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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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Jake’s POV

I’d forgotten what it was like.

The pain. The embarrassment. The gut-wrenching contempt in his eyes. The way he always made me feel like the lowest of the lowest, unworthy of any joy or affection in this world.

I’d forgotten how easily he could make me hate myself.

With Master, I was dumb, filthy, perverted. Like a cockroach, crawling around in the sink. I had always felt honored that a man like him would want to own a sicko like me, no matter how bad I was treated - but after these past five months without him, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Without Master, I had no one to take care of me - but without Master, I wasn’t a faggot, either. I was just Jake. A college student, defensive football player, co-captain. I hung out with friends, went to the gym, checked out girls at parties, and that was that. I was normal.

Or so it felt, anyway.

Of course there were nights when I missed him. When I lay in bed, alone, staring at the ceiling as I tried not to think about the man. I missed the sex, the taste and feel of his cock. I missed the feeling of submitting to another man, a real man, on my knees and surrendering my body to his will. I missed being a bitch.

But most of all, I missed the moments when Master wouldn’t hurt me, when he would take me in his arms and tell me how proud he was. These memories would flash through my mind for hours, keeping me up all night.

Lying awake, in my dorm, I felt lonely and abandoned.

Then day would come, and I was once again reminded of the horrors he had committed. Everywhere I’d go on campus, there were flowers, pictures, notes and candles. All for David. His face haunted me wherever I went. Most people believed he was dead - Master had told me he wasn’t, but I still had no idea what had happened to the kid. And how was I supposed to know Master was even telling the truth? For all I knew, he could’ve killed David himself, buried him in his own fucking backyard. I had no one to trust, no one to talk to.

I couldn’t even escape in football, like I usually would; the whole team was in disarray, we were without a proper defense coach, and the feds were still conducting their investigation. Whenever Joe or Taylor tried to talk about it, I just shut down and didn’t know what to say.

I’m sure they knew something was up - especially Joe, since he had almost found out about my secret last year. But it didn’t matter. Coach was gone, and so was David.

I tried my best to forget about them both, and moved on with my life. I had to.

Then Master came back, five months after everything had gone down. We were on tour, me and the team, handing out autographs and taking pictures - an effort from the University to promote our team again, after Coach’s ‘crime’ had been all over the news for so long.

And then he was there, out of the blue. Grinning at me as he asked for an autograph. I was so shocked and scared I barely even remember what he said to me. All I know is I signed a bunch of papers he threw at my face, and then he left. That same night, he had me in his hotel room.

It was like those five months away from him hadn’t even happened.

I was back to being a faggot, crawling around while he hurt and fucked me. He shoved pins up my dick, made me piss myself, and even tied me to a radiator while he milked me like a cow. It was as if he was trying to catch up on five months’ worth of torture, all in one night.

Once again, I was thrown back into the deepest pits of hell.

And then the morning after, waking up on the bathroom floor, naked and filthy from the night before. My ass felt like it had been carved out, my nipples were puffed and painful, and my dick felt raw and sore. Every muscle in my body ached as if I’d been run over by a truck.

Everything was covered in cum, and I was sick to my stomach with embarrassment. I’d sworn never to go back to this again, not after what he’d done. And yet, here I was.

No matter what I did or tried, I could not get away from him.

Exhausted, I stumbled into the room. The man was sitting at the table, doing something on his laptop.

“There you are,” he said, without even looking up. “Took you long enough.”

“W-what time is it?” I muttered. For some reason, I suddenly felt very exposed, being naked before him - even though I had had his dick inside of me mere hours ago.

“Almost 4pm. You slept for a while.”

Fuck. I’d slept through pretty much the entire day. Tonight, I had to be on the bus with my teammates to finish the tour, or I’d be in some serious shit. Our new Coach didn’t tolerate any slacking - especially from a co-captain.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the man at the table. He didn’t seem to give two shits about my presence. Five months ago, I might have crawled over to him, hoping for affection, or at least some more cock in my holes. But that was then.

Right now, all I could do was stare. I felt strange. Like I didn’t even know this guy anymore, even after what happened yesterday. Even after all the time I’d spent with him these past years. Maybe I was still angry. Or sad - or just confused. Either way, I just stood there, and Master wasn’t paying me any attention.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I mumbled.

No ‘sir’. No ‘can I, please?’. I just told him, and he nodded. Dazed, I stepped back into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and washed away the filth on me.

When I got back, still naked but clean, he was still sitting there. Working, I assumed.

I walked over to the little pile of my clothes by the bed, and bent over to grab them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” his voice cut through the air.

I turned, and saw him finally looking at me. The annoyance in his eyes made my cheeks heat up.

“Getting dressed,” I said. “I gotta meet with my team soon.”

He scoffed. “I don’t think so. You’re gonna bring me a drink, and wait till I’m done with work.”

“B-but-“

“Pour me a drink, Jacob. That’s an order.”

I stood frozen, frowning at the man. A thousand thoughts and feelings were rushing through my mind at once. Then I clenched my fists, and grabbed my jockstrap from the pile. He and his drink could go fuck themselves.

“Jake,” he warned, clearly getting angry.

“No,” I spat, “I’m meeting my team, and I’m gonna finish this tour. Punish me all you want, later. I don’t care anymore.”

Master got up, his eyes shooting daggers, but I was too bitter to be intimidated. I put on my dirty jock, and grabbed my shorts.

“Careful, boy,” he said, “You don’t wanna piss me off, right now. I hope you didn’t forget what I’m capable of-“

“No, I know exactly what you’re capable of!” I growled, “I know exactly what you’ve done, and I will never forgive you for that. I might not be able to break away from you, and I might not be able to save David, but I’m not letting you ruin this fucking tour for me. I’m sick of you ruining everything.”

I don’t think I’d ever seen him so cold. Slowly, he sat back down, not wasting another word. I put on the rest of my clothes, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and walked towards the door. My heart was racing, adrenaline surging through my blood as I defied my Master’s orders.

Just before my hand touched the doorknob, his voice sounded once more.

An agonizing shiver ran down my spine.

“You have one last chance to get me that drink,” the man hissed. “Or I take this to court.”

That made my heart stop for a moment. Part of me thought he was just throwing empty threats - but the rest of me knew he was way too smart for that.

“W-what?” I muttered, turning back around.

“You heard me. If you continue to disobey me, I will sue you for everything you’re worth.”

I just stared at him, incredulous. What the fuck was he talking about? Sue me? For refusing to pour him a whiskey?

He must’ve read the confusion on my face, because he scoffed. The sound was so bitter and triumphant it made my stomach turn.

“You’re such a dumb fucking bitch,” he said, “Did you forget what happened, at the signing yesterday?”

For a moment, I still had no clue what he was referring to - but then it dawned on me. Yesterday, after getting my autograph, he had shoved a bunch of papers in my face. In the heat of the moment, with all those other people waiting in line, I didn’t have time to read them. But now, I was starting to realize what it was.

“W-what did you make me sign?”

He laughed - a cold, hollow laugh, nothing like his usual sound - and looked at me with amusement. Suddenly, I had a really, really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. He wasn’t bluffing in the slightest.

“You signed a contract, Jakey. A full, nine-page contract, setting out the terms and conditions of our little relationship. Many Masters and their subs tend to have one, you know.”

I felt like I was gonna be sick.

“Y-you’re lying,” I growled, “Tell me you’re lying. I never wanted to sign anything!”

I could see how pleased he was with this reaction, and it fucking terrified me. If this was true, if he had really trapped me into a contract, I was dead. There was no way I would ever be able to get away from him anymore.

“Let me read it to you,” he grinned, fetching the papers from his bag, “Just the fun parts. To give you an idea of our new agreement.”

I stood frozen in the hotel room as the man started reading the contract. Petrified. Horrified. Feeling my stomach shrivel up more with every word he uttered.

“The submissive agrees to submit completely to the Master in all ways,” he read. “There are no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which the submissive may willfully refuse to obey the directive of the Master without risking punishment. If, following repeated warning and/or despite repeated punishment, the submissive continues to defy the Master’s directive, the submissive will be fully liable for breach of contract.”

I opened my mouth, but I had no words to spit out. He just kept reading.

“The submissive also agrees that, once entered into the Contract, their body belongs to their Master; to be used as seen fit, within the guidelines defined herein. All of the submissive’s possessions likewise belong to the Master to do with as they see fit. Including, but not restricted to; all assets, finances and material goods. The submissive agrees to please the Master to the best of their ability, in that they now exist solely for the pleasure of said Master.”

And it didn’t end there.

He kept reading, on and on, about how he now basically dominated every single part of my life. I was to wear what he wanted me to wear, cut my hair the way he wanted me to, even eat according to the diet he wanted for me. To be fair, most of these things I’d already been doing over the past year - but to have it contractually sealed on paper was terrifying to me.

The longer he kept going, the worse it got. I wasn’t allowed to see anyone without his permission, not even my friends and family. I wasn’t allowed to have sex with anyone unless he’d told me to. I wasn’t allowed to live anywhere that Master hadn’t endorsed, wasn’t allowed to lose or gain a single pound without his consent, wasn’t even allowed the comfort of my own fucking bed unless he felt it to be ‘appropriate’.

I stared at the man in horror, and waited till he was done with this contract from hell.

“T-that’s slavery,” I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn at the sight of his smug expression. “That… t-that can’t be legal. You’d never win in court.”

He laughed. “Perhaps not, no. But don’t you think the papers would love to see me try? Imagine the headlines; Kinky College Football Player Sued By His Secret BDSM Master For Breaking Contract. How many NFL teams would be interested in you, after that?”

The man got up, clearly enjoying the fear and frustration on my face, and walked up close. For a moment, we just stared at each other, mere inches apart. Then he brought a hand to my cheek, and felt how hot it was.

“Don’t do this,” I muttered, not sure what else to say, “Please. All I want is to finish this tour.”

Master grinned. His fingers caressed my face with such affection, such tenderness.

How could anyone ever want to hurt something they loved so much?

“Beg for it, Jakey,” he whispered. “On your knees. Like the good little bitchboy that you are.”

Hearing him say those words had never hurt like it did today. This wasn’t just a kink anymore; I had signed that contract, willingly or not, granting him full power over my body and soul. No court would ever rule in his favor, I knew, but that wasn’t even the point. The fact that this contract existed at all, signed with both our names and signatures, was bad enough.

He wasn’t playing around anymore. He wanted me, claimed me - and I had never felt so scared of it.

Humiliated, I descended to my knees. The man took my head in his hands, and pushed his bulge in my face. I felt his cock rub against my nose, only two layers of cloth away, and my heartbeat quickened.

“P-please,” I panted, “Master. Let me finish this tour. Please.”

His laughter, his hands, his dick, his scent; it was all too much, slamming into me at once. I was dizzy, horny, terrified but excited. I wanted to taste him, but I wanted to run away, too.

Again and again, I begged him to let me go.

I could feel how much he loved this, conquering me. Making me feel dumb and helpless, trapped in an endless nightmare that he had created. His boner throbbed against my cheek, and his fingers dug into my hair like the claws of a predator.

Right there and then, I knew my Master would destroy me one day.

I just didn’t know yet how, or when, or why. But somewhere, very deep inside, I felt that this man was going to be the end of me.

“Fine,” he said, “Finish your stupid tour. Enjoy your last week alone. Friday, when you get back to Ann Arbor, you will move in with me. Your real training will begin. It’s about time.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to hear him anymore. Of course he wanted me to move in with him. How else was he ever going to control my life?

He tightened his grip on my hair, and buried my face even further into his crotch.

All I could see, feel, hear, smell, was Master. He was all I would ever have.

“I will take care of the paperwork. You just make sure to pack everything, and to say goodbye to your little friends. From Friday on, you will be living with your Owner.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream, tell him to go fuck himself, run away and never see him again. I wanted to go back in time and make sure I’d never even meet him.

But I couldn’t. I was stuck. Weak and powerless in the web he had spun. These last five months had given me hope that I still had the power to choose my own destiny; but now, I realized that it had all been a lie.

From the moment I met him, all this time ago, my fate had been sealed.

Master undid his belt, pulled down his pants, and filled my throat with his powerful cock. I closed my eyes, and let him fuck my face like the victor he was. His strong hands on my neck, fingers clutching my flesh as his boner pounded away.

He rammed his member all the way down. I gagged slightly, but he didn’t care. I didn’t care. I only cared about his cock, his manhood, how it tasted and felt, like a monster in my throat. I didn’t want to think anymore. I just wanted to suck, to do what I was destined to do, to bathe my Master in pleasure and drink his seed.

Like an animal, I slobbered all over his dick, and he laughed at me from afar.

“That’s my boy,” his voice echoed in my head, “take that dick all the way down, Jakey… hmm, wonderful.”

My eyes were wet with tears, but it didn’t matter. Master pushed even further into me, burying my nose in his pubes, blocking any oxygen from reaching my lungs. I gagged, but he just held me there, like a sleeve for his cock. He was pounding me like a jackhammer, and I let him.

“Such a dumb, pretty thing… you’re lucky I ever found you. Without me, you never would’ve been satisfied. You know that, don’t you, boy? Yeah you do. Without Master, your life would’ve been a waste.”

I believed him. I believed every word he said. Without him, I would never have sucked dick, would never have discovered how much I needed it. Without him, I would’ve been lost.

Without him, I was nothing.

I gagged and gagged and gagged, but he just kept breeding my throat. It seemed to go on forever. My vision was clouded by tears, snot and spit were drooling down my chin, and my heart was beating so fast it hurt. It was unbearable - but I endured it anyway.

For Master.

“Yeahh, swallow that fucking seed, bitch!” he growled, finally reaching his climax. His cock erupted in my throat, pumping fat wads of cum into my stomach, coating my esophagus with his DNA. I didn’t even think about whether I was hard or not - his cock was all that mattered. His sperm, his pleasure, his victory. I was just a tool.

When he finished, Master tossed me to the ground, no longer interested in my body. Shivering, I wiped the spit and cum from my lips. I could feel his load, sloshing in my stomach.

“Now get the fuck outta here, before I change my mind.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I hurried to my feet as quickly as I could, opened the door, and left the room without another word. Everything was spinning around me.

Stumbling through the hallway, I reached the first storage closet I could find, and locked myself in. My hotel room was only two floors down, but I couldn’t go there. I shared it with Joe.

And I didn’t want anyone to see me cry.

I sat on the floor of that closet and hid my face in my arms, trying not to make a sound, trying not to tear myself apart. There was only one feeling, burning in every cell of my body.

Regret.

I never should have gone to the woods that day. I never should have called him, to get my shoes. I never should have let him do those things to me.

Now, it was too late. I was stuck.

No matter what I’d do, no matter how hard I’d try, I would never be able to get away from Master. Not even because of his blackmail, or the contract, or whatever - but because my body belonged to him. He just had to look at me, and I would be too weak to resist. With just the slightest touch, he could turn me into a weak and helpless thing.

It was me. This was all my own fault. Everything was my own fault.

Realizing this, I sat there in that storage closet and balled my fucking eyes out.

About an hour after I’d left my Owner’s room, I finally went down to get my stuff. Joe was sat on his bed, doing something on his phone, and looked up grinning when I entered - but his grin disappeared the second he saw me. I was too tired and empty to hide my pain.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, “I thought you’d ended up with that girl that was flirting with you at the signing?”

I shrugged, kept my mouth shut, and started to pack my stuff. It was almost 5:30 already, and we had to be on the bus at 6.

“Dude, where did you get all those bruises?”

“I tripped,” I told him, without looking up. “Was drunk, last night.”

“Drunk? So were you with that girl, or not?”

Again, I didn’t want to answer him. Joe sighed, mumbling something I couldn’t hear, and I stuffed the last shirt into my duffel. When I went to sit on my bed, he was still staring at me.

“What did you do last night?” he asked.

My face felt hot again, and my throat was all clogged up. “N-nothing. I just… some stuff happened. I don’t wanna go into it, alright?”

The look he gave me made my cheeks even hotter. Of course, he knew something was up. He had known ever since I started to wear only jockstraps, disappearing all weekend, and come home with wilts and bruises all over me. That was over a year ago, and he’d never asked about it after that one time.

He might not have known the details, but he knew something wasn’t right.

“Jake, I… I been thinking…” Joe finally muttered, “Did… did Coach ever d-do stuff to you?”

I averted my eyes, and felt my heart pounding in every part of my body. I shook my head, but I didn’t have the courage to open my mouth. I was scared I would cry again, if I did.

“All those times, after practice… having to come into his office all the time… and with everything that happened to that guy, David, I just thought… maybe-“

“No,” I heard myself say. My voice sounded harsh and cold.

“No. No. Coach was just helping me with football. That’s all.”

He sighed again, and turned back to his phone. For a while, I just sat there, staring at the wall, trying to deal with everything I was thinking and feeling. It felt like my head was gonna explode.

This was my best friend, my buddy, my roommate. If there was anyone I wanted to tell, it would be him. Maybe then, I could figure something out. If I just had someone to talk to, to help me, everything would be better.

But I couldn’t.

If I told Joe, he would hate me. If I told him, he would never talk to me again. I would just be the pervert. The faggot.

I would lose everything.

“I-I’m moving out, when we get back to Ann Arbor.”

The words had left my throat before I even realized it. Joe looked up again, frowning, putting away his phone.

“What?”

“It’s not because of you, it’s- I-I’m moving in with this guy.”

“What the fuck are you saying, dude?”

“H-he’s… like my manager,” I stammered, blushing so much it hurt. “He’s gonna help me get into the NFL. He knows people, a-and knows how to diet properly, and everything, and… I-I’m moving in with him on Friday. I’m sorry.”

Joe sat up, looking like I’d just punched him in the face. I felt horrible. The last thing I wanted was to move out of my dorm, to distance myself from my friends even more. But I had no choice. Master had made a decision.

“Is that who you were with, last night?” he spat, and I quickly shook my head. For a while, we went back and forth, him asking me a thousand questions, me desperately trying to make up excuses. The more we talked, the more I wanted to stay living in my dorm, the more everything hurt.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I grabbed my bag from the floor and told him we should be heading to the bus.

Finally, before I could escape the room, Joe said one last thing. At the sound of his voice, my whole body trembled. He wasn’t angry, or bitter, or whatever I’d expected him to be.

He just sounded worried.

“Dude, if you need my help… just tell me, alright?” he said. “I’m serious. I-I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I swear, I can help you. Just tell me what’s going on.”

For a brief moment, I hesitated. With my hand on the doorknob, I stood frozen.

The whole world was silent.

Then I wiped the tears from my eyes, sniffed, and left the hotel room without another word.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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Michigan, March ’14

“Hey, what’s your name…” the big jock said, his words faltering with his smile as he looked up and recognized the man before him. His eyes grew wide, and his skin turned pale and bloodless. Jake stared at me as if he saw a ghost.

“Just write for Master, from your faggot Jake.” I told him.

Trembling, the young linebacker signed the picture of himself. We were miles away from Ann Arbor, somewhere at a local football field, really in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

As every year, Jake and his team were going around the state, handing out autographs to fans and promoting the University of Michigan to high school students here and there.

My face was the last one he’d expected amid this crowd of midwestern moms, beer-bellied dads, and young football supporters. Especially since he hadn’t seen me in months.

“W-what are you doing here,” the handsome co-captain mumbled, terrified the people behind me would’ve heard my request. “Y-you said you would leave me alone. At least until April.”

“I was just missing that pretty face of yours, boy. When I heard you would still be doing this tour, with everything that happened this year, I just had to come by and see you.”

Jake’s face hardened. I was talking about last October, of course. A freshman student had disappeared from campus, and the University’s football defense coach had been arrested in response. For months, it was all the local news would talk about. Investigations were still on-going, although they had long moved on beyond state borders.

“I-I don’t want to see you,” Jake muttered. “And I think you should leave. There’s other people waiting.”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t make way for the next in line yet. Ignoring the midwestern women not-so-silently complaining behind me, I revealed a few papers from my jacket.

Jake frowned, and started to skim over them.

“You can try and read all nine pages as quick as you can,” I said, “Or you sign the dotted lines and I’ll leave. Your choice.”

The big jock hesitated, knowing me well enough to be suspicious of the formal-looking document I’d put in front of him. He tried to read as much as he could, but when more and more people started to complain, and even the tour manager came to ask if everything was alright, Jake scribbled his signature on every line and almost threw the papers back to me.

“Good boy,” I grinned, before finally leaving him red-faced and embarrassed.

That same night, I texted the beefy stud to come over to my room at 10. I was staying in a big hotel by the interstate, where I knew the Michigan jocks to be staying as well. My boy only had to go up a couple floors to meet me.

He didn’t respond to my text, but as expected, I heard knocking on the door at a little past 10pm, and opened the door to an irritated linebacker.

“We had a deal,” Jake started, following me into the room. He had just come out of the shower, his hair all wet and neat, and a grey shirt was tightly wrapped around his bulging torso. A twitch in my loins reminded me how much I’d missed this bitch.

“You said you’d leave me alone for six months. Six whole months.”

“Shut your damn mouth,” I spat. The hunk clenched his fists in anger, and I saw his pretty face heat up once more. But he didn’t dare utter another word.

“There’s no such thing as a deal between the two of us, faggot. That would indicate we’re equals, which we are not. You’re my bitch and if I want to see you I will.”

Jake was boiling with anger, a feeling that looked exceptionally hot on him. I walked up to the 6′2″ beast, unfazed by his readied fists, and placed my hand on his reddened cheek. The massive stud was still my absolute favorite, handsome like no other, 240 lbs of gorgeous muscles and submission.

“I don’t want this anymore. I can’t keep doing this shit.” he mumbled. I laughed aloud, and stroked down his thick neck.

“I’m serious. A-after David… and Coach… I-I don’t wanna see you anymore. I’m done.”

Our eyes met for a moment, and I noticed the flickering fear in his eyes. Pathetic. I squeezed his neck a little, and brought my lips to his face. Jake looked away, so I just started to kiss his cheek and ear.

“I’m afraid that’s not a choice for you to make, Jakey,” I whispered. My fingers began to tickle the back of his neck, which I knew to be his favorite spot. His large body immediately reacted, his muscles relaxed and the anger left his pretty face. I inhaled the boy’s warm, submissive scent, and knew he was inhaling mine.

Frustrated or not, he still craved me like no one else. I was still his Master. After going five months without seeing me, five months of a normal, boring college life, this sudden act of intimacy hit him like a bombshell.

“Like that, huh, boy?” I grinned, “Don’t that feel good?”

“P-please,” The stud stammered, instantly rid of all his confidence, “I can’t, I can’t- you’re ruining me.”

Without mercy, I let a hand slip under his tight shirt. My fingers glided over those rock-hard muscles until they’d reached another soft spot of his. Jake immediately began to breathe heavy when I massaged his nipple.

“Ruining you?” I scoffed, “You don’t like it when Master plays with you like this? You tryna tell me you didn’t miss me?”

The big jock was fighting with himself, shaking his head, then nodding, then shaking his head again. Meanwhile, I brutally continued the sensual assault on his thick body, and began to kiss his neck like a hungry predator.

“Did you forget how good I can make you feel, Jacob? Did I leave you alone for too long?”

He groaned softly, quivering in my hands when I planted a hickey on his skin.

“N-no,” Jake whispered, “I-I can’t be that anymore. I-I don’t want to. I’m happy without y-you.”

I laughed again. God, he was so adorable, still. So beautifully naive. As if I was ever going to let him go, just because he told me to.

“Why would you wanna give this up, Jakey? You know nobody else is ever gonna make you feel these things,” I said, molding his stupid jock brain like wet clay in my hands. “If you really wanted to continue your life without me, you would have ignored my text tonight. But you didn’t. You turned up here because I wanted you to, because you still feel the need to obey me. That will never go away, handsome.”

“S-stop,” he tried. The enormous pole in his basketball shorts was poking impatiently against my leg. I let one hand slide down, and entered his shorts. I wasn’t even inside his jockstrap yet, just feeling his boner through the fabric, but Jake was already gasping like a little bitch.

“You fucking love this. This is what you are. Stop trying to fight it.”

The pathetic whine-gasp that came out of him when I squeezed his fat junk said everything. Our eyes met, my grin widened, and Jake got to his knees without even thinking about it.

He’d already lost.

His beautiful puppy eyes were cowering under my possessive gaze. I took his heated face in my hands, and petted him for a while.

“I-I felt normal again,” he whispered, “These months… even after everything that happened… I felt like a normal guy again. No different from my friends. I-I thought…”

“You hoped you might be able to live a normal life,” I finished his sentence, stroking his cheeks. “But you know that isn’t true, Jake. These few months apart were necessary, for both our safety. But they don’t change a thing. You will always be my faggot, no matter how long we are separated.”

I saw the pain in his expression, the hopelessness in his gleaming eyes. He knew I was right. Five minutes back in my hands, and he was just as meek and obedient as he had been when I left him, back in October. It was laughable, really.

“Tell me what you want, boy,” I said.

Jake’s lower lip was trembling, and his normally so manly voice was on the verge of breaking. “Y-your cock, Master,” he muttered.

Such a good boy.

He got what he wanted. I fucked the linebacker’s face for a good half hour or so, digging my nails in his hair and forcing my entire manhood down his throat. If he so much as tried to gag, I slapped his reddened face. The bitch was at his most beautiful like this, on his knees with a big fat cock in his mouth. Mere hours earlier, he had been giving out autographs to his fans. If only they could see him like this.

When I finally pulled back to look at him, Jake had clearly submitted fully to the perverted instincts that were rooted deep within. His lips were dripping with precum, hand-marks burning on his cheeks, and a wet spot was growing at the top of the pole in his shorts.

“Like that, slut? Want more of Master’s dick?” I asked, grabbing his face and pushing a finger into his mouth. The jock immediately began to suck on it, using his tongue like I taught him while nodding frantically.

Finally, after five months, Jake had tasted my cock again. He no longer had the strength to lie to himself, could no longer deny how much he had missed this taste. There was nothing, nothing in the whole wide world that the linebacker loved more than my penis.

I let him feel it on his face, resting on his heated cheeks as he whined and slobbered all over my shaft. I rubbed it along his nose, into his eye socket, making sure my scent would stay on my fag’s pretty mug forever.

Five months without Master’s cock. Poor, poor thing.

“Suckle on that, Jake,” I said, putting the glans back on his tongue, “Taste your Owner’s precum. You missed that, didn’t you?”

“Yeph, sirh…” he moaned, looking like a true slut as he licked and sucked at my urethra. He even pushed the tip of his tongue in a little, and I let him. “Pfhastes pfho good, sirh…”

I grinned at the college-athlete-turned-cocksucker.

Before he would push me over the edge, I grabbed his hair, and yanked him off my dick. Jake whined, desperately trying to get my cock back in his mouth, trying to reach it with his tongue. He was like a dog, obsessed with the sight and taste of his favorite treat.

It was beautiful to see him like that.

“P-please, sir,” the stud muttered, embarrassed, “It’s been so long…”

“Aw, you wanna taste Master’s sperm, huh, boy?” I said. He nodded eagerly.

“Well, Jakey, you’ve been a real handful today. Before I feed you, I think you should do something Master really likes. Something that might hurt you a little.”

The burning lust in Jake’s eyes dimmed a little, but he nodded again. While he began to strip naked, I grabbed the black bag in my suitcase and retrieved several metal urethral sounds, all different in length and width. I remembered how much he hated this, last time.

