MARIO AND FERNANDO THE WAREHOUSE

Mario had been fucking with Fernando almost every night for three weeks. His ass already knew the shape of that thick cock perfectly, his hands knew how to anticipate every slap, every hair pull. But that night was going to be different.

Fernando sent him a message at seven in the evening: "Tonight you don't come to my house. I'll wait for you at 22:00 on Embajadores Street 127, at the back warehouse. Come alone with sweatpants, no underwear. Don't be late".

Mario felt a chill. Fernando had never summoned him outside of his penthouse. This smelled like something big.

He arrived five minutes early. The street was dark, barely lit by flickering streetlights. The warehouse was an old red brick building with a partially open metal door. Mario pushed and entered.

Inside, it smelled of humidity and motor oil. There were rusty shelves, stacked boxes, an old sofa with broken springs. In the center, under a dimly lit hanging bulb, was Fernando. But he was not alone.

There were four other guys.

All of them were older, all with the look of laborers or truckers. One was bald and muscular, with tattoos on his arms. Another was shorter, fat, with a scruffy beard. The third was skinny, with glasses and the look of an office worker, but with a dark gaze. The fourth was enormous, almost two meters tall, with hands the size of plates.

Fernando smiled when he saw Mario enter.

"You're on time. Good."

Mario stood still at the entrance, looking at the men. His cock was already starting to get hard.

"What... what is this?" he asked.

"This," said Fernando approaching, "is what you've been asking me for weeks. You said you wanted to be treated like a filthy pig. Well, here you have four more pigs who think exactly like me."

The bald one stepped forward.

"Is this the kid you were talking about?"

"Yes. Mario, 25 years old. Total passive. No limits."

"No limits, huh?" The bald one scratched his beard and looked Mario up and down. "Let's check that."

Fernando made a gesture to Mario.

"Take off all your clothes. Now."

Mario obeyed. He took off his sweatpants and shoes. He stood completely naked in front of five guys who looked at him like a piece of meat.

"Turn around," ordered the fat one.

Mario turned around. He felt the fat one's hands opening his ass.

"Damn, Fernando, you've got him well trained. Look how he opens up by himself."

The others laughed.

"On your knees," said the skinny one with glasses.

Mario knelt down. The floor was cold and dirty. His knees hurt against the cement.

Fernando approached and put a leather collar around Mario's neck. A chain hung from it.

"From now on, you're our bitch. You'll obey us in everything. Understood?"

"Yes," Mario whispered.

"Yes, WHAT?"

"Yes, sir."

"Better."