This story is an original work. It should not be reposted or reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Copyright 2022 by Jeff Hamby. All rights reserved.
Warning: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts between adult males. If you do not enjoy this type of material, or if it is illegal in your country or place of residence, please stop reading immediately. This story is not in any way an accurate depiction of reality, and any relations to real persons or acts are unintentional. This story is fiction.
Worshipping Jake
Chapter 9
By the time the winter was turning into spring, everything was really out of control.
Just a few months ago, my life seemed to be going okay. Kinda boring, I guess, but, ya know, okay at least. Recently, though, things had spiraled downward fast. Completely out of control. Well, out of my control, at least. Jake and Connor seemed to have things under total control. No, not things – me. I was under their control, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Hell, even my boss at the movie theater was taking advantage of me.
Don't get me wrong: I didn't mind the sex that much. I mean, who wouldn't want the chance to worship their crush, especially when he's the hottest, sexiest, most perfect jock in the school? Jake was everything I dreamed of, except for sweet and loving. Maybe he saved that for his girlfriend. All I know is, at least I was getting the chance to please him and fulfill some of my fantasies. Now, instead of looking at him in class and dreaming about him later at home in bed while I jacked off, I actually got the chance to do what I dreamed about: lick his feet, suck his big cock, even have him deep inside me.
The problem wasn't the sex. It was all the other stuff. And Connor, of course. Connor was turning out to be a huge problem.
I wished I could just have sex with Jake, without all that other stuff: the humiliation, the threats of exposure, the spanking, and especially all the non-sexual stuff he made me do for him, like carrying his books, doing his homework, and working for free at the movie theater. Honestly, it was exhausting, and I was finding myself with very little free time. Free time, I should mention, that I had to spend doing my own homework, and chores around the house. Now, Connor was in the mix, too, and he was a very demanding bastard.
My days were filled with rushing around the school, taking the right book to the right jock where ever his class was, doing all their homework at night, and trying to hold down a part-time job at the theater - a job where every cent I made went straight into Jake's bank account.
Then it finally dawned on me: I was really a slave, in pretty much every sense of the word. Both Jake and Connor had me over a barrel with the pics they had of me, and were basically blackmailing me into anything they wanted me to do, sexually, domestically, whatever. Jake was even using me for income, literal slave labor, and making me put out for his friend Hunter as part of the deal. The worst part was there was nothing I could do about it -except do whatever I was told, of course.
I felt totally helpless. And very conflicted, too. I hated what was happening to me and how these jocks were using me, but at the same time, I craved the use I was getting from Jake, Tyler, and even my boss, Hunter. Something about serving them, letting them use me to drain their balls, just felt so...right.
Connor was another story.
I couldn't stand that little shit. Yeah, he was a jock, just like the others, but he was a freshman, and not nearly as hot. I mean, no one was as hot as Jake, but at least Hunter and Tyler were close. It's not that Connor's body wasn't great (hell, he was already more muscular and fit than me), and he definitely had a big dick, but his personality canceled all that out for me. He was such an obnoxious ass! And cruel, too. Though, at the time, I had no idea how cruel and nasty he really was.
But I was stuck with Connor, at least for now, until either he lost interest in tormenting me, or I figured out some way to make sure he kept his mouth shut.
It used to be that one of the best parts of my day was delivering Jake's breakfast to him in the school parking lot, mostly because I got to spend at least a few seconds down on my knees in front of my blond football god with my lips pressed against his perfect feet. Well, his shoes, at least. And I still did that every day Jake was in school. But as the year wore on, Jake was in school less and less, as he went with his parents to visit different colleges. Jake was a real star on the football field, and he had several different schools trying to recruit him for college ball. During these times, I came to really miss the chance to start my day groveling in front of him.
The one thing that didn't change was Connor. Each morning, I used to start off by worshiping Jake, and thoughts of him and his amazing body filled my mind all day. Now, whether Jake was at school or not, my second stop of the day was always the small boy's bathroom in the back hall, where I went to meet Connor each morning as soon as I was done kissing Jake's feet in the parking lot. Connor gave me strict orders to be there every morning to greet him the same way I did Jake: by getting on my knees and groveling in front of him, kissing his feet. Lately, he'd been giving me breakfast orders just like Jake did.
Sometimes he was there waiting on me. More often, he'd make me wait in the restroom, hoping no one else came in. One time, I tried locking the door so I wouldn't have to deal with any awkward explanations if another student came in, but when Connor arrived and found the door locked, he was furious!
"But...but, Sir, I didn't wanna risk someone else coming in and seeing me waiting here with your breakfast. It's just looks weird," I protested.
He reached out, lightning fast, and slapped me across the face really hard.
"I don't give a fuck, faggot. What, you afraid they are going to realize what a little pervert fag you are?" He snorted derisively. "Fuck, bitch, the whole school's already seen pics of you naked with your little weenie hard. They all know you're a freak already."
I spent the rest of that day at school trying to hide the red mark on the side of my face from Connor's slap. Who knew a kid his age could slap so hard?
So, I did what Connor ordered. I waited in the bathroom for him every day, his breakfast in my hand, with the door unlocked, and just prayed I wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. Eventually, Connor would come strutting in, an arrogant smirk on his face, and just point to the floor in front of him.
I'd drop to my knees and hand him the bag with his breakfast sandwich in it, then lean down and start kissing his worn-out Nikes. That was never enough for Connor, though; he insisted I degrade myself further by thanking him for the privilege. As much as I hated him, and despised how he treated me, I figured it was better to keep him happy so he wouldn't hit me again, or worse, share the pics he had of me.
So, I groveled the way he wanted me to: "Thank you for letting me kiss your beautiful feet, Sir. It's an honor to kiss your sweaty basketball shoes, Sir."
Unlike Jake, who just wanted me to kiss his feet briefly as a sign of respect, Connor enjoyed degrading me, and that was one of his favorite ways to do it, which is why he would leave me down there on the bathroom floor, kissing his feet until he was satisfied. But as usual, that was never enough to satisfy this arrogant young jock.
"Look at the side of my shoe, bitch. I must have stepped in some mud. Clean it off like a good fag," he'd demand. The thought of licking his shoes was bad enough, but licking mud off of them? That was truly disgusting. But we both knew I couldn't tell him no. He had me right where he wanted me, literally and figuratively, so I'd stick out my tongue and start licking the dried mud on the side of his shoe. It was so gross! My spit quickly made the mud turn slimy, and it coated my tongue and mouth with grit and dirt.
