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Golf Gets Nastier

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After what had just transpired in the toilets with Jim. I had been surprised the men were still waiting for me when I had sheepishly joined them. They were all basically ignoring me but I was aware that Ted and Stan were watching me closely. I couldn’t help wondering what they must be thinking of me and if they really knew what their friend Jim had done.

As we walked up the 7th fairway Jim whistled an annoying tuneless song and the other two men joined in. It was so surreal that if I wasn’t so completely aware of Jim’s cum squishing about my cock and balls I might have been able to convince myself it never really happen. How could I have let the fat ugly slob treat that way. Licking my lips I could taste Jim’s spunk on them and shuddered, while in my once lovely panties I felt my cock stir ominously. Shocked I was distressed that all that had happened could be some how arousing me.

In a daze I continued and after playing my next shot I realised that Stan was standing near by eyeing me intently. Self consciously I was trying to figure out what he was staring at when he crooked his finger beckoning me over. Uncertainly I complied feeling my self wilt under his intense unwavering glare. When I was standing before the large cigar smoking brute he drawled, “Take my cart for me boy,” and walked away.

I watched him saunter off down the fairway thinking absolutely no fucking way but he just kept on walking away. I looked about helplessly until finally with a muttered curse I grabbed the handle of his cart and my own and followed the three men. Pulling two carts was awkward and by the time I got to where Stan was standing over his ball he was starting to look peeved. “Pass me my five iron boy,” he sneered peevishly at me looking towards the green judging his next shot.

Flustered I was again screaming absolutely no fucking way in my head trying to find my voice when he looked at me. His displeased glare made me quake quietly and in no time I was fumbling for the right club. Stan snatched it from my hand waving me away. I stood there helplessly watching him puff and wiggle his large form around getting comfortable before taking his shot. Grunting with effort Stan caught the ball fat sending a large chunk of turf flying and causing his ball to pull up well short of the green.

Immediately Stan smashed his club into the fairway then turned his baleful glare on me again. I stood there gaping timidly terrified that he was going to strike me. Instead he held the club out for me to take. When I took hold of it his other hand flashed out closing painfully on my wrist. With a whimper of fright I froze. Stan held me tight while snarling, “Don’t make me wait for you next time boy,” before he strode off in a fury.

As Ted strolled by he causally commented, “Don’t forget to fix his divot.” Snickering childishly, “Boy.”

“Oh,” I sputtered comically before scurrying around to fix the turf then chasing after Stan.

I managed to get to his ball just after him so when he offhandedly muttered, “Gimme my wedge boy,” I had it there to hand to him. With out even looking at me he took the club and made his shot. It was a decent approach near the pin and with a grunt of satisfaction Stan flipped his wedge in my general direction before strolling nonchalantly away.

I quickly did some turf maintenance and followed. Stan was already on the green eyeing up his putt when I realised that with the drama of pulling Stan’s cart and handling his clubs I hadn’t played my ball. It would be somewhere back on the fairway and as I considered running back for it Stan cursed, “Where the fuck’s my putter boy?”

Forgoing any further thought of my my ball or completing that hole I scrambled to get Stan his putter. He snatched it from my grasp eyeing me harshly. When I dropped my gaze cowed he thrust his cigar towards me snarling, “Hold this and get the flag boy.”

Holding onto the flag and Stan’s wet well chewed cigar butt I watched him miss his putt. My stomach churned as I was certain that the angry man would again blame me. To my relief he calmly tapped his ball into the hole and walked away. I stood there breathing a sigh of relief until Ted cleared his throat and I realised that he and Jim were waiting for me to retrieve Stan’s ball. Promptly I did then taking over the flag duties for the other two wondering what I was going to do with Stan’s disgusting cigar stub.

While they putted out Stan wandered to the next tee dropping etiler escort his putter by his cart. Chewing on my lower lip I followed the other two off the green resolving to tell Stan he could look after his own clubs for the rest of the round. When we got to the tee Stan was already there stripping the leaves off a branch he had pulled from a tree. When it was leafless he flicked a few times to get a feel for it before turning towards me.

Dumbly I offered the man his cigar stub and golf ball. “Just drop’em boy,” Stan muttered flicking his new switch again. My stomach started churning again, as I thought absolutely no fucking way. “Put out your hands boy,” Stan requested evenly. I tried to scream out what I was thinking but could only make a gurgled sound of distress. I looked around wildly at the other two but their deadpan dispassionate stares told me that they would not be intervening for me.

Thinking back I should have just run but instead I dropped the cigar butt and ball swallowing hard, feeling small. In a daze I watched my arms rise offering my hands to Stan palm up. Stan flicked his switch again appreciatively before resting it on my upturned palms. “What did I tell you boy,” Stan inquired with feigned friendliness.

“To not make you wait,” I stammered, my entire body beginning to tremble slightly.

Snorting Stan then asked, “And what did I do back there boy?”

Trembling more intensely I whispered, “You waited.”

Snorting again Stan stated matter-of-factly, “You cost me two strokes on that hole boy.”

