Warning: This story is about gay sex and domination between young adults. If this subject offends you, or if it is illegal in the country where you live, or if you are under 18, then read no further and quit this page now.
(c) Subtoy_Kimy 2005 - All rights reserved
CHAPTER 5: A SPIKEHEAD TEEN WITH A DEVIL IN HIS EYES
Kevin had just finished instructing me on how he demanded that I welcome his guest, when the doorbell rang. The humiliation inherent in what he called 'The Welcome Ritual' was such that I would have rather died. By the time I reached to open, I only could hope and pray that the guest wasn't someone I knew, like one of my classmates, for instance. By just thinking this could happen to be the case, my blood ran cold, and a drop of sweat rolled along my back.
"Better not forget anything, or you'll be severely punished," Kevin warned, disregarding that my heart was drumming, and all of me trembling with fear.
"I can't promise this might not happen, but I'll ask for your forgiveness, Master, if it does," I replied, with my hand over the handle. I noticed he kind of liked my reply, in that it showed our relation has well started to settle on the rail he always wanted.
Until I opened, I didn't have a slightest idea of whom to expect, and though it turned to be obvious afterwards, I was ways to think of Damien Steen.
Damien is an 18 years old sophomore in the Biomedical School Department, which campus and dorms are separated from ours. We never were introduced to each other really, but I had seen him quiet often, and I knew who he was, since he part-time worked as a bar tender assistant and DJ at the Speedy Gonzo's, the down town place where most of the TCs spend their Saturday nights.
With more than a 6 feet slender body, the highlighted spikes of his short brownish hair, his sharp and deep blue eyes, the black leather jackets he wore, hands in the pockets, and the silver ring pierced on his left ear, he overall looked more like one of a backstreet gang of troublemakers, than the brilliant student he actually was. The light titanium frame of his eyeglasses was the only visible sign of the intellectual side of him. Like Kevin, Damien belonged to those very few whom all the girls were burning to go out with, and it was commonly known that the Speedy Gonzo's doubled his turnover, the nights he was on duty.
In a way, I felt somehow released that the guest wasn't someone else, but at the same time, Damien's provocative arrogance and visible hardness scared me to death. I definitely knew that being at his disposal wouldn't be soft kidding.
...
He stepped inside, while I stood still totally naked, in line with the wide opened door, feet joined, and head bowed, till he came in. Not only I was ashamed that the junior he was made me tremble that much, but I also was awfully embarrassed that it showed. My heart kept beating, and went even stronger, and faster, but he conducted himself as if I was not there, as if I was just nothing, and the longer it took him to turn his attention on me, the more I feared the moment he would. I closed the door and followed him behind. He was still in his workout wear, and a pair of flashy red All Star covered his ankle socks. Sweat was still drying on his legs.
Kevin was comfortably sitting, half lain down on one end of the sofa, his arms spread out on the back of it, and his shoed feet laid on the glass top of the central table. In this posture, he obviously prepared to enjoy watching how the 'ritual' would go on. He just winked at Damien with a smiling complicity, and Damien topped Kevin's hand in return.
When he finally turned to, he stared at me with a provocative disdain that I couldn't stand facing. Behind his eyeglasses, the straight lines of his eyebrows frowned: There was a devil in his eyes. As I felt every part of him, including his silence, was expecting me to do it, I knelt down before him. In the state of mind where I was, I just couldn't remember that I was not authorized to kneel down by myself, since ordering it in words was a main part of doms' pleasure. When I realized my mistake, it was already too late. Obviously, they seemed to have pre-planned every little detail of this ritual, and there was no place for a change. From down where I was, I looked up at him, like inquiring his mercy, and a begging fear showed in my eyes:
"Stand up," he said, with an authoritarian quietness.
I did.
"Shouldn't you wait till you're ordered to do it, before you get on your knees, little slut?" he asked, like controlling an anger.
"I surely had to, Sir." (On Kevin's orders, guests were to be addressed to as 'Sir'). "I really apologize to you, Sir," I added, hoping this would be enough. But at the age of 18, verbal apologies do not mean what they should. He spread out his right arm with no reluctance, and the palm of his hand went slapping across my face, twisting my head.