That wasn't the worst part of my mornings, though. The worst part came whenever Connor was satisfied with my worship and cleaning of his Nikes.
"Alright, faggot, you know what's next. Let's hear you beg for it," he'd order.
With a sigh, I'd kneel up and stick my face in the front of his pants and start sniffing his crotch, while I tried to beg enough to please him. "Please Sir, can I please drink your piss? Please piss in my mouth, Sir! I want to taste your piss and be your urinal, Sir!" It was beyond humiliating, let me tell you. The only thing worse than having a freshman jock pissing in your mouth is having to beg him to do it. But beg I did, every day, just to keep Connor satisfied and, more importantly, quiet.
I can't tell you how nauseating it was. Every morning, five days a week, Connor unzipped his pants and laid his big dick on my tongue. I had to kneel there, with my mouth wide open and my tongue hanging out until his urine started to flow into my mouth. Only then was I allowed to close my mouth and swallow. He pissed a lot, and never slowed the flow of his piss so I could catch up, which meant I had to drink it fast to keep from spilling any. Of course, I rarely succeeded in swallowing it all without spilling some. I swear, I think Connor deliberately avoiding peeing when he woke up just so he would have more piss to make me drink. Invariably, when some of his piss escaped my mouth, he'd order me to lick it up off the bathroom floor. It was gross, but what choice did I have? One time, as soon as I finished cleaning drops of his piss off the dirty tile floor, I glanced up at him, only to see him staring down at me with a huge grin on his face! He was loving this, every moment of my suffering and humiliation, the little sadist!
So, while most folks were enjoying the spring weather and the coming end of the school year, I was spending my days running from class to class to take care of my two jock masters, with the taste of Connor's piss lingering on my tongue.
Work was almost as bad as school. Hunter had me scheduled to work every weekend and several nights a week, which not only meant I had zero free time to relax, but also that I had to satisfy Hunter's perpetually hard cock every time I worked. I didn't know any man could cum as often as he did! He always scheduled me to come in once most of the shows had started in the afternoon, so that it was slow when I arrived. Invariably, he'd grab me as soon as I clocked in and order me into the office, then pound my throat with his thick cock. Hunter rarely liked to sit back and be sucked; he preferred fucking, and it made no difference to him which of my holes he was fucking. He'd ram his prick into my throat and hold my head down on it, my nose buried in his pubes, making me breathe in the smell of his sweaty balls as I tried not to choke. He'd grab a big handful of my hair and use it to hold me in place as he pounded his cock down my throat, banging his balls on my chin with each thrust. After he dumped his load down my throat, he'd spear my throat with the entire length of his tool and hold me in place, grinding my lips into his crotch. Of course, after a few seconds I'd start struggling to breathe, since his dick completely plugged my airway. No matter how hard I tried though, I was no match for Hunter's strength. He'd simply flex his muscles and my struggles became pointless. Whenever he thought I was about to pass out, he'd pull his cock out far enough I could quickly gasp a breath of air, then he would seal my throat around his cock again, plugging it as completely as a stopper in a sink.
Eventually, my struggles would turn him on enough he'd start pounding my throat again until he dumped his second load into my belly. That second load was usually enough to satisfy him for a while, and he'd finally let me up and order me to get busy working. With Hunter, there was never a word of thanks, or a "good job" or anything like that. He treated me more like an appliance, simply a compliant device he could use to get his nut, then toss away until he was ready to use it again.
You know what was worse than having my boss rape my throat at the start of every shift? Having to slink out of the office afterwards, my hair a mess, my lips and nose bruised from his hips pounding into them, and dirt all over the knees of my pants. I was left with the distinctly bitter taste of Hunter's cum coating my mouth, as I tried desperately to avoid the eyes of my coworkers until I could get to the bathroom and clean myself up a bit.
Despite how much he seemed to enjoy using my mouth and ass, Hunter was never friendly with me, not even kind. He mostly just grunted or barked an order when he wanted me to do something, and he always saved the worst, most thankless jobs for me. When I didn't have his cock inside me, he had me sweeping the theaters, taking out the massive amounts of trash the place generated, or scrubbing the bathrooms. Normally, theater bathrooms only get cleaned, like, once a day. But Hunter insisted I clean ours every hour without fail. The women's room was easy, but the men's bathroom was always nasty, since the customers would somehow manage to get piss everywhere, which I had to scrub clean. It got to the point where I began to associate the idea of going to work with the pervasive smell of stale piss.
I had just rolled my mop bucket into the men's room one night for another cleaning when things went from bad to worse. The restroom was empty except for one stall, so I began cleaning over by the urinals until the lone customer finished. When I heard the stall door open, I glanced up, only to stare in shock as Tyler came strutting out of the stall.
"Well, well! Look at what we have here! I forgot Jake had you working here, fag," Tyler said loudly, laughing out loud when I started blushing in shame. I was desperately hoping no one heard him!
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was terrified of what Tyler might do or say next. Surely, he wasn't bold enough to use me right here in a public bathroom! I just stood there, holding my mop with my mouth hanging open while Tyler started rubbing his cock through his jeans.
"This must be my lucky day running into you like this, faggot," Tyler said. "This movie is boring as shit, but I know just how to liven it up some. Come with me!" He reached out one huge hand and grabbed me by my earlobe and walked out of the bathroom, forcing me to follow him.
Tyler started down the long hallway that connected all the theaters, dragging me along with him like I was a naughty child he caught misbehaving. I felt so humiliated, with this huge linebacker painfully leading me down the hall, an act that took almost no effort on his part but was excruciating for me. Once again, I found myself silently praying no one would witness this, especially not any of my coworkers.
Tyler led me into the very last theater, one showing an action film which had been out a while. Even in the dark, I could tell there was only one other person in the theater - a big, redheaded dude, almost the size of Tyler. I only caught a glimpse of him, but I didn't know him. I guessed he might be another football player, probably a lineman like Tyler, given his size.
Tyler took the steps two at a time, nearly dragging me off my feet as he walked up to the other guy. As soon as he reached the row of seats, Tyler started pulling my ear towards the floor, making it clear he wanted me on my knees. I dropped to my knees and crawled after him, grateful as hell he finally released his grip on my earlobe.
"What the fuck, man?" the big ginger asked Tyler, looking down at me.