“Hmm… yes, this might help you remember how to behave again,” I grinned, slowly inspecting every plug while the enormous athlete sat naked at my feet. Fuck, he looked good.

I kneeled down next to him. Jake gulped audibly as I showed him the thickest, longest pin, textured with a somewhat pointed tip. It was hollow inside, allowing for even more fun for me, and even more humiliation for my slut.

“N-not that one,” the linebacker stammered. “I couldn’t even take the smaller one last time. It was still burning during practice.”

I grabbed his pretty face and spat on it in response. While my saliva dripped down his flushed cheek, I took a hold of Jake’s leaking boner and put some lube at the tip of his dick. Some. Probably not enough.

Without a sliver of mercy, I put the torturous pin at the head of the athlete’s tool and gave him a last, evil grin before starting to force it inside his meaty member.

Poor, bare-naked Jake had to use all his might not to scream out. He was quickly trembling from head to toe as I shoved the wired plug into his urethra, brutally stretching it and filling his strong body with pain.

The jock yelped like a dog when I ‘accidentally’ twisted the pin a little. My grin widened at the sight of his eyes wet, his beefy chest heaving up and down in distress. He was in agony, and I loved it.

“M-Master,” he cried, even weaker than before, “P-please-”

“It’s alright, boy, you’re doing great,” I whispered, twisting the pin some more to get another couple of whines out of the thick stud. “We’re almost there. It’s almost in.”

Jake cried out several more times before I’d finally slid the entire pin into his rock-hard dick. The boy was trembling heavily, his muscles gleaming with sweat from the pain and the dedication it took to move as little as possible. He knew well enough that every little movement would bring him a whole new world of hurt.

“That’s it, Jakey, it’s in. Now, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” I said, and I couldn’t help chuckling at the sight of the naked football star, gorgeously suffering at my hands. The boy looked up at me with tearful eyes and quietly pleaded for mercy.

I placed a hand on his pretty face, and kissed his trembling lips before tilting the pin a little. Jake seemed to explode in another wave of excruciation. The sounds that rose from the tormented stud were as lovely as they were inhuman. I was driving him insane, twisting and tearing his jock-brains apart with every new attack on his masculine body.

I kissed along his jaw, over his neck and onto his ear. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” I whispered, twisting and turning the pin without remorse, Jake’s cries and yelps fueling my lust like nothing else.

“Be a good boy and make Master proud. Show me who you belong to, baby.”

Without warning, I tilted the plug as far back as it could go without doing any sort of permanent harm. Jake had never before produced such a beautifully hurt, perfectly tortured sound as I reached his bladder and stretched his urethra to the max.

“Go on, boy,” I said. “Relax. Let go of your bladder. Surrender.” The poor hunk nestled his head in my neck as his thick body relaxed. After five months, he was finally back in my special little hell. He panted ‘Master’ in my ear, and caved. I forced him to piss all over the floor. A good amount landed on himself, and I was pleased to finally hear the first few sobs come from the humiliated athlete.

“That’s right, there you go,” I chuckled, “Dirty boy, you are. Pissed yourself just for Master, huh, Jakey? Well done, baby, well done.”

I stepped back and took a couple of photos and videos of him. The handsome, muscular linebacker, naked on the floor of my hotel room, with an iron pin stuck in his fat boner and half of his sculpted body glistening with his own piss. Michigan’s hero.

Jake kept his reddened head down until I ordered him to look up. The pair of red puppy eyes, sending streams of tears down his face, made me feel like I was in heaven.

Even after these five months, he was mine.

He was my bitch, would always be my bitch, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Content, I sat on the bed and patted my legs. Jake understood my command.

Groaning softly, he got up from the floor. My God, what a beauty. Standing upright like this, towering over me at 6’2” tall, the naked linebacker looked bigger and better than ever. From his pretty, tear-stained face to his large bare feet, Jake was magnificent.

After five long months without him, it felt like I was about to explore that muscular body anew. Those thick, meaty arms, so strong and veiny… those massive, beefy shoulders, solid enough to ram through a fucking door… I gestured for him to come closer, and he did.

“Someone’s been grooming himself for Master, huh?” I grinned, stroking the smooth slabs of muscle that were his pecs. His chest, abs, ass and crotch had all been shaved perfectly clean. There wasn’t a hair on his body that I didn’t want there.

Jake looked at me with puffy eyes, ashamed of his own weakness. This wasn’t just a quick shave because he knew he’d be seeing me tonight; my boy had been keeping himself hairless for months now. Perfectly aware that I might turn up at any moment, he had stuck to the rules I had set out for him.

I took his fat cock in my hand, and gave it a couple slow tugs. Jake winced, still stuck with the horrid pin in his urethra, but let me do my thing regardless.

“How does that feel, boy?” I asked, tugging steadily.

“B-burns, sir,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, I can imagine. That’s gonna be burning for a while,” I said. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You like it when I hurt you.”

The linebacker kept his flushed head down, and stayed silent. He didn’t have to answer that question - we both already knew the truth. I laughed, and ordered him to go lie on the bed.

The frame loudly creaked and complained under the weight as the 240-pound slab of meat lay down on his back. Jake had stopped crying, and was now waiting for me with a look of pure submission on his handsome face. He had already lifted up his thick legs, eager for the pleasure he expected me to give him.

I grabbed the bottle of lube, and started to loosen up his entrance. No words could describe how good it felt to finally have those plump, juicy glutes in my hands again. I spread his fat cheeks, loving the sight of his pink pucker, and used a lubed-up finger to draw circles around his hole. The closer I got, the more Jake gasped; I let one digit slip into his cunt, and watched that angel face contort with the pleasure of a whore.

One finger was all it took to turn this huge, bulky college athlete into a wheezing little slut.

I pushed further, feeling his warm hole tighten around my knuckle, and his boner made a slight jump. I curved my finger, searching for that sweet spot. Jake moaned aloud.

His boypussy was quivering with excitement, clearly begging for my penis. I added another finger, and grinned as my linebacker clung to the sheets for support. He was breathing heavy, temperature shooting through the roof, staring at me with the eyes of a faggot.

He was so dumb, so beautiful, so wonderfully powerless against the feelings in his bubble butt.

“That’s my boy…” I whispered, watching him start to buck into my hand. “Fuck yourself on Master’s fingers, Jakey… hmm, that’s beautiful…”

I could smell his shame, his arousal. Dozens of hormones rushing through his sculpted body, mixing with the sweat on his heated skin. I made a sharp turn with my fingers, and Jake squirmed in response.

“F-fuckk… s-sirrr….”

I knew this was what he liked the most, spread and humiliated for his Master to play with. Ever since I popped his cherry several years ago, the big jock had been completely addicted to having anything up his ass.

Jake seemed to have forgotten all about the metal pin stuck in his boner as I positioned myself behind him and grabbed his strong legs. I let him feel my hard-on press against his hole, teasing him with what was yet to come. Another moan escaped his throat.

“Want that, Jakey?” I whispered, “Want to feel Master inside you again?”

The linebacker nodded frantically, arching backwards as I applied a little more pressure. The pain and humiliation from before only enhanced his excitement. I knew the beefy stud was dying to get fucked, as was I to fuck him - but these moments were the most crucial ones of all. This was when his stupid jock-brain would be most vulnerable to my wishes; on the verge of surrendering and getting fucked, but still present enough to remember everything.

“Don’t wanna see me anymore, huh?” I hissed, abruptly stopping the pressure. Jake gave a little whine, then looked up at me with confusion. “Can’t keep doing this shit, right?”

He finally got my message, and the big slut gulped audibly.

“I-I didn’t… eh… I-I’m sorry, sir,” he muttered, his head burning bright as ever. “Please fuck me.”

I scoffed, and slapped his impaled dick to hear him yelp like a bitch.

“Why would I do that? I ruin you, isn’t that right? That’s what you told me. You’re happy without Master. You wanna be normal again.”

“I’m sorry!” he said, groaning with frustration, “I’m sorry, sir! I d-didn’t mean that, I didn’t… just - p-please, I need to - please just fuck me, sir, p-please. It’s been so long…”

“I really thought I’d trained you well enough, Jakey,” I continued. “I really thought you’d be smart enough by now to admit how much you enjoy being used like a piece of trash. Cause you do, don’t you, boy? You still love it when I hurt you. Even after all this time.”

The linebacker nodded slowly, more embarrassed than ever. I grinned, and slapped his painful boner another couple of times.

“Yeah, you do. Oh, Jakey. That’s the whole thing with you; you’re at the top of the world, bigger and stronger than everyone else, can get everything your dumb brain desires, and yet all you really need is a Master like me to put you in the right place. Pathetic, really.”

The slut stayed silent, watching me with piteous eyes and his dick still high up in the air. He hated this, being yanked out of the blissful pleasure to face his own perversion. I knew how much he hated it, and I used it to my advantage.

“But I guess you’re still too thick to face reality,” I said, slapping his thighs to emphasize the word ‘thick’. “A real shame, boy, I’m gonna have to give you up.”

Jake started to shake his head, looking like he was on the verge of tears again. I grabbed the metal pin in his cock and started to twist it mercilessly, harder and quicker than ever before, sending him whining with his head thrown back and his fingers dug into the mattress.

“P-please, sir, please!” he yelled, spasming in pain, “S-stop! I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry! I’ll be a g-good boy, I promise, I won’t say those things ever again!”

“Why would I trust you now? You disappointed me, Jakey.”

He was shaking his head and crying, trying to get away from the pain and the humiliation but really only drawing closer to me in the process. He was mine, we both knew it, and there was no way out for the muscular slut.

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he kept whimpering, over and over again.

“Really? You’re sorry? What would you do to make it up to Master?”

“Anything, anything,” Jake panted, sobbing his eyes out, “I’ll do anything, I promise, please, Master! I’ll do anything! Anything!!”

That was what I needed to hear. I pulled the pin from his urethra, let go of his massive man-meat, and placed my boner back at his entrance. My dick’s head popped into his ass, and I saw the pain in his eyes turn into pleasure.

Jake let out a beautiful howl as I slammed the rest of my cock into his hole. My hips hit those pillowy cheeks, and I laughed, finally impaling him upon my shaft again. The linebacker stared at me like he’d done ever since that day we met in the woods. A faggot, looking up at his dominant. The body of an athlete, the eyes of a whore. That was how I remembered my boy.

“It’s been way too long, hasn’t it, Jakey?” I said, bending forward to place my hands beside his head. He was folded up like a lawn chair underneath me, knees pulled up so far it looked painful. But for Jake, it didn’t matter. He had Master’s cock inside of him again.

That was all he could think about.

I gave his prostate a nice jab with my rod, and he moaned, his mouth fallen open.

“Hmm. Does the co-captain like that?” I whispered, my face hovering mere inches above his. The stud could only nod, hypnotized by Master’s gaze, ready to receive my seed. It was like all those muscles weren’t even his, all that usual strength and toughness completely nonexistent. Jake was my toy, my fucktoy. Moaning and panting in a hotel bed, legs spread for the only real man in the room. His enormous cock lay rock-hard and leaking on his abs.

I pulled out a couple inches. Made him feel the absence of my dick, made him wait for more.

He tried to wrap his arms around my neck, but I intercepted and pinned his wrists down on the mattress. Only when he whined loud enough did I ram my boner back into his cunt.

“Fffuuuckkk, s-sirrr…” Jake groaned, already high on ecstasy.

I laughed again, and started licking his face. Not kissing - just licking. From the stubble on his chin to his forehead, leaving trails of spit on that handsome mug. When my tongue approaches his lips, the bitch desperately tried to lean in into a kiss, but it wasn’t happening.

I was finally fucking him, now, steadily pummeling his ass.

“Five months without Master… that pussy of yours should be a lot tighter, boy,” I said, loving every whine and spasm I drove out of him. “You haven’t been cheating on me, have you?”

“Uggh… n-no, s-sir… just m-my fingersss… oohhh….”

Of course he had. I imagined him on the floor of his bathroom, drunk and alone, pushing his fingers into his hole in an attempt to get off. The thought of that made me even fucking hornier.

“Yeah? Been fingering yourself, you little slut?” I groaned, pounding him harder and harder with every thrust. Jake nodded, couldn’t speak, could barely keep his eyes open as I slaughtered his hole. I could feel he was getting close already.

“Allow me to remind you what Master’s cock can do, big boy. A couple fat fingers are never gonna make you feel this good.”

I paused for a second. Grabbed his pretty face with my left hand, and placed my right forearm on his neck. This way, I was much more stable - and I could fuck much, much harder.

Without a word of warning, I unleashed hell upon Jake’s poor boycunt.

“AH-AH-AH-AHH!!!” he screamed, squealing and shuddering like never before. I was burying his skull in the mattress, crushing his throat with my arm, fucking his ass so hard even my hips were hurting. I was gonna make sure my bitch wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.

“Yeah, take that, Jakey!!” I spat in his ear, punishing that beefy body for being so fucking attractive, “I’m gonna make you scream so hard the entire hotel will hear you!”

Within seconds, the jock quivered underneath me. As his muscles contracted, I felt his ass tighten around my cock, his fingers grasping my arms. The familiar, guttural mixture of pleasure and agony rose from Jake’s throat - and a warm, goopy sensation followed.

I felt his boner throb against my stomach, glueing our bodies together with potent spunk.

There was no greater thrill than to fuck a load handsfree out of my powerful linebacker. He sank back into the mattress, panting and sweaty, already drained by his climax. But I was far from done. I simply continued as if nothing had happened, pounding him like a machine in overdrive.

His dick was still hard as a rock, as it would always be with me inside him, no matter how many tadpoles had been spewed out already.

“Ugh- ugh- Ma- ah- sterr!!!” he moaned, “F-fu- uh- uckk!!”

I laughed, panting as much as he was. “C’mon, big boy! You haven’t gone weak on me, have you? Master’s gonna plow that fat ass of yours for at least a couple hours!”

Jake could only groan and whimper as I destroyed his boypussy for days to come. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. Just us in the broiling sheets, molded together into a mound of cum and sweat. Bodies welded into one.

When I was pushed over the edge, flooding his cunt with my seed, I just flipped him onto his stomach and continued my assault in a different position. It was heaven. After five months, my jock felt better and hotter than ever. He drove me wild, made me go on and on even when I should have been more than exhausted. Jake was exactly what I needed in this life.

I would make sure he could never get away from me again.

1am

Content, I watched him stumble to the bathroom. Ass clenched, careful not to spill any of my sperm on the floor, awkwardly staggering away from the bed.

I was surprised he had managed to stay awake, during all of that. Normally, the stud would pass out after 1,5 hour or so - but here we were, after 2 hours of brutal ass-pounding, and he even managed to walk by himself. Seemed like my boy had gotten more resilient.

Five orgasms, I had counted. Two of mine, three of his. I scooped some of his spunk from my belly, and tasted it. Hmm. Sweet, sweet linebacker juice. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much these Michigan women would pay to have some.

When Jake returned, he stood in the doorframe for a moment, pale and tired. He was avoiding my gaze again, now that the pleasure had faded. I saw the embarrassment on his pretty face, the insecurity in his posture. He was built like fucking Hercules, but right now, he showed less confidence than a scrawny, angsty teen.

I clicked my fingers, and pointed at the puddle of urine that was still on the floor.

“Clean that up.”

He didn’t speak, didn’t look at me. Jake just walked over to the little kitchen, found some paper towels, and started cleaning up his mess. My own fucking Cinderella. Naked and humiliated on the hotel floor.

“Hmm… damn, I can’t get enough of that ass of yours,” I groaned, biting my lip. “Maybe I’ll have another go at it, in a bit. Keep fucking you till you pass out.”

The jock ignored me, and kept cleaning in silence. When he finished, he flushed the paper towels in the toilet, and sat down in the chair that was furthest away from the bed.

“Anything you’d like to say?” I sighed.

Jake rubbed his hands, still avoiding my eyes. I sat at the edge of the bed, and watched him get all dramatic. I already knew what this was about.

“D-don’t you feel at least a little guilty?” he asked. Finally, he found the guts to look at me, and I saw the pain in his puppy eyes.

“You’re still thinking about Coach and David.”

He nodded. “I-I can’t stop. It’s like e-everyone has forgotten them already.”

“Maybe you should too,” I said, walking over to him. “What’s done is done. They’re not coming back. There’s nothing you can do but move on.”

“I just don’t understand. H-how can you live with yourself?” Jake muttered, weakly shaking in his seat. “Every night, I see them. I see Coach in jail, screaming at me. A-and I see David. Crying for help. Every fucking night.”

I looked at him, hunched together like that, and anger suddenly welled up in the pit of my stomach. All that self-pity, that ridiculous fragility. He was a linebacker, for God’s sake. Enough of this spineless shit. Before he could react, I grabbed the stud’s hair and yanked at it, pulling him out of the chair.

Jake yelped in pain, falling onto his knees, but I just dragged him along to my laptop on the table.

“Ungrateful piece of shit,” I spat, “You wanna know how I can live with myself? Here, I’ll show you.”

While the jock sputtered some pathetic apology, I typed his name into Google. Immediately, his face popped up everywhere, followed by his age, his stats, his background. His Wikipedia page, news articles, video clips, etc. Everywhere you looked, there was a handsome, famous college linebacker.

“This is how I live with myself, dumb bitch. If I hadn’t done what had to be done, what do you think we would be seeing here, right now? Huh? Pictures and videos of your fat ass getting fucked, that’s what. Headlines calling you a pervert, a masochist, documenting your fall from grace. A Wikipedia page with the exact date of when the university kicked you out. Maybe even a couple links to escort services where I’d be able to book your gaping holes for a night.”

Jake just kept his eyes shut, shaking his head. I slapped his face, again and again, feeling him wince on impact. The big fucking co-captain, held by his hair as his Master bitch-slapped the shit outta him. What a joke.

“If I hadn’t gotten rid of Coach and David, your life would have been ruined. Understood?”

He nodded, petrified in my hand. Every moment could be another slap in the face, every word another insult. Poor thing was too afraid to move.

I scoffed, and tossed him to the floor like the piece of trash he was.

“Lick your Owner’s feet,” I ordered, and the linebacker crawled over as fast as he could. Even after five months of freedom, such a direct command could not go ignored.

With contempt, I looked down at him. 240-pounds of strength, beauty and fame, now naked on hands and knees like some filthy degenerate. Shivering, too scared to disobey, licking another man’s feet all over. How pathetic.

While Jake worked on my left foot, I placed my right foot on his hand. Slowly, I applied pressure, until he whined like a little pup.

“Maybe I should just break your hands,” I scoffed, crushing his fingers under my heel. “Make sure your football career is ruined after all. Since that seems to be what you’re wishing for so badly.”

Another yelp escaped his throat, and he threw me a piteous look.

“Ah! P-please, sir, I-I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t tell you to stop licking, did I?” I barked.

Terrified, the big linebacker kept working until both my feet were gleaming with his spit. His hand was as red as the blush on his face. When I’d seen enough, I crashed my knee into his head, knocking him over. Jake lay panting and groaning softly as I went to pour myself a drink.

“I gave you five months,” I said, looking down on him as if he was a cockroach. “Five months to process what happened, to lay low and recover. That time is up.”

Tentatively, those puppy eyes stared back at me. He looked so hurt, so alone and afraid. But his fat cock was still rock-hard at the same time.

“You will not mention Coach or David again. Understand?”

He gulped. “Y-yes, Master.”

When I finished my drink, Jake seemed ready to get into bed. Before he could lie down, though, I grabbed his hair and yanked him away from the mattress.

“No. You don’t deserve a bed, tonight,” I said.

The look of shame and disappointment on his pretty face was priceless. Even after months without me, he wouldn’t be allowed the comfort of his Master’s bed.

I ushered the bitch to the bathroom, made him sit on the floor, and tied his wrists to the radiator with the rope I’d brought. His ankles were fastened to other ends, keeping his legs spread at all times. Soon, the boy found himself bound and naked on the cold tiles, rock-hard but scared out of his mind. Jake was still shivering as I kneeled down next to him.

The bitch even dared look me in the eyes for a second, but another harsh slap quickly taught him better.

“Things are gonna be different from now on, faggot,” I said. “No more wasting time with sentimental shit. I have plans for you, and those plans require you to be the perfect, well-trained bitch-boy. That doesn’t just happen overnight. We’ve already lost five months, so you’ve got plenty of catching up to do.”

I showed him a set of vibrators, and took his raging boner in my hand. He was tired, I knew, but there would be no rest for him tonight. I had to remind him of his place - and that was going to take a whole lot of suffering on his part.

“Does your piss-slit still hurt?” I asked, swaying his cock around a little. Jake nodded.

“Good. I know you like the pain.”

I spat on his dick’s head, then brought a long, rubber-looking rod to the entrance. It was about as thick as a pencil. The jock whined and struggled softly as I pushed the thing into his urethra, once again abusing his most sensitive body part. When it was all the way in, I pressed the little button on the end.

“Ah! A-ah!” Jake gasped, staring at his crotch in horror as the vibrator came to life. The rod was massaging his painful boner from the inside. It made his body wanna cum and piss, but kept it unable to do so.

“H-how- ah! how long do I gotta stay here like this?” he muttered, awkwardly shifting his loins while the device buzzed away. I chuckled, and stroked his beefy thighs.

“Don’t you worry about that, handsome. Now, open up. I want all your holes trained, tonight.”

Reluctantly, the linebacker let me insert the second vibrator into his mouth. It was like a strap-on dildo, only I put the fake cock down his throat. With the straps, I made sure he wouldn’t be able to shake it out.

The third - and biggest - vibrator, I stuffed into Jake’s ruined ass. There he was, sat on the bathroom floor of my hotel room, exhausted but aroused. Pain and pleasure controlled him like old, forgotten friends. I got up, and took a picture of my bitch.

Two puppy eyes stared at me pleadingly as the vibrators stimulated his holes.

“You will stay here while I sleep,” I told him. “Alone, naked. Like the pervert that you are. That’ll give you some time to think about what you missed, these past months.”

Jake’s eyes shot open, and he furiously shook his head. It didn’t matter. The ropes kept his thick body tied to the radiator, no matter how much he fought and struggled.

“Oh, and you better keep it down with all the moaning and bitching, Jakey. If you wake me up in the middle of the night, I swear, you are gonna wish you’d never been born.”

With that, I left the terrified athlete to suffer.

At around 4am, it happened.

I woke up to a faint, miserable whining, like a cat being drowned. For a moment, I just lay in the dark, listening to the sounds. He had been there for about three hours now. Certainly not long enough.

I got up, stomped over to the bathroom, and violently swung the door open. There, I found my linebacker cowered in the corner.

What once had been a proud, charming football talent was now reduced to a pathetic heap of sweat, muscles and tears. Jake was absolutely soaked, shivering like never before as the vibrators continually ravaged his sore holes.

The jock threw me a desperate, tear-filled look, and tried to cower even further away. Not like his bonds allowed for much movement. I rushed toward him, and kicked his fat balls. He howled in agony. I punched his face, and his head slammed back into the radiator.

Furious, I kneeled down before him and yanked the dildo from his mouth.

“P-please,” he cried, almost hyperventilating, “p-please, please… I-I just wanna s-sleep…”

I scoffed. “Did you forget the fucking rules? It doesn’t matter what you want, Jake. You’re the faggot. You do what I want. And tonight, Master wants you to fucking suffer.”

The linebacker was balling his eyes out, at this point, sputtering ‘please, please’ like a looping cassette. He was so scared, so tired, so sore from head to toe. But there wasn’t a cell in my body that felt sorry for him.

I grabbed his swollen boner, still being massaged by the vibrator in his urethra, and started jerking as hard as I could. Poor Jakey went insane in the process.

“M-MASTER!!! P-PLEASE!!”

I tugged and yanked at that juicy shaft as if I was trying to tear it off. With my other hand, I started to squeeze the fat ball-sack underneath, just really making sure the bitch knew never to wake me up again. At some point, Jake spasmed and shuddered in a very familiar way, and I knew he was cumming - but the vibrator in his piss-slit blocked it all off.

With nowhere else to go, his semen traveled into his bladder instead.

“Who’s been a bad boy?” I laughed, still jerking with no remorse, “Who’s my naughty lil’ faggot?”

His eyes were starting to roll back into his head, but he was still crying, sobbing and whining like a lunatic, convulsing in my hands. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much his dick must hurt, how gaping his ass must feel. There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in his thick, tortured body.

Finally, before his heart would give out, I yanked the vibrator from his piss-slit. A hot stream of yellow immediately followed. Jake bellowed in agony, pissing cum and urine all over his torso. For the second time that night, I had made him soil himself. The ultimate humiliation.

Once his bladder was empty, the stud collapsed against the wall. His beefy chest heaving up and down, his eyelids too heavy to stay open. I placed a hand on his beautiful face, and wiped away some of the tears.

“P-p…lea..se… s-sl..eep…” he whimpered.

“Awh… the big jock is a little tired, huh?” I grinned, stroking his handsome features. “Sorry, baby. You know I can’t let you go to sleep with a half-full sack. We gotta take care of that first.”

I took his hefty balls in my other hand, and massaged them for a bit. There was clearly quite some spunk left in these bad boys.

Any merciful human being would have let the young Adonis get some rest, I’m sure. But it wasn’t my task to have pity on him - it was my task to train him, to turn him into the best, biggest bitch-boy the world had ever seen. He had to know Hell before he could know Heaven. Tonight, there simply couldn’t be any mercy for Jake.

I took the vibrating dildo in his ass, twisted it around a couple times, then turned the little switch at the end to the highest setting. Once again, the hunk started moaning and bucking as his prostate was beaten to a pulp.

I went back into the bedroom, and found a set of nipple toys in my bag. Jakey was too busy wheezing and humping the fat dildo to react, anyway. I placed the rubber clamps on his teats, switched them on, and watched them buzz away at his sensitive nipples.

That should do the trick.

I stood up, and looked at my pathetic beefcake for a while, admiring every inch of his suffering body. It wasn’t long before Jake was pushed into yet another orgasm. His hoarse whining filled the bathroom as a weak load spewed forth from his dick, splattering on the tiles. Countless more sperm cells, wasted for my entertainment.

Perfect.

I turned the lights off, closed the door, and went back to bed.

The linebacker would be busy for a couple more hours, continually cumming until his balls were fully drained. If he was lucky, he might just pass out after a while. If not, well, then he was just gonna have to wait until the morning.

Was I being excessively cruel? Perhaps. But after five months of falling back into his old ways, my boy needed a proper reminder of what he really was. Not a linebacker, a college student, whatever. Jake was a faggot, destined to squeal and suffer for the pleasure of others.

And that was exactly what he was doing right now.

7am

“Well, Jakey. Seems like you had way more juice left in you than I thought!”

The stud lay slumped against the wall, barely conscious and totally braindead. He had long stopped whining, and now only produced a shaky, guttural kind of panting that reminded me of a deer I’d once hit with my car. Fully incapacitated, the animal had just lain there, waiting for death.

But Jake was far from dead.

I kneeled down beside him, and admired the mess he had created. It was like a bottle of glue had exploded. From his titties to his thighs, my boy was completely covered in his own spunk. In some spots, drops of goopy sperm were still gliding slowly down his skin; in other places, the semen had already dried and become crusty.

Most beautiful of all, on the floor before him, there was a nice, big puddle of turgid white. This was at least 8 cumshots’ worth, I guessed, milked out of him over the course of almost three hours. The boy had been dragged to the deepest pits of hell and back.