"Uhhh!" There was nothing I could do, but deal with the inner rage of it, in silence.
"With this, I guess you won't forget, next time," he cynically said. "Now, on your knees!" he ordered, with one finger pointing at the tip of his toes. I knelt down before him, a second time.
The next step was outrageously hard to execute, especially in favor of the younger jock he was, and the slap I just had on my face made it even harder. While on my knees, I had to ask him to allow me to kiss his hands, as a sign of my submission and tremendous respect, and this had to be done in a specific formula that I struggled hard to let out:
"Sir, would you please allow me the honor of kissing your hands?"
Again, there was a mistake, and the right word was 'privilege' and not 'honor'. It was only when Kevin burst out laughing, in anticipation to what this would cost me, that I noticed my mistake. According to my status towards them, a quest for an honor was something that I was not supposed to ambition in any way, and otherwise was considered as a serious offence. Damien smiled at Kevin, and seemed almost content that I had just given him another reason to slap my face, which he enjoyed doing:
"Noppp please... Uhhhh!"
And this time, he used his left hand.
I hated how these boys were using me in the way they wished, not even trying to hide that for them, this was nothing else but just funny. I had been turned on, then off, then on again, and humiliated, and inflicted pain and cruelties, and all this, for the only sake of their insatiable pleasures. I came back to where I was, but to just realize that my previous effort was spoiled, and that I had to say the 'formula' again. I wished I could at least skip saying 'please', but of course I dared not change a letter.
"Sir," I said trembling, "would you please, allow me the privilege of kissing your hands?"
Surprisingly, he didn't rush to have it done. On the contrary, he started by turning his back on me, and took the time to settle down on the other end of the sofa where Kevin was. He reacted to the offer as if having his hands kissed was the kind of thing he was used to:
"You wanna kiss my hands? Come grovel to them," he said, with an ironic smile, and while spreading the topside of one hand in my direction.
I groveled just as ordered, till I reached him, then my close look at his hands made the heat spread all over me. The shape of them was at least as gorgeously refined as Kevin's ones. Though bigger than mean, they looked pure, and smoothly delicate, and his long fingers could have surely been those of a pianist, perhaps even those of a harp player. Above all, his nails were trimmed and filed in perfect crescent, as if he just had them manicured. I gazed at them in admiration, then I placed the very tip of my lips on one of those big veins, which popped up the skin with their curved lines, and I kissed his hands, respectfully, one after the other. While doing this, I confess that their beauty made me almost forget that only seconds before, these hands had severely been slapping my face.
"Now go get us some cool Buds," ordered Kevin, putting an end to the 'Welcome Ritual'. "C'mon! They're in the fridge!"
Right on the spot, they both agreed "it would be real good," if I was trained to the ways they always wanted a stylish slave to serve them.
When I came back with two beers at once, I was ordered to bring them back, and to serve them again, but one after the other, and on a tray. They found it would be "fun" if I presented them with a tray, while putting one knee down before the one whom I was serving, and while keeping my head bowed. Guests were to be served first, so I served Damien, then the host afterward, and I served Kevin. Not only I had to obey all their instructions, but also bear their jokes and comments on how they intended to use me.
While presenting Kevin with the can, in the way I had been instructed, from where he sat, Damien observed that I had knelt "perhaps a little too close," to which Kevin agreed that my position "could indeed be improved". Ceasing the can, Kevin ordered me to stay where I was, until fine-tuning my position was done. As he was half lain down on the sofa, he just lifted one leg up from the table where he had it laid, bent his knee in the air, and he unexpectedly placed the spiked sole of his training shoe against my bare shoulder, lightly pushing me back with it. God! I was outraged. Damien just smiled a little, but otherwise seemed to find Kevin's gesture nothing but natural, which made me think that he would have also done the same. My face blushed red with a mix of unbearable humiliation and anger. If these jocks' arrogance was proportionate to their beauty, then I wasn't even close to find out what the limits of their arrogance would be. Kevin kept on pushing me back with his shoe, until Damien approved:
"Much better!"