"Dude! You're gonna love this! I found us a little something fun. At least this suck-ass movie won't be a total waste," Tyler replied happily. He turned back to me, his voice changing to a more commanding and disdainful tone, "Get over here, faggot. Show Jason what you're good for."
I was so glad it was dark in the theater, so neither of these huge jocks could see me turning deep red from humiliation. Tyler obviously didn't care that I was at work, and that any of my coworkers or other patrons might have seen him dragging me down the hall, or could just as easily walk in and see me on my knees in front of him. I don't know if Tyler got off on exposing me as a faggot to his friend, or if my problems just didn't register with him. Regardless, he reached out and grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head into his lap as soon as he sat down, grinding my face into the bulge beginning to grow in his jeans. Before I knew it, he had his pants unzipped and was hauling out his fat cock.
"Watch this, dude!" I heard him say to his friend, Jason, immediately followed by him shoving his cock in my mouth and pushing my head all the way down into his lap, forcing me to swallow his meat. He held me down as his cock grew to its full length and thickness in my throat, forcing me to try and breathe through my nose as the expanding tube plugged my throat. As I began to struggle to accommodate his huge rod, Tyler simply held my hair tighter, locking me in place. I was no match for his muscles, honed by hours in the gym and on the football field.
Once his cock was fully hard, it was impossible for me to breathe. I thought I would pass out before he finally relaxed his grip on my hair and I was able to pull off his dick. As I gasped for air, I heard Tyler and Jason laughing at me. I quickly glanced up toward the projectionist's booth and prayed that no one was up there watching this jock use me as his personal cocksucker. I didn't have long to worry about it, as Tyler quickly forced me back onto his dick, his huge hands on both sides of my head, moving my mouth up and down on his rod like I was a Fleshlight. Not for the first time, it really hit home to me: I wasn't even a person to these jocks. I was just a walking, talking, obedient sex toy they could use any time and any way they wanted. As that thought circled around in my brain, I felt myself overcome by a wave of the deepest humiliation and shame. I could even feel a tear start rolling down my cheek.
Then, the strangest thing happened. As I knelt there in the middle of this movie theater, one jock fucking my mouth while another, a total stranger, watched, with waves of shame rolling over me for the way I was being used, something changed inside me. I don't know what it was, but something changed, because suddenly, when the shame and humiliation were at their peak, my throat opened up like some kinda flower, and Tyler's cock slid further down than ever before. It was as if some giant dam of sexual need inside me suddenly burst, and I was overcome with a strange, intoxicating mixture of humiliation and lust. Before I could even understand what was happening, my throat collapsed around Tyler's thick cock, wrapping around his shaft like a glove, as if I wanted to pull him even deeper inside me. Even though Tyler couldn't know what was going on in my head, he certainly felt the results of it, and let out a loud groan as my throat muscles squeezed him all along the length of his shaft, massaging every inch as it was buried inside me. My brain was rebelling, horrified by the way I was being treated, but my body was ruled by a deeper, more primal need I couldn't control. In a flash, I realized two terrible truths: I hated being treated like this and used this way – it disgusted me; and, at the same time, that I desperately needed this type of treatment, this abuse from powerful men like Tyler and Jake and all the rest – I craved it and hated it in equal measure.
I was repulsed by my own pathetic need to be used by these jocks, which did nothing but feed my lust for them. I sucked Tyler's massive meat like my life depended on it, as if the cure for whatever ailed me was in his balls and I had to suck it out or die. He relaxed his grip on my head and leaned back in his seat, overwhelmed by the pleasure my throat was providing. Before I realized it, I was bobbing up and down on his cock rapidly, pulling it out until only the big head remained in my mouth, then swallowing the entire length on every downstroke. Just like every time I'd sucked him, the girth of his cock completely filled my mouth and throat, and my jaw started to cramp from being forced open so wide. I didn't care. My pain was nothing; all that mattered was satisfying this man, worshiping his cock.
I was sucking with such vigor that it didn't take long before Tyler grabbed my head with both his hands and rammed his cock down my throat as far as it would go, his balls pressed against my chin. He let out a loud roar and shot his cum straight into my belly, adding it to the two loads Hunter fed me at the start of my shift.
Kneeling there on the hard theater floor, I tried to catch my breath as Tyler's cock slowly deflated in my throat. Above me, Tyler was momentarily speechless from the power of his orgasm. "Fuck man, let me get some of that!" Jason said.
He reached over and grabbed my hair, then pulled me off of Tyler's cock, dragging me over to his lap in the process. Jason's dick was already out of his pants and hard. He didn't waste any time, just shoved it directly into my mouth and down my throat. I didn't get a good look at it, but from the feel he was uncut and longer than Tyler, though nowhere near as thick. In typical football player fashion, Jason didn't wait for me to blow him, but instead used his muscular arms to manhandle me, pumping my head up and down on his cock at the exact rhythm he preferred. I tried my best to simply relax my throat, to allow him to fuck it to his satisfaction. Not that I really had any choice, given the circumstances.
It was totally degrading. I'd never even met this guy, and minutes after laying eyes on him, not only has he watched a guy fuck my face, now he's doing it himself, like it was his right or something. What was worse – here I was, not only doing my best to accommodate his cock down my throat, but my own dick was hard as a rock in my trousers. I don't know if it was being used by these two jocks, or the humiliation of the situation, or both, but it felt like my dick was going to rip right through my pants. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself; both my inability to stand up to these jocks and with my own desperate need to have them use me sexually. I was a pathetic fag – they knew it, and relentlessly exploited it; now I was finally accepting it, too, I suppose. Why else would I be kneeling on the nasty floor of this theater, letting a total stranger rape my throat? Why else would my dick be throbbing so painfully in my pants while it happened?
Jason must have gotten pretty hot watching Tyler use me, because it didn't take him long before he added his load of cum to the others I'd swallowed. I was still sucking the last drops of cum from his dick when he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me off his dick, giving me a look of disgust as he shoved me away and tucked his cock back in his pants. The sneer on his face told me all I needed to know: while I may have been a useful tool for him to get his nut, he considered me a disgusting fag, and wanted nothing else to do with me.
Jason shoved me off his cock hard enough I landed against the back of the seats in front of us. I sat there for a moment, at the feet of these two football players, just looking at them, in awe of their rugged masculinity and how easily they manipulated and used me, as if it were something they were simply entitled to do, in equal parts because of who and what they were, and who and what I was.
