SkinMarvin Gay Stories

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Chapter 1

My name's Dougie McKenzie and I'm proud to be the president of the Feggie Boot Boys, a skinhead gang from Ferguslie Park in Paisley, a town to west of Glasgow. In fact, Glasgow city boundary and Paisley burgh boundary join each other. I'm also the chairman of the Paisley Skinhead Federation, a group of eight skinhead clubs in Paisley and the surrounding area, including the smaller towns of Renfrew, Johnstone and Barrhead.

Ferguslie Park is the toughest area in the town. Guys from Ferguslie are nickname "Feggies" and I'm proud to be a Feggie, the toughest bunch of bastards in central Scotland.
The Paisley Skinhead Federation had been formed three years ago because of attacks from skinhead gangs in Greenock, Pollock and Nitshill (The latter two areas being in the Glasgow South Skinhead Federation) as well as a couple of Hells Angel gangs in the town.

Last year I was elected to the post of chairman for being a tough piece of shit. I've been in prison twice and I'm proud to say it was for assault on both occasions. In other words I'm a right tough bastard. I don't go to prison for shoplifting or bag snatching. That's for wimps and pansies like you.

When I took over as president of the Feggie Boot Boys two years ago, I wanted all the members to have a distinctive jacket instead of a variety of colours such as black or green or blue. I insisted on silver grey because few over guys wore it at the time. The rest of our "uniform" is dark blue jeans, red polo shirt or T-shirt, steel toe capped industrial boots (with the steel cap outside the leather), leather belt with sharp studs and a number zero haircut. I always wear my "best" jacket when I visit other areas, either as a visitor or when we have a raid on. All members have cloth badges on their jackets including the club badges FEGGIES FUCK and SKINHEADS RULE. Some have other badges as well. I have a 6-inch diameter (150mm) badge with a blooded dagger. Under it are the words POWER GENERATES FEAR. I am proud of that badge. It was made for me by a pal, and is the only one in existence. It also shows everyone I am a tough bastard.

To show how tough the Feggie Boot Boys are, I organise ambushes on other gangs, both skinhead and Hells Angels, mostly from outside the Paisley area. Six weeks ago a gang of bikers from Kilmarnock, about 20 miles to the south, were on a bike run and spent the night on the Gleniffer Braes, a hill on the southern outskirts of Paisley and giving panoramic views for miles. There were eight of them. We captured them, beat them up, tied them up, gagged them and then fucked them. We left them among the bushes still tied and gagged, each with a big butt plug up his arse.
About three weeks before the election for Federation chairman a few skins from other clubs said I was showing off and getting too big for my boots. At least two other guys were standing for the position of chairman, and another two were "thinking about it".

Barry, the Feggie Boot Boys vice-president suggested I had to do a bit of "canvassing". Two weeks before the election I invited two guys from one of the skin gangs, the Bomber Boys for a few drinks then back to my place and offered them my arse. I wanted to show that I wasn't too big for my boots. Three days later it was two guys from the Boot Crushers gang. The same offers. Drinks and my arse.

A week before the election Barry told me that Jake from the Denim Blues gang in Renfrew, wasn't interested in standing for the Federation post. Why not get him on my side by inviting him and his mate, Angus, for a drink and my arse, but not to tell other clubs of my intention. I thought that was a good idea. Instead of meeting in our usual bar in Paisley at 10 p.m., Barry suggested we meet just after work on Friday. The construction firm I was working with were doing a job near Bishopton, a village about six miles away on the banks of the River Clyde. The construction site itself was just over half a mile (one Kilometre) along a narrow lane and it was unlikely anyone from Paisley would see us there.

Barry suggested we use the workers hut after all the construction guys have gone home. The site was in open countryside and away from prying eyes. Jake fancied a muddy session. This was agreed. I was dressed in an old muddy silver bomber jacket, ripped and muddy jeans, mud encrusted T-shirt and muddy army boots. Even at work I wear my uniform colours. The jeans had been ripped at the arse but re-stitched. Both Jake and Angus worked on building sites and also wore muddy gear. The Denim Blues gang wore blue jeans, blue denim jackets and blue denim shirts. Like me they wore their "uniform" at work. After fucking me they wanted a mud wrestling session. If I beat both of them I could fuck either of them.
It was Friday night at 5.30 p.m. when I walked off the site and met them. Nobody in Paisley, apart from Barry, knew of our meeting. We went to the nearest pub, which was in the village, had a few drinks and returned to the site at 6.30 p.m.

I had a key to the workers hut and we slipped in. There were security guard who came round every two hours to check if everything was OK. They never enter the huts. They just check that the doors are secure. The window had been boarded up so nobody would know we were there. Inside there were two long wooden benches and a long narrow table. Muddy boots, wellingtons and jeans lay on the floor.

We went straight down to business. They knew they were here to fuck me so let's get on with it. I had left a pile of ropes in a corner earlier so we could use them. I knew that they loved bondage and would want to tie me up before they fucked me. Jake lifted the ropes.
"Bend over the table." he said.
I bent over the table and they tied my wrists to the cross bar under the table. My ankles were tied to two of the metal table legs. As my legs were pulled wide the arse seam of my jeans gave way and ripped open.
"Open your mouth." said Jake.
I obeyed and he pushed a ball gag into it and secured it tightly behind my neck. I was now completely at their mercy. I couldn't free myself and I couldn't ask them to stop.

Jake was first to fuck me. He took off his studded belt with sharp studs and drew it across my arse 30 times before ramming his cock up it. Those 30 strokes had some force behind them. My arse felt red hot. It took him less than five minutes of ramming when he suddenly yelled and with one thrust he kept his cock up my arse. He let out a long slow gasp. He kept it there for nearly a minute before withdrawing it. When he had finished Angus also belted me 30 times. My arse felt so numb I hardly felt his cock going in. Five minutes later and his juice was up my arse.
Instead of releasing me right away the two of them then started to joke about me, saying things like "I think we should fist the cunt next." and "I think we should string him up by the ankles from the overhead beam and make him lick our arses next."

Jake said "It's a bit early to go home. Let's go down to the village and bring back 6 cans of beer and a bottle of whisky. We can have the mud-wrestling match after we finish the booze. If he beats both of us at wrestling then one of us will give him a blow job and the other can lick his arse."
Angus agreed.
Jake patted me on the arse and said "Don't go away. We'll be back in 20 minutes."
As they made for the door I let out a muffled yell and struggled with my bonds. What if some bastards walked in while I was still tied hand and foot? They ignored my muffled protests, walked out and closed the door behind them. They never locked it.

Shit! It would be typical that the security guys walked round while I was in this position. There was nothing I could do but wait for them to return.
About ten minutes later the door opened and four guys walked in. All four wore green bomber jackets and combat trousers and had balaclavas over their heads. Who the fuck were they?

One of them came up to me and said "Hi, Arsehole. It's about time you had a little nap. Let me put you to sleep."
With these words he took a firm grip of my head pressing it against his body and held a pad to my face. There was a sweet smell of chloroform. I struggled but he held me firmly. Suddenly there was a sharp pain across my arse as someone drew a belt across it. I let out an involuntary gasp and breathed in the chloroform. Again I tried to pull my head away but the cunt had a firm grip.

"Take another deep breath like a nice little boy. It's passed your bed time." said the guy.
There was another unexpected belt across my arse and again I gasped and breathed in more fumes. I held my breath for another twenty seconds but then felt my strength weakening and my eyes started to close. I lost the power to resist and took another breath. Seconds later I blacked out.

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