough so that he starts to whine and angle his ass back. The two abruptly fall silent in surprise. There’s a second of quiet in which Sam muses that it’s a good thing he’s started feeling slutty while Gus and Willy were around. Those two were without a doubt the nicest about it. Well, them and Harvey.
But Harvey wouldn’t be caught on the town square fucking a whore. Though the way they positioned the stocks, he’s been able to look right at the clinic and see the blinds flick an awful lot…
“Well I suppose he’s right! No time like the present, or what say you, old pal?”
“Aye. We’ve been awfully rude, I think. The way I remember it, you just want to keep going and going and going…”
Willy trails off. Sam is basically vibrating on the spot, nervous and excited in equal measures. He’s never much thought about fucking either of them, but then again, he hadn’t thought about fucking old Mister Mulner either and that’s been kinda… yeah. He kinda liked it? The whole… insulting thing?
Someone has stepped close to his back. He cranes his neck and tries to see but it is impossible with the wooden board in the way. A warm cock is slapped against the small of his back and slowly fucked against his spine and the top of his ass crack. After just a couple passes it leaves behind a fine, sticky trail.
It feels heavy, he thinks. Not that he’s had a lot of situations where someone just hot dogged his ass. Yeah though… it’s Gus, right? Right.
“Shit,” he whispers under his breath, letting his head hang and angling his ass further up. He forgets all about being hungry and thirsty in favor of a nice fuck being practically dangled in front of his nose.
“Ah. I came at just the right time,” Willy chuckles. He sounds pleased as pie. “The lad’s pussy has been well and truly taken care of. Very well lubed, aye. Just perfect to slide… right in.”
The cock moves down, glans poking at the small of Sam’s back, then sliding even further down and slipping between his ass cheeks. His mouth opens in a whorish little ‘o’. He blinks slowly. There are shoes in front of him again, then knees and then Gus’ face. The bartender gently pats his cheek while Willy is sliding into his hole in one slow, luxurious push.
“AAhh… creamy and warm. You got a wonderful little peach on you, lad. Any sailor’s dream, I tell you that!”
Sam opens his mouth but all that comes out is a whining little moan. He’s fucked around with Sebastian before but this amount of cock is completely unprecedented – and he finds that he is quickly getting addicted to it.
Big cock? Small cock? Straight? Crooked? He doesn’t fucking care. It turns out that getting dicked down is what matters most. Will he never again smear the walls of the bathhouse with permanent marker?
Uh… they’ll have to just see. He might have to come up with better things in the future. Stuff that nets him an even longer time in the stocks. If the guys are willing to fuck him over like this during the day – what will they do at night when everything is nice and dark? The thought of Morris coming back with nobody around and the darkness to conceal the shit he gets up to… Sam gets a bit woozy thinking about it.
It’s a good thing that Gus and Willy are there now. They’re kind. They’re grounded. They can calm Sam’s frying nerves.
He thinks.