"Hey, faggot! Aren't you supposed to be keeping this place clean or something?" Tyler said, snapping me back to reality. "Look at this shit. There's trash all over the floor." He pointed to the floor next to where Jason was sitting. Someone had spilled popcorn into a small pool of what was once soda, and the mess had congealed on the floor. It looked like it had been there for a while, as if the theater hadn't been cleaned very well after the previous showing. Apparently, many of my coworkers had learned I got stuck with the nasty cleaning jobs, and left it for me to clean up later. Just my luck.
"That shit is disgusting!" Tyler remarked. "We both stepped in that stuff when we were sitting down. Now, my shoes are all dirty just because you're a lazy little bitch who can't do his job." He put one foot up on his other knee, so that his foot was almost in my face. "I think you better clean `em off, you stupid fucking perv."
I looked at the sole of his black and blue Nike. It was definitely filthy. I could see some popcorn stuck to the bottom, with some of it embedded in the treads. It was so nasty. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, but I hated the thought of licking that crud off Tyler's shoes. Part of it was, of course, not wanting that filth in my mouth; but a bigger part of it, I gotta admit, was not wanting Tyler to use me that way, or for his buddy Jason to see just how low I would go. As much as I loved jock feet, even huge, smelly ones like Tyler's, it embarrassed me even more than being used as a cocksucker. I didn't believe it was possible to humiliate me more than these guys had already.
Boy, was I wrong!
I looked up at Tyler from where I was sitting, my eyes pleading with him not to do this to me – not here, where anyone, including my coworkers, could see me, and certainly not in front of his friend. Did I find any sympathy or understanding in his eyes? Of course not. The look on his face was clear: if I didn't do what he said, I was in for a world of hurt, both for disobeying him and for embarrassing him in front of Jason.
I didn't want to do it. But I figured it was the only way to save myself from an ass beating, so I leaned forward and stuck out my tongue, then began obediently lapping the bottom of Tyler's nasty shoe. Above me, he and Jason were laughing at what a sick faggot I was to do something so low and disgusting.
The taste of Tyler's Nikes was truly nauseating. Tiny pieces of grimy, stale popcorn, which were wedged into the tread, mixed with old soda, dirt, and other things I don't even want to think about all ended up in my mouth. I felt like gagging each time I had to swallow. Tyler, on the other hand, seemed to love showing off his power over me to Jason. He began telling him stories about how he and Jake had used me, which just made me want to die from shame.
When he was satisfied his shoe was clean, Tyler switched feet and made me clean off his other shoe, too. As if that wasn't bad enough, when I was done, he ordered me to do the same thing for Jason.
Jason was wearing black Adidas, and he was sneering at me as I began to lick them clean, as if he was both repulsed by me and also interested to see just how far I'd go to obey them. He ground his shoe into my tongue and nose as I licked, rubbing the grime from his soles all over my face, laughing the entire time.
Once I'd cleaned both of the jocks' shoes, I figured they would be done with me. Again, I was wrong. As I put the final touches on Jason's shoes, Tyler grabbed the hair on the back of my head and dragged me over to the spilled popcorn and soda on the floor. "Come on, faggot. Time to do your job and clean up this place so paying customers like us don't get our nice, clean shoes dirty again. Get busy, bitch!" He shoved my face down to the floor, right in the middle of the congealed, sticky mess, then placed one huge foot on the back of my head, holding me in place. I was trapped under this cruel linebacker's shoe as he forced me to lick the floor clean.
Never in my life had I felt so low and degraded. Being forced to clean the floor in public for the amusement of these two jocks was so humiliating I wanted to just disappear into the ground, never to be seen again. What was worse: my dick was throbbing in my pants like it was about to explode at any moment.
"Dude, that is so fucking disgusting! I can't believe this nasty little queer is licking the floor clean!" Jason exclaimed.
"I told ya, man," Tyler replied. I could hear the grin in his voice. He was loving all this. "The bitch can't get enough abuse. He fucking loves being used like this, don't ya, fag?" I replied as best as I could with my mouth full of soggy, sticky popcorn and dirt, while Tyler's huge shoe forced my lips into the floor. It came out as just a pathetic grunt. That just made both guys laugh even harder.
"Shit, I've never seen a guy as low and worthless as this faggot," Jason said, getting out of his seat. I could feel him standing right behind me, but Tyler's foot prevented me from turning to look at him, or doing anything to defend myself from whatever he planned to do. Suddenly, Jason brought his big size 14 Adidas in between my legs and kicked me right in the nuts.
My body instantly went rigid, then I began to spasm, like he'd just shoved a cattle prod up my ass. The only thing that kept me from flopping around completely was Tyler's foot on my head. As the pain from my nuts rocketed throughout my body, I realized to my horror that I was cumming. I'd been on the edge of it since Tyler shoved his cock in my mouth, but Jason's abuse of my swollen balls sent me over the edge. I let out a loud groan as my dick shot volley after volley of spunk into my trousers. Above me, both the jocks were howling with laughter so loudly I could hear them clearly over the action on the movie screen.
"Fuck man! That was the most twisted shit I've ever seen!" Jason exclaimed. "I kicked the cum right out of the stupid bitch!" I heard him and Tyler high five, then Tyler finally pulled his foot off my head.
"Get the fuck out of here, cum dump. We're done with your nasty ass," Tyler ordered dismissing me as they both sat back down.
I scurried out of the theater as quickly as I could, stopping right before I entered the hallway. Now that some of the adrenaline was wearing off, I was in serious pain. Imagine having a giant high school lineman take aim and kick you dead in the nuts. My balls ached, but that wasn't my biggest problem.
My biggest problem was the huge stain on the front of my trousers. It looked like...well, it looked exactly like I'd been crawling on the floor and then shot a load in my pants. Anyone who saw me would see the big wet stain on my crotch, which was already turning white as it began to dry.
I literally sprinted down the hall to the men's room and locked myself in a stall. I cleaned my pants up as best as I could, but when I stepped out to look at the damage in the mirror, I realized it was hopeless. I was disheveled and filthy, and my pants were ruined.
I looked like a well-used faggot whore. Which, I suppose, is exactly what I was.
I didn't know what to do. I just stood there, staring in the mirror, panicking. All these terrible ideas were swirling around in my head – visions of me being found like this, being exposed to my coworkers and the theater patrons as they laughed at me and recoiled in disgust from what a sicko faggot I clearly was. I was starting to hyperventilate, and thought for sure I was going to pass out right there on the bathroom floor.