“You’ve done well,” I said, finally removing the vibrating toy from his ass. I took the vibrators off his nipples too, and started undoing the ropes on his wrists and ankles. Part of me really wanted to lick his body clean, but I restrained myself.

Weakly, Jake moved a little. I could tell he was about to pass out any second now.

“Don’t forget, baby,” I grinned, stroking his pale, tired face. “Before you go to sleep, you gotta clean up the mess you made. Lick up your spunk.”

A soft whining rose from his throat. He couldn’t even speak anymore.

With the last remnants of his strength, my jock leaned forward, determined to obey. But it was too much. His muscles failed, his hands slipped - and Jake fell face-first in the puddle of his sperm. There, he stayed. Knocked the fuck out.

I laughed, took some pictures, and left him there on the bathroom floor.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII]

“For the first time this season, everyone’s favorite inside linebacker joined Michigan on the field today. Jake, #47, had been out with a torn ACL since last April, but was finally cleared to play for today’s game against Penn State. The newly appointed co-captain performed even better than anyone could’ve expected, securing a solid defense for his team and contributing to a great win for Michigan.”

I turned off the tv, and got up from my chair.

Coach took another sip of his beer, David stared up at me with expectant eyes. We were all here today. Gathered to celebrate our favorite player.

I went out into the hallway, grabbed his leash, and ruffled his damp hair.

“Come, come, Jakey. We have some guests. Everyone is waiting for you.”

I led him into the lounge, and we were met with loud hurrays. By my side, on all fours, our big, handsome linebacker came crawling into the room. He was wearing nothing but his sweaty jockstrap, muscles bare and gleaming, a dog’s collar stuffed around his thick neck. I yanked at the leash, and Jake quickly followed with a reddened face.

On his forehead, I’d written his favorite three letters. ’FAG’.

“There he is!” Coach cheered, “Everyone’s favorite linebacker’s come to join us! You impressed us all on the field today, big boy!”

The beefy jock kept his head down, too ashamed to meet our eyes. His thick body looked beautiful as ever, collared like this, his fat ass perfectly on display. With every step, you could see the muscles on his arms, working hard to support all that weight. His broad back was soaked and shining with a layer of sweat, the soles of his feet pink and calloused. Every inch of him was exposed to us. Michigan’s Whore.

I led him to his Coach, who immediately found the small, black plug that was stuck between the boy’s ass cheeks.

“What’s that you got up your cunt, fag?” he asked, rubbing the stud’s muscular backside.

The linebacker looked up at me, desperately humiliated, and I grinned.

“Go on, boy. Tell ‘em. What do you have in your hole?”

“A v-vibrator,” Jake muttered. “Remote controlled. I-if I do something good, Master makes it buzz. It’s my reward.”

The three of us laughed, and his face got even redder than before.

“That’s right. Good boy, Jakey,” I said. I showed them my little remote, and pressed one of the buttons. The vibrator came to life, buzzing away in the stud’s ass, prodding Jake to let out a beautiful moan. After a couple seconds, the vibrations stopped. The jock looked at me like a pleading pup.

“I expect you to make our guests feel welcomed here,” I told him, taking off the leash. “Give them what they want, and Master will reward you.”

Coach had already whipped out his boner. Shamefully, Jake crawled over to the man, and put his head between those thighs. It wasn’t long before he was slobbering all over his Coach’s cock, taking it down his throat. No matter how embarrassed he was, the linebacker could never withstand the taste and smell of superior dick.

He tried to take it in his hand, but Bill just smacked his head. No, he was taking this mouth only, hands and feet on the floor. The bitch had been taught how to do this.

“Shouldn’t you be out there, Jake, celebrating with your team?” Coach said, watching his linebacker suckle on his shaft. “You really did save the day, after all.”

Jake looked up, lips dripping precum, and he told the man what I’d instructed him to say.

“A f-faggot doesn’t want to celebrate, sir. A faggot only wants to serve.”

With that, he returned to blowing the man. Bill and David looked like they were in actual fucking paradise. I pressed the little remote, and Jake’s moans were only slightly muffled by Coach’s dick. He started sucking even more eagerly, taking it all the way down, determined to make Master proud and earn more anal vibrations.

Since it wasn’t time for his feeding yet, after a while, I grabbed Jake’s hair and yanked him over to David’s lap instead. He alternated between sucking off the both of them for a good half hour or so, while we drank and talked and mocked the handsome cockslut.

“Jake, come to Master,” I finally said.

Without hesitating, the jock took his head from Coach’s groin and crawled over to me as fast as he could. I thought to notice a flicker of jealousy in my guests’ expressions, but it disappeared before I could be sure.

Jake waited at my feet, staring up at me with excited puppy eyes, and I scratched his chin for a bit. That collar really did look good on him. Not to mention the fat boner that had popped its head out of his jockstrap.

I told him to stay, and walked over to the kitchen. I returned with a pair of scissors, grinning at the beefy slut. Without a word, I squatted down, and started cutting away his filthy jockstrap.

David groaned softly as I revealed Jake’s massive rod. It could’ve been that of a porn star, this cock. Thick, juicy, gleaming with precum. A real stud’s weapon - only on this boy, it was pointless. Jake wasn’t on this earth to fuck; he was here to get fucked, to be penetrated by his superiors. That was his only purpose.

I took the pouch in my hand, and stood back up.

“How long since you washed this, Jakey?”

He just stared at me, embarrassed. He didn’t know. It must’ve been at least a week - my linebacker only ever washed his jock when I told him to. A week’s worth of musk and filth was currently soaked into that thing.

I put one hand on the back of his head, and pushed the pouch into his face with the other. Jake struggled, but I made sure he couldn’t get away. His nose was buried in his own underwear.

“Sniff,” I told him. “Tell me what it smells like.”

Trembling slightly, the beefcake inhaled his scent. From the corner of my eye, I could see Bill and David touching themselves, fixated on the show I was giving them.

Jake inhaled again, and I chuckled.

“Well, big boy? What do you smell?”

“S-sweat, sir,” he stammered. “Sperm. Piss.”

Poor thing. He was so wonderfully, agonizingly humiliated. His shame was the greatest gift I could ever wish for.

“Right. Sweat, spunk, piss,” I grinned. “So what does that smell like, Jake?”

He looked up at me with gleaming eyes, and the three letters on his forehead had never seemed so perfect.“A f-fag, sir,” he muttered. “It smells like a faggot. I-I smell like a faggot.”

Such a good boy. I pried his lips open, stuffed the filthy pouch into his mouth, and tied the straps of his jock behind his head.

His very own jockstrap gag. How perfect he looked.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI]

“Hey, handsome.”

I heard his voice behind me, and froze. It was almost 11am, I was hurrying to make it to Economics in time, but as soon as I heard him, my feet stopped working.

My heart started pounding in my throat, throbbing in my ears, and heat flared up all over my body. Go away, I prayed, please just go away.

His hand touched my back, and I physically winced.

“You’re looking sexy today,” David said, stepping in front of me. “Somehow, your arms seem to get bigger every time I see them.”

I avoided his gaze, and tried my best to control my breathing.

I hated this. I fucking hated this.

Here, without Master or Coach, there was no reason I shouldn’t break this freshman’s nose for talking to me like that. Hell, I should’ve killed the cocky little fuck.

But I knew what would be waiting for me, if I so much as lifted a finger. The dark room in Master’s basement, ropes and chains and whips, hours and hours of punishment. I could already hear his voice in the back of my mind, yelling at me to behave.

David placed a hand on my chest. “Hmm. Did you just come out of the shower?”

Reluctantly, I let him touch me. Thank God there wasn’t anyone else around.

“Went to the gym, this morning,” I mumbled. “Headed to class now.”

“Oh, been working out, eh? Let me know you’re going, next time. I like watching you sweat.”

His hand was slowly rubbing my pecs, feeling the muscles underneath my shirt. I knew he could tell how uncomfortable it made me, and he was clearly enjoying it. Ever since he’d spanked me, I’d been successfully avoiding him. But today I wasn’t so lucky.

“I can still see you, in my memories,” David said, “All sweaty and beautiful. On your knees in the locker room, sucking off your coach. God, you looked like such a slut.”

My breathing was getting heavier, my fists were starting to clench. Master or not - I didn’t appreciate this dork calling me a slut. I was trying my best to stay calm, but it wasn’t working.

Fuck this. Fuck this.

David grinned. “What’s the matter, Jake? Don’t like it when I call you a slut?”

“Watch it,” I growled.

He chuckled, his hands slowly rubbing down. He cupped my pecs, and gently squeezed a little. The longer he kept touching me, the harder it got to stay in control.

“But you are a slut, aren’t you? Giving head to those older guys. Even to me. Probably letting them fuck your ass. You are the biggest, beefiest slut I’ve ever seen…” he said, circling my nipples. “The way you take that cock in your mouth… it’s not a chore, for you. I can tell. You actually love the taste. You love having some big, ripe manmeat between those slutty lips…”

In a flash of rage, I grabbed his neck and slammed him into the wall. I was seething with rage. Every last cell in my body wanted to punch this kid to hell, wipe him off the face of the earth. For a second, David actually looked scared, my fist hovering above him - but then his grin returned, bigger and more evil than ever. It was too fucking frustrating.

“Sore subject, handsome?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I hissed. My whole body was shaking. “Shut the fuck up. Call me that again and I will bash your fucking skull.”

“Go ahead, then,” he whispered, “Punch me. Kill me. Release all that anger. We both know what will happen when he finds out.”

His eyes crossed mine, and I felt a pang of fear. He wasn’t scared of me, not in the slightest. He knew exactly what power he now had over me. I was powerless. As long as Master endorsed this sadistic little shithead, I couldn’t touch him.

As he saw it dawn on me, David laughed. “That’s right, Jake. Can’t risk upsetting the old man over just some silly comments, can you?”

Some other people passed us in the hallway, and I angrily released his throat. I couldn’t even stand up for myself to this freshman perv, for fuck’s sake. I felt like shit.

“Smart boy,” David laughed. He put one hand under my shirt, and started tracing the lines of my abs.

“I gotta go to class,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks burn red. His fingers found my nipples, and I couldn’t help a gasp. Master had been tugging at them all weekend. They were more sensitive than they’d ever been.

He grabbed my face, and forced me to look at him.

“Class? Nah, I don’t think so,” David scoffed. “Dumb faggots like you don’t need class. Nothing they can teach you here, anyway. The only useful thing you can learn about is being someone else’s bitch.”

My face was almost too big for his hand. I towered over him, bigger and stronger in every way, and still I let him treat me like a piece of fucking trash.

“Master and Coach don’t want me missing any classes,” I tried.

He started laughing, and I immediately regretted having opened my mouth. “God, do you even hear yourself?” David mocked me, “Master this, Master that. You’re so much more of a bitch than I thought. How long has he had you, anyway?”

How long has he had me. Not how long I’d known him, how long we knew each other - how long had I been owned by that man. The more I thought about it, the more right it seemed.

“A-almost a year,” I said. “Since last October.”

“Not even a year? And you’re already this much of a fag? Jesus. You would think it’d take longer to break a varsity linebacker, but apparently, you’re easy as shit.”

His eyes were triumphantly staring into mine. Every word was pushing another button, tearing my self-worth down another notch. I had no defenses left. My blood started rushing, and my stomach turned when I realized what was happening.

“There we have it,” David chuckled, grabbing the newly appeared, enormous tent in my shorts. “All that trash-talking been turning you on, huh, Jake? God, you’re pathetic.”

He was right. I felt dumb, weak and helpless, and it made me hard as a rock. I just couldn’t stop.

David tugged at my boner, and I moaned aloud.

“S-stop,” I stammered, “What if someone walks in, I-I-“

He simply put his other hand to my mouth, and pushed his fingers past my lips. I knew what this meant. Master did it too - I had to stop talking, and keep sucking. A bitch like me didn’t deserve more words. My holes were all that mattered.

I closed my eyes, and silently cursed myself. Shamefully, I started suckling on David’s fingers. His other hand kept milking my cock, rubbing my pole through my shorts, making the precum gush into my jockstrap. Right in the middle of the Economics building on campus, in clear daylight, mere minutes before class would start.

If anyone walked in, I was dead.

The thrill of that alone almost made me cream my shorts.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X]

For several months, Coach and I worked to help Jake recover from his injury.

We supervised his rehabilitation, managed his workout schedule, and even set up his diet. Largely, we continued the training we had already planned out for him, before his injury; this included more, heavier weights, and bucket loads of protein, all to get him bigger and stronger than ever. But while I monitored his weight and diet, Coach concerned himself with the healing of his knee. Jake was treated by the best specialists in the country, working every single day to get his ACL back on track with the rest of his body. The surgery had gone well, but it would still take a lot of time and effort to get him fixed up completely.

At night, of course, we still trained his other set of skills. I taught him exactly how to please another man, even better than he had done for the past months. The more Jake had my dick in his holes, the better he got. Just a matter of practice, really. Every now and then, Bill would join in on the fun. We’d edge the jock for hours, teaching him how to enjoy being played with without ever getting the satisfaction of shooting his load. We’d tie him up and leave him squirming while we drank and ate mere feet away from him, all to teach the linebacker how little say he really had. At the end of the night, to reward our bitch, Coach and I would always fuck his brains out.

Life continued at a steady pace, and the last months of Jake’s sophomore year slipped by before we knew it. We decided he’d stay in his dorm during the summer, too, to keep recovering from his injury. From April to August, we helped reshape our linebacker to a new and improved self. His grades were up, his knee was doing better every week, and he finally started to accept his life as our faggot.

At the end of August, just before the start of his 3rd year at Michigan, more good news arrived. Bill, as the Head of Defense, managed to convince the other coaches of Jake’s athletic potential. After several days of pulling strings and strategic lobbying, he finally called to tell me he had succeeded.

“It’s done,” Coach said. “Tomorrow, he and three others will be named co-captains. They saw his dedication to get back on the field, and applauded his physical progress. He has earned his spot as a leader of the defense.”

“Wonderful,” I grinned. This was exactly what I’d hoped for. With the title of co-captain on his resume, my boy’s chances at making it to the pros would be higher than ever. “When should we tell him?”

“Come by after practice, tonight. We’ll break the good news to him in the locker room.”

That night, I made my way over to the training fields. Even though Jake wasn’t strong enough yet to play a full game, he was starting to take part in practice with his teammates again. I knew that was what he missed the most; not even the big, important games with thousands of viewers, but the moments on the field with his friends. He missed being out there, with the guys. Now more than ever, he longed for something that made him feel like a normal, happy college student, something without pain and humiliation. Something that didn’t include me, or his Coach.

I knew it was healthy for him to still feel like a regular guy, during the day, so I let him. For most of his time, Jake was left to live the college life as he wanted. Only a couple times a week, during his workouts, and on weekend nights, he would be the bitch we wanted him to be. Another such moment was after his football practice.

His teammates assumed it was just so that he could work on his recovery more, but in reality, Coach always kept Jake after practice to feed the linebacker his cock.

Tonight was no different.

As I walked through the empty building, the familiar wall of sweat and unwashed college boys slammed into me. It was past 10pm already, everyone had left to go back to their dorms. Everyone but one, handsome jock, and his dear old Coach.

The closer I got to the locker room, the louder the noises. Grunts, groans. The sloppy sounds of someone trying to swallow something way too large. Coach’s laughter echoed on the walls, and I heard my boy gag from several rooms away. Another lovely evening, it sounded like.

But as I walked around the corner, ready to walk into the lit-up locker room, I realized that not everyone had left. By the door, peeking into the room, stood a short, slender boy. In one hand, he held a mic that was blue and yellow, clearly belonging to the University press. His other hand was in his pants, rubbing what I imagined to be a raging boner.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX]

Saturday night, 8pm

“Ready, boy?” I said, grinning at the bound jock.

Jake lay before me like a slab of beef, spread out on the table, naked and tied in chains. 240 pounds of grade-A college jock meat. His flesh bulged against his bonds, his manhood fully exposed and erect. I had the famous linebacker exactly where and how I wanted him.

He was trying to keep his cool, of course, but I recognized the terror in his eyes. The bitch knew very well what I was capable of. Or so he thought, at least. Jake hadn’t even caught a glimpse of my burning desire to hurt him. For the next twelve hours, I was going to make his world nothing but pain, pain, and more pain.

“Y-yes, sir,” the linebacker muttered. “I’m ready.”

I chuckled, and took his massive boner in my hand. No matter how scared he was, being tied up and exposed like this would always get the bitch rock-hard.

“Hmm… what should we start with?” I pondered, gently rubbing his dick. “Flogging, maybe? Needles? Electrocution? Candle wax? What do you think, Jake?”

My words were only worsening his fear, sending all sorts of horrifying images through my slut’s head. “W-whatever you want, sir.”

My grin widened. I walked over to the chest in the corner of the room, and grabbed a long, thin, metal rod. I returned to my bound jock, and showed him the toy.

“Have you ever heard of urethral sounding, boy?”

Jake weakly shook his head, following the metal pin with fearful eyes. He was so young, so innocent and naive. This was the last place a promising college stud like him should be spending his Saturday night - especially with his injured knee. But Master had made a deal with him, had jerked him off the night before, in exchange for torture. Right now, it was time for Jakey to keep up his end of the bargain.

“No? You know what the urethra is, don’t you?”

Again, the linebacker shook his head, blushing slightly. Of course he didn’t know, the dumb bitch. The only things he knew about were throwing a ball and tackling guys.

“You might know it as the piss-slit,” I grinned, taking his fat cock between my fingers. “One of the most sensitive areas of your body, if not the most sensitive. Urethral play can provide a great deal of pleasure, or be the source of a great deal of pain.”

I grabbed the bottle of lube, and squirted some at the entrance of his glans. Jake moaned softly at the feeling of my finger on his dick’s head, frowning at the metal rod.

“Wait - y-you’re gonna put that up my dick??”

My grin widened. That’s the reaction I wanted. The same reaction any normal, well-adjusted male would give when posed with this situation. Being penetrated in his ass was one thing; being penetrated in his dick was something he’d never even thought possible.

But he didn’t have a choice.

I brought the pin to his urethra, and slowly started inserting it. Jake watched in horror as I impaled his fat cock, pushing the thin rod into his piss slit. Inch by inch, slowly but steadily. The athlete was breathing heavy, clearly uncomfortable, but not in pain. Not yet.

“Look at that,” I snickered, when it was all the way in, “That monster dick of yours just swallowed the entire thing, boy. Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, but eyed his manhood with suspicion. I gave his shaft a couple tugs, loving the feeling of his thick meat in my hand, and he let out a frustrated whimper. He wasn’t hurting yet, but it was clear the stud didn’t like this.

I placed my finger at the end of the pin, and pushed slightly, making it tilt within his cock. Finally, the first groan escaped his lips. He felt the other end of the metal rod digging in the hypersensitive walls of his urethra, sending the first jolts of pain through his loins as I moved the pin in circles.

“I’m just stretching the duct, Jakey. You are going to take much more than this.”

The beefy linebacker complained softly, testing the chains on his wrists and ankles. I could tell how much he hated this already, having his cock invaded, but it only encouraged me to continue. When I felt I had stretched his urethra enough, I put the pin away, and exchanged it for a slightly thicker, curved one. The lower half of this rod was covered in bumps and spikes.

I brought it to the tip of his dick, and Jake gasped in pain as I started pushing it in.

“As you can feel, this one is bigger than the last one,” I said, watching his pretty face contort as I forced his cock to take the pin. “And it is textured, also. Can you feel the patterns, scraping the insides of your dick? Does it hurt?”

He nodded, groaning in frustration, squirming on the table before me. There it was, that look on his face I knew and loved so well. The unmistakeable look of suffering.

I grabbed the pin, and started twisting it around, furthering my slut’s torment. Jake flexed his massive arms, gasping and whining in response. He wanted to get out, away from this, away from me, but it was too late. Twelve hours in hell awaited him.

“S-stop,” the jock finally muttered, “F-fuck. Please stop. T-take it out.”

I simply increased my pace, twisting and turning the pin with no remorse. Jake howled in pain, struggling with his bonds as he threw his head back. His entire body shuddered at the touch, waves of agony washing over him with every motion. The poor hunk had no means of escape.

“You shouldn’t move too much. We wouldn’t want you to injure your precious man-meat, now too, would we?”

He looked at me, eyes wide and full of terror, and the beefcake realized that I wouldn’t mind that for a second. The more his dick would hurt, the more I loved it.

I continued until Jake was already sweating heavily. His face was red with exertion, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. It was wonderful, seeing him like this. Chained to the table in my playroom, subject to his Master’s unrelenting sadism, scared out of his mind. He was so beautiful I wanted to hurt him, and his pain only made him more beautiful, in turn.

But I wasn’t just doing this for my entertainment - it was the perfect way to get his mind off that knee injury, too. I knew my boy. He had been moping all day, replaying the most depressing scenarios in his head. He was beating himself down, telling himself his dreams were ruined, punishing himself for tearing his ACL. Being here with me might have meant he was in constant, physical pain; but at least he wasn’t going around breaking his own heart anymore.

“Not a fan of sounding, huh?” I grinned, stroking his rippling abs.

Jake shook his head, eyeing me with uncertainty. “N-no, sir.”

“Don’t worry, there’s only one more pin I’d like you to try. Not textured, this time.”

I grabbed the longest sound I had, longer than his enormous boner, and showed the stud how it was hollow on the inside. I brought some more lube to his urethra, and started inserting the pin.

“When was the last time you urinated, boy?”

The linebacker frowned. “W-what? Eh… I dunno, a couple hours ago?”

“You didn’t go before you came here?”

He shook his head. Perfect. I pushed the hollow rod all the way down, further than the previous two, stuffing his entire manhood with the metal pin. Jake started groaning again, awkwardly shifting his loins, staring at his suffering cock in disbelief.

I tilted the pin a little, and asked him how that felt.

“W-wait, Master, that- ngghh - f-fuck, I’m gonna…”

I grinned, tilting it further and further. I knew exactly what he was trying to say.

“It’s okay, Jakey. Just relax,” I said, pushing the rod into his bladder with no remorse. “Let go of everything. Master is in control of your body.”

The sounds that followed from my jock were beautiful as ever. A pained, humiliated whimper, pathetic as can get, nothing but shame and self-hatred. Jake watched in horror as I forced him to piss all over himself.

Hot urine squirted out of the pin, landing on his washboard abs, even reaching as far as his bulging titties. It was a gorgeous sight, seeing this hunky football hero piss himself like some kind of incontinent misfit. There’s nothing more emasculating than forcing a bitch to soil himself before the man he cherished the most. This wasn’t physical pain, perhaps - but it certainly was mental torture.

“Dirty boy,” I snickered, yanking the pin out like it was nothing. “Pissed yourself, just for Master. Should I have you wear a fucking diaper, next time I play with you?”

Jake refused to meet my gaze, blushing like never before. He hated me as much as he hated himself. The lower half of his torso was gleaming with urine, smelling like a toilet, something that would serve to keep the fag reminded of his own weakness.

I stroked through the linebacker’s hair, and kissed his forehead.

“That was fun, wasn’t it? A perfect little warm-up,” I said. “Now it’s time for the real stuff.”

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII]

I opened the door to a big, handsome linebacker, standing on my front porch.

I hadn’t seen him since I’d left him in that gym, a week ago. Still, I hadn’t called him at all - and for a second, I thought he had actually been stupid enough to come over uninvited, just because he missed me. But then I saw his face, and I knew he hadn’t come to play. Something was up.

“I injured my knee, during practice,” Jake said, his voice laden with bitterness, “It’s fucked. They think I tore my ACL.”

He was breathing heavy, clearly overwhelmed with frustration and anger. I let him in without a word, and closed the door behind him. He was limping pretty heavily.

“I’m f-fucked,” the jock spat, “I’m so fucking fucked.”

“Calm down,” I said, urging him to sit. “Did they tell you how long you might be out?”

Jake reluctantly sat down, shaking from head to toe. “8 months. Maybe more. Can be a whole fucking year, if the surgery goes wrong.”

He buried his face in his hands, and let out a guttural sound of vexation. I knew this was the nightmare of any athlete. Being out of the rotation for so long could have devastating effects on his football career.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need a drink?”

“N-no, no, I’m on like 7 painkillers,” he mumbled. “I don’t even know what happened. We were just practicing tackles, I was tryna cover this guy, a-and I guess I placed my foot weird, and- I heard a pop, and next thing I know I’m on the ground, s-screaming in pain.”

He growled again. Poor thing. For once, I actually felt for him. This was my boy now, after all; I might’ve normally been a sucker for his pain, but this was a real, serious injury. As his Master, I had promised I’d take care of him.

“When is the surgery?” I asked, gently rubbing his traps. His knee was already looking very swollen.

“M-Monday.”

Three days from now. I sighed, and held his head against me for a moment. There wasn’t much I could do besides comforting him, telling him it would be okay. I wish I really could take care of him, as promised, but this was out of my hands.

“W-what if this is it, y’know?” Jake muttered, “What if I won’t make it pro, cause of this? W-what if-“

“Stop thinking like that,” I said. “This is a setback, but not the end. Trust me. You were destined for much more than this.”

He closed his eyes, and leaned against me, letting me stroke through his hair. I felt his warm body trembling softly, and placed a kiss on his head. For a while, he just sat there in silence.

“What did Coach say?” I finally asked.

The linebacker shrugged. “I-I don’t wanna see him, right now.”

“I understand. I’ll call him later,” I said. “He’s gonna help us get you out of this, I promise. I’m sure he knows the best doctors and physical therapists out there.”

Jake looked up at me, and a shiver ran down my spine. This 21-year-old college football player made me feel more than anyone else ever had.

“I-I still hate that he knows about us,” the jock whispered, raw and vulnerable, “Coach. I hate that he’s a part of this. I fucking hate it. I j-just wanted it to be you and me.”

“I know you do,” I sighed. “But it’s better this way. Believe me. He and I will get you to the NFL.”

The stud didn’t say anything, just stared at me with those innocent puppy eyes.

“For now, I think I know something to distract you,” I said. “Take your mind off that injury, for a bit. Are you up for that?”

It was the first time I asked a bitch for permission, but it felt right, under these circumstances. Not like he dared refuse, anyway. Jake nodded, blushing as always, and I took the t-shirt off his sculpted torso.

Not much later, the linebacker was sat naked before me, his big dick rock-hard and begging for attention. I’d tied his hands to the back of the chair, and he looked at me with that familiar mixture of fear and excitement.

I knew his wrists still hurt from last week, when I’d bound him up and left him in that cold, dark gym. Hell, I could see the burns and marks all over his body. But my bitch wasn’t one to complain. He let me do what I wanted, and his eyes followed me as I kneeled down between his strong legs.

With a devious smirk on my face, I enclosed my hand around his dick.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII]

Michigan, April ‘13

I walked into the room, and was met with the familiar scent of sweat and unwashed jerseys. The campus gym was empty at this hour. I made my way past the rows of benches and machines, further down the barely-lit hall, until my ears finally caught onto a soft, distant sound. A young man, grunting and groaning.

I followed the noise through the abandoned gym, hearing it grow louder with every step. I would recognize those groans anywhere.

Finally, I walked into another large room, all the way in the back. This is where the free weights were. The groans were fully audible now, echoing on the walls. At the other side of the space, I saw an older, burly man, training a young, strapping jock.