It didn’t help that the other two men started snickering like little kids as I was trying to say I was sorry when Stan cut me off sneering into my face, “Two fucking strokes boy.” I was trembling so hard now that Stan’s switch was close to falling off my upturned palms. “What do you think fellas?” Stan asked the other two, “ten per stroke?”

I heard myself whimper at the thought of having my palms lashed by Stan’s switch. I hadn’t received corporal punishment since I was a child and wondered why I wasn’t just walking away from these lunatics. Spell bound I watched Stan take his switch, raise it slowly into the air before bringing it down forcefully across my palms. With a yelp of pain I instinctively pulled my hands away feeling the searing pain tingling across them.

Stan was breathing hard with anger as he swatted his switch into his own leg. After a moment as I cringed and wrung my hands tenderly Stan informed me in a harsh uncompromising voice, “Everytime you drop your hands boy I will start over.” Stan let his announcement sink in and when all I could do was stare at him morosely he smirked. Shaking his head Stan then asked the other two men, “What do you fellas think. Should we just pants this little shit and leave him here in his panties?”

I stopped wringing my hands. It was possible I stopped breathing. The look of evil intent in Stan’s eyes told me that he and the other two wouldn’t think twice about doing such a thing. That they would enjoy it. Stan watched me closely tapping his leg with his switch. Unable to look at any of them I slowly raised my arms again presenting my hands palms up feeling like I was slipping into a fog.

“Count,” Stan’s voice told me from the fog.

I watched the switch rise and come down. I felt the searing pain of the switch as it bit into my palms. I fought the instinct to pull away. I managed to squeak out, “One.”

“One what boy?” I heard Stan inquire.

“One Sir,” I whispered before wincing from the pain of the next lash. Without prompting my quavering voice mewed, “Two Sir.” As the switch lashed my palms again I could hear Ted and Jim chortling in the background.

By the time Stan had reached twenty my cheeks were tear stained, my hands were on fire and his switch was in tatters. Tossing it away Stan sided up to me to whisper in my ear, “Next time will be worse boy.”

As I stood there trembling near to sobbing Stan gave me an open handed swat on the butt growling, “Now pass me my driver boy.”

Sniffling back tears and dealing with the excruciating pain from my hands the next hole was a blur. I hardly even noticed that I wasn’t playing anymore just dutifully tending to Stan’s golf club needs. The three men went back to their game as if nothing had happened. I was being completely ignored until Stan laughing told me, “Yo boy, go help Ted find his etimesgut escort ball.”

I hadn’t been watching the other two men’s play but hustled off into the bushes behind Ted to look for his ball. While I trashed around the undergrowth blindly Ted came up behind me. I was bent over looking under a low lying branch and froze when I felt Ted’s hands on my hips. Ted held me firmly when I pulled away pressing his groin against my butt. Confused and scared I started to rise when Ted thrust himself hard into me to making me lose my balance.

Falling forward I put my hands out to support myself. I couldn’t help whimpering when my still sensitive hands were driven into the bramble covered dirt. Ted was roughly pulling at my pants as he forced me forward onto my knees in the shrubbery. I half heartedly tried to scramble away but Ted held me firmly to him as his hands pulled away my pants exposing my orange panty briefs.

I realised I could smell Jim’s spent cum scent before Ted reached forward to pull one of my arms back forcing my face into the dirt. Holding my arm back harshly Ted started to purposely dry hump my pantied butt. I could feel that he had opened his own trousers and his erection sliding over the sheer nylon of my pantied ass.

Trapped I submitted to the fat mans perverted attack whimpering into the dirt when I felt the mans hard cock slip beneath the lace edging of my panty and slide up the crack of my ass. I tried to struggle when the realisation that this ugly beast was going to assault me sunk in. But it was to no avail he was far too big for me to throw off and far too strong for me break free from. My every breath was filled with dirt and leaf matter as Stan continued to thrust himself against me. I heard his animal cry of lust and felt his hot cum splatter onto my back and buttocks as Stan ejaculated all over me. Growling Stan continued to hump my butt milking himself into my panties before pulling away.

Once clear he gave my buttocks a hard opened handed smack that echoed in the trees. Hoping that my humiliation at his hands was now over I whimpered morosely when Stan swung around and sat on my back pinning my upper body beneath him driving my face further into the dirt. After another painful swat on my ass Stan started to fiddle with backside. I cringed and squealed into the dirt as Stan’s fingers fiddled with my backside pushing my panties aside. When the man’s fingers probed at my hole I thrashed about wildly trying to stop him.

Stan’s hand slapped into my pantied ass and continued until I settled down and stopped thrashing about. Once I was again compliant Stan’s fat finger began probing me again. When a cum slick digit pressed against my anus I clinched my butt cheeks instinctively then whimpering quietly into the dirt when Stan’s other hand started slapping my ass again. While he spanked my butt Stan’s finger pressed unrelentingly into my ass.

I felt utterly debased as Stan’s finger probed deeper and deeper into my body as still he spanked me even though I remained completely compliant. I shuddered when I felt Stan add his spit to the cum he was using to lubricate the finger invading my ass. The relief I felt when he stopped spanking my ass soon dissipated when I felt Stan rolling something around in the cum covering my lower back and buttocks. Unable to see it took me awhile to realise that it was a golf ball though I couldn’t figure out why.

