Dominated by the Alpha Teen Next Door, part 3
Note: This story is about a Kyle, young man currently 17 years old, and an Tom, an older man, probably in his late 40s or early 50s. Overt sexual activity between them will not be depicted for now (but Kyle won't be 17 for that much longer!). If this is illegal in your area or is objectionable to you, please don't read it.
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I thought I had plenty of time to finish the chores but it was almost 11:30 and Kyle would be home by noon. I got the lawn mowed, but got a late start on the laundry and the clothes wouldn't be dry until right before noon. The house was mostly clean, but I still needed to finish his bedroom and Kyle cleaned his room as often as a typical teenage boy, which is to say, never.
I ran around like a madman, and managed to get his laundry out (although not folded and put away) and do a passably decent job on his room. Then I heard him come in. I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. He was already pissed off at me, and I knew he wouldn't like that I hadn't completely finished my chores, even if I had done the best I could.
Shortly after noon, I heard Kyle come in. I went downstairs to greet him. He stood just inside the doorway, still wearing his practice gear.
"My cleats got really muddy," he said.
"Let me clean them for you Sir."
I walked over to him and knelt down so I could remove them and go clean them.
"Not like that, faggot. Lay down on your back."
I quickly complied. He picked up his left leg and stepped on my face, grinding the cleats into me and ordering me to lick them clean. There was a ton of mud on it, mixed with grass. I had no choice but to lick it off and swallow it. It took a long time to get all of it, because he kept his shoe ground into my face, making it harder to get all of the dirt off. Finally, it seemed like I had gotten all of it.
"I think this one is done, Sir."
"It's done when I tell you it's done, bitch."
He took his foot off my face and gave me a kick in the ribs, then put it back on my face.
"Keep licking."
I kept going as best as I could. Finally after about five minutes he said, "I think that's good enough for now. Now do the other one. He mashed his right shoe into my face and I went to work on it. I licked them for about 15 minutes, while he was on his phone.
"OK, that's good enough on that one. Now get on your knees and kiss them." I obeyed.
"Use your teeth to untie them and take them off."
I took them off as quickly as I could.
"Now my socks"
I pulled his socks off with my teeth. He held one of them in front of my nose.
"Sniff it good fag. You like the way my sweaty sock smells?"
"Yes, Sir. I love the swell of your sweaty sock."
He then took it and shoved in my mouth. "Keep it there and wait here. I'm going to go see how you did on your chores."
I knelt there with his dirty sock in my mouth, waiting for him to finish his inspection. My heart was pounding. I knew he'd be angry, but I didn't know how angry. I knew he would punish me, and I was afraid of what he would do, but believe it or not, I desperately wanted to please him and I was mostly disappointed in myself for not doing a better job on the chores he assigned me. Then I heard him walking down the stairs. I straightened up and waited. He walked in to where I was kneeling and stood in front of me with a serious look on his face. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He didn't say anything at first. Then he yanked his sock out of my mouth and said
"So, how do you think you did on your chores?"
"I know I fucked up SIr. I didn't get your laundry folded and put away, and I didn't do a great job on cleaning up your room. I'm really sorry, I ran out of...". He cut me off with a slap.
"I didn't ask you for an apology or a lame excuse. When I ask you a question, I want you to answer exactly what I asked. Do you understand?
"Yes, Sir." I felt my checks turning red and burning from embarrassment.
"You now have three things to be punished for, fag. What are they?"
"Fucking up my chores today, Sir. Playing with my dick while sniffing your shirt the other day, Sir. And trying to give you an excuse for why I couldn't do your chores, Sir."
"How do you think I should punish you, faggot?"
I was tempted to say I didn't know but I knew that answer would not please him. I was at a loss, until I noticed that he was wearing a heavy leather belt.
"I think you should whip me with your belt, Sir."
"I'm not sure that's enough, but we can start with that. Follow me."
I followed him upstairs to his room.