From afar, there wasn’t much off about the pair; just a helpful, driven Coach, personally supervising his star player during a late night gym session. But as I stepped closer, this image changed. The jock, grunting as he worked with a heavy-looking barbell, was, in fact, fully naked. His strong body was sculpted like the statue of a Greek god.

Coach’s hands were playing with the large tool that dangled between the boy’s legs, prodding the fat cakes that adorned his backside.

“C’mon, Jake,” the man said, clearly enjoying himself, “Give me 15 more. I want those arms so pumped up you won’t even fit into your shirt anymore.”

“Y-yes, Coach,” the stud groaned, continuing with his curls as instructed. I watched from the side, taking in every last inch of this naked hunk. His pretty face, contorted with effort. His beefy arms, veins popped and clearly visible. His beefy shoulders, working to assist his chunks of biceps that lifted the weight of the barbell. His massive, semi-hard cock, waving between his trunks of legs like a weapon. Everything about this jock was screaming masculinity.

Everything on the outside, at least.

With a final roar, he threw the barbell on the ground as soon as he finished his last rep. His bulging chest was heaving up and down, and he closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

“Well done,” I said, finally stepping forward. Jake’s eyes shot open, and he looked at me with twinkling puppy eyes. I could almost hear the instinctive joy rushing through his bitch-brain.

Master. Master is here.

I walked up to the stud, and placed a hand on his heated face. He was gleaming with sweat, looking like he’d been oiled up from head to toe, and I noticed the steam rising from his body.

“Already?” Coach said, “Feels like I’ve only just started playing with him…”

He slapped Jake’s perfect ass, and the sound echoed through the room.

“It’s nearing 2am, Bill,” I snickered. “You’ve been playing with him for almost two hours already. I’m impressed he’s even standing on his legs, still.”

I was playing with the linebacker’s tits, slowly rubbing his nips between my fingers. Jake let out a little whine - he clearly wanted me to give him a kiss. The big, muscular college jock was dying for some affection from his cruel Master.

Instead, I tugged at his teats until a thick, fully engorged beast was poking its head against my leg. My grin widened, Jake’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red, and I took his gorgeous boner in my hand.

“He did well, today,” Coach said, rubbing the boy’s broad shoulders. “Cardio, first, then arms and shoulders. Brutal workout. Got a nice pump on, don’t you, stud?”

“Y-yes, Coach,” Jake said.

“Why don’t you show your Master your progress?”

With his cock still in my hand, the linebacker lifted his beefy arms, and started flexing them for me. The sight of his sculpted, sweaty muscles made my heart pound in my throat. His biceps were nice and pumped, as promised; two bulging mountains of strength, thick and veiny. I could see the muscles in his forearms, the equally impressive peaks that were his triceps, the swollen deltoids above. These were the arms I loved.

Arms made to tackle 300-something-pound brutes. Arms made to fight, wrestle, and prove his strength over other men. The arms of a young hero.

I just couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward, and licked the sweat from his arm, inhaling his scent from his armpit. This might’ve normally been a submissive thing to do - but the way I was holding his boner, my other hand on his biceps like a claw, left no doubt about our roles.

It was perfectly clear which one was the bitch, and which one the Owner.

“Missed him, huh?” Coach chuckled in the background.

“Hmm,” I nodded. My tongue was getting every last pheromone Jake had, lapping his pit up and down, taking in his taste like honey. His scent, that addictive mixture of musk and sweat, slammed into my brain like a drug and drove me insane for more.

Fuck, he tasted good.

I wanted to tear him apart, right there and then, push him to the ground and split his cunt open until he’d lose his voice from all the screaming. I wanted to take him in my hands, hear him cry for mercy, and ruin him forever.

But I had to stay patient. This was not the time, and not the place.

With the greatest effort, I tore myself away from the naked Adonis.

Jake was wild-eyed and breathing heavy. It’d been a while since I’d been this forward, this openly lecherous. Just the sight of his freshly pumped arms had been enough to make me lose control, even for the slightest of moments. The jock looked proud and horny as ever.

“We’ll play later, boy,” I said, ruffling his hair. “Right now, it’s time for the second part of your training.”

His excitement dimmed a little, and he frowned. He was probably dreading another workout.

“S-sir, I’m really tired,” Jake muttered. “And I got class, tomorrow…”

“You’ll be fine, Jakey. This is your forte,” I explained. “Coach has worked on your athletic capabilities, now I will work on your skills as a submissive. Get to your knees.”

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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All Chapters | Previous Chapter

As I walked into Coach’s office, my heart stopped beating. My breath disappeared, my blood went cold, and the light in the room seemed to seep away. There was already someone else sat at Coach’s desk. Even though I could only see the back of the man’s head, I clearly recognized the black-grey hair. Every bit of me wanted to run away immediately, but my legs felt like lead.

“Y-you wanted to see me, coach?” I muttered. The middle-aged man nodded sternly. “Yes, Jake. Have a seat.”

Trembling like crazy, I sat down in one of the chairs, next to the man I’d been calling my Master for so long now.

“I believe you already know this man, don’t you, son?” Coach said. I was too terrified to respond, and kept my eyes on the desk. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Master placed a hand on my arm, and I froze completely. I was petrified, unable to even shake the man off, unable to act normal and protect myself.

“Calm down, Jake,” he said, his voice sending chills down my spine. “Answer your coach.”

I hated this. I hated him, and I hated how fucking good it felt to have him touch me again. After another couple of moments of silence, I managed to open my mouth with the greatest effort. “Y-yes, Coach. I know him.”

“I see. And how would you describe your relationship to this man, Jacob?” Coach asked, and I felt my face turn red. I weakly shook my head, unable to produce another word. My entire world was collapsing around me, finally being faced with the countless mistakes I had made during the past months.

“Well? How do you know this man?” Coach tried again, but I stayed mute. He sighed, and turned the computer screen on his desk toward me. I felt sick as I realized what was about to happen, wanted to jump up and run away forever, but none of my muscles seemed to function any longer.

Coach opened a file, and played a video.

First, there was only sound; the unmistakeable, sloppy sounds of sex. Balls slapping against balls, loud moans and groans as someone pounded someone else. Then the camera moved up, and a big, muscular guy entered the frame. Naked, on all fours, with the cameraman’s cock up his ass. I watched in horror as I saw myself getting fucked, Master calling me his bitch and slapping my ass a couple of times. He grabbed a fistful of my long blond hair, and yanked at it to make me arch backward upon his pole. For a good ten minutes, the three of us watched and listened in silence. Then the cameraman flipped me on my back, and zoomed in on my wild, heated face. “Tell me what you are, boy,” the man said.

“Ah! I-I’m your - ahh! - your b-bitch, sir! I-I’m your bitch!” I heard myself moan. At that exact moment I reached my climax, shooting gobs of my own load onto my face. Coach finally pressed pause, and let me enjoy the sight of myself covered in semen. I was in complete shock, humiliation and self-loathing burning in every cell of my body. I felt dizzy, nauseous, and my heart was pounding in my ears as if it was about to explode. The world seemed to have stopped spinning, with no intention on ever doing so again. This was my worst fear come true. My absolute worst nightmare. When Coach spoke, it sounded like I was under water, far out of reach from anyone else.

Master’s POV

“Jacob!” Coach said for the umpteenth time, finally yanking the boy out of his trance. “I’m gonna ask you one more time. Is this you?”

As if his body was living a life of its own, Jake nodded. “Y-yes, coach,” he mumbled. I placed a hand on his thick thigh, and started to slowly rub up and down his leg. I’d missed the feeling of his strong body, his musky scent, those innocent puppy eyes. I’d missed my bitch.

“I see. So you really are this man’s bitch, Jacob?” Coach asked.

Jake finally tore his gaze away from the screen, and was clearly shocked to find his Coach grinning widely. The man raised an eyebrow, expecting an answer, and the linebacker’s head turned even redder.

“Y-yes, coach. I-I’m his b-bitch,” he stammered. Coach and I both laughed, and Jake looked more and more confused with the second. He’d probably expected his Coach to be furious, even kick him off the team, but the opposite was true. Coach seemed more content than ever.

“Well, son, come show Coach how much of a bitch you really are,” he said, and the man started to undo his belt. Jake threw a panicked glance in my direction, but I only nodded. “Go ahead, boy,” I said.

Obviously feeling as if he was stuck in a nightmare, the blond hunk slowly got up from his chair, and walked around his Coach’ desk. He was on full autopilot. But when he saw the old man sitting there, his boner already exposed, the boy stopped in his tracks. Even after months of degradation and perversion, there was still a side to him that protested.

Coach seemed to notice, and his grin disappeared. “I thought you said he was broken in?” he grumbled to me.

“You saw it for yourself, in that video.” I said. “He’s just a little rough around the edges, for now. I’m dealing with 20 years of pretending to be straight, here. It takes time.”

Coach sighed, and turned back to the petrified linebacker. “You have about two seconds to get down on your knees, son, or I will make sure the entire university gets to see this video. Understand?” he growled.

“Y-yes, Coach,” Jake muttered, almost instinctively, and the 220lb. stud did as he was told. Suddenly he was looking up at the man whom he respected more than anyone in the world, the man that was supposed to help him achieve his dreams of reaching the NFL, the man he trusted with his life, only looking up at him from the ground with the man’s boner mere inches away from his face. The jock was still too shocked to really process any of it, and reluctantly leaned forward. He winced a little at the taste of his Coach’ dick.

Coach laughed, and grabbed Jake’s long blond hair. “C’mon, you big bitch,” he growled, “I’ve been waiting for this moment far too long.”

Without any further warning, Coach forced his cock into my boy’s mouth and started to fuck his pretty face. Jake tried his best not to gag as his mouth was abused by the older man, the scent and taste clearly overwhelming him. I knew this was bringing him back to the first night with me, all those months ago. The same raw, excruciating shame was evident in his expression; the bittersweet sensation of finally giving into those suppressed desires, no matter how filthy and degrading.

Coach skull-fucked him for a good twenty minutes or so, not particularly gentle with the big blond hunk. He made Jake gag a couple of times, forcing his boner completely down his throat. He slapped the boy’s pretty face more than once too, growling some derogatory remark at him. Poor Jakey had tears in his eyes, and threw me several pleading looks, but I wasn’t gonna help him.

I was more than content just watching the big defense coach pound his favorite player’s mouth. Besides, no matter how distraught the boy seemed, there was no denying the huge bulge in his shorts. I was just gonna let him have a nice time.

At some point, the man reached his climax, dug his fingers in Jake’s luscious hair and shot a big load down the linebacker’s throat. “Don’t spill a drop, son,” Coach grinned, pushing his head all the way down and burying the stud’s nose in his pubes. “I’ve heard you like to swallow it all.”

When he finally let go, Jake fell back, violently coughing and panting. His face was bright red, and his puppy eyes were overflowing with pain. Coach grabbed his head again, and wiped his dick clean on the jock’s reddened cheeks. This was when he looked the most beautiful. Flushed and shocked, struggling to cope with reality, his burning face adorned with strings of semen. This was how he should look at all times.

As Jake got back to his feet, still too stunned too really do anything, I was suddenly behind him and pushed the big stud back into his chair. “Such a good boy, Jakey,” I chuckled, petting my blond beefcake. I held his face in my hands, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “That’s the way to service that nice Coach of yours. Finally, you can pay him back for all that practice and training. Aren’t you grateful?”

Jake didn’t make a sound, just let me cradle him all I wanted. Normally, I would’ve punished him for ignoring such a question, but I had promised myself to go easy on him, today. I knew how much of a shock this situation was for him.

“Now, Coach and I, we’ve been thinking,” I said. “A milestone like this deserves some kind of celebration, don’t you think?”

Coach started to chuckle, but Jake was still too far gone to really give any kind of coherent answer. The poor linebacker was just staring at himself on the screen, naked and filthy, getting fucked by another man. He couldn’t even begin to process the fact he’d just been forced to suck off the man that practically led his football dream. Coach had been like a father to him, the leader of the pack, the one who always made him give it 100% on the field.

I knew that if there was any person in the world who had made him believe in himself, had given him hope to pursue his lifelong goals, it was Coach. And that same Coach had just used him like a dirty slut. Raped his mouth and bred his throat as if he was the man’s whore. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much that hurt the jock.

We stood beside him, Coach and I, and toyed around with our beautiful Jake for a while.

We stripped him of his shirt, dug our fingers in those bulging muscles, and whispered the most degrading things into his ears. I licked his pretty face, and stroked through his blond locks.

God, he was perfect.

“Yeah, we need a proper celebration. Something truly memorable,” Coach continued, and he took a handful of Jake’s long hair. Then I showed him a pair of scissors, and something in the jock sparked.

“N-no, no,” he muttered, trying to get up from the chair before I pushed him back. Finally, there was some resistance back in him. Coach slapped him in the face, hard, and held him down while I proceeded to bring the scissors to the boy’s head.

“No, please,” Jake tried, “S-sir - No, no, no - Leave m-me alone. Don’t -“

Coach slapped him again, and spit in his face. Jake had another weak attempt at escaping from the chair, with Coach’ spit dripping down his nose, but to no avail. Of course, if he really wanted to, he would’ve broken free. The college linebacker was far stronger and bigger than either of us, and he could have overpowered us without a doubt; but his tormented mind was holding the poor jock back. Even though he had tried breaking things off with me, he was still conditioned to obey.

Before long, Jake felt the scissors cutting away one of his golden locks.

“P-please,” the linebacker cried, “I-I don’t want this. Please. Let me go.”

“Oh, but that’s the thing, boy. You do want this,” I scoffed, while continuing to cut his hair. “That’s the whole fucking point. Every time you’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror, you’re gonna think of me, and Coach, and this exact moment. You’re gonna be reminded how much of a bitch you truly are. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Jake had closed his eyes, and was clenching his fists. He looked utterly miserable. While I snipped away at his beautiful hair, Coach leaned over and started nibbling on the stud’s tit, softly suckling and biting his nipple.

“P-please,” the jock stammered again, his voice husky and broken. “Just let me go. P-please…”

“It’s okay, boy,” I soothed him, “Master’s gonna make you look even better. I promise.”

“Stop whining, Jacob. Even bald, you’d look great,” Coach scoffed, “You’re the prettiest boy on campus. About time someone used those good looks to their advantage and made you their bitch.”

The man’s words only seemed to make Jake feel worse, but he stopped complaining. He knew it was pointless, anyway. Whatever Master wanted, happened.

Soon, the majority of Jake’s long blond hair had fallen to the floor, and the stud was rocking a shorter haircut than he’d had since middle school. He looked amazing. The deeply hurt expression on his face only made him even more beautiful.

We laughed at his misery, and took a couple photos of the jock. The remnants of Coach’s cum had dried on his reddened cheeks, by now, and there were teeth marks around his nipples. Most importantly of all, there was still a huge tent in his basketball shorts. Our gorgeous, shirtless, short-haired bitch was subconsciously enjoying every second of all this attention.

Of course, it wasn’t long before we pushed him back to his knees, and forced another round of cocks upon the traumatized hunk. Jake had to take both of us at the same time, because we were both way too eager to let the other go first.

He gagged and struggled in our hands as we pounded his throat together. Coach was first to cum, so after he shot another load of semen into the slut’s mouth, I took Jake’s heated face for myself and starting fucking his head as hard as I could. I didn’t care that he gagged, again and again and again. God knows, if he puked I’d just have another excuse to punish him.

The feeling of his warm, wet mouth around my cock was pure heaven. His glistening puppy eyes looked up at me with so much pain and submission, I caught a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and I couldn’t hold myself together much longer. With a loud groan, I coated Jake’s throat with my sperm.

I tossed him to the floor, and the linebacker lay panting and coughing on the carpet. Ruined and defeated. Our very own, college athlete whore. Coach squatted down next to him, too eager to give the stud a break, and started pulling off his sneakers and shorts. As the fabric was yanked away, two familiar, beautifully round buns appeared into view. Turned out the stud was still wearing his special underwear.

“Would you look at that!” Coach laughed, slapping the boy’s thick ass, “Only a jockstrap for you, eh, little slut?”

Jake’s eyes found mine, and I could almost taste his shame in the air. Seemed like he’d been even more obedient than I thought, the last couple weeks, even though he’d refused to see me. How adorable.

“Only a jockstrap, huh?” I mocked him, looking down at him with amused contempt. “In this kind of weather? Who’d you do that for, Jakey?”

His eyes were locked on mine, his face burning red, and his lower lip was trembling. The big, famous jock had never looked so fucking pathetic. “F-for you,” he whispered, in the tiniest voice possible. “For you.”

Coach laughed, and spat on Jake’s exposed hole.

“Good God. What a bitch you are,” he said, pushing his fingers into the stud’s ass without warning. “I’m gonna split you apart, boy. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll have to be benched for the next five games. A little fag bitch like you shouldn’t be on the field, anyway.”

The man looked up at me for approval, and I nodded. “Go ahead,” I said, “You can have the first round. Fuck this faggot as hard as you can.”

As Coach positioned himself behind the half-naked jock, Jake kept his eyes on mine. He always kept his eyes on mine. I crouched down, and placed a hand on his face. This boy never stopped astounding me. All that beauty, all that fame… he could’ve had the world, if he wanted to. He could’ve been at the top of every hierarchy. But instead, time after time, he chose to throw it all away, risking everything for just a filthy, embarrassing kink.

I was so curious to know how his insides worked, how and why his brain was wired this way. And he was so unbelievably beautiful, still, even half-naked on the floor with his Coach’s fingers up his ass. So fucking beautiful. I wanted to keep him with me forever.

Jake groaned loudly when Coach brutally slammed his way into the tight bubble butt, grabbing those hips and driving his rod all the way inside.

The boy kept his eyes on mine as the man started pounding his hole, harsh and mercilessly, and I watched him drift between pain and pleasure.

It was his Coach’s dick up his ass, but I was really the one fucking him.

I was always gonna be the one fucking him.

For the next couple hours, Coach and I spit-roasted our Jake into oblivion. Both his holes were creamed and filled with cum, over and over again until a river of semen was flowing down his big thighs. Hands squeezed his muscles, nails left marks across his sculpted torso, and tongues left trails of gleaming spit all over his body. He was our bitch, our brainless sextoy, and he would do whatever we wanted.

Neither of us was holding back. Coach and I both fucked the linebacker with all our strength, pounding his holes with such force any normal person would’ve been broken in two. But this wasn’t just any normal person. This was our slut, our 220lbs jockslut, bulging with muscle from head to toe. His body was meant for this, had been created for our pleasure, and the enormous boner between his thighs revealed how much he enjoyed this brutal game.

He just couldn’t help himself. At some point, Jake surrendered to all those feelings washing over him, and started moaning like an animal in heat. Numerous times, he shot his own load onto the carpet. He had forgotten about all the pain, all the humiliation; all he wanted was cock, more cock, endless cock for the rest of his life. He needed us, begged us for more, craved the feeling of hot sperm filling him up and spilling out of his cunt.

By the time we finished, Jake was worn out and exhausted. As were Coach and I. All of our balls had been emptied completely, and the stud’s naked body carried all the proof of that. Almost his entire body was coated in a layer of cum, and his guts looked bloated from the amounts of jizz we pumped into them.

I made sure to take one more picture before we finally left.

“I have to say, you done trained him well,” Coach chuckled, while we walked onto the parking lot. It was already dark outside. Jake was walking after us, quietly following with his head down. He smelled like sex and sweat, his face and body still covered in semen, and cum dripping out of his ruined ass with every step he took. He had tried cleaning himself up a little, but it wasn’t of much use. His shirt and shorts were practically drenched in spunk, and stuck to his skin in several spots. Luckily for him, there was no one else around to witness his defeat.

I thanked Coach for such a lovely evening, and the man thanked me back.

“See you next week, handsome,” he grinned, ruffling Jake’s shortened hair. The boy kept silent, and refused to look up.

While Coach left in his Range Rover, I turned to the spent stud. “I think it’s best if I take you home with me,” I said. He just nodded weakly.

Without a word, Jake followed me to my car and sat in the passenger seat. He couldn’t go to his dorm anyway, not like this. There really wasn’t a choice for him.

In silence, we drove away from the compound.

“Here, have a drink,” I said, handing him a glass of whiskey. “You’re 21 now, after all.”

The blond beefcake was sat on my couch, moping in silence. He looked just like the first time he’d ever come here, only a whole lot more exhausted. He wasn’t the same boy as he’d been then, of course. This Jake had endured things that his younger self would’ve found utterly revolting.

I sat down on the opposite couch, and we both took a sip. Just like all those weeks ago, I admired the sight of his strong body. His bulging arms, his trunks of legs; raw strength underneath an adorable exterior. Every inch of him was packed with muscle, every curve and edge defined by chiseled beef. A true athlete, from head to toe. I could watch my handsome linebacker all day, without feeling bored for a second.

Jake took another sip, stared at his glass for a moment, then gulped the entire contents down his throat. I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.

“Can I have more?” the stud asked, refusing to meet my gaze.

“Thirsty, huh?” I said. “Alcohol’s not gonna help you cope, boy. If anything, it’s only gonna make you feel worse.”

He shrugged, and grabbed the bottle anyway. He poured himself another inch, and chugged it. I just sat and watched him beat himself up. He took another shot, and grimaced at the taste.

“What, not gonna punish me, this time?” Jake scoffed, “Ain’t I breaking all those fucking rules of yours? Shouldn’t you tie me up and beat the shit outta me again?”

I ignored his insolence, and threw back my own glass. “I think you’ve been punished enough, tonight,” I said. The linebacker scoffed again, and reached for the bottle once more. Just before he could pour himself another drink, I told him he’d already had enough.

“Put it back down,” I said. Not a request.

Jake threw me a hateful look, and tightened his grip on the whiskey. His eyes were shooting fire, but I stayed completely calm. I repeated myself, and after a couple moments of tension, the jock reluctantly put the bottle back on the coffee table.

We stared at each other for a while.

“I told you I wanted to stop,” Jake finally growled. “I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore. Why can’t you just respect that and leave me alone?”

“Because it’s a lie,” I said. “I know you. You don’t want this to stop. You’re just scared it’s going to ruin your life, so you tell yourself you need to stop. But deep down, you know you don’t want to. You need this.”

“You don’t know me at all,” he spat, clenching his jaw. “I don’t need this.”

I sighed. “No? Then why are you still only wearing a jockstrap? Why are you still following my orders, if you truly believed you’d never see me again?”

The stud was shaking with anger, unadulterated fury burning off him like wildfire. But he had no response to my questions. He just sat there breathing heavy, like a bull readying for attack.

“A couple hours ago, you seemed to know the answer,” I continued, “Lying naked in your Coach’s office, with his hand up your cunt. Remember what you said, when I asked you why you’d wear something like that?”

Still, no response.

“For you, you said. For you. As if you were showing your new lace panties to your boyfriend. You’ve been wearing that jockstrap for me, and me alone. You can’t stand being without me.”

“N-no,” he muttered, “No. Fuck you. I don’t need you. I don’t ne-”

“Enough!” I snarled, raising my voice. Jake visibly winced, and suddenly looked a whole lot less confident. “Be a fucking man, for once, and admit to yourself what you are! Why do you think I’ve been stuck in your head for the last five months? Why do you think you’ve been coming here, again and again, knowing you’d be tied up, tortured, and fucked like a dirty whore?”

He couldn’t speak, could only keep his eyes on the floor, wallowing and trembling in pain.

“Well?” I spat, raising my voice even more. The boy cowered under my gaze, shaking his head over and over. After all those months, he still didn’t have the balls to face the truth. Pathetic.

“You’re a bitch, Jake. A slutty, perverted faggot. It doesn’t matter what you keep telling yourself - you’re a fag, in and out, a born submissive in need of a Master. You’re a masochist, a cock-hungry bottom pig, and that’s who you’ll always be. The filthier it gets, the more you enjoy it. You need a man to treat you like trash, to hurt and humiliate you over and over again, because that’s the only thing that really gets your little dicklet hard. You need a Master, whether you like it or not. You need me.”

Slowly, without a sound, the first teardrop trickled down his face. It followed his cheek, along the creases of his mouth and chin, and finally fell down to the floor.

Jake was crying.

It was the first time he ever cried in front of me, probably the first time he cried in front of anyone in a very long time. The alcohol, exhaustion, and all the pain of tonight became too much for the collegiate athlete.

More tears followed, and his entire body shuddered with soft, almost silent sobs. He angrily wiped his cheek with his hand, but the stream of tears kept flowing, down his neck and into his shirt. The valves had been opened, and it was gonna take a while before they could be closed again.

“I h-hate you,” Jake sobbed, wiping away another couple tears. “I f-fucking hate y-you.”

I got up, walked over to him, and placed a hand on his head. I didn’t comfort him, didn’t hug or whisper some soothing words; I just let him feel my presence, and get it all out.

Finally, the first, real audible sob escaped his throat.

“You’ve taken m-my hair, my c-coach… w-what more do you want from me?”

“Coach wasn’t really my doing, Jacob. He’s been lusting after you ever since you set foot on campus,” I said. “It was bound to happen at some point.”

The linebacker only started to cry harder, real heartbreaking sobs that tore through his entire being. I felt his fingers clinging onto my pants, and I let him hide his tear-stained face in my shirt.

“But what I want is you, boy. I want you to be mine, and only mine,” I said, stroking through his shortened hair. “And I want you to accept what you are. That’s the only way you’re ever going to be truly happy.”

For a while, I let him cry his eyes out, soaking my shirt. All those months of pain and confusion were finally being released. He needed this.

When he got himself back together a little, I released his hair and walked away from the couch, toward the large, full-body mirror at the other side of the lounge. I told him to follow, and the jock slowly made his way over to me, still sniffling with his puppy eyes red and puffy.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, and made him look at himself in the mirror. The first time he saw himself without his signature long, golden locks. This shorter hair looked gorgeous on him, but that wasn’t the point. It was the memory that counted. I was the one who had taken his hair, against the boy’s will. I was the one who decided how he should look, not him.

“Take off your clothes,” I said. Jake’s lower lip was trembling again, and his eyes were begging me for mercy. “P-please,” he whispered, softly shaking his head, “No more. Please, s-sir…”

“I’m going to help you accept who you are, Jacob. Take off your clothes.”

Against his will, the linebacker started stripping before me. His sweaty, semen-drenched shirt and shorts were tossed to the floor, revealing the gorgeous body I knew and loved so well. I told him to take off his jockstrap too, and soon enough, I could once again lay eyes on his fat cock. He was gleaming from head to toe, a beautiful, filthy cum-rag, muscular like a god but covered in the sperm of other men.

“Look at yourself,” I said, letting my hand roam his torso, “Tell me what you see.”

Jake lifted his gaze to the mirror, and saw his own reflection. I could see the pain behind those adorable puppy eyes. “A b-bitch,” he muttered, hurt and ashamed, “A faggot.”

“Exactly. That is you, boy. A bitch, a faggot. That is what you are.”

I pushed him to his knees, and buried my fingers in his damp hair. Tears started falling down his cheeks again. His eyes were glued to the mirror, horrified by the sight of himself. A strong, muscular boy, naked and sobbing at his Master’s feet. There was nothing left of the popular jock he’d always been. There was only pain, now. Pain and sex.