To my horror I felt him getting closer and closer to my anus. I started to struggle again mewing desperately into the dirt. Stan ignored my pathetic attempts to dislodge him swapping the golf ball for his finger. When I couldn’t struggle any longer I went limp. Above me Ted laughed and started pressing the golf ball against my asshole. At first I thought that there was no way, that I was too tight, but Ted was relentless and he chortled with delight as the ball slipped inside me.

I could feel the ball inside me as Ted snickered meanly to himself and gave my butt a couple more meaningful slaps. When I didn’t struggle he started rolling another ball around in his cum soaking the backside of my panties. The second ball was still a struggle for Ted to force into my ass but he didn’t let that stop him. I was limp with defeat when he worked the third one around and with surprising ease slipped it inside me. With another stinging slap Ted got off me.

Reaching down Ted hauled me up by the hair to etlik escort hold me swaying slightly before him. Ted’s trousers and underwear were bunched about his fat thighs and his glistening dick hung wetly from beneath his gut before my eyes. “Clean me off bitch,” Ted growled smirking. Forlorn and struggling with the unfamiliar sensations emanating from my ass and bowels I submissively began licking Ted’s cock and balls clean.

After he was satisfied Ted pressed his cum crusty hand to my lips. Compliantly I cleaned that to. Ted then used my hair to dry his spit wet hand while I knelt passively before him. I mewed my distress when he entwined his fingers in my hair and pulled my head up to face him. Looking at me with cruel amusement Ted snickered into my face before pressing a finger from his other hand against my lips. With no defiance left in me I allowed him to force the finger into my mouth. From the funky taste I figured it must be the finger that had recently been my ass and shuddered with fresh humiliation. “Ass to mouth bitch,” I heard Ted murmur above me, “Never forget it. It’s always ass to mouth.”

With that he cast me away to crash into the bushes. The sudden movement made me very aware of the golf balls moving around in my guts and pressing ominously against anus. Sneering with contempt Ted growled, “If I see any of those balls before the eighteenth hole bitch I’ll make you wish you’d never tried to play golf.” Reaching back I desperately covered my asshole pushing hard to keep the balls inside me.

Laughing again Ted hollered, “Come on bitch, we got a game on here.”

Gingerly and very carefully I straightened my panties and pulled my pants up. Shuffling uncomfortably I had to squeeze my butt cheeks to keep the balls in place as I made my way back onto the fairway. The three men had lit fresh cigars and were watching me with an amused intent as Ted filled them in on what had happened in the bushes.

I felt waves of shame wash over me as I listened to the prick regale his friends with my debasement at his hands. Ignoring me the three men started off down the fairway whistling again. After a moments hesitation I followed pulling Stan’s cart behind me. The balls forced me to walk funny and every couple of minutes I would nearly double over with cramping fearful I would lose one or more of them.

After one such pause to regain control I realised that I had forgotten my cart and clubs. Looking back I couldn’t see them on the fairway, they were gone. Perplexed I noticed that up ahead Stan standing over his ball looking impatient. Bewildered but not surprised I squeezed my butt cheeks together and rushed quickly as my condition would allow to the waiting Stan.

The man was glowering as he watched me struggle up to him asking with exasperation, “Damn boy, are you trying to piss me off?”

Quavering with fear I was barely able to stammer, “Na-na-noo…” When Stan’s hand flashed out to slap my face. Shame faced my cheek burning from the slap I couldn’t believe how humiliated Stan’s slap made me feel. Memories of being punished as a child flooded over me leaving me spiritless and spineless before this large dominant man. I could only sniff unhappily when Stan slapped me again feeling as though it was what I deserved.

When Stan barked, “Take your pants off boy.” I meekly complied. Under his threatening glare I struggled out of my pants to stand before him head bowed in my cum stained panties.

When Stan used his fore finger to lift my head so that he could look me in the eye I simpered with fear. Smirking evilly Stan informed me, “You can put those in the cart boy and if you behave you might just get them back when we’re done with you.”

I was trembling so hard as the large man held me captive with gaze and I was afraid was I going to faint. My body spasmed with a lurch when I felt the hot trickle of piss running down the inside of my leg. I whimpered with dismay that this man had scared me so much that I had just pissed a myself. Noticing my reaction Stan looked down. Because it had only been a little trickle of piss I wasn’t sure that he had noticed until he burst out in an evil humourless laugh.

I felt myself shrink in size as Stan’s laugh echoed around the golf course. Shaking his head with obvious disgust Stan drawled, “What a pussy.” And while I stood there with piss dribbling down my bare leg Stan continued, “Don’t just stand pussy, pass me my three wood.” In a horrible dream I did as I was told and watched the man take his shot.

Stan was happy with his shot and again just tossed the unwanted club towards me already walking away. Disbelieving this could be happening to me mechanically replaced the club, grabbed the cart handle and waddled off after Stan, Jim and Ted.

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