While they kept chatting, Kevin left his leg resting on my shoulder, or perhaps he just felt comfortable enough to forget moving it, but in any way, I dared not disturb or move. They went on joking and laughing on what they would subject me to and on what would be "fun" to make me carry out, then on what I deserved and deserved not, and on how they intended to use me and punish me, and all this, in a total disregard to my listening presence. Each one of their ideas led to another. It always started to come out as a joke, but it never lasted before they found that it was worth planning for it. Those they found to be the funniest among their improvised ideas, were always the worst for me to hear, and of course, the hardest to figure out. Among other things, they would have me kneeling down to carry out manicures on their hands and even pedicures, on a weekly basis sessions. Considering inviting some of their buds to a party, where they'd have me tied up for all the party guests to use me in any way they wished, wasn't out of question. I went sick thinking that nothing could stop them. As long as they found some fun in it, they considered anything worth to be tried.
...
"Another beer?" asked Kevin.
Damien hesitated saying: "Mmmm no, not yet ... Perhaps later."
"You're right," approved Kevin, "it's rather our turn to giv'im something to drink," he added, with an expression on his face that suggested there was a kinky message behind.
Damien burst out laughing, while I panicked.
With this, and while I was kept on my knees, Kevin surrounded both sides of my neck with his legs, pulling my head towards him, and my body could only follow. When I was brought close enough for his hand to reach the back of my head, he brutally grabbed my hair with his fingers, and firmly pulled my face to his half erected cock.
"Lick it, li'll bitch! I know you've been starving for it!" he ordered, clenching his bright white teeth beautifully.
"Uh! Nooo!" was all I could say. Thorn between my turned on desire and the awfully degrading way I was being treated, I dared resisting, no matter what the consequences would be, and kept my lips closed as tightly as I could. Actually, I had never touched any male's genital, before.
With one hand, he kept grabbing my hair firmly, and with the other, he held his cock, pulled back the foreskin to free the head of it, and he started rubbing it against my lips. "At Three," he warned, "if you're yet not suckin' it, you'll be whipped again. And I guess Damien would love doin' it, this time... One!" he added, while staring at me with half a smile, the very typical smile of someone who knows himself to be irresistible, the killing little smile of a self-confident winner.
"I'd surely don't mind. I guess I'd make a good whipper." said Damien with his cynical quietness, and while enjoying the scene. "But what's made you say 'again'?" he asked.
"This is how I just warmed up his cutie bubbles, when you were on your way," explained Kevin, who kept rubbing the head of his cock against my lips and all around my nose, down to my chin, turning me on again.
"All riiiight!!" was Damien's reaction, on learning that I had just been whipped. "Let me check how freshly warmed bubbles look like," he said, and he stood up to come over from behind me.
"Should've seen how belts made his skinny body jerk and twist," continued Kevin, while he kept on staring at me, still grabbing my hair and clenching his teeth, and rubbing the head of his cock, tracing the lines of my lips with it. As my breathing went faster, "Two!" he added, cynically.
"If I knew it, I'd have skipped workin' out," said Damien, while his fingertips brushed lightly against my butt, spreading their heat all over my body.
My resistance was slowly falling to pieces, and I had to deal with the fact I was soon bound to give up. Before Kevin says 'Three' I barely released my lips, and let the shaft of his erected cock slide slowly in between them. Meanwhile, Damien was admiring how burning red my bottom was, and he simply settled down on the floor, legs crossed behind me. Just as I expected he would, he started playing with it. I sighed.
CHAPTER 6: UH! PLEASE NOT THAT!
Damien kept working my butt, while Kevin's cock was hardening inside my mouth. As my naked body was tangled up between their four gracefully muscled legs, they both felt free to subject me to whatever they desired...
(to be continued)
PS: My dedication of this story goes to someone very special, someone whom I happened to mention in these lines before, and who has become like the brother I never had: and this is Jason from NYC). Jason, as promised, this story is dedicated to you.
Now, to all of you readers, again I apologize if my English is what it is.
Names featuring in this story are fictional and totally invented. If they happen to belong to existing people and / or places, it's only by pure coincidence.
Finally, and as usual, comments (positive or negative), corrections, and suggestions are of course, mostly welcome. < Subtoy_Kimy@yahoo.com >