That's when Hunter walked in and saw me. And started laughing his ass off.
I felt like melting into the floor as he stood there laughing, but of course, there was nothing I could do except stand there and take it. It's not like I could run away, looking the way I did. My hope was that, despite everything, Hunter would at least take pity on me and either help me find some pants that weren't covered in cum, or, at a minimum, help me sneak out of the place without being seen, especially by any of the other staff.
After a few moments, my boss got himself under control. "What the fuck have you been doing, bitch?" he demanded. "You are supposed to be scrubbing the toilets and keeping this place clean, but you look like you've been in here sucking cocks or something. Is that it? You been whoring yourself out in my bathroom, faggot?"
I was so thrown off balance by his sudden change in demeanor, I almost couldn't speak. "N...no, sir. That's, um...it wasn't anything like that..." I stammered, hanging my head while I blushed with shame. "There were... these guys from my school...well, one guy and his buddy...they did this. They made me," I tried to explain.
"The made you, faggot? What, they held you down and forced you to cum in your pants? Is that what you're telling me, dumbass?" he said, glaring at me like I was a lying idiot.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "Well...I mean no, they didn't really make me, but..."
Hunter crossed to where I was standing in about three steps, then stopped my stammering by slapping me hard across the face. "Shut the fuck up, cunt," he ordered. "Look at yourself!" He grabbed the back of my head and forcibly turned me so I was facing the mirror over the sink. I'd just been looking at my condition moments before he walked in. But now, with Hunter standing next to me, my pathetic, used condition was thrown into stark relief: the messed-up hair from where the jocks used it to control me; the dirt and grime on my face from where I'd cleaned their shoes and the floor with my tongue; the dirty knees on my pants, making it clean to anyone that I'd spent a good bit of time down on my knees like a good cocksucker, and, of course, the huge white stain on my black trousers. The entire look said "slut". As if that wasn't bad enough, I now had a bright red handprint on one side of my face, so anyone that saw me would know I'd been bitch slapped, as if it wasn't already obvious I was a little bitch.
Standing side by side, Hunter looked like a normal, decent man; I looked like a perverted faggot. The difference between us, thrown into contrast by our reflection, was enough to make tears start slowing rolling down my face. This is what I was, what I'd become in such a short time, and the cum stain soaking the front of my pants simply served to prove how much I enjoyed being used and treated this way.
I'd never felt more ashamed in my entire life.
Hunter kept his grip on the back of my head, and began shoving me out of the restroom. "This is a business and a place families come to relax, bitch," he said, forcing me down the hallway towards the lobby. "I can't have some sick pervert faggot like you doing your disgusting shit where decent people might see you."
Just my luck: right about the time Hunter was forcing me down the hallway, several movies were letting out. Crowds of people were flowing into the hallway from the various theaters, while more were coming in from the lobby, ready for the next show. Patrons were staring at me, some pointing, others laughing as they nudged their friends. One mom took a look at the big, wet stain on my crotch and reached down to cover up her child's eyes, so she wouldn't see the sex freak, I guess. I kept hoping I would actually die, like literally die, from the humiliation, so that I wouldn't have to experience any more of it.
If the theater hallway was horrible, the lobby was a true nightmare. Hunter paraded me right through the center of the crowded lobby, past the concession stand, where several of my coworkers stopped what they were doing just to stare at me and laugh. I heard customers laughing as well. Some even made comments I overheard.
"Oh, my God! That's disgusting!"
"Shit, look at that pervert! They need to throw that sicko out!"
"Someone should kick that freak's ass!"
I tried to block it all out of my mind, but I couldn't. Even looking down at the floor, too ashamed to risk making eye contact with anyone, I still noticed at least two kids from my school. No doubt the story would be all over the school by morning. Just what I needed: yet another reason to be the subject of public ridicule.
After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the front door of the theater. Hunter forced me outside into the parking lot. "Get the fuck out of here, you nasty faggot. You're stinking up the place." He gave me one last shove, then kicked me squarely in the ass, sending me sprawling onto the pavement. I lay there for a moment while Hunter walked over and spit on me, then turned and walked back inside.
At least the parking lot wasn't crowded, and the darkness gave me some protection from the few people outside. I scrambled to my feet, wiped Hunter's spit off the side of my face, and fled into the night, desperate to make my way home without anyone else seeing me like this.
Grownups like to tell you that high school is "the best years of your life." Yeah, right! I woke up the next morning, and was convinced that I'd just gone through the very worst night of my entire life. I dreaded the idea of going to school, just knowing I'd probably be the source of a lot of stares and nasty comments. Again. As if Jake posting that naked picture of me wasn't bad enough, now everyone would be convinced I was a real sicko freak. Some of them had even seen the proof with their own eyes.
I must have spent ten minutes trying to figure out some way to keep from going to school, without success. Jake and Connor were both expecting me to be there, since I had their homework and textbooks. They'd both already texted me their breakfast orders, too, so I knew there would be hell to pay if I tried to stay home sick.
Making it through the morning rituals was the easy part. As always, getting to see Jake and kiss his feet was the highlight of my morning, quickly followed by having to grovel in front of Connor and beg for his piss, always the low point of my morning. Today, however, that barely even registered after the events of the previous night. It was to the point where having a freshman use my mouth as his personal urinal had become...routine. What the fuck was my life turning into?
Then, I fucked up. But I didn't know at the time the price I would pay for my mistake.
To this day, I have no idea exactly what happened which led to my downfall. I was usually very careful and diligent, but not that day. Perhaps I was still worn out and traumatized from the events of the night before at the theater. Perhaps I was worried that Hunter was going to call Jake to tell him what happened and that I'd been fired. Or maybe I was just too concerned about the rumors that were sure to spread around the school, if they hadn't already. Regardless of the reason, I fucked up, and I fucked up badly. What started out as a beautiful, late spring day right before summer break turned into the worst day of my life up to that point, when everything came crashing down on me. And it was all my own fault.
Jake and Connor both had papers due the same day, in different classes. Of course, neither one of them intended to waste their time actually doing their homework: that's what their fag was for, I guess. So, I dutifully completed each paper for them. When time for second period rolled around that morning, I met Jake in front of his classroom and handed him his textbook with his paper inside it, ready to be turned in, then rushed across the school to do the same with Connor, managing to make it to my own class just slightly before the tardy bell rang.