"strip and lay face down on the bed. And put those pillows under your crotch."
I had never actually been whipped with a belt, as my parents were the kind of liberals who believed in reasoning with a child about their bad behavior and my sex ife had always been pretty vanilla. I was anxious about how bad it would hurt and wanted Kyle to get started so we could get the punishment over with. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him taking his shirt off. Just then, his phone rang and he went to another room to take the call. The call went on for a while, and the longer I waited the reality of the situation sank in. Here I was, a 40-something college professor, naked, face down on the bed of a teenage jock, waiting for him to whip my ass with a belt. The situation was six kinds of fucked up and if anybody ever found out about my life as I knew it would be over. Then I started thinking about how his sweaty socks smelled, and how good he looked with his shirt off and my dick started getting hard. I knew better than to try to touch it or even rub it against the pillow.
Finally he came back into the room. He didn't say anything. I heard the sound of him pulling his belt out of the loops. Then, the sound of it whooshing through the air, and a lound smack as it landed on my exposed ass. It stung but the pain didn't seem too bad. At least at first. He continued whipping me, concentrating on my as but occasionally landing some blows on my upper back or my thighs. As the whipping continued, the pain got worse and it got to the point where it was hard to take each new blow without crying out. Soon I didn't think I take much more and I was tempted to beg him to stop, but I held back for fear that that would just piss him off and make him whip me even longer.
He stopped for a moment and asked me how I was doing. "It hurts a lot Sir. I don't know if I can take any more."
"Good. It's supposed to hurt--that's the only way you'll learn. I'll give you 20 more licks and then we'll stop. I want you to count them out like this: `One Sir, may I have another Sir' and so on. You can thank me after the last one. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," The first blow landed. "One Sir, may I have another Sir."
The blows continued and I dutifully counted them out.
"20 Sir. Thank you Sir." Finally, it was over. The pain and humiliation had built up to the point where I could no longer hold back and I started crying. I felt really ashamed. "Please Sir, may I go home now?"
"No, fag. Go ahead and cry it out, but you're not done yet today. I've have to make a couple calls.. You can stay here while you pull yourself together. When you're ready, come downstairs. Don't take too long though."
He left. I kept crying. My ass was on fire and I was feeling a mix of disappointment with myself for disobeying him multiple times, shame at having let myself get into this situation, a bit of anger at him for being so harsh, but more of a desperate desire to please him. I finally calmed down and figured I better get downstairs. I wasn't sure if I should get dressed or not, but he hadn't specifically told me to, so I stayed naked and went downstairs. It hurt to walk and I realized that it was going to be hard to sit for at least a couple days. He was in the living room, sitting in an easy chair and talking on the phone. He pointed to the floor in front of him. I figured it meant I was supposed to kneel in front of him so I did. He gave me a quick nod to indicate I had done the right thing, and went back to his conversation as if I wasn't there. The person on the other end was doing most of the talking so I couldn't really tell what the conversation was about. The call went on for another few minutes or so and then he hung up. "Do you have anything to say, faggot?"
"Thank you for punishing me Sir. I will try my best to obey your orders in the future."
"Why did you cry?"
"Well, the whipping hurt pretty bad, Sir, but I think it was mostly that I felt bad because I disappointed you." I noticed a slight smirk on his face before his serious look returned.
"OK. I was going to punish you some more but I think you've had enough for now. But be aware that I won't always be this lenient."
"Yes Sir."
"Some of the guys are coming over later to watch the football game. Go get dressed. You're going to go to the store and buy some beer and snacks for us. Then you will stay and serve us." My heart sank. After what I had been through I really wanted some time alone to recuperate. Instead, I was going to be waiting on a bunch of homophobic jock bullies hand and foot while they watched a football game. I knew that if I objected in any way, it would lead to further punishment and swallowed my feelings about it.
"Of course, Sir. Thank you for the opportunity to serve you and your friends." I went upstairs to get dressed.