“Get yourself hard,” I ordered, gently ruffling his hair. Jake didn’t even have the strength to resist anymore. He enclosed a hand around his fat, emptied dick, and started jerking off. It didn’t matter how much his cock hurt, after all those hours with Coach and me. It didn’t matter how heavy his limbs felt, drained and exhausted from all that suffering. It didn’t matter how hard he cried. All that mattered was Master.

“What are you, Jacob?” I asked.

“A b-bitch,” the linebacker sobbed, his voice so wonderfully broken, “A f-faggot. A pervert.”

“Not to me, baby. To yourself. Look yourself in the eyes, and admit what you are.”

His whole body was shaking, streams of tears flowing down his handsome face. But still his hand kept going, tugging at his tool as if it were the last thing he’d do.

Jake looked at himself in the mirror, and slowly opened his mouth. From his throat came the tiniest, most vulnerable voice I’d ever heard.

“I-I’m a bitch,” the jock whispered. “I’m a f-faggot. I’m a bitch.”

And for the first time, he really sounded like he believed himself. There was no more reason not to. He was crying and jerking off, naked at another man’s feet, his golden locks shortened against his will. For the first time ever, he saw himself in that mirror like he truly was. A scared, helpless bitch.

I kneeled down next to my beautiful beefcake, and inhaled the scent of sweat, sperm, and submission. His warm, strong body melted in my hands, and I licked the tears from his cheek. “You’re not just any bitch, Jakey,” I whispered, guiding the hand that was pumping up and down his huge dick. He gasped at my touch, and stared at me in the mirror. “You’re my bitch. You’re not alone. From now on, you will always have me.”

The linebacker nestled his head against mine, and let me take the lead. Together, we tugged at his meaty tool, up and down, up and down, until I felt his fingers desperately clinging onto me, a weak moan rising from his throat.

For the last time that night, Jake ejaculated. I felt his body shudder in my hands, a soft ‘M-Master’ being drawn from his lips as I pumped the sperm from his cock. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, visibly fighting the exhaustion, but still he managed to keep them locked on mine. Jake watched me in the mirror as I rubbed his beefy chest, kissed his pretty face, and made sure to release every drop of cum from his fat balls.

His final load was the ink that signed our deal. There was no turning back for him now. Now matter what happened, he was bound to me - and he felt it. After all those months, Jake had finally, truly surrendered.

When his orgasm finally subsided, a nice little puddle of white lay before us. I got back to my feet, and expected him to do the same - but the naked jock simply got on all fours, leaned forward, and started licking up the mess he’d made. He needed no threat, no command, nothing - it was just sheer instinct that drove my boy to clean up after himself. My training seemed to have borne fruit. I’d never been more proud.

It took a moment, but Jake continued until there was no sperm left. Then he looked up at me, strings of his own semen dripping from his glistening lips, and I stroked through his hair.

“That’s a very, very good boy,” I said, petting him affectionately. His cheeks still glistened with the remnants of his tears, and I could still see the pain in his reddened puppy eyes; but somehow, the jock managed to muster up a little smile. Master thought he was a good boy. That was all that mattered.

“You’ll sleep here, tonight,” I decided. He had earned that privilege. I started walking toward the hall, and Jake followed like a perfect little pup. Naked, on hands and feet, drenched in cum. Like his true self.

I would’ve forced my boy to shower first, normally - and even then, he wouldn’t have been allowed the comfort of an actual bed. Whenever a boy stayed over at my house, they slept on the floor, or in a cage.

But Jake had done so well, tonight. He had given me everything, and more. For tonight, he deserved some comfort. I led him straight toward the kingsize bed, and allowed him to lie right next to me on the mattress. I got out of my clothes, turned the lights off, and finally lay down.

The big linebacker curled up against me, and I took him in my arms.

With his head resting on my chest, my boy soon fell asleep. All he longed for was some soothing warmth, after all that pain and suffering. He was looking for safety and protection with the man that had hurt him the most; the man that had taken his perfect, Midwestern, all-American life, and had crushed it to pieces. The man that had fucked him, whipped him, humiliated him, and broken him, over and over and over again. The man that turned his world upside down, inside out, and had him question every single thing he ever thought to be true.

The man that made him feel like no one else in the world ever could.

His Master.

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End of the first Act. Hope y’all enjoyed it. Act II will start when I finish the first couple chapters.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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The next several months went by in a blur.

Never in my life would I have thought my sophomore year of college to go like this. Almost every week, I went by the man’s house to get tied up in his basement, to get whipped and tortured, and ultimately have my ass fucked by my ‘Master’.

School, football, my friends; it felt like nothing of my old life mattered anymore. I still did everything I’d always done - going to class, going to practice, hanging out with people - but I barely even noticed myself doing any of it. It was like my body did everything by itself, while my mind was out somewhere, thinking about very different things. All I could think about was that man, the feeling of his ropes around my wrists, the feeling of his cock inside me.

Every week I waited for his call. I’d sit in my room every night, hoping for his name to pop up, so I could drive over to his place and throw myself into the most perverted shit he’d come up with. I always felt like a fucking teen girl, desperately waiting for her crush to text her back. It was pathetic, and I hated myself for acting like that - but I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

No matter how many bruises, scratches, and whip marks he gave me, and no matter how sore my ass would be every goddamn time, I couldn’t stop wishing for more. Slowly but surely, I found myself longing for the pain. I’d lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling with my cock hard as a rock, missing the feeling of someone tweaking my nipples or punching me in the face. It felt like I was torn between two personalities; one straight, popular college jock who lived during the day and was perfectly normal - and one sad, disgusting faggot, who thrived during the night and would do the most degrading things, just to get off.

But the more I went to see my ‘Master’, the more these personalities seemed to blend. As instructed, I always wore my jockstrap like an obedient little fag, even when temperatures dropped below 20 and I felt like my ass was gonna freeze off.

Sometimes he’d give me tasks, too. He’d tell me to take a selfie with a finger up my ass in the public bathrooms on campus, or to film myself jerking off in my car in clear daylight. I did it all.

Whatever he said, whatever he wanted. Just obeying the guy was enough to make my boner jump up.

I did try fooling around with other boys, too. Turned out there were plenty of gay guys interested in me. I’d only have to get drunk at a party, search the room for a second, and I’d find some guy in the corner drooling over me. I still didn’t need any of my friends thinking I was gay, so I’d just take those hookups to the woods, or down by the river, and made sure they wouldn’t go blabbing to anyone. During those encounters, I really tried my best to forget the old man. I really did. But it never worked out. Even if they were big, bearded, and kinda dominant, nobody made me feel the way I did strapped up and blindfolded in Master’s playroom.

The longer this went on, the more frustrated I got. After every raunchy night at the man’s place, I promised myself never to go there again. I promised myself to ignore his calls, delete his number, and return to the happy, normal life I’d lived for 20 years already. The memories of whips, ropes, and dildos would flash before my eyes all night, and they made me hate myself more than anything.

This gotta stop, I’d try to convince myself, This isn’t you. This fucking pervert is manipulating you into doing all this gay shit, and it’s gotta stop. This isn’t who you are. But with every hour that passed, those feelings of resistance ebbed away; and horniness replaced them. Horniness was my biggest enemy, the only reason I hadn’t been able to turn away from that man yet. Horniness made me kneel and whine and beg like an animal in heat, and horniness was ruining my life.

When the day would come for the man to call me, there was not a cell in my body still keen on ignoring him and deleting his number. All the embarrassment and self-loathing would be gone, and all I could think about was how much I needed him to fuck me again.

It was an endless cycle; being his bitch, then hating myself for it, promising never to do that shit again, then to get horny and end up being his bitch once more. I was stuck in a loop within my own body, and I had no clue how to get out of it.

Then, at one point, something happened. Something that was enough for me to finally push the button and break everything off.

It was a cold Thursday in early February, and my roommate and I had just gotten back from practice. We were both exhausted, and I let myself fall onto my bed with a loud sigh. Normally, Joe’d immediately run off towards his girlfriend’s dorm, but not this time. He sat on his own bed, and looked pretty serious all of a sudden.

“Dude, what��s going on with you?” Joe asked. “You’ve been playing worse than ever, the last couple weeks. I thought you were going for that co-captain title.”

My face hardened, but I knew he was right. With my Master constantly buzzing around in my head, it had gotten pretty much impossible for me to focus on football. Coach had come to talk to me several times already, but I still hadn’t improved.

“I dunno,” I mumbled. “Just keep getting distracted, I guess.”

“Well, get it together, cause we can’t afford to keep losing. If you keep playing this bad, Coach is gonna fucking take you off the team.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I spat, getting a little angry with him. “I’m doing my best, dude. That’s all I can do. Get off my dick, would you?”

Joe scoffed, and shook his head. “Whatever. I’m just tryna help.”

He got up, grabbed his bag, and muttered he was going to his girlfriend’s. Just before he walked out of the door, he stopped and turned around. “Also, I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s pretty fucking obvious you’ve only been wearing that jock, lately,” he said.

I felt my body freeze. Shit. Maybe I hadn’t been as sneaky as I thought I’d been.

“And those ‘accidentally’ torn jerseys of yours? All those bruises everywhere? The fucking boners all the time?” Joe continued, “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on with you, but there’s clearly some stuff you need to figure out. I know your GPA’s dropped, too. You need to get your act together.”

With that, he walked out, and slammed the door behind him.

I sat completely petrified in my bed for a good couple minutes.

My face was burning hot, and my stomach felt like someone was squeezing it in their hand. The slacking at practice, and school, okay - but the jockstrap, the boners? I never thought anyone would have noticed anything. I’d been extremely careful always to turn up first in the locker rooms, and always be the one to leave last, so no one would see that I didn’t change back into normal underwear. But I guess I hadn’t been careful enough.

The possibility of someone finding out about it had always been a huge turn on for me. That was the biggest reason I wore it in the first place, the fantasy of how humiliating it would be if I’d be exposed. But now someone had actually found out, it didn’t feel like such a turn on anymore. I felt like I was gonna be sick.

If Joe - or anyone else, for that matter - would find out that I’d been getting tied up, whipped, and having my ass fucked by an old pervert, my life would be over. Completely dead. I’d lose all my friends, my reputation, and any shot at the NFL.

I couldn’t let that happen. My roommate had already gotten too close, and this is where it was gonna end. It had to.

So, just like that, I stopped listening to my horniness. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to get fucked again, or how damn good it felt to have the man playing with my nipples. It didn’t matter how horny I was. I just couldn’t do this anymore.

Joe was right. I needed to get my act together.

I’d worked my whole life to get here, to eventually get into the NFL. I was the varsity linebacker at one of the best college football teams in the country, and my chances at going pro were looking great. I couldn’t fuck this up now, just because of some kink I’d discovered.

Coach had already called me out on slacking a couple times, and I knew he wasn’t gonna do it again. It was time for me to focus on football again, to show Coach and everyone else I wasn’t gonna let the team down anymore.

I was gonna have to get my GPA back up, too. Studying hadn’t exactly been a priority, with images of bondage and orgasms constantly roaming through my head, so I’d let things go a little. But I knew if I ever wanted to get a degree, graduate, and have a decent future, I was gonna have to start focussing on my books again.

As soon as Joe left the room, that night, I got up, dropped my pants, and changed my jockstrap for real, normal underwear.

It felt a little strange, at first, having something actually covering up my ass properly, but I knew this had to happen.

Playtime was over. I wasn’t fooling around with that pervert anymore.

The only problem was how on earth I was going to bring that to him. He’d beaten the shit outta me, several times before, and that had just been for fun; I didn’t even want to think about how he’d react if I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.

But there was no other option.

Waiting for him to call me was useless, since he always called on different days, at different times. It was his way to keep me nervous and excited at all times, I guess. The idea that his name could pop up at any given moment kept me tightly in his grip.

But today, I was calling him. There was a big chance he wouldn’t even answer, but I had to try. I knew myself - if I waited too long with this, I would just end up getting horny again and go back to the pathetic bitch I’d been for months now.

I took a deep breath, found his name in my contacts, and felt my stomach turn. Fuck. I was really doing this. With trembling hands, I pressed the little phone button. My heart was pounding in my throat, and I was clenching my fist so hard it hurt. The phone rang, and rang… I was counting the beeps, desperately trying to calm myself down, but it only made me more nervous.

5… 8… 10…

After the line rang twelve times, I was about to hung up - only to suddenly hear the man’s deep voice in my ear. I froze, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but sit there in silence and torture myself.

“Hello?” he said again, and I pushed myself to greet him back with the greatest effort.

“This better be good, boy. I don’t normally answer calls from subs.”

“R-right,” I muttered, “Well, I just wanted to call, b-because… uhm, because I…”

“Yes?” the man sighed impatiently.

“B-because I need to tell you something. S-something, uh…”

“Spit it out, for God’s sake. I haven’t got all night.”

Right. Okay. I closed my eyes, and took another deep breath. This was it. It didn’t matter what I wanted or not - I had to do this. I had to do this.

“I-I… I can’t see you anymore,” I finally said. There. Out into the world.

I waited for him to respond, but the line stayed quiet. There were about a thousand things rushing through my head in that moment, every kind of emotion stacked on top of one another, but I had said what I had needed to say.

I had to do this. I had to do this.

“M-my roommate almost found out, today, and Coach knows something’s up, too. I-I just can’t keep doing this anymore. I-I’m sorry.”

Still, no response.

“S-sir?” I muttered.

“I see,” the man finally said. His voice was cold and distant, and my stomach shrunk to the size of a peanut. “I thought you’d moved past that ridiculous phase of denial, but apparently not. Good luck pretending to be normal, boy. Sooner rather than later, the truth’s gonna catch up with you.”

With that, he hung up.

I was left alone in my dorm room, confused and shocked at what I had just done. It was over. No more anal, no more ropes, no more whipping. No more filthy sex, embarrassment, and being called a fag. I was gonna go back to my normal, college life, with nothing but football, exams, and frat parties. People of my age, without a care in the world. That was how it was gonna be. That was how it should be.

That night, I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling for hours.

It was really over. He was gone.

I was alone again.

Several weeks later…

“P-please,” I muttered, desperately driving my hips backward. “Please. Please.”

His hands were all over me, fingers digging into my flesh, nails scratching my skin; his tongue on my face, his boner resting between my cheeks. My hole felt so fucking empty without him.

“Tell me what you want, Jake,” his voice sounded in my ear. I was burning up, clinging onto him with all I had, fighting with the ropes that kept my wrists and ankles in place.

“F-fuck me,” I begged, “Please, sir… it’s been so long…”

He yanked at my hair, and pinched my nipple. I felt his cock press against my entrance, his breath in my neck, and I arched my back like a total slut.

“You want that cock, baby?” he whispered, “Want me to split you open?”

“Please, p-please,” I moaned, going insane without him inside me. He was so close, so fucking close, I would do everything to make him pound me with that enormous dick again.

“Breed my pussy, please,” I whined, “Just one more time. I’m begging you. P-please, Master…”

Finally, I felt the head of his cock pushing forward, pressing into my entrance and working its way inside of me. A loud, continuous moan rose from my throat as Master started fucking me again. He was so big, he filled me up completely, and I felt him throbbing inside me. My hole was being stretched like never before, but there was no pain - or there was, tons of it, excruciating pain shooting through my entire body, but I loved it, I loved it, and I needed even more. His fingers buried themselves in my pecs, and the man fucked me with full force.

“Ohh f-fuckk!!!” I moaned, feeling his hips slamming into mine, “F-fuck me!! Nggh!! P-please!!”

“Go ahead, Jakey,” he growled, pulling his cock out a couple inches, then pounding it all the way back in, “Go ahead and cum for your Master. Show me who you belong to.”

Everything exploded in white hot ecstasy as he pushed me over the edge. I felt his sperm shooting up my ass, and I cried out like an animal as my own cock emptied itself.

Dripping with sweat, I woke up from the dream.

It was dark, still. Pitch black. I glanced at my phone, and saw it was only just 3am. Great.

My boxers were hot and sticky, glued to my thighs by something wet. I sighed, and awkwardly made my way over to the bathroom. Joe was snoring in his corner of the room, soundly asleep as always.

The sudden, bright light in the bathroom made everything blurry and painful for a couple moments. Then my eyes got used to the lamp, and I looked at myself in the mirror.

This was the third time already, this week. The third time he’d appeared in my dreams and made me cream my underwear in my sleep. The third time I’d dreamed of him, and his massive cock in my ass.

I sighed, and started cleaning myself up a little. There were circles under my eyes, and my limbs felt like lead. My entire body felt like it was constantly being pushed down by something, something I couldn’t get a grip on, and it was fucking exhausting. I could barely sleep, these days. Whenever I did manage to doze off, I’d wake up somewhere in the middle of the night, like this; covered in sweat and cum, mortified of my own fucked up brain.

He felt like a parasite, nestled in my head and taking over every last part of my life. I hadn’t heard from him for weeks - months, almost - and still he was there, whenever I closed my eyes. Still I felt him whipping me, humiliating me, fucking my ass. And still I longed for more.

In an attempt to rid my mind from all those perverted images, I put all my energy into football. All day, every day, football was all I focussed on. I spent hours watching film on our opponents, practicing new strategies on the field, and lifting my ass off in the campus gym. Even when we didn’t have practice, I’d be out there, running laps or improving my tackling.

It paid off, alright. Coach praised me several times, for managing to get my head back in the game, after all those weeks of slacking. Joe and the other guys seemed happy too, and we started winning games like usual. People on campus congratulated me too, saying how much they’d loved last week’s game, and my performance in particular.

It seemed like everyone was happy. Everyone except for me.

My body was on autopilot, every single day. I went to class, talked to friends, played ball, watched film, did my homework, played more ball, and went to bed. I did it all, but I was never there for it.

The only times I really seemed to be alive was at night, during all those torturous hours without sleep. I’d go through every memory of him I had. From the first time in the woods, all those months ago, to the time he’d made me suck him off under his desk, to the time he’d fucked four loads out of me in one night.

Then morning would come, and everything started all over again.

At some point, my birthday happened, too. My 21st birthday. Big party, lots of people - and of course, lots of alcohol. I spent almost an entire week getting wasted with my friends, hopping from bar to bar now that I was finally the last guy to have turned 21.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have any fun. I did, I really did. I had fun seeing all my friends, all their gifts, and hanging out with everyone, deep into the mornings. House parties, cheerleaders, the whole thing. Living the real college dream.

No, it wasn’t that I didn’t have any fun. It was just that I didn’t have the energy to keep my thoughts in the present. I just couldn’t help it. Even at the bar, drunk out of my mind, dancing like a complete idiot, I was still thinking about that fucker. I was still thinking about the ropes, the whiskey, and the feeling of the cold air on my ass. I couldn’t let it go.

And I tried calling him, of course. After one too many beers, I would walk outside for a moment and ring his number. But he never responded.

That was that. There was nothing I could do.

My birthday passed, and life continued at the same, boring pace. I kept my mind empty by playing football, and spent my nights wallowing in regret and loneliness. Again and again, like a machine completing the same fucking cycle until the end of time. Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks.

I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t sad, either. Everything just felt kinda numb.

It was March already, when some of my teammates came up to me with big news. Apparently, Coach had asked to see me in his office. Everyone was speculating that I’d finally be named as the newest co-captain.

“Go on, bro!” Joe laughed, patting me on the shoulder, “What are you waiting for? Go get that title, dammit!”

A new kind of pride buzzed through my veins, as I walked to Coach’s private room at the end of the hall. If the rumors were true, I had finally reached the next step in my career. This was what I’d worked towards, all those years.

If I was really going to be named co-captain, my dreams of reaching the NFL were pretty much guaranteed.

I knocked on his door, and Coach called me in. But as soon as I took one step into his office, I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the kind of meeting I’d expected.

Coach wasn’t alone.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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“Rule number four,” I said. “Your body belongs to me, and me alone. I can do whatever I want with it, whenever I want. Your wishes no longer matter. Understood?”

When he didn’t respond quickly enough, I let the whip crack down on the jock’s muscular back once again. Jake howled in pain, fighting with the ropes but unable to escape me. His strong arms were useless against the bonds on his wrists.

“Understood?” I repeated.

“Y-yes! Yes, sir!”

I laughed, and whipped him again. We had been doing this for almost half an hour now. Jake’s muscular body was covered in red whip marks, some deeper than others, some even bleeding a little. The jock was panting heavily and soaked with sweat, but he was taking it much better than expected. His cock had stayed rock-hard at all times, leaking precum onto the floor, even when I’d hit his crotch with the whip.

“Let’s see if you remember all four,” I said, “Go on, boy. From the top.”

“R-rule one,” Jake panted, nervously shifting in his ropes, “Never… n-never lie to M-Master.”

“Good. Next?”

“Rule two… eh… n-never… eh…”

I struck his beefy chest with the whip, and the stud bellowed in pain.

“Rule two: address your Master with respect,” I reminded him. “Start again.”

I hit him again, and Jake cursed at the top of his lungs. “Rule o-one, never lie to Master,” he growled, “Rule two, address Master with respect… r-rule three… p-pain is… pain is pleasure… rule four, m-my body belongs to Master…”

“Very good,” I grinned, whipping his beautiful body once more. “Again.”

I made the handsome linebacker repeat the rules over and over again, cracking my whip on his torso until my wrist was sore. Jake howled louder with every hit, struggling to keep his voice steady as he kept repeating his words. He was shaking with agony, gritting his teeth and breathing heavier than ever. I gave his stiff cock one more good hit, then finally put the whip away.

“You’re doing great,” I said, patting his reddened chest. Jake groaned and winced slightly at the touch. The numerous welts on his torso looked raw and painful.

I grabbed his fat cock, and gave it a few tugs. Just like I wanted, pain and pleasure were already merging. Despite the brutal whipping - or rather because of it - the linebacker was hornier than ever.

“Do you want to cum, Jake?” I asked, suddenly a lot more sensual, and the blindfolded stud nodded fervently. I pumped his big rod some more, and another wave of precum oozed over my fingers. I felt his whole body getting ready, his muscles contracting, his heart rate skyrocketing, all building up to that much-needed climax. But just before he would shoot, I released Jake’s cock.

The blond jock whined softly, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to find my hand back. I chuckled at the sight, and stroked through his damp hair. “Remember, boy. Your body belongs to me,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if you want to cum or not. You will cum when I want you to.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he muttered.

“In fact, you should try to forget about your little dicklet altogether. I know there’s another area of your body that gives you much, much more pleasure.”

I walked around the back of my victim, and slapped his bubble butt as hard as I could. Jake’s beautiful buns were still red and sore from the whip, and he growled aloud as I slapped them again. I dug my nails in those perfectly rounded cakes, and bit my lip.

“You have such a gorgeous ass, Jakey. One of the best butts I’ve ever seen,” I said. “An ass made for fucking. Made for me alone.”

I spread his cheeks, and made him gasp as I spat on his hole. That was all the lube he was getting. With my finger, I rubbed it over his entrance, and finally pushed inside.

Jake groaned aloud. Even though I’d completely destroyed his cunt during our last encounter, he was so goddamn tight again. Opening him back up was going to be another painful experience for the college jock.

I grabbed his long blond hair, yanked it back, and started fucking him with three fingers.

While the linebacker gasped and moaned in my hands, I brought my lips to his ear and softly bit his earlobe.

“How’s that feel, boy?” I whispered, steadily pummeling his hole with my fingers.

“A-ah- h-hurts, sir,” Jake groaned. I laughed, and increased my pace.

“Don’t you worry about that,” I said, “Once it’s loosened up, I’ll show you how much fun you can have with that fat ass of yours.”

I finger-fucked the stud for a couple more minutes, adding another finger and really stretching out his boypussy as best as I could. Jake was clearly very uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare complain - the painful memory of the whip was probably too fresh for that. When I finally decided he was loose enough, I took out my hand and walked over to one of the chests in the corner. I grabbed a medium-sized, black dildo, and walked back to the blindfolded beauty.

“Open,” I ordered, and Jake obediently opened his mouth. I pushed the toy past his lips, into his throat, as far as I could go before he gagged. He tried his best to take it all, but his reflexes ultimately won. I had him gag a couple more times, just for the fun of it, and finally pulled the spit-drenched dildo back out.

I moved back to his beautifully reddish buns, and pressed the rod against his entrance. I let him feel the size of it for a moment, let him enjoy the pressure on his hole before finally pushing inside. Jake flexed his arms and struggled with the ropes as I shoved the well-sized dildo up his ass. The linebacker moaned and groaned in pain, but I continued until it was all the way in. Then I switched the vibrating function on, and watched as my boy travelled to paradise.

“Oohh… f-fuck…..” Jake gasped, instinctively arching his back. The toy was pummeling the most sensitive spot of his body, his own little boy-clit, which could easily turn the big beast into a meek, wheezing faggot. He didn’t stand a chance against his prostate.

“Feels good, huh?” I grinned, and the big jock nodded.

I grabbed the dildo, twisted it around for a bit, then pulled it out a little, only to quickly slam it back into his tight cunt. I started fucking him with the toy, all the while it was vibrating inside him, and Jake went insane in the process.

I learned exactly how his boypussy worked, what motions drove the best reactions out of him, what spots he liked, loved, or loved even more; the blond stud writhed and squirmed like a total slut, gasping and moaning incessantly. Suddenly, I was back on the floor of my living room, all those weeks ago, fucking the virgin jock after luring him to my house. The way he had wriggled underneath me, producing the most beautiful array of sounds, completely surrendering to another man - it was the same, gorgeous fag I was playing with now, tied up and blindfolded in my basement. He was perfect.

Hearing and seeing the handsome young jock like that, I felt my patience quickly ebbing away. My boner was raging in my pants, and it was getting desperate for Jake’s fat ass. I pulled the black dildo out, tossed it to the side, and unbuckled my belt. I wasn’t going to bother finding any lube; at this point, there was enough spit and sweat on his hole anyway. I pulled down my pants, dug my fingers in the stud’s hips, and pushed into his bubble butt at last.

The feeling of Jake’s warm, wet hole around my cock was even better than I remembered. He was so goddamn tight. I grabbed onto his thick neck, and started fucking him hard. Real deep, brutal thrusts; driving my rod all the way inside, pulling back a little, only to immediately slam back into him as hard as I could.

The sound of Jake’s moaning mixed with the unmistakable sounds of sex. Balls slapping against balls, my hips colliding with his fat ass, the sloppy wet noises of his hole getting wrecked; everything was sweat and pain and pleasure, and I loved it.

“You like that, big boy?” I panted in his ear, holding his face close to me, “Like it when Master fucks that tight pussy of yours?”

“Y-yeah! Y-yeah!” Jake groaned, bucking his hips into me. All that teasing, whipping, and playing around, had gotten the linebacker really horned up. Every thought in his brain was reserved for me, and me alone; all he longed for was sex.

Minutes ticked by like seconds. I fucked the college stud for almost an hour, whispering degrading slurs in his ear while I clung onto his strong, muscular body. Jake loved every second of it, working with my rhythm like a perfectly trained slut, moaning and gasping without pause. He was one of the best fucks of my life. I had the young adonis exactly where I wanted him; tied up naked in my basement, completely vulnerable and submissive, unable to escape me. I held onto his beefy arms, and fucked him so hard I thought his bones were going to break. Even if they had, I wouldn’t have stopped pounding his tight hole. He was mine, no matter what.

Finally, after an hour, I found myself unable to postpone my climax for much longer. “Want me to breed your boycunt? Want Master to fill you up?” I growled, slamming into him with a sickening force.