Ten minutes later, I felt my phone blowing up, so I sneaked a peek when the teacher wasn't looking. There were angry messages from Connor and Jake. I'd given each of them the correct book, but the wrong papers! As a result, neither of them was able to turn in their correct papers on time.
Connor was pissed, threatening me with horrible punishments. Jake, however, was furious. He demanded I meet him as soon as his class was done to explain. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat. I was in trouble for sure, but the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced this could actually work out in my favor. Jake didn't know about Connor; he had no idea anyone had seen me publicly kissing his feet in the mornings. If I played this right...and I mean just right...I might be able to get Jake to take care of my ongoing problem known as Connor.
Connor was fuming, but I steered clear of him after class, obeying Jake instead. As soon as he walked out of his class, I could see how pissed off he was. His beautiful face had anger written all over it – anger at me, which was enough to make me almost wet myself with fear.
"Who the fuck is this Connor dude?" Jake demanded, thrusting Connor's paper at me.
"He, uh, he's a freshman. One of the basketball players, Sir."
"Yeah? And why the fuck do I have his paper instead of mine, you stupid bitch?"
"I made a mistake, Sir. He got yours and you got his," I explained, trying to sound very apologetic.
"Why the hell are you doing his papers anyway, fag?"
That's when it came out. I told Jake everything. All about Connor using and abusing me. Well, most of it. I couldn't bring myself to tell him I drank Connor's piss. That was just too nasty, and I didn't want anyone, especially not my blond football god, to know I'd sunk that low.
When I was done, Jake didn't say much, except to demand Connor's phone number. I could tell he was still super angry, so I figured Connor was in for a world of hurt, as least as much or more than me. Jake definitely wasn't keen on the idea of someone taking advantage of what he considered his property – namely, me.
I avoided Connor the rest of the day on Jake's orders, which was a huge relief. By the last period, Jake seemed to be a lot calmer than he was earlier in the day. He even seemed to be in a good mood by the time he sat down next to me in class. I was hoping I'd heard the last of Connor.
At the end of class, Jake shoved his books at me and walked out without another word, so I made my way home as quickly as I could, in order to avoid a confrontation with Connor. About the time it was getting dark that evening, I got a text from Jake: "Be outside in 10 mins." I had no idea what was up, but didn't dare argue with him. A short time later, Jake's truck pulled up in front of my house, and I hurried to hop in the passenger side.
Once I was in, Jake spoke one word to me, "Strip."
I didn't think twice. He'd trained me to obey him, so I immediately starting pulling off my clothes, until I was sitting bare assed next to him, hoping he was about to let me worship that huge, perfect cock of his. Jake, it seemed, had other ideas.
It didn't take long to figure out where we were going. When we pulled into the back parking lot of the school, Jake killed his lights, stopping in the middle of the parking lot, as usual. I was looking forward to getting to serve Jake again. He hadn't used me sexually in a while, due to being so busy getting ready for college. For all I knew, this might be my last chance to truly worship him, to feel him deep inside me. That's what I wanted, more than anything - to be with him, to be a part of him, even if it was just for a few minutes while he got off.
After Jake parked, I expected him to unzip his pants and put me to work on his cock, but instead he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small bag. He reached in and removed a big leather dog collar with little spikes on it, the kind you'd use for a Rottweiler or something. He quickly fastened it around my neck, then pulled a dog leash out of the bag and clipped it on to the front of the collar. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I was so in love with Jake I didn't really care. I'd have done anything for him, anything at all. Instead of fucking me, though, Jake took the leash and doubled it over, placing part of it between my teeth. "Stay," he ordered, as if I was a real dog. And stay I did, of course, while he got out and walked behind his truck.
I was watching him in the side mirror, trying to figure out what he had planned, when I saw someone walking across the dark parking lot. It was Connor! A thrill of excitement went through me. I was going to get to see the big confrontation between my two jock masters! I'd fantasized about Jake beating the hell out of Connor, saving me from his abuse and making it clear to Connor that I was Jake's property; my football hero claiming me against all others. And now those dreams were about to come true while I watched!
The two jocks, senior and freshman, walked toward each other, stopping under one of the light poles. I rolled down my window and strained to hear what they were saying to each other, but they were too far away. I stared, eager for the moment Jake put all those sculpted muscles of his to work and beat Connor's ass to a pulp! I kept waiting, but it didn't happen.
Then I saw something that turned my blood to ice in my veins: they were laughing. Then they fist-bumped each other. That's when I knew something was terribly wrong, and I wasn't going to like the outcome.
Jake finally came strolling back over to his truck. He walked up near my window and snapped his fingers, motioning for me to get out. As soon as I did, he took the leash from between my teeth and casually wrapped it around his hand, then began walking back to where Connor was waiting. I had no choice but to follow on his heels, his obedient, leashed animal.
When Jake stopped in front of Connor, he snapped his fingers again, this time pointing to the ground. I immediately knelt next to him, the pavement biting into my bare knees. It felt surreal, me naked and on my knees, leashed and collared like a dog, while these two fully-clothed jocks stood there having a conversation as if I didn't exist, the end of my leash still in Jake's hand, making it very clear that I was his property.
It was becoming obvious to me that, not only was this situation not going to work out the way I'd hoped, with my sexy blond jock god beating the hell out of the obnoxious freshman, then publicly claiming me as his personal property; but, instead, things were actually going from bad to much, much worse. Instead of protecting me – rescuing me, even – Jake was casually chatting with Connor as if they were old buddies.
Jake snapped his fingers, then pointed at his shoes. I immediately bent down and began kissing his shoes. He was wearing his Chucks tonight, and I planted kisses all over them before I started licking the tops of them clean. It only served to make the entire situation more bizarre: me licking Jake's shoes while he and Connor continued to chat like two normal guys, as if having a naked, leashed fag at their feet was the most normal thing in the world. For these guys, though, I suppose it was pretty normal. They were both the types that were used to being catered to and waited on by others, not to mention always being the center of attention. For them, this must seem like a natural extension of their normal, alpha male privilege.
