Poker with the guys, part 3

The story concludes from part 2 of “Poker with the guys.”

Time slowed to a crawl. Each pace down the hallway felt a mile long. With their large, rough hands, the guys placed steady pressure on Didrik’s shoulders and pushed him toward the bedrooms. Didrik could hear his heartbeat pounding in time with his footsteps. His cock stiffened. He adjusted his gait to lessen the friction against his pants, but the strange walk caught the guys’ attention. At the end of the hallway, Doug reached around from behind Didrik and stroked his erection.  

“Well, well, well,” Doug said. The unlit cigar between his clenched teeth gave his voice a raw, menacing edge. “Looks like boss boy is enjoying himself.”  

Steve stood in the doorway and pulled Didrik closer by his chin. “How about that? You excited, boy?”  

Didrik nodded. “Yes, Sir. Sirs.”  

Steve pulled Didrik into the master bedroom, and the rest of the guys followed. Didrik glanced at the king-sized bed and then looked at the guys in turn. “Do you want me to get in the bed, Sirs?”  

Jim laughed. “You think we want to fuck you?”  

“I-I assumed,” Didrik stammered, suddenly self conscious.  

“Look around you, boy. You’re not exactly our type.”  

A round of butt slaps and nipple tweaks followed. Bill and Lou locked into a deep kiss. Doug cupped Jim’s bulge and awakened his cock with slow, deliberate strokes. Didrik wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or rejected. “What do you want me to do, Sirs?”  

Bill and Lou broke off their kiss, and Bill opened the closet door. The room was so dark that Didrik could barely make out what was inside. Bill curled a finger, beckoning Didrik to approach. “It’s time we leveled the playing field, boss boy. Consider this our private training class in servant leadership.”  

Didrik walked from the bed to the closet and peered inside. The size surprised him. It could easily have been a bedroom they’d converted into closet space. Rows of hanging leather and rubber gear lined each wall, and a long, narrow bench jutted out into the center of the room.  

“Whaddaya think, guys?” Bill said. “How about we hook him up to the keypad?”  

The guys nodded and murmured their agreement.  

“Keypad?” Didrik said. “Is that a code word for something?”  

Bill massaged Didrik’s neck roughly. “Hardly, son. It’s how we’ll teach you a lesson about respecting your elders.”  

Didrik stepped into the closet and squinted when Bill flipped on the light. The small room smelled of leather and a hint of sweat. He felt a hand slide into his back pocket and pull out his wallet.  

“Hey,” Didrik said. “That’s mine.”  

He whirled around and saw all five guys blocking the closet door. Jim slipped the wallet into his jeans pocket. “You’ll get it back. But we’ve got work to do in the meantime.”  

“These chips and pretzels aren’t cutting it for me, men,” Steve said. “I need something more substantial than that.” An hour later, the guys were back at the poker table. Lou and Bill had taken the most chips, while Steve and Doug were almost out. The air around the table was thick with cigar smoke, and the whiskey bottle was nearly empty.   

“Pizza?” Doug asked.  

“Yeah,” Steve said and then leaned back in his chair. “Hey, son, we’re going to order some pizza. Sound good?”  

In the far corner of the living room, between a bookcase and a pile of firewood, Didrik sat blindfolded, gagged, and shackled to a chair. The leather shirt he’d been given to wear was too big for him. From the waist down, he was naked. He nodded and mumbled something unintelligible. The guys laughed.  

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve said. He picked up a remote control and pressed a series of numbers. Despite Didrik being in the next room, the guys could hear his moans and grunts of pleasure at the poker table.  

“How much did you key in?” Doug asked.  

“Fifty bucks,” Steve said.  

“Do another thirty,” Bill said. “I want some chicken wings.”  

Steve pressed the control again. Didrik’s cock jumped as the vibration deep inside him started up again.