“Y-yeah!” he whined, squirming with pain and ecstasy, “P-please! Ahh- f-fuckk!!”

I laughed, and gave his cakes another good slap. “Let me hear you beg for it, boy.”

“Aahh! p-please, Master!! Please b-breed my pussy!”

I slapped his ass again, and again. “C’mon, Jakey, you can do better than that!”

I felt him getting closer too, only a hair-length away from that blissful, desperately needed release. We were both spiraling toward our climax, bodies intertwined.

“P-please- please, breed my b-boycunt!” he cried, “Ahh!! I-I need your s-seed! P-please, Master!! F-FUUUCKKK!!!”

With a deafening howl, Jake arched his back further than ever, spewing forth a bucketload of cum. Every muscle on him contracted, his veins popped, and he bellowed like a defeated beast as his dick sent a fountain of semen flying through the air. It was the most beautiful surrender I had ever experienced. Jake’s magnificent orgasm pushed me over the edge at the same time. Wave after wave of hot sperm were pumped into his ruined hole. I buried my fingers in his neck, and growled victoriously. I had conquered him once again.

We stayed like that for several moments, taking in the intensity of our climax. Even when it faded, I refused to let go of my gorgeous linebacker. He was my prize, my trophy. No one was ever going to take him away from me.

“H-holy shit…” Jake panted, his beefy chest heaving up and down. I finally pulled out of him, and a load of cum came with it. The semen dripped out of his gaping boycunt, down his thick legs, onto the floor. The sight and smell of it alone made my cock rock-hard again - but I suppressed my desires. I know how much this night had already been for the rookie. It was time to end our little playdate. Or, it almost was.

I grabbed some of the rags of his jersey, and wiped my cock clean.

“That w-was… amazing,” Jake said, still recovering from our combined orgasm. I chuckled, and reached for his precious football helmet.

“Didn’t I tell you? Your ass is your greatest asset, boy. Not your cock,” I said, walking back to him with the helmet in my hand. I put it down at his feet, took off the blindfold at last, and grinned at the stud. His puppy eyes were filled with affection.

I took his pretty face in my hands, and finally placed my lips on his. He had been such a good boy, tonight. The big jock deserved a kiss from his Master.

Jake’s tongue let me take the lead, as per usual, and I made out with him for a while. I savored his taste, and the feeling of his warm face in my hands. I savored every inch of him.

Finally, I pulled back, and grabbed the helmet.

“Sir, can you…?” Jake asked, looking at the ropes, “They’re starting to hurt…”

“Almost, boy, almost,” I said. “There’s just one last thing that needs to be done.”

I took his big, juicy balls in my hand, and cupped them a little. “See, these are still full of cum, Jakey. I can’t let you leave my Playroom with a full sack.”

The linebacker frowned. He had clearly expected to be released, now that I’d fucked his ass and given him a kiss. But I couldn’t just let him go like this. He was way too happy and satisfied; I needed to give him just a little more suffering, just to make sure he wouldn’t forget his place.

I spat on his cock, and started jerking him off. Since he’d just shot a load, Jake was particularly sensitive - little gasps and grunts escaped his lips, and he shifted uncomfortably in his spot.

Regardless, he let me do my thing. I tugged at his rod at full speed, until the jock was humping my hand out of sheer instinct. This time, there was no teasing or edging; I jerked at his enormous meat, precum oozing over my fingers, until he threw his head back and moaned loudly. Once again, he came at my command.

Although slightly weaker than his previous one, Jake’s second load was still very thick and plentiful. I caught every last drop in his helmet. When he finished, I had collected a nice little white puddle.

But even after his second orgasm, I didn’t stop jerking. The college athlete started struggling with the ropes, frowning and groaning with pain. He begged for mercy, but I only started tugging harder. I wanted every last drop in those bull-sized balls.

“Come on, big boy,” I laughed, “Got any more? Huh?”

“Ah-ah! S-stop!” he yelled, “P-please!!!”

I kneeled down, and brought his fat cock into my mouth. While still jerking him off at top speed, I started licking and sucking on his hypersensitive tool, ignoring his pathetic whining. Like licking a big, salty lollipop, I lapped up all his precum, continuing to work his oversized rod with both hands and mouth until I felt a third orgasm welling up.

Just before he’d shoot down my throat, I pulled back and caught his semen in the helmet. Beautiful. I tugged at his cock until no more drops came out, and I finally got back to my feet.

Jake was red-faced and panting heavily. I chuckled at the sight, patted his beefy chest, and placed the helmet on his head.

The linebacker looked perfectly defeated as his own cum starting seeping down his face. My own, gorgeous, pathetic jock bitch.

“There we go,” I said. I got out my phone, and took a quick snapshot of the wonderful sight. “Now we’re done.”

Jake’s POV

Wearing nothing but my socks, cleats, and a helmet from which my own jizz was dripping down my face, I followed the man out of the room. Every inch of my body was burning. My wrists were red and sore, my cock and ass ruined, and I was covered in whip marks from head to toe. Everything around me felt weird, like I was wandering around in some kind of fucked up dream.

But even in my weirdest dreams, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a scenario like this. Getting tied up naked in an older man’s ‘playroom’, being tortured, humiliated, and fucked in the ass - and loving every second of it.

I couldn’t believe any of it had been real. I couldn’t.

This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this fucked up. I couldn’t be.

“You can take that off,” the man said, nodding toward the big helmet on my head. I absent-mindedly did as he said, drifting between shock and exhaustion. He grinned at me, and placed a hand on my cheek. “You okay, baby?”

A wave of strange feelings washed over me. Baby. That was the first time he’d called me that. Normally, it was fag, bitch, or slut. ‘Baby’ was a whole new thing; I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. ‘Baby’ wasn’t sex. ‘Baby’ was something much softer than that. Something I didn’t want to face.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled, awkwardly shaking off his hand. “Just tired.”

“I bet. That was a lot, for your first time. It’s getting close to 3am already.”

It took me a minute to register what he said - I hadn’t even thought about the time. We’d been in that dungeon room for almost four hours. Fuck. I knew I had an 8am lecture in the morning. That was gonna be hell.

We walked up the stairs, back to the real world, and I suddenly felt extremely exposed and filthy. Cum was still seeping down my legs, and I was drenched with sweat.

“Can I, ehm, shower?” I asked, quickly adding “sir?”

He just scoffed, and slapped my ass. “No, it’s time for you to go, Jakey. Playtime’s over.”

“W-what?”

“You didn’t think you could sleep here, did you?” he said, and I felt my face go even redder. I had just assumed we were going to bed, after all this - but we weren’t. He was just showing me to the door.

“No, that’s a right you’ll have to earn, one day,” he said. “Sleeping here, showering. For now, you have reached your limit. Grab your stuff and head home.”

He walked into the kitchen, and started pouring himself another drink, leaving me naked and confused in the hallway. Suddenly, anger flared up in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you serious?” I spat, clenching my fists, “You’re just gonna send me out like this?”

The man ignored me, and took a sip of his whiskey. That was his answer, I guess. I scoffed, and went into the living room to grab my stuff. My jockstrap had been cut away, so I just put on my sweatpants over my sore, leaking ass, and switched my cleats for my sneakers.

When Master walked in, I clenched my jaw and threw him a bitter look. His eyes narrowed, and he struck me in the face, hard.

“What the fuck, dude?” I groaned, now seething with rage.

He just slapped me again, and grabbed my neck. “You need to start behaving properly,” he hissed. “Fucking meathead. Did you already forget all those rules I whipped into you?”

“That was in there,” I growled, feeling his nails digging in my skin, “That was sex. Foreplay. You said it yourself. We’re not playing anymore.”

He tightened his grip on my neck, and I tried my best not to seem intimidated.

“You think this is a game? You think you can just stop playing whenever you feel like it?” he spat, “This game doesn’t end, boy. We’re always playing. No matter where or when. You are the bitch, and I am your Master. Understand?”

He was really squeezing my throat, at this point, and I nodded before he would get any angrier. The man released my neck, and threw me onto the ground with ease. All those hours in ropes had left me weaker than I realized. He kicked me in the nuts, and I doubled over, groaning in pain.

“You had better leave,” he spat, looking down at me with contempt. “And next time, I’m not tolerating any more attitude. If you thought that whipping was bad, wait till you see what I do to you when I’m actually pissed off.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I muttered, reaching for my poor balls. “Sorry, sir.”

Once the pain subsided a little, I managed to get back to my feet, pulled the sweaty compression shirt over my head, and made my way over to the front door. I didn’t even dare looking him in the eyes, or saying goodbye.

With the bits and pieces of my gear in my arms, I left the house, and got into my car.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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At around 9:30pm, Jake arrived at my house. Though he wasn’t wearing his gear, as instructed, I couldn’t help but notice how unfairly attractive he looked. His skin was gleaming with sweat, and he smelled like a locker room - which was exactly what I’d aimed for. No more fresh clothes and cologne; I wanted him as his true self. The sweaty, savage jock on the field.

He followed me inside without a word, clearly still carrying a whole bunch of frustration around with him, but his excitement was visible behind all those layers of anger. As we walked into the living room, I saw the memories flood back to the big blond jock. Of course, last time he was here, I had made him lick my shoes and taken his anal virginity. That was five whole weeks ago, but the memory of that night was still so fresh it might as well have been yesterday.

For Jake, it seemed to be the same, because I already noticed an obvious, growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“Didn’t I tell you to come in full gear?” I asked, when we’d sat down. He was wearing a tight compression shirt that made him look extra buff, with big sweat stains all over. Practice must’ve been intense.

“Yeah, ehm, the gear’s in my bag, dude. I couldn’t just walk out of the locker room in full gear, everyone would’ve seen,” Jake said, avoiding my gaze.

“So?”

“So they’d start asking questions, like ‘why the fuck aren’t you showering or changing into normal clothes?” he spat. “So I thought I’d just take it with me and put it back on when I got here.”

“I don’t care if people ask questions,” I said. “And I don’t care what you thought would be best. Next time, when I tell you to come in full gear, you better be standing on my porch in full fucking gear. Understood?”

He clenched his jaw, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now stop wasting my time, and put that gear back on.”

I happily watched as the linebacker changed back into his football uniform. He took off his sweatpants, once again revealing his thick legs to my hungry eyes, and put on his football pants with pads and all. He switched his sneakers for cleats, grabbed his shoulder pads and jersey, and put on his armor. The big linebacker looked massive in his full athletic attire, and I felt the blood rush through my veins as I looked him up and down. Like a sweaty beast, he proudly stood before me and awaited further orders.

“Helmet too,” I said. “And the gloves.”

“Really, dude?” he sighed.

“Full gear means full gear, boy. Helmet and gloves, c’mon. Ain’t got all night.”

The jock grudgingly obeyed. Soon enough, the blond stud was standing before me in all his glory, a real warrior straight from the field. Or at least, so he seemed on the outside. In reality, behind all those layers of protective gear and sweaty clothing, there was nothing but a submissive little bitch, a nervous fag excited by the thought of having another man tell him what to do. The full football uniform clearly filled him with pride, still making him feel like a big, manly alpha, but I knew better. Behind that vizor, there was only submission.

“Very nice,” I said, nodding approvingly at the sight of him. “I’ve seen you on the field before, of course, but it looks even better up close. Bet it makes you feel real strong and powerful, right?”

Jake nodded. There was a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“Like a soldier, almost. When you’re in this armor, you’re no longer just Jake. You’re part of a team, an army, a bigger purpose,” I continued. “Isn’t that what it feels like, when you’re out there with all the guys? Like you’re fighting a war? Battling for victory, doing everything you can to defend the University’s honor.”

The linebacker nodded again, and I noticed the pride in his expression. “Yessir,” he said.

I grinned. “And how does it feel, standing here in that same armor, in the colors of that precious University, right before the man who was the first to fuck your fat ass?”

Those brown puppy eyes stared right back at me. Just like that, his pride turned into shame.

“How do you think your teammates would react, if they knew what you really are? If they knew how you let me grope you in the woods? How you sucked me off, half-naked in my office, hidden under my desk like some dirty secret? How you licked up your own sperm from the floor, like a nasty fucking pig? What do you think they would say?”

The blond stud’s innocent eyes were locked on mine, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. I could see exactly how my words were hitting him, humiliating his straight persona with the bitter truth. I could see how much it hurt him, and I mercilessly continued.

“It’s a wonder you still have the balls to put on that armor, really. You might still like to pretend like you’re one of them, a real Alpha man, but no one would believe you if they’d heard how you moaned and screamed with my dick up your cunt.”

“S-stop,” Jake growled. As if.

“You’re a disgrace to those varsity colors, Jakey. You’re not even close to being a man. You’re a pathetic, perverted faggot, a slutty little bitch. I should fuck you on the field, right in front of everyone you know, just to show them what you really are.”

I expected some kind of explosion from the muscular beast, but there was none. The jock just stood there, his chest heaving up and down, his eyes caught between hatred and embarrassment. Five weeks ago, he probably would’ve tried to punch me in the face, for talking to him like that. But right now, he just let me degrade him all I liked. He was already well on his way toward becoming the meek little fag he was destined to be.

“Do you remember what I made you do, the first time you were here?” I asked, eyeing him with amusement.

The blond hunk kept quiet for a moment. It’d been over five weeks ago, after all.

“I made you tell me the truth,” I helped him. “The truth about who you really are. Why don’t you tell me again?”

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what was expected of him. Hearing him say it in full football gear was something of a dream for me.

“I-I’m a fag,” Jake mumbled. “I’m a faggot.”

“Of course you are,” I chuckled. “I’ve heard that one before, boy. I’m sure you can get a little more creative.”

Despite his helmet, I noticed his face had gone bright red.

“I… I-I’m your bitch,” the big stud muttered, “I’m your faggot bitch.”

I chuckled. “Go on.”

Fuck, this was embarrassing him. I loved every second of it. “I, ehm, I like it when you hurt me… I-I… like it when you h-humiliate me, and, ehm… when you boss me around…”

“Very good, Jakey,” I said. “You’re already starting to learn, huh? No more denying what you are. When you’re with me, you can be your true self.”

“Yes, sir,” the linebacker said, and my cock twitched in my pants. I can’t even begin to describe how good it feels to have a beautiful, 220lbs, fully armored, college football jock tell me he’s my bitch and that he wants me to boss him around. I’d dreamt of this moment ever since I laid eyes on the blond hunk for the first time.

“Go get me a drink, boy,” I said. “Glen Talloch, the one that’s on the kitchen counter. Oh, and you can take those gloves off, first. It’s too good of a whiskey to have you drop it.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said, and he staggered toward the kitchen.

A little later, the gorgeous beast returned with a glass in his hand. On the rocks, just how I liked it. He must’ve remembered from last time he was here. The big boy handed me the drink, and waited obediently for his next task. I didn’t ask or care if he wanted something for himself.

“Get my bag, will you?” I asked, “The leather one, over there.”

He did as he was told, bringing me the bag of papers like a proper manservant, and I got out a couple documents. While Jake waited quietly at the side, I started reading the papers as I enjoyed my whiskey.

It took a good couple of minutes before the football hunk found the courage to open his mouth.

“Sir?” he stammered, confused as to why I was suddenly ignoring his presence.

“Just some work things,” I explained, without looking up, “Won’t be too long.”

“B-but-“

“We’ll play when I finish, boy. Now hush, and let me read.”

The jock was smart enough to keep his mouth shut while I scanned the papers. He just stood there at the side, too scared to ask for a seat, too excited to call it quits and go back to his dorm. He just stood and waited for me to finish.

To be fair, it took me longer than I’d expected. The documents just kept going on and on and on, full of lengthy, uninteresting clauses and paragraphs. My glass fell empty somewhere halfway during the reading, which I barely even noticed, but Jake went to pour me another drink without a word.

It was getting close to 11pm already when I finally put down the last sheet of paper. The linebacker had been standing there for over an hour now, silently waiting in his heavy football gear, probably bored out of his mind. He had to be exhausted from practice, too. Still, he hadn’t complained once.

The stud’s face lit up as I put the papers into my bag, and got up from the couch. I didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at him - I just walked out of the room, down the stairs, into the basement. Jake followed like a puppy; a 220-pound, long-haired, sweat-drenched puppy, all too eager to play with his owner. The only sound in the house was the squeaking of his gear, the creaking of the wooden floor underneath his staggering weight.

We walked down the stairs, through the basement, through a somewhat hidden door, into a dark, stuffy space. I turned on the light, and heard the boy stop in his tracks as the room was revealed to him.

Although I hadn’t used the room in quite a while, it still looked as imposing and terrifying as it had in its golden days. The only light in the room was a single lightbulb, hanging on the ceiling, and the walls were painted a dark, blood-red. Racks of whips, chains, dildos and other toys adorned the space. Several ropes and chains hang from the ceiling, there was a dog cage positioned in one corner, and there were several heavy-looking chests that clearly contained more sadistic devices. Jake’s eyes were wide and filled with shock at the sight of my dungeon.

Suddenly, he must’ve realized what he was getting himself into. By then, of course, it was already far too late.

“Welcome, Jake,” I said, locking the door behind us. “This is my ‘playroom’, if you’d like to call it that. ‘Dungeon’ would also suffice.”

The big jock didn’t respond. He was still busy taking in his surroundings, his eyes scanning the ominous toys and tools around us. To him, the room must’ve seemed to have come straight out of some kind of 50 shades nonsense movie.

I told him to stand in the center of the floor, and grabbed some of the ropes attached to pulleys on the ceilings. “Arms up,” I said, and the linebacker obediently lifted his strong arms up. He was like a puppet, bound to my will.

I took one of his wrists, and started tying the rope around it. Jake didn’t protest, but he was throwing nervous glances at my knotting. Soon enough, his left arm was secured to the rope.

“Have you ever tried bondage, boy?” I asked, doing the same with his other wrist. The blond stud shook his head.

“I see. Well, to be honest, I probably shouldn’t be the one to introduce you to this,” I said. “I’m not particularly… considerate, with rookies. In fact, I’m more of the opinion that one should purposely go hard on a first-timer. Break them in as quick as you can.”

Jake audibly gulped.

“But you’re a big, strong jock,” I grinned, patting his shoulder pads. “You’re already used to quite the pounding. You can take more than the average rookie. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled. Both his wrists were now fastened with tight knots.

I grabbed the ropes at the other side of the pulleys, and pulled until his arms were lifted all the way above his head, the furthest they could go without him tearing some kind of ligament. I tied the ropes to pins in the walls, and stepped back to admire the sight.

The football hunk stood spread out in an X-shape, his biceps looking beefier than ever now the ropes had been tightened. I told him to try and get out of the knots, but the stud could barely even move his arms. His shoulder pads and helmet weren’t exactly helping with his flexibility, either. My linebacker bitch was completely trapped.

“There we are, big boy,” I said. “How’s that feel?”

“Tight,” he murmured.

“Well, I had to make sure you wouldn’t be able to break free. You’re strong, after all.”

“I won’t try to break free,” Jake said, frowning. “I already told you, I-I’m your bitch. I won’t break free.”

“You say that now, but when I start, you’ll try to break free regardless. Trust me.”

Those beautiful brown puppy eyes stared back at me with fear and confusion. I could tell how nervous he was getting, no matter how relaxed he wanted to appear. Every boy gets scared when their limbs are being restrained for the first time in their lives. It’s just an instinct.

“Let’s start by getting this off,” I said, taking off his helmet. A sigh of relief escaped Jake’s lips as he was finally freed from the undoubtedly sweltering armor piece, and a whiff of his sweat came with it. I tossed the helmet to the side, and dug my fingers in his sticky, damp blond locks.

“Look at you,” I whispered, my face hovering closely before his. “You big, sweaty beast… so confused, so naive… tied up in another man’s basement… what have you gotten yourself into, Jakey?”

I brought my lips closer to his, and pretended to kiss him. The jock eagerly brought his mouth forward, desperate for the feeling of my tongue on his, but I yanked his head back before our lips could touch. I did this again and again, until a soft, pathetic whine escaped his throat.

“What’s that, boy? Want me to give you a kiss?”

He nodded eagerly, shamefully. “P-please,” he whispered, humiliated by his own desire, “It’s been so long…”

I laughed, and enclosed my other hand around his thick neck. His submission was getting me on an amazing fucking high, and I needed more.

“You don’t get a choice anymore,” I hissed, “You’re mine now. Only mine. I can do with you whatever I want.”

Jake gasped as I brought my tongue forward, and started licking his handsome, reddened face, from the stubble on his chin to his glistening forehead. The salty taste of his sweat filled my mouth as I bathed my stud’s face in saliva, forcing him to close his eyes and digging my nails in that meaty neck. I could almost taste his yearning, the insatiable horniness my actions were invoking within him; this big, straight, 20-year-old college athlete wanted nothing more than me to play with him. He wanted me, needed me so, so bad.

“Hmm… getting eager?” I chuckled, kissing his jaw, his ear, his nose - anywhere but his lips. Jake was grinding his crotch against mine, weakly struggling with the ropes and producing the most pitiful sounds.

“P-please,” he panted, “Please, sir…”

“That’s Master for you, Jakey.”

Normally, he would’ve protested this - he already hated calling me ‘sir’, let alone ‘Master’. But in that moment, the poor linebacker was too horny to care about whatever little pride he had left. “Please, M-Master… please…”

“Awh, the big bitch really wants his Master to give him a little kiss, huh?”

He nodded, his eyes full of innocence and embarrassment, and I grinned at the sight. I brought my hand down from his hair, and let one finger trace his eager lips. He was already breathing heavy, and I felt his heartbeat quicken, his enormous boner pressed against mine inside our pants. His whole body responded to my every touch.

“Go on, show Master what you can do with that mouth,” I whispered, “Prove to me you’re worthy to be kissed.”

Jake immediately let me push past those soft lips, into his hot, wet mouth. The jock started lapping and licking my finger, tentatively at first, then more determined, using his tongue just like I’d taught him to do with my cock. I added another finger. He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that was trying to tell him how humiliating and pathetic this was, and sucked on my fingers the best he could.

“That’s a good boy,” I whispered, enjoying the sight and feeling of having my fingers worked over by the beefcake’s slutty mouth. I let him try his utmost best for a couple minutes, before pulling my finger out and leaving a trail of spit on his chin.

Jake let out another little whine when I stepped back. Of course I wasn’t going to kiss him yet; especially since he so badly wanted me to. He was gonna have to learn that his desires didn’t matter.

I opened one of the chests in the corner of the room, and got out a black cloth. I walked around the back of the bound stud, stroked his beefy arms, and tied the blindfold over his eyes. First I’d taken away his ability to move, now his sight; one step at a time, I was turning the collegiate athlete into my beautifully helpless toy.

I slapped his thick ass, and Jake jumped a little. Suddenly, he seemed to realize how vulnerable he now was, and the jock shifted awkwardly in his bonds. I yanked his hair back, and pushed my bulge against those fat buns of his.

“Are you scared, Jacob?” I whispered in his ear. Jake weakly shook his head.

“No?” I chuckled, “Not even a little bit?”

“N-no, Master,” the hunk muttered.

“You’re lying, boy. I can smell the fear on you,” I said, inhaling his intoxicating scent. “Don’t lie. That’s rule number one. Never lie to your Master.”

I slapped his ass again, and the linebacker groaned softly. I moved back to the front, and got out a pair of scissors from the opened chest. Jake had no idea what was happening, and could only wait anxiously for me to make the next move.

Before he even realized it, I grabbed his sweaty jersey and cut it right through the middle, then at his arms. This finally sparked some resistance in the boy; I pulled the rags from his body, revealing his shoulder pads, and he started struggling with the ropes.

“H-hey- what the hell!” he yelled angrily, “My jersey!”

“Like I said, you’re a disgrace to those varsity colors,” I laughed. “A bitch like you doesn’t deserve to wear something like that.”

“D-dude, I can’t just easily get a new one! How the fuck am I gonna explain-“

I shut him up with one hard slap in the face. Since he couldn’t see my hand coming, the blow landed even harder than normal, forcing a loud groan out of the beast. Suddenly, our sensual ‘playtime’ had turned into something much rawer, much more brutal, but the jock had no means of protesting.

“Rule number two,” I spat, while Jake recovered from the blow. “Never use that kind of tone with me. No attitude, no ‘dude’, nothing of the sort. If you want to say something, you’ll address me with ‘sir’, or ‘Master’.”

The football stud said nothing, but clenched his jaw in anger. God, I loved that look of pure, unadulterated rage on my boy. His muscles tensed, his breathing heavy; he hated me for treating him like this, but he hated himself even more for allowing me to do so.

I grabbed his shoulder pads, and undid the clips to take it off. Layer by layer, I was peeling away the big jock’s armor, stripping him of his battle suit to reveal the nervous, vulnerable faggot beneath. Once I’d tossed the shoulder piece to the side, I grabbed his tight compression shirt and used my trusty scissors a second time.

The anger and frustration sizzled on his blindfolded face, but Jake stayed quiet. The memory of my slap probably still stung on his reddened cheek.

I pulled away the rags of his final layer, and was audibly pleased at the sight of his glistening, sculpted torso. His bulging muscles looked even better under a gleaming layer of sweat. I bit my lip, and dug my fingers in his beefy pecs.

“Amazing,” I whispered, “Your tits keep getting better every time I see them, boy.”

Jake groaned as I used both hands to slap his chest. The sound echoed in the room, over and over again until there were red handprints all over him. I grabbed his nipples, and tweaked them until the linebacker yelped loudly.

“Rule number three,” I said, keeping his titties tweaked, “Your pain is my pleasure, and my pleasure is your pleasure. From now on, pain and pleasure will be intertwined. All you need to be pleased is feel pain, and all you need to be hurt is feel pleasure.”

“Ahh!” Jake cried, fighting with the ropes in an attempt to escape the burning pain in his nipples. I gave his tits another good twist, and left them sore and reddened. Then I wetted my fingers in my mouth and started massaging his sensitive nips. It took but a moment or two before the hunk was panting softly, instinctively bucking his hips forward as the arousal spread through his veins.

Without warning, I grabbed his nipples again, tweaking them as hard as I could. Jake let out a roar of pain, and vainly tried to get away. Then I brought my mouth to his chest, and started sucking on his sore spots, using my tongue to make the jock moan in pleasure.

I did this again and again, alternating between brutally tweaking and sensually licking his tits, until every touch on his nips would send equal waves of pleasure and pain through his thick body. Like I said, the boy was gonna have to learn that there really was no difference to a bitch like him.

Pain was pleasure, and pleasure was pain.

While Jake tried to catch his breath a little, I used my scissors on his football pants and revealed his thick legs. I cut away his sweaty jockstrap too, and his monstrous boner jumped up happily. Caught in my dungeon, wearing only his sweaty socks and cleats, Jake looked better than I ever could have imagined. He was beautiful - and it was time to really hurt him.

I gave his fat tool one, good tug, and walked over to one of the racks near the wall. I let my hand glide over several tools and whips, pondering which one would best satisfy my needs at that moment. I finally decided upon a simple, black single tail whip.

I walked back to my victim, admired the sight for a moment, and swiftly struck his beefy chest with the whip. The poor blindfolded jock never even saw it coming.

Jake roared loudly, making my cock twitch with impatience. I hit him again, even harder this time, and the 220-pound beast bellowed in agony.