I suppose I got so wrapped up in licking Jake's shoes I stopped paying attention to what the men when doing, because suddenly I felt Connor's foot between my legs. He stretched his leg forward and hooked his shoe on my dick, which, to my chagrin, was rock-hard. I hated the fact that, despite this humiliating situation, I was fully aroused. I really must be some kind of freak! To make it worse, Connor pulled my erection back between my legs as far as he could, casually using his foot to torture me while I continued to worship Jake's shoes. My dick was so hard, it hurt when Connor forced it back between my legs, but not nearly as much as when he suddenly pulled his foot away, causing my rigid prick to spring forward and slap into the pavement. I squealed when he did that, producing gales of laughter from both jocks.
Jake snapped his finger again; I saw he was now pointing toward Connor's feet, so I turned as gently as I could, so as not to allow the concrete to do more damage to my knees, and began kissing Connor's Nike high tops.
"Bout time you started showing me proper respect, bitch," Connor drawled. "Looks like you got some of your nasty fag slime on my shoes. Clean it off, cunt."
I could see some of my precum on Connor's laces and the top of his shoe, from where he had pulled my dick with it. I immediately began licking off every trace.
"That's right, faggot. You've got a lot to answer for," Jake said, picking up on Connor's opening. "My new bud Connor here says you've been ignoring him ever since you fucked up and gave us both the wrong homework. Plus, Hunter called me and said he had to fire you from the theater for being too big a fucking pervert. Seems to me like you've been concentrating more on what you want and not enough on what you've been told to do, queerboy."
"Sir, I'm so sorry Sir!" I groveled, kissing and licking Connor's shoes more fervently as I begged. "It wasn't like that at all, Sir! I was used by Tyler and his friend..."
"Shut the fuck up, faggot. No one wants to hear your pathetic excuses!" Jake snarled, placing his foot on top of my head and forcing my face into Connor's Nike. "C'mon dude," he continued, addressing Connor, "I know what this fag needs." He jerked on the leash, pulling me abruptly to my feet, my head pulled up and back by the leash. Without warning, Connor reached out and slapped my erection, which was throbbing painfully on display. I grunted in pain and tried to double over, but Jake was holding my leash tightly as he and Connor laughed. Jake began dragging me back towards his truck, with Connor right behind us. I didn't know what they were about to do, but I was terrified, as well as completely at their mercy.
Once back at his truck, Jake lowered the tailgate and climbed into the bed, the other end of my leash still wrapped around his hand. He pulled me so I was pressed tight against the edge of the tailgate, then Connor lifted me from behind so I was bent over the tailgate, my ass fully exposed and vulnerable, the tips of my toes just barely brushing the pavement. Then Jake threaded the other end of the leash through one of the bed tiedowns, leaving me in a painful, bent over position with my head held up by the taut leash. I knew what was about to happen, and I dreaded it!
Jake jumped out of the bed of the truck and I felt him move in behind me. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made my skin turn to goose flesh, confirming my worst fears. I definitely didn't want to be spanked, and especially not in front of Connor! The last thing Connor needed was more ideas of ways to abuse me. Once again, though, I found myself helpless and in a mess of my own making, with no choice but to grit my teeth and take my punishment, which, if I'm completely honest, I knew I deserved.
The first blow came without warning and it came hard, the leather strap propelled by the full force of Jake's powerful arm. All at once, my ass was on fire, and I let out a scream, just like the last time I'd been whipped in this parking lot. Neither of the jocks seemed to care, though, either about my pain or the noise, because Jake continued to pound on my ass with his belt.
I lost track of how many times Jake hit my ass. It felt like a million, but I know it wasn't. When he finally stopped, my entire butt was burning and throbbing. The pain was intense, and tears were running down my face. What I heard next sent chills down my spine, though.
"Here, man," Jake said casually, "have at it. I think you owe the fag some as well." I heard Connor moving into place behind me as Jake handed him his belt. I was seriously dreading this, but figured at least Connor was smaller and not as muscular as Jake, so my ass would get a little mercy, even if it was unintended. Boy, was I wrong.
With Jake, spanking me was simply a form of correction, the same way he'd punish a disobedient dog or something. He didn't do it for fun, just out of necessity, and I had to accept the fact that I deserved to be punished. Connor though, was a totally different situation. He loved abusing me, and he and I were both about to discover that he was a serious sadist just beginning to develop.
Connor's first few swings weren't that hard, and I began to hope I'd get off easy. Then, he apparently decided to show me and Jake just what he could do, because he hit me with a blow that was so hard, it knocked the wind out of me. The pain was so intense I couldn't even scream. Without giving me any time to adjust or prepare for another blow, Connor began pounding on my already-welted ass with Jake's belt, really beating me. That wasn't enough for him though; he started moving around, aiming his blows at my lower back and my tender, exposed thighs. At one point, I felt him kick my legs until they were even further apart. Since Jake had me tied so only my tiptoes touched the ground, when Connor forced my legs apart, I was both truly helpless and completely exposed. Even my asshole was on display and vulnerable in this position. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what Connor wanted. He brought the leather belt down in such a way it made direct contact with both my exposed asshole and my balls. I think I levitated a foot off the tailgate, and let out a squeal that was almost inhuman. The pain was overwhelming, as was the sheer degradation of the entire situation. Fire was spreading throughout the whole lower half of my body, which is probably why I didn't realize how badly I'd just fucked up until the two men noticed.
"Holy fuck man!" Jake laughed. "You literally beat the piss out of him. Little faggot just peed all over my truck." To my horror, I realized it was true. I was now lying in a pool of my own piss.
Connor was laughing so hard he couldn't even reply. Jake jumped into the truck bed and untied my leash. As soon as he did, I collapsed to the ground, only to find myself kneeling in a small puddle of my own urine, which was steadily dripping from the tailgate.
"Uh-uh bitch, this ain't no time to rest. Get your faggot ass up here and clean my truck, shit for brains!" Jake demanded. He jerked on my leash until I slowly unfolded myself from the ground and stood up. As soon as I did, he grabbed my hair and forced my head down into the puddle of piss on the tailgate. It was disgusting, mixed with dirt, grease, and whatever else had been in the bed of the truck. I stuck out my tongue, and began to lap and slurp up my own urine. Being made to drink my own piss was horrible; being used like this by Jake in front of Connor was crushing. Rather than taking my side against Connor, Jake had bonded with him, alpha jock to alpha jock, and was apparently determined to teach him new ways to abuse me. Connor, still standing behind me, was laughing his ass off. "See, dude?" he said to Jake, "Told ya he made a good urinal."
"Yeah, you're right. Too bad he's such a fuck up in every other way," Jake replied.
Using his grip on my hair, Jake forced my head around the tailgate until I'd liked up every drop of my piss, then handed my leash to Connor as he jumped down from the bed of the truck. "Hop up there and hold this bitch in place, dude," he instructed Connor.
The switched positions, and now Connor was standing in front of me in the truck, holding my head up with the leash. I had no choice but to look at the arrogant smirk on his young face, a smirk I had come to both loathe and fear.
I was staring up at Connor, wondering how someone so young could already be so cruel, when I felt Jake's big cock pushing against my bruised asshole. It was a pain I wasn't prepared for – a rod as big as Jake's lubed only with his spit, splitting my asshole as he slid in balls deep. I began gasping from the pain. Not only was my ass fire, but my hole felt swollen from the blow Connor landed on it. Jake's cock felt like having a hot knife shoved up into my guts. The entire time Jake was violating me, Connor was forcing me to look directly at him, obviously taking great pleasure in my suffering.
Jake quickly found his rhythm, and began to pound my ass. Apparently, Connor was enjoying the show, because he pulled out his own cock and fed it to me, still forcing me to look him directly in the eyes as I was penetrated from both ends by jock dick.
Both guys plowed me, each in a different rhythm and pace, so I wasn't even able to relax into the double violation. Never in my life, despite all the ways I'd been used up to this point, did I feel like such a complete whore, such a total cum dump. I was nothing but a plaything for these two, something they could use any way they wanted, without consequences. After all, what was I going to do? I was powerless to stop them, both physically and mentally. All I could do was obey.
Jake grabbed my hips and began thrusting into my ass harder and faster, until finally he pounded into me as hard as he could and filled my guts with his cum. Connor continued to fuck my throat, until Jake pulled out of my ass and ordered Connor to switch places with him.
At least when Connor shoved his cock into my ass, it was lubed with a combination of my spit and Jake's cum. He didn't bother to start slow, instead just pounding me as hard as he could right from the start. In front of me stood my blond football god, his cock still semi hard and covered with my own ass slime. I didn't need to be told what to do; I opened wide and Jake slid his cock into my throat to be sucked clean.
It didn't take Connor long to add his load to Jake's deep inside me. I was grateful for the relief, but then Jake did something unexpected. He pulled up on my leash, forcing me to look up into his perfect face, those deep blue eyes of his staring into mine like he could see into my very soul.
"So, faggot. My bud Connor here tells me you drink his piss every morning for breakfast. Is that true? Are you a jock urinal, too?" I couldn't look at him. I closed my eyes as tears started rolling down my cheeks again, and slowly nodded.
Jake slapped me across the face, hard. "Really faggot? You are gonna do something as disgusting as drink a freshman's piss, and never offer me the same service? What a selfish little cunt!" I opened my eyes and looked at him. There was a look of disgust on his face, mixed with anger. I wanted to melt into the ground. I hated drinking piss, absolutely despised it. Not only was it not a turn on for me, it made me sick to even think about it. Every time Connor had pissed in my mouth had been torture for me, and now Jake, the man I worshiped, the man I was in love with and would do anything for, was upset I hadn't offered to do something that disgusting for him. I had no idea what to think or feel at this point. There were so many conflicting emotions raging inside me at that moment, I did the only thing I could think to do: I opened my mouth wide and stuck out my tongue, trying to make contact with Jake's beautiful cock, which was hanging semi-hard just inches from my face.
Wrapping his hand around his cock, Jake took aim at my mouth. He sighed contentedly, then flooded my mouth with rancid, foul piss. He stopped momentarily to allow me to swallow, then proceeded to empty his bladder down my throat. I felt so low, so disgusting, I couldn't imagine why anyone would even want to be around me, but at the same time, I realized how lucky I was to be the focus of attention from two superior jocks like Jake and Connor. Perhaps I'd never be a man like them, but if I could be of service to them, maybe that was enough. I still worshiped Jake, and still loathed Connor, but somehow, I had now developed a new respect for both of them. New respect for Jake's cruelty, and new respect for Connor as Jake's equal, no matter how much I loved one and hated the other.
Jake finished pissing, then wiped his cock on my lips, leaving the last traces of his golden urine there for me to lick off. Once he was done, he handed my leash to Connor while he fastened his pants.
Connor, it turned out, needed to piss too, and was proud that he had been able to show a senior like Jake a new way to use a faggot. Connor, as always, made me beg for his piss, then flooded my mouth with his bitter urine. I swallowed every drop, deathly afraid of what these two might do if I failed.
Once he'd relieved himself into my belly, Connor handed my leash back to Jake. Jake held the leash for a moment, looking down on me kneeling naked on the pavement. Then he did the last thing I expected, the one thing I dreaded more than anything else – he handed the leash to Connor.
"Here ya go man. The faggot is all yours," he said, a note of pride in his voice, like a dad handing his son the car keys for the first time.
"Seriously?" Connor asked.
"Yeah, man. I'm getting ready to head off to college, and numb nuts here has another year before he graduates. He'll need someone to keep him in line over the summer, and I'm sure you'll need a fag next year, too. He's all yours. I'm out," Jake replied.
"Thanks, dude! That's so cool!" Connor gushed. I was zoned out, awash in feelings of heartbreak and hopelessness, as well as a twisted sense of pride that Jake felt I was worthy to give as a gift to someone. A quick jerk on my leash brought me back to the moment.
"Well, fag?" Connor asked, "aren't you gonna say thank you to Jake for making sure you have someone to teach you and keep you in your place? Or do I need to use a belt on you again, bitch?"
I quickly leaned forward and planted my lips on Jake's Chucks, kissing them and crying on them like the pathetic bitch I was, thanking him profusely, as if he'd just given me the greatest gift in the world instead of condemning me to at least a year and a half of utter hell at the hands of my new sadistic owner.
Jake listened for a moment to my gratitude, then turned and walked back to his truck. Without another word or glance at me, he got in, and drove off into the night.
Epilogue
I wish I could say things improved after that, but that would be a lie. In fact, my life became exponentially worse, now that Connor had complete control over me and free rein. No one who looked at Connor would ever think that, behind that sweet, innocent face was the mind of a twisted, cruel sadist. The things he did to me over that year and a half...well, that's another story, and I'd rather leave it untold. It's all too shameful.
I didn't see Jake any more at school after he drove out of the parking lot and out of my life. The school year ended two days after the big scene with Jake and Connor