“F-fuck!! Stop!” he yelled, struggling with the ropes. “Stop!!”

My response to that was another hit, right on his reddened, sore tits. Jake’s cries became more frantic, panicked, and he started bucking wildly in his bonds. The blindfold prevented him from anticipating the next blow, which clearly scared the crap of him. He finally realized how vulnerable he’d let himself get.

“Stop!! I-I wanna stop! Let me out!!” the boy whined. I just laughed, and struck his writhing body again. His screams and growls were like fucking cocaine to me, getting me higher and higher with every hit.

Jake was having a full-blown panic attack now, breathing quickly and spasming in the ropes like a wild horse. He kept yelling at me to stop, to let him go, and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Before things would get too out of hand, I sighed, and grabbed his face.

“Relax, Jake,” I ordered. “Listen to me. Relax. Accept that you’re no longer in control, and relax. There’s no point in fighting this. Relax and let go.”

“P-please,” he panted, “N-no more whipping. I can’t. I can’t.”

His heart was pounding furiously in his chest, his lungs heaving up and down with every panicky breath.

“Yes, you can,” I said. “Don’t you feel how much your body is enjoying this?”

I grabbed his big, leaking boner, and Jake gasped softly. No matter how panicked and terrified he was, his crotch would always betray him. “You love this, Jacob. Stop trying to resist. Your body is wired to enjoy this kind of pain.”

“B-but-“

“Focus on your breathing, and calm down,” I ordered. “I am here. Surrender, and relax.”

Jake tried to steady his breath a little, and I felt his body slowly relax in my hand. He was still trembling slightly, but at least he’d stopped panicking. Surrender was a word that seemed especially effective with my linebacker.

“Good boy,” I said. “Do you remember what rule three is?”

“P-pain is pleasure,” he muttered.

“Pain is pleasure. That’s right. So turn off your brain, let your body feel what it wants to feel, and enjoy. I’m going to bathe you in pleasure.”

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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“You should go,” I said, finishing what was left of my whiskey. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” the blond boy muttered. He was still shirtless, his muscular torso gleaming with sweat and the remnants of his own cum. He had wiped it off a little, but you could still see exactly where his seed had hit him.

After he put on his shirt, Jake obviously loitered again. I knew exactly what he was thinking, but that wasn’t going to happen yet. He was gonna have to earn that right.

“You’re not sleeping here, boy,” I said. The jock’s face lit up, and he avoided my eyes. Now that his horniness was gone, there was only room for embarrassment. “For now, this has been enough. Can you drive home?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He finally grabbed the pair of Nikes, and I walked him to the front door. Just before he’d step outside, I put a hand on his beefy shoulder and stopped him. Jake froze, and looked at me with an insecure expression on that handsome face of his. It was quite fun to think that in that exact moment, he probably felt cum seeping out of his sore asshole.

“Just one last thing,” I said. “We’ll see each other again, soon. I’ll call you, this time.”

He gulped, then nodded. I grinned. “And now that you’re starting to accept who you really are, I think it’s time for some changes. I don’t want you wearing those boxer-brief things anymore, ever. You’re going to wear only a jockstrap, starting this week.”

This sparked a hint of resistance in him, I noticed. Being told how to live his day-to-day life was not something he was used to. “How do you expect me to explain that to the guys, in the locker room?” he said, “Or my roommate? Everyone will see.”

I chuckled, and patted him on the back. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, boy,” I said. “Now, you better get going. The sun’s gonna come up soon.”

Jake’s POV

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It felt like something inside me had changed, as if someone had scooped my brain right out my skull and replaced it with their own. This wasn’t me, I kept telling myself, this wasn’t me - but if not me, then who?

Ever since I met that man in the woods, last month, I’d been feeling different. Strange. Weird. The way he talked, touched me, treated me; I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had no idea why I ever decided to go there in the first place. Everyone in town knew that was where guys - mostly older men - went to find other guys and hook up. It had been nothing more than a sudden impulse, a split-second decision. I was driving past that spot, on my way back from practice, and I just felt myself pull over to the parking lot. Curiosity had taken over my body.

As soon as I got there, I saw him. Big, bearded. Probably in his late fifties. I wanted to turn around and run away, but his eyes were locked on mine and kept me at bay. I didn’t know what it was. Something about this guy just petrified me.

I stood there looking like an idiot while he asked me my name, carefully approaching. It was like I’d just eaten a brownie, or popped a fucking Xanax, or something; I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but just stand there while this man felt me up and kissed me.

I don’t even fully remember how it happened. Suddenly I was on my knees, looking up at this imposing stranger, getting told to suck his cock. And I did. I actually did. He told me to give him a blowjob and I just fucking did it.

I don’t know what happened then, but next thing I know I’m in the guy’s car, shirtless, and he’s tweaking my nipples. My dick was rock-hard during all of it. At that point, I was so damn high on adrenaline I probably would’ve done anything he told me - had it not been for the fact he mentioned football.

That struck something within me. Suddenly I was back, back in control of my own body, back to the Jake I knew. And I freaked the hell out.

He knew me; my name, my team, probably even the fucking dorm I stayed at. He knew exactly who I was, and I’d just sucked his dick in the woods. Within a split-second, I felt like my life was crumbling all around me, my dreams of playing in the NFL completely shattered by one impulsive decision. And he kept calling me a fag, kept telling me how much I’d liked sucking his dick. So I got angry, and he kicked me out of his car. Then he just drove off with my shoes still in the trunk.

I don’t know why I called him. I really don’t. It wasn’t like the shoes were of any real importance. They were my old pair of Nikes, worn-out and pretty much ready for the dump. I easily could’ve done without them.

But I did call him, and I did go over to his house. As soon as I saw him, I was back to being this stranger, submissive and unable to think straight. His words were like knives cutting through my brain, and I couldn’t pull myself away. Long story short, he fucked me. He had me naked on all fours, and he fucked my ass to shreds. I let him stick his boner in my ass without a condom and shoot a load inside of me.

And I liked it.

That was the worst of it all; I actually liked everything he did to me. It was extremely painful, but I liked it. I liked the pain, the embarrassment, the fucking mortification of having an older man treat me like his bitch. I had shot my load without even touching my cock, something I didn’t even know was possible. That man was ruining me. I hated it, but I liked it.

Thankfully my roommate was asleep when I got home, that night. My underwear was pretty much soaked with that man’s cum, which had continued to leak out of me during my ride back to the dorm. I ended up throwing those boxer-briefs away - made sure to bury them underneath some other trash, just in case - and tried to clean myself up as best as I could before going to bed. I was completely drained, and as soon as I lay down, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

After that, I tried my best to forget about the whole thing, but it wasn’t easy. During lectures, I often found myself zoning out and going back to that place in the woods, or that night at his house. The things he’d said to me echoed in my head. My cock always grew hard in my pants, just from thinking about it. I had to make sure my laptop was covering my entire lap, otherwise people would be able to see the massive tent in my shorts. It also didn’t help that I was only wearing a jockstrap underneath.

See, those things are supposed to keep everything nice and tight in the pouch, but whenever I got real hard, my boner would just poke out at the top. I was just too big for that thing. It was fucking embarrassing. So embarrassing, in fact, that my dick would get even harder.

Again, I don’t know why I started wearing only jockstraps. I really don’t. It wasn’t like that man could check up on me every single day, and even if he could, why would I do what he wanted? Why the hell would I let a strange, older man tell me what to do?

It added a whole new layer of embarrassment and secrecy to my life. I had to wait for Joe (my roommate) to be in the bathroom, or something, before I could get dressed. On campus, I was constantly afraid my shorts would fall down, or someone would pull them down, and everyone would be able to see my bare ass.

In the locker rooms, I always had to make sure I was the first to arrive before practice, and the last one to leave afterwards. The guys couldn’t see that I’d already been wearing a jockstrap, and that I didn’t change back into normal underwear when I went home. If anyone found out, I’d be fucking dead.

But maybe… maybe that’s exactly why I did it. Just the thought of someone finding out, no matter how mortifying that would be, seemed to turn me on. I knew I was probably fucked in the head for feeling like that, but I couldn’t help it. By wearing that jockstrap, I was constantly reminded of that man, and how he had humiliated me. I was constantly reminded of what kinda sick fucking pervert I was becoming.

Another thing that didn’t make life easier for me was the fact that winter started to get closer. The colder it got, the more I would feel the wind on my bare ass. Especially the first couple of days after… after I’d gotten fucked, it was almost unbearable to go outside. The ice-cold wind on my sore asshole had me constantly bouncing between feeling uncomfortable and feeling horny. My friends asked me if I was okay several times, as we walked around on campus; most of the time, I was able to hide it pretty well, but every now and then a gasp would escape my throat as a gust of wind hit me. Luckily, I could just laugh it off, and they didn’t ask any further.

On the field, Coach seemed to notice something was up, too.

At one point, he even asked me to see him in his office after practice had finished.

“Anything you need to tell me, son?” he asked, looking concerned. “That wasn’t the greatest performance, out there. I expect better of you.”

“N-no, Coach,” I muttered. “Just… some personal stuff.”

“Well, you’d better get your head back in the game. We need you at your best, the coming weeks. There’s some important games coming up.”

“Yes, Coach. I’ll deal with it,” I said. “You can count on me.”

Since I was basically hard the whole time, I started jerking off a whole lot more than before. Joe was out with his girlfriend a lot, so whenever I was alone, I could just lock the door and bust a quick nut. I jerked off when I was in the shower, when I was supposed to study, and when I was lying in bed. Even when Joe was there, I’d just wait for him to fall asleep and try to make as little sound as possible.

I couldn’t help it. My entire life, I’d just muddled along, barely ever even thinking about sex. I’d been with a couple of girls, of course, but those were just drunk hook-ups. Nothing that really got me hard when thinking about it.

But then I met this man, and everything got turned upside down. It was like my body was trying to make up for all those years of boredom. I was hornier than I’d ever been, and there didn’t seem to be an end to my arousal.

Three weeks passed, and I was getting more and more eager every day. I kept my phone with me at all times, just in case he would call. I thought about calling him, at some point, but I knew he probably wouldn’t even answer. He’d said that he’d call me, after all. He seemed like a man who would keep his word.

Sure enough, he did keep his word. It only took way longer than I expected.

Almost five weeks after that night at his house, my phone rang. I was still in my room, getting ready to go to class, stuffing some books into my bag. I immediately recognized the number, and picked up as quickly as I could. Thankfully Joe had already left.

“Hello?” I said, sounding a whole lot more nervous than I would’ve liked.

“Hello, boy,” his voice sounded in my ear. “I’m at work, at the moment. But I could use a distraction. I’ll text you the address.”

For a moment, I was taken aback - he wanted me to come to his actual job, in clear daylight? “I-I got class,” I said. He just scoffed.

“As I said, I’ll text you the address. I expect you to be here in twenty minutes.”

With that, he hung up.

Master’s POV

Exactly eighteen minutes after our call, someone knocked on my office door. I told them to come in, and couldn’t suppress a grin as the big linebacker appeared before me. His long golden hair was tied up in a little tail, and he was wearing a tight t-shirt that perfectly showed every inch of his muscular torso. He looked pretty as ever.

Jake’s cheeks lit up as he saw me. “Hey,” he said, awkwardly closing the door behind him. It was so lovely to see him struggle with the uncomfortable air in the room. He probably wasn’t used to getting this nervous around anyone.

“Hello, boy,” I said, playing with a pen. “Made it past the receptionists, I see?”

“Yeah. Should really do something about your security. I just said I had an appointment with you, and they let me through.”

“Oh? I don’t remember ever giving you my name?”

“N-no, I… eh, I looked it up. With your address,” he admitted. I grinned. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I thought, after all. I told him to come closer, and he did. However, I didn’t tell him to take a seat at my desk. Seats were for real people. He was far less than that.

“Clever boy,” I said, looking his beautiful body up and down. His bulging muscles filled the shirt perfectly, and his legs looked especially thick in the grey sweatpants he was wearing. I couldn’t wait to have that body back in my hands.

“You look good.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. His face had already gotten a little redder.

“Have you done as I told you? Only wearing jockstraps?”

The big jock nodded. “Yeah,” he said. I raised an eyebrow, and he quickly corrected himself. “I-I mean, yes. Yes, sir.”

My smile widened. He hadn’t forgotten his place. “Show me, then,” I said. “Prove it.”

The handsome college boy got even redder, and he frowned. “H-here?” Jake stammered, “Right now? What if someone walks in?”

“Then they’d walk in on those beautiful, round buns of yours, boy. I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to see such a delicious ass.”

He clenched his jaw, and threw me an annoyed look. After a couple of moments of hesitation, the jock sighed and pulled down his sweatpants. He hadn’t been lying. A white jockstrap adorned his thick thighs, and as expected, the pouch was already starting to bulge.

“Gorgeous,” I chuckled. “Come closer, Jakey. Let me get a better look at that.”

The muscular linebacker did as he was told. My nose caught a whiff of his wonderful scent, and I felt my own boner grow in my pants. I grabbed the pouch on his jock, and pulled it down a little. Soon enough, his huge cock jumped up, its head impatiently poking out of the skimpy underwear. I took the glans between two fingers, and made the boy gasp aloud.

“Missed me, huh?” I grinned. Jake didn’t respond, but his big puppy eyes said enough. He was completely under my spell.

“How did it feel, walking around with your butt exposed like that? Only one, thin layer protecting your fucked hole from the outside world?”

“Cold,” the stud muttered, and I laughed. “B-but… hot, also. It… i-it t-turned me on. I dunno why.”

I was slowly rubbing my thumb over the head of his massive tool, making him moan and gasp softly with every motion. “Of course it turned you on,” I said. “You’re a pervert, Jakey. I bet your cock was rock-hard the whole time, with every gust of wind on your ass. Trying to hide it from your roommate, your friends. Thinking of how embarrassing it would be if they found out you were always wearing such a slutty jock.”

I could see on his face how much my words were turning him on, hitting exactly the right strings every time. He was so fucking easy to read.

“It felt exciting, didn’t it? Always just one layer of clothing away from being exposed as the faggot that you are.”

Jake winced a little at that word. He clearly still hated being called that, but he had learned enough not to protest. I let go of his fat dick - much to the boy’s disappointment - and told him to take off his shirt. He was reluctant, still. We were in a much riskier environment, of course, a busy office building instead of some remote spot in the woods or the safety of my home. There was a real possibility of someone walking into my office at any moment, and he knew that.

Regardless, the linebacker seemed to trust me. Such a stupid thing to do. He peeled the tight t-shirt off his bulging torso, and handed it to me with his sweatpants. There he was in all his glory, standing half-naked in an older man’s office when he was supposed to be in class. Somehow, he looked even better than last time.

“Been working out more, boy?” I asked, feeling up his rippling muscles. Jake’s face was as bright red as ever, but I could tell he was pleased I had noticed.

“Y-yeah, been doing abs more,” he said. “And, eh, squats.”

I chuckled, and gave his fat ass a good slap. The noise resounded in the room, and probably even to the rooms adjacent. I hadn’t thought the jock’s face could get any redder, but it did.

“I can tell,” I said. “You’re a very good boy, Jakey. Wanted to look your best for me, huh?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I slapped his bare ass again, and he groaned a little. A drop of precum escaped from his urethra, slowly sliding down his rock-hard cock.

“Let me reward you for that,” I said. Something twinkled in his brown eyes. Maybe he thought I would finally make him cum, for once. I bet that was what he’d been dreaming about for weeks. Lying in bed, horny and alone. Dreaming of his newfound Master. Unfortunately for him, I simply undid my belt, and told him to get to his knees. The twinkle disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“B-but… I thought you said reward,” Jake mumbled.

“My cock is your reward, boy,” I said, showing him my huge boner. “A fag like you should be grateful for being able to taste a real man.”

With an annoyed expression on his pretty face, the linebacker got down on his knees and enclosed a hand around my shaft. Before he tried to take my dick in his mouth, I slapped his face, and he threw me a furious look.

“What the fuck?”

“Were you raised by pigs, boy? I’m giving you a reward,” I said, slapping my boner against his handsome, angry face. “What do we say when we are given something?”

His eyes were shooting fire, and he clenched his jaw. “Thank you,” Jake spat. “Sir.”

“For?”

I was addicted to that look of hatred on him. “Being allowed to suck your dick, sir.”

I grinned, and finally let him take my dick between his lips. The big linebacker obediently got to work, slowly taking it inch by inch, until almost my entire boner had disappeared in his mouth. I was impressed; he must’ve secretly been practicing his deep-throating skills on a banana, I figured. “Good boy,” I said, petting the beautiful jock as he gave me a wonderful blowjob.

He still gagged every now and then, of course, but overall he was doing amazing. I let myself succumb to the pleasure for a good fifteen minutes or so, just taking in the sight and enjoying the feelings my boy’s throat were giving me. I could tell how much the blond adonis had missed this.

Then someone knocked on my office door. Jake froze. His puppy eyes shot open and he looked at me in panic, absolutely terrified. It was a very enjoyable sight, I have to admit; the big, muscular athlete, half-naked with my dick in his mouth, petrified and looking at his superior for help. Michigan’s defense hero caught with a dick in his mouth.

Without a word, I pushed the stud under my desk. He took my cock out of his mouth, but I slapped it against his face a couple of times and forced him to keep sucking. Before he could protest at all, I told the person at the door to come in.

Someone from the Sales department, whose name I didn’t recall. He wanted to talk to me about some files. “If you have the time?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, “Please, take a seat.”

Fortunately for Jake, the desk was closed off at the other side. The man had no idea there was a famous college fag half-naked between my legs, currently sucking me off. Fuck, that turned me on.

The blond beefcake barely fit under there. His sculpted body was simply too big for the cramped space, but he had no choice. If he moved too much, the man would probably hear him, and the boy was smart enough to know I would punish him if he tried to stop the blowjob. With his head between my thighs, Jake continued to suck me off as quietly as he could, terrified for the strange man in the room to find out and ruin his life.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared he must’ve been in that moment. As I said before, everyone in this county knew his face. Just one little sound, one little sloppy lick would be enough to tear his entire existence to shreds. But all that, of course, only got him hornier. The fear rushing through his veins, the looming threat of being exposed for a dirty little fag. All those feelings were driving my pretty jockboy completely nuts.

It was getting quite hard for me to focus, as well. The Sales guy just kept going on and on and on about these files and how he’d analyzed them. Hadn’t it been for my linebacker slut, I probably wouldn’t even have let him into my office in the first place. I just wanted him here for the fun and excitement it brought me and my jock. What also didn’t help, was the fact that my boy had really improved. He was doing amazing, there on the floor, using his tongue and lips to send waves of ecstasy through my cock.

At some point, Jake took it a little too far and gagged audibly. He froze, and the man before me asked if I was alright. I had to cough a couple of times to make sure the Sales guy wouldn’t suspect anything.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he thanked me for my time and left.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, I threw my head back and shot my load down the slut’s throat. My hands pushed him all the way down on my cock, almost choking the poor jock as I coated his esophagus with my tadpoles. I buried his nose in my pubes, and made him take everything. This was the first load he was forced to take orally, I realized. The first batch of semen that was ever fed to him. I kept his head down, and made him swallow every last drop of it, impervious to his choking and gagging.

When my orgasm finally subsided, I wheeled out from the desk, and looked at the half-naked linebacker. I pulled my dick from his mouth, and wiped it clean on his pretty, reddened face for a moment. Jake was panting heavily, looking up at me with a mixture of shame and excitement. His lips glistened with spit and cum.

Then my eyes moved down to his jockstrap, and a wide grin appeared on my face. The boy’s cock was poking out of the pouch, leaking strings of semen, and a nice puddle of cum lay before him on the floor. The big slut had already shot his own load, just from the thrill of the situation.

“Would you look at that,” I chuckled. “Made quite a mess there, haven’t you?”

The beautiful, humiliated Jake nodded, blushing heavily. Poor thing. He looked like a puppy who had just been caught soiling the carpet.

“Well, you better lick that up, Jakey.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” I said, loving that embarrassed expression of his, “You make a mess, you clean it up. Simple as that.”

The look on his red face was priceless. “That’s disgusting,” he muttered.

I scoffed. “You just swallowed a whole load of cum, you big bitch. I’m sure you can deal with another couple drops.”

Of course, it wasn’t just a couple drops. Jake’s fat bull balls had produced a whole puddle of semen. Licking all of that up was gonna take some time and dedication.

But the stud knew I wasn’t gonna let this go. He didn’t have a choice. Jake’s face hardened, and he threw me one last hateful look before lowering his head to the ground.

His tongue touched the slimy substance, and I laughed aloud when I saw his face contort with disgust. My own load had gone down his throat without even touching his tongue, but this was going all over his tastebuds. There was no escaping the flavor of his own semen. I can only imagine how much he hated me and himself in that moment, and how fucking turned on he was at the same time.

“That’s right, scoop that up,” I chuckled, while Jake continued to lick up his mess. “I want that floor spotless.”

The stud reluctantly obeyed, slowly working through the filthy puddle while I sat back and enjoyed the sight. There really was something quite beautiful in watching a big, handsome college athlete licking his own sperm from the floor. I wasn’t forcing him to do anything; I just told him, and he was meek enough to obey. If those stupid jock friends of his could see him now, his whole fucking world would be destroyed.

When he finally finished, I pulled him back to his knees, and looked at his handsome, reddened face. I pressed my thumb on his lips, and smeared the remnants of his cum across his mouth. He looked like a real slut. “How was that?” I asked.

“Fucking nasty,” Jake grumbled, quickly wiping his lips on his wrist.

I slapped his face in response. Teaching this big jock some manners was gonna take more effort than I’d thought. “Watch the language, boy,” I said, when he threw me another hateful glare. “That’s not a word you use in front of me. Show some respect.”

“Sorry,” he spat. When he left it at that, I slapped him again. The beefy linebacker looked like he could lash out at me at any moment.

“Sorry, sir,” Jake growled.

“Better,” I remarked. I told the stud to get back to his feet, and get dressed again. He looked a little confused - disappointed, almost - but did as he was told. Soon enough, the jock was standing before me fully clothed, quietly waiting for his next order or task.

“Well, Jake, that was fun. Now I have to get back to work. We’ll continue this later tonight, at my house.”

The hunk looked perplexed, and clenched his jaw. “What? That’s it? I just get to suck your cock and leave?”

“Exactly,” I said. “As I said, a fag like you should be grateful for that. After all, you got to cum too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but-“ he tried, but stopped mid-sentence when I raised my hand. “I’ll see you tonight,” I said. My tone was enough to let him know I wouldn’t tolerate any more reluctance on his part. “Now, back to class with you.”

“Well… I’ve got practice tonight,” Jake mumbled, sulking like a little kid. “Till 9.”

I told him I would see him after that, then. The jock threw me one last frustrated glare before turning his back to me and walking away from the desk. Just before he opened the door, I told him one last thing. He stopped in his tracks, but kept his back to me.

“Oh, and Jake, don’t bother showering after practice,” I said. “I’d like to have you in full gear, tonight. Straight from the field.”

Without another word, the linebacker opened the door and walked away. He left angry and humiliated, infuriated by my degrading actions and his own compliance. No matter how much he hated this, he couldn’t stop.

I was becoming the addiction that would ultimately ruin his life.

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jake-reblogs · 4 years

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It took about a month before I saw Jake again.

My phone rang, one late Friday night, and I answered to about ten seconds of silence. I’d almost hung up again when I finally heard his voice, hesitant and doubtful, and the corners of my mouth curled up.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s- eh, it’s me. Jake. I, eh, just… wanted to come pick up my shoes. My Nikes. You still have them, right?”

“Of course,” I said. “2307 Vinewood Boulevard. I’ll be waiting for you.” With that, I hung up. About an hour later, I heard a car pull up in my driveway, and the doorbell rang a few moments later. I opened the door to find the gorgeous linebacker on my porch, looking uncomfortable but handsome as ever. I let him in with a big grin on my face.

“I’m just here to get my shoes back,” he grumbled. He followed me into the living room, where I sat down on the couch and poured myself a couple inches of whiskey. “Suit yourself,” I said, my tone quite indifferent, “Those Nikes of yours are over there, by the fireplace. Close the door on your way out.”

Jake walked over to his precious shoes and took them. He was clearly trying to act casual, but it wasn’t working so well. The poor stud was obviously filled with nerves, avoiding my gaze and trying to ignore the fact my belt was already undone. For a few moments he just stood there, holding his Nikes, not moving an inch.

“Well?” I finally said, amused by his visible struggle. Again, he was torn between two worlds; his brain told him to leave, but his body wanted to stay.

“You know the way, Jake. You have your shoes, the exit’s over there.”

Still, no movement from the big jock. He was staring at the unlit fireplace, trying to stare into the nonexistent flames to avoid reality. Then he put his shoes back on the floor, and finally brought himself to open his mouth. “D-did… did you tell anyone? About- last month?” the stud muttered, and I shook my head. “I told you I wouldn’t. I have better things to do with my time than outing some sophomore college jock.”

He nodded, and fell back into silence for a while. I sighed, but didn’t pressure him again. I simply sat and drank my whiskey, enjoying the sight of his strong body. I could almost feel those muscled legs and arms again, pure strength under silky smooth skin, bulging curves and rippling trenches on his well-defined physique.

“I… I hooked up with another guy,” Jake finally admitted. I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. “At a party, last week. He’s the same age as me. I, eh, I had a couple beers, and… he came up to me, and we went somewhere quiet.”

“Good for you,” I said. “How did you like it?”

He shook his head, embarrassed. “N-no, eh… it, it didn’t work. I wasn’t… I couldn’t get it up. H-he said it probably was because of the alcohol, but I’d only had about three beers. I don’t get it. With you, it…” his voice died out.

“I see,” I said. Jake was blushing heavily, still avoiding my eyes. I told him to take a seat, and the boy awkwardly sat down on the couch opposite of me. “Well, why don’t you tell me what you remember of our encounter, Jake. What was it that made that so much more exciting for you than fooling around with some student twink?”

“I-I dunno,” he mumbled. All his usual jock pride was gone, reducing him from his usual alpha self to an embarrassed, confused boy. “He just… eh, he let me do all the work, I guess. It felt like I was supposed to be in charge. But with y-you, it…”

“It felt like you were no longer in charge, huh? Like I was the one deciding what was happening?” I finished his sentence. Jake finally looked up to me, his innocent puppy eyes sending shivers of impatience down my spine, and he nodded slowly. I grinned, and took another sip of my whiskey.

“You were in the woods, out in the open,” I continued, “Letting yourself be felt up by this old, strange man. Getting told to suck his cock and actually doing it. You were nervous, someone might walk by and see you, but that only made it so much more exciting, didn’t it?” The jock nodded again, his face turning a whole new shade of red that contrasted beautifully with his long golden hair.

“Well, boy, that’s cause you’re not just a fag,” I said. “You’re a bitch. A slutty little whore, a pervert, a fag who gets off on the idea someone might expose them. You want a real man to dominate you, boss you around, treat you like a piece of trash. Am I right?”

Jake shook his head, frowning, anger boiling up within him. “I’m not a fag.”

“No?” I asked, “Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you just take your shoes and leave?”

His anger subsided a little again, making way for the gorgeous confusion and insecurity my words were conjuring up in him. He shook his head, then shrugged, unsure what to say or how to defend the little pride he had left.

“That’s what I thought,” I grinned. “Anyway, I’m happy to have you here, but only if we play by my rules. You wanna leave, go ahead. If you stay, you do as I tell you.”

Jake clenched his jaw. He didn’t say a word, all sorts of emotions visibly bubbling in that thick body of his, but he stayed on the couch. His burning curiosity was bigger than his heteronormative pride. The big linebacker agreed to play my game, a game in which he would undoubtedly be ruined. My grin only widened, and I downed the last bit of liquor in my glass. Finally, I could start toying around with this beautiful dumb jock. I’d waited a whole month for this moment.

“Let’s start by telling the truth,” I said. “Tell me you’re a faggot.”

His eyes shot up at me, flashing anger and shock, and he instinctively shook his head. Then he remembered my conditions on staying, and he threw me a hateful look. I just raised my eyebrows, staring at him expectantly. “I-I’m a faggot,” Jake muttered, quick like ripping off a bandaid. Of course, that wasn’t gonna do it for me. “What was that, boy?”

“I’m a faggot,” he repeated, louder and angrier this time. “I’m a faggot. Happy now?”

I chuckled. “Very good. Now you’ve finally admitted it, we can really begin. Take off your shirt, shoes and shorts. And be quick about it.”

While his contemptuous expression persisted, the hunk started to strip right in front of me, once again revealing his sculpted body. Soon, I had the beauty sitting on my couch in just his white boxer-briefs and socks. I suddenly felt an insatiable hunger for his body, those trunks of legs and that beefy barrel-chest evoking my appetite like never before. I ordered him to stand up and flex. Jake reluctantly obeyed. His 220 pounds of muscle soon towered over me, and I bit my lip impatiently as the jock lifted up his arms and started to flex for me. I saw the humiliation on his handsome face and relished in it. He was this huge, impeccable hunk of a man, beautiful from head to toe, and I could make him do anything I wanted. Even better, he wanted me to make him do anything I wanted.

“On your knees,” I said, and the beast descended to the ground. Despite the anger and humiliation in Jake’s expression, I noticed that his underwear was already starting to bulge more. He was such an easy fucking target.

“Like it when I boss you around, huh?” I taunted, touching his crotch with my shoe. The boy refused to meet my gaze, but really had no way of denying his arousal. “Such a little fag,” I continued. “Why don’t you lick my shoes clean? They’re real dirty.”

“Fuck you,” Jake spat. “I ain’t doing that. And stop calling me a fag.”

I sighed, then lashed out. One quick slap across that pretty face of his. Not enough to really hurt him, but enough to yank him back to reality. He jumped up, and lifted his fist as if he was gonna hit me back. Then he decided against it, and walked back to his clothes. “Fuck this. I’m outta here,” he said.

I sighed again, and poured myself some more whiskey. “If you leave now, you don’t have to come back, ever,” I said. “As I’ve said before, I don’t need boys who won’t admit to what they are. You can take those fucking Nikes and get out.”

Jake mumbled another curse under his breath while he put his clothes back on. He grabbed his Nikes and threw me one last furious look before walking toward the hallway. Just before he could leave, I spoke again. “Just remember, Jake,” I said, “You’ve already experienced it for yourself, with that hookup. Nobody else is gonna make you feel these things. If you leave now, you will never feel this pleasure again.”

I heard him stop in his tracks. No matter how much he might have hated me in that moment, he knew I was right. Or if he didn’t know, he was too scared that I was. “You’re lying,” he tried. “I don’t need you. I don’t need this. You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Think about it, Jake. Try using that fucking peanut brain of yours, for once. Those feelings I gave you, those things I did; have you ever felt anything like that with a girl? A boy? Or even while jerking off to porn? Have you?”

He stayed silent, which I took as a ‘no’. “Exactly,” I continued. “You can leave now and risk never feeling anything like that for the rest of your life. I won’t ever look at you again. Or you stay, take those fucking clothes off and start doing whatever I’m telling you to do.”

It took a while before the thick stud made up his mind. Meanwhile I was calmly sipping my whiskey, not even looking at him in the corner of the room. The door to the hall was still open, but Jake was frozen solid in the door opening. After maybe six, seven whole minutes, I heard him close the door and walk back toward me. Our eyes met, and another wave of pleasure rushed through me as I saw the look of despair on my pretty boy. Without a word, he took off his shirt, shorts and shoes again, and he kneeled down in front of me.

The jock leaned forward, and tentatively brought his tongue to my boot. It was just some mud, nothing too harrowing, but that was beside the point. This humiliating act was his surrender, a true sign he had fallen into my web and was now being suffocated in the ideas and feelings I was putting into his head. He had caved.

“That’s a good boy,” I chuckled, while Jake licked my shoes clean. My cock was raging in my pants at the sight of the half-naked athlete like that. “How about you put that tongue to better use and start sucking me off?”

I pulled open my pants, pulled them down a little and finally revealed my boner. Jake audibly gulped - maybe he’d forgotten how big it was - and I dug my fingers in that golden hair of his to guide him forward. I sat back, relaxed, and let the jock’s velvety mouth bathe my impatient boner in pleasure. I pulled up some of his blonde locks and inhaled his scent, slowly bucking into his mouth. He gagged a little when I went too far, but I didn’t care.

“Deep-throat it,” I said. Jake tried, taking as much of my boner as he could, but he burst out gagging before he could take it all. I had him try again and again. Finally he pulled back, his chest heaving up and down with his head all red. “I can’t,” he panted. “It’s t-too big.”

“Breathe through your nose. Focus on relaxing your throat,” I said. “Try taking it as far as you can, a little further every time.”

And so he tried again, and again, as I started to fuck his face with more and more eagerness. He still gagged a fair bit, but he improved, and I even managed to hit the back of his throat a couple of times without triggering his reflex. The student athlete was clearly doing all he could, taking my cock pretty well for someone on his second blowjob ever. Finally, when I felt myself getting close, I pulled his pretty face off my boner and pushed his hair out of his face. He was bright-red and panting from all that gagging, but it somehow only made him look hotter.

“See how much you like that, Jake?” I said, grinning from ear to ear as I nodded toward his obvious bulge. The stud looked down and frowned. His own body was betraying him. “I didn’t even have to touch you,” I continued, “Having another man’s cock in your mouth is enough for your little stick to get all hard and eager.”

The poor boy didn’t know what to say, confusion and self-loathing running rampant across his face. Less than an hour ago, he’d still been the big, famous football star around campus; now he was half-naked on the floor, sucking off an old gay man and even getting hard while doing so. His big dick was rock-hard, whether he liked it or not.

“Go on, show me,” I said, after I’d made him get back to his feet. “Show me that fat fucking cock of yours.”

Jake silently pulled down his boxer-briefs, finally revealing his enormous manhood. Last month I’d already felt the size of it in my hand, of course, but I hadn’t actually seen it until now. It truly was magnificent; his boner reached even higher than his belly-button, a real thick and veiny piece of meat with two fat balls below. He was circumcised, and the pale pink bell-end was glistening with precum. I enclosed my hand around the base, and gave it a couple slow tugs.

A soft moan escaped the jock’s throat, and my smile widened.

“How’s that feel, boy? Your hard cock in another man’s hand. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Jake looked at me, vulnerable and adorable, and I felt my own boner twitch in my pants. “Yes,” the naked linebacker muttered.

“Yes, what?” I said. He frowned, confused at first, but then I saw it dawn on him. For a moment, the hunk debated whether he was really going this far, but then I touched the sensitive head of his dick and all his resistance vanished immediately.

“Yes, s-sir. Feels good.”

“That’s what I thought. Unfortunately for you, your dick is not what I’m most interested in. There’s another part of your body that I’m much more anxious to explore,” I said. My hand found its way to that beautiful bubble butt and took a good handful. Jake jumped, startled by the sudden invasion of an area he had never really even thought about. He stepped backwards, back to the stubborn demurral I had worked so hard to get him out of.

“Have you ever had anything up that thick ass, Jake?”

“N-no,” he said, shaking his head, “No, I don’t - I’m n-not into that.”

“I’ve heard that before,” I chuckled. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you’re into. My house, my rules, boy. I’m not gonna tell you again. Get on all fours, right now.”

Jake stayed frozen for a moment. The big jock was still standing naked before me in nothing but his socks, his huge cock stiff as a pole and his intoxicating mixture of musk and sweat filling the room. I was getting a little impatient with the hunk, but I knew I should keep myself together. Luckily, he decided to obey before I could really hurt him. Suddenly he was on all fours, exposed for me to toy with, and I dove onto his fat ass.

I’d seen his gorgeous glutes before, at the games, trapped in those skin-tight football pants. Finally I could touch them for myself.

Jake groaned as I slapped his ass, hard. My handprint appeared in red after I’d slapped him a second time, and a third; every slap was sending another wave of pain and humiliation through the handsome athlete, but I knew he was starting to love it. His massive cock always gave away his true feelings.

“Damn,” I said, grabbing onto that juicy butt, “Grade-A, virgin jock ass. Been a while since I had one as nice as yours, boy. You must’ve worked hard on these cakes.”

The stud didn’t respond, so I gave him one more good slap and spread his ass-cheeks. He was still a little hairy down here, but that didn’t matter for now. I brought one finger to his mouth, and pushed it past those soft lips without waiting for consent. Jake obediently let me invade his mouth, although somewhat passively. Then I moved back to his behind, and applied my wetted finger on his pink entrance.

The linebacker gasped loudly as I pushed my finger into his tight, virgin butthole. God, it’d been a while since I felt such a tight fucking boypussy. He clearly hadn’t been lying about never having stuck anything up here before; this was completely untouched, uncharted territory. I pushed my finger all the way in, and Jake’s gasp turned into an uncomfortable groan.

“How’s that feel, huh? Like having a finger up your ass?” I asked. The hunk weakly shook his head, but couldn’t even form a proper response before I added a second finger in his hole.

“F-fuck,” the jock mumbled, “That hurts. Fuck, dude.”

“Oh, come on, big boy. That’s only two fingers. You’re gonna have to take a lot more than that,” I said. Slowly, I started finger-fucking the jock, stretching that tight boycunt bit by bit. Jake hated it, constantly moaning and bitching in pain, but his cock stayed hard at all times. The pain and embarrassment must’ve been enough to make his perverted brain go crazy.

After a while, I added a third finger and stretched his hole even more. Soon enough, I decided he was loose enough - he wasn’t, really, but I was getting impatient - and positioned myself behind the big blond bitch. I applied a good amount of lube on my cock and his entrance, and the boy gasped at the feeling.

“You know what’s gonna happen now, don’t you, boy?” I said, slowly grinding my boner between those cakes of his, just to let him feel the size of it. Jake gulped, and nodded slowly. He was nervous, but he had already accepted this. I stroked his muscular back in an attempt to calm him down, and applied a little pressure to his hole.

“I want you to say it,” I continued.

“Y-you’re gonna fuck me,” the jock muttered, then quickly added “sir.”

“That’s right. And you want this, don’t you? You wanna feel what it’s like to get fucked by a real man?”

“Y-yes, sir.” His voice had gotten a whole lot huskier, all of a sudden. It only turned me on even more, and I gave his ass another slap before finally readying myself.

“W-wait!” he said, just before I pushed into him, “You don’t have a condom-“

Jake’s words were quickly cut off by my rod invading his thick ass. Too late, stud. He let out a loud groan, clearly in a great deal of pain as I finally snatched his anal virginity away. God, that tight ass felt incredible around my cock.

“F-fuuuck!!!!” the linebacker yelled out, “Fuck, f-fuck, fuck, take it out! Take it out!!”

“Not a chance, boy,” I chuckled, further pushing my dick up his shitchute. I took a handful of his golden hair and yanked backwards, forcing him to arch upon my big cock. The poor jock seemed to go insane with pain, his throat producing the most wonderful whines and cries. I drove my boner all the way into him, and he howled like a fucking dog.

I slapped his ass again, and actually started to fuck the jock. “That’s right, you big bitch,” I growled, porking him without a sliver of mercy. Maybe a little too rough for a virgin, but whatever. He was a collegiate athlete, for fuck’s sake. 220-something pounds of muscle and masculinity. He could take it. “Fucking take that dick. Like having your butt fucked, huh?”

Jake tried to shake his head, but I was still holding his hair; I made him nod, and laughed at the sight. Fuck, he felt good. This was one of the tightest fucking boypussies I’d ever come across. I was already addicted - the blond hunk was in for a whole lot more pain that night.

At some point, he started to plead; real pathetic, desperate whimpers. He already sounded like he was on the verge of crying. “P-please,” the linebacker whined, “Please, please-“

His begging only made me hornier, frankly. I increased the pace, and Jake reached a whole new level of hell. My hips were slamming into him like a jack-hammer, completely wrecking his virgin hole and sending wave after wave of hot pain through his entire body.

After a while of fucking him like this, the boy’s voice had died out. It was a hard, exhausting night for him, of course, and he had simply surrendered to my torture. Jake only weakly groaned every time I slammed my cock into him. No matter how good his insides felt, it was getting boring without any sort of reaction from the stud; so, to humor him, I finally flipped him around, so he was lying on his back and facing me. I immediately entered him again, and jabbed at that little spot that I’d purposely been neglecting. I wanted him to feel the pain, first, only the pain and the subsequent submission to my excruciating cock. Now we’d gotten past that stage, I decided it was time to start working his prostate.

That certainly got a reaction from him. His gorgeous eyes widened, his mouth fell open and wouldn’t close again; suddenly his groans turned into gasps, unmistakable little sounds of pleasure that made the hair on my body stand upright. He was looking like such a perfect slut I could barely take it. Jake’s pain had been music to my ears; his pleasure was absolute heaven to me. I had turned the big alpha stud into my moaning, gasping bitch, naked on his back in my living room getting his ass fucked, and I had never loved anything more. I started to fuck him even harder, now relentlessly battering his prostate while the jock was overtaken with a kind of pleasure he had never experienced before.

“Like that, Jakey? Want me to keep pounding this tight hole of yours?”

He was too far gone to answer. The blond jock was even bucking his hips into me, now, complying with my rhythm and completely surrendering himself to my dick. I grabbed those beefy pecs of his to steady myself, and I started fucking him as hard as I can.

“Oooohhhh!!! F-fuckkkkk!!!” Jake moaned at the top of his lungs, looking prettier than ever. Suddenly I felt him arching back, his abundant muscles contracting as he closed his eyes and let out a howl that probably everyone in my street could’ve heard. The boy reached his climax. Without a single touch, his fat cock started shooting endless strings of thick cum onto his torso. Some of it even hit his face, and got in that perfect golden hair of his. As he came, Jake’s tight ass milked my dick at the same time, and I could no longer keep myself together. We both howled like madmen as we shot our loads. I pumped my seed into his boycunt, breeding him and properly marking that virgin territory as mine.

In those few seconds, everything was perfect. The way the big linebacker was lying there, his face and body sprayed by the cum that I’d fucked out of him, his eyes filled with something so beautifully innocent and submissive, and the feeling of his wet hole around my cock; this was what I’d waited for, the reason I had managed to stay so patient with the rookie fag.

This moment was absolutely priceless. I knew neither I or he was ever going to forget this moment, this night, here on my floor.

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Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and intended to stay that way. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental or fictionalized.

All images are from the internet, and are in no way owned by me.

Michigan, October ‘12

“What’s your name, boy?” I asked. The blond stud was blushing heavily, probably tearing himself apart right there and then, knowing this was a bad idea but unable to walk away. He was young, full of hormones, probably a little drunk, too; I could almost smell the curiosity rushing through his veins.

“Jake,” he said. As if I hadn’t recognized him yet. His long, golden hair was pretty famous round these parts. The varsity linebacker for the biggest university in the state. The most handsome guy on the team. Michigan’s very own, All-American Thor. I took a step closer to the hunk. Jake tensed, suddenly looking on his guard again.

“I assume you know what happens in these woods, don’t you, boy?” I said, and he nodded slowly. Good. The jock had come here to experiment, and I would give him the experiment of his life.

He froze when I placed a hand on his shoulder. I was already loving the feeling of his warm muscles in my hand, but Jake didn’t look so content. He was probably still trying to tell himself how wrong this was, convinced he was still straight.

“You ever done anything with a guy before, Jake?” I asked, and he shook his reddened head. Meanwhile, my hand was impatiently rubbing up and down that beefy arm of his. I could feel the strength of his deltoid, a real boulder of muscle, carved out through years of tackling and playing ball.

“Never? A pretty boy like you?”

He somehow got even redder at that, and shook his head again - before something must’ve entered his mind, some repressed memory he had tried to forget but never could.

“I-I kissed, once,” he muttered shamefully, “In high school. The first time I got drunk, with this guy on the team. Just kissed.”

“Just kissed, huh?” I grinned, “So you’ve really been saving yourself all this time. What made you decide to come out here?”

The big jock shifted uncomfortably on his legs as my hand started to feel up his biceps. He was completely jacked, his arms about the size of his head, just like I liked ‘em.

“I, eh, I j-just wanted to see what it’s like,” he said. “To see, eh, if… if-“

“If you’re really a fag,” I finished his sentence for him. His face hardened at that last word, but I couldn’t help it. He was so beautifully innocent, so perfectly naive; I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him and ruin his life. I put my other hand on the back of his head, and carefully leaned forward to place my lips on his thick neck. He had even put on cologne for this adventure. How cute. I felt like a hungry wolf, playing with an unknowing, delicious deer; every movement was counted and thought out, tiptoeing around the woods, stalking silently before one wrong move would make him flee.

“H-how old are you?” he muttered, while I had started giving him hickeys. I couldn’t help chuckling a little at that question. “Old enough to be your dad,” I said. Maybe not the smoothest move. Jake shook me off, startled, and he took another step backward. I silently cursed myself for being so impatient with the rookie.

“If you wanted to try out with one of those young, fem twinks, you should’ve looked around at school, boy,” I said. “Might as well have fucked around with a girl, then. This here is where you can find a real man. If you don’t think you can handle that, you should go home, before you do something you might regret.”

He looked at me with those gorgeous puppy eyes, confused and overwhelmed with feelings he never knew he had. I took another step toward him, and was glad to see he didn’t back off. I grabbed his golden hair, and pushed my lips onto his.

Tentatively, Jake placed a hand on my arm and started to kiss me back. God, he was adorable. I felt my temperature rise as his taste filled my mouth, his hesitant hand on my skin; I quickly started to wrestle his tongue into submission, and let my hands travel down that beefy torso of his. I dug my fingers in his big pecs, clawing those slabs of beef with little gentleness.

A soft groan escaped the jock’s throat when I brushed over his nipples. The corners of my mouth curled up as I felt how hard they already were, and I decided to let one hand slip underneath his t-shirt. His warm, smooth skin felt wonderful at the touch. He was even more ripped than I thought; I clearly felt a good set of abs on him, and his chest was truly impressive. Jake moaned again as my fingers started to play with his sensitive nips.

“W-wait,” the linebacker muttered, breaking our kiss when my other hand found its way to his crotch. He was undoubtedly hard already, but he stopped me when I tried to enter his shorts. “Just relax, boy,” I said, “Let me make you feel good.”

“I-I… I don’t know- I shouldn’t-“

Without warning, I grabbed his bulge. I could already tell he was massive, a big fat cock above a big fat set of balls, and the jock gasped involuntarily as his junk was being grabbed by a real man for the first time. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t treated like the strong, alpha male. Michigan’s handsome Thor was being treated like a bitch.

“Don’t that feel good? Don’t you want more?”

Jake looked wonderful, completely torn between humiliation and the irresistible lust my hands were conjuring up within him. I took his silence for a yes, and mercilessly pulled down his basketball shorts to reveal his beautiful thighs and a bulging pair of white boxer-briefs. He had not a second to realize what was happening as I grabbed his dick again and began to tug on his enormous shaft.

“F-fuck,” Jake whispered, closing his eyes and trying to surrender to the pleasure. I grinned and started to kiss his neck again, slowly working his boner inside his underwear. I could feel he was close to shooting already; the poor stud had probably been secretly fantasizing about this ever since he reached puberty, and his mind couldn’t possibly handle all the feelings I was giving him in that moment. Before he would cream his boxer-briefs prematurely, I moved my hand back up his torso and onto his broad shoulders.

Jake opened his eyes again, looking confused and at a loss. His hand travelled instinctively to his leaking cock, but I grabbed it just in time and held him back. “Not so quick, Jake,” I said. “I’m more than happy to make you feel good, but this is a two-player-game. About time for you to start learning how to make another man feel good, too.”

I pushed the big hunk to his knees, and Jake’s face reddened even more as he realized what was about to happen. Looking down on the handsome jock like that, his puppy eyes filled with fear and confusion, made my cock twitch in my pants, and I quickly started to undo my belt.

“W-wow- wow! I-I’m not- I ain’t into this!” the linebacker stammered. “I don’t-“

“It doesn’t matter what you’re into, boy,” I said, keeping him down on the ground, “It’s my turn to feel good. You wanted to experiment, right? See what it’s like?”

“No, no, n-not this, I just wanted - I don’t wanna do anything like that.”

While the jock continued to protest, I pulled down my pants and revealed my rock-hard dick. Jake’s voice died out as he saw my boner hovering above his pretty face, the sheer size of my cock looming over him like an ominous weapon. His eyes were wide and shocked, and his cheeks were redder than ever. I placed a hand on his head, and the boy looked up at me with all of his beautiful innocence.

“Relax,” I told him. “Stop thinking. It’s just us two. No one else in the world. Like you said, you’re just here to try what it’s like. So go ahead and try.”

“I c-can’t,” he muttered, his voice so perfectly husky, “I-I… I don’t know how… I’ve never…”

“That’s okay. You’re just trying out. Don’t worry.”

He was breathing heavy, his world probably spinning around him. For the first time in his life he was surrendering to those feelings that had plagued him for forever, giving in to feelings he’d been told were wrong but felt so undeniably good. Jake tentatively placed a hand on my leg, and moved closer to my cock. I was having an awfully hard time keeping myself from fucking his face right there and then, but I knew I had to restrain myself. These were his first steps, his first moments in the next phase of his life, and I couldn’t ruin it by giving in to my lust.

Jake opened his mouth, slowly taking the head of my dick between his lips. He winced instinctively at the taste, and I laughed at the face he made.

“That’s the taste of a man, Jake,” I grinned. “Take it slow. You’ll get used to it.”

He pulled himself together, and tried again. I let out a gasp as I felt the warm, wet insides of his mouth enclose around my member. The sound must’ve encouraged him, because he tried to take my entire boner before inevitably gagging.

I started to guide him, telling him to use his hand and tongue, teaching him how to give me the most pleasure. Before long I was slowly thrusting into his mouth, loving the feeling of his soft lips on the most sensitive part of my body. I dug my fingers in those golden locks of his and let the gorgeous jock give me head.

After a while, it started to rain. First only a light drizzle, which we ignored, but then more and more, drops falling harder with the second. Within half a minute, we were caught in a torrential downpour. Jake jumped back to his feet, pulling his shorts back up and trying to get himself back together while the heavens poured down on us. I was pleased to notice he was still rock-hard.

“Well, my car’s this way, boy,” I said. “You coming, or what?”

Jake didn’t respond, just looked at me with those innocent, unsure puppy eyes. He knew it was a terrible idea, but he also didn’t want this experiment to end yet. I didn’t really give him a choice, either; I simply sighed, turned my back toward him and started walking to the parking lot.

“Suit yourself,” I said. It took maybe eight, nine steps before I heard the linebacker move, his footsteps coming towards me. “W-wait!” he said, “I’ll- I’ll come with you. Just for a little bit.”

Soon enough we were sat in my Mercedes, the rain patting on the roof and windows. I had made the boy take off his muddy shoes & socks and thrown them in the trunk, pretending to be concerned about the interior of the expensive car. In reality, it just served as another way to make him feel inferior to me. Suddenly he was the inexperienced, barefoot rookie, sitting next to an older man with the taste of my cock still on his tongue. I loved everything about the situation.

Jake looked at me, and I couldn’t hold myself in any longer. I grabbed that beautiful long hair of his and pulled him towards me, crashing my lips onto his. I wasn’t playing around anymore; I wanted to taste him, bad. My tongue forced its way into his mouth again, and dominated the jock’s tongue around while my other hand slipped back underneath his soaked shirt. A soft groan escaped his throat when I took his nipple between two fingers and started to tweak it. I tweaked it a little more, and he groaned a little louder in pain; but his cock was visibly twitching in his shorts, and he was looking heated as ever when I pulled back from our kiss.

“Take it off,” I said, holding his wet t-shirt. Jake blinked a couple of times, still stuck in his little world of horniness and excitement. “W-what?”

“Take off your shirt,” I repeated. “Go on. Show me what you got.”

The stud frowned, but did as I said. As his sculpted torso was finally revealed to me, I felt the flames of desire within me grow bigger and bigger. Everything was slightly damp from the rain, and it made his skin glisten beautifully. He truly was a stud, big juicy pecs above a perfect set of washboard abs. His arms looked even bigger than I’d thought. I grinned, and patted his beefy chest for a bit, stroking his well-defined muscles. Jake was blushing heavily, but he let me touch him all I wanted.

“Very nice,” I said, digging my fingers in those bulging tits. “Seems like all that football is good for something after all.”

This struck something with the boy. His frown deepened, and he shook my hand off him. “I… I never told you I play football,” Jake said. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, Jake. Everyone in this damned county knows who you are. Hell, people would probably even recognize you all over the Midwest. If you wanted to have stayed anonymous, you should’ve gone to Detroit, or something.”

“Fuck,” he said, hiding his pretty face in his hands. “Fuck! I’m so fucked!”

“Relax,” I said, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. “Nobody’s going to find out that their favorite college linebacker is a fag.”

“Fuck you. I’m not a fag,” he snarled. There it was. Finally he was fighting back a little. I certainly liked this look of anger on him. This was the fire I wanted to see, that famous football fury I so wanted to take in my hands and squeeze to death.

“You just sucked off a strange man almost twice your age,” I reminded him, “And you were rock-hard while doing so. I bet you can still taste my precum, can’t you? The taste of a real man? How’s that feel?”

Jake didn’t say anything, just threw me the most hateful look he could muster up. Behind that anger, I saw the panic in his eyes, that lifelong fear of being exposed. He was probably cursing himself for having done any of this.

“Besides, you almost jizzed your underwear just from me touching your nips, boy,” I continued. “And all those hickeys on that neck o’yours pretty much speak for themselves. You’re a fag, and a real good-looking one at that.”

“I’m not a fucking fag!!” the shirtless hunk raged. Poor boy. All those years of Catholic upbringing and heteronormative surroundings had made him incredibly closeted and insecure. I was going to have so much fun breaking him out of that shell of his.

“Well, then, you have about three seconds to get out,” I sighed. “I don’t need boys who won’t admit to what they are. Get out of the car.”

He looked taken aback for a second, then fury returned. The jock tried to reach for his shirt, but I yanked it away from him and held it for myself. He had another weak attempt at grabbing it, but I held it out of his reach. I got out a waterproof marker, and wrote down a string of numbers on his shirt before throwing it back to him.

“For if you ever decide to change your mind,” I said. “Now get out.”

Jake mumbled one last curse before stepping out of the car, back into the pouring rain. Maybe he expected me to open the trunk so he could get his shoes, but I wasn’t in such a forgiving mood. The second he closed the door, I started the car and drove off, leaving the young athlete barefoot and alone in the torrential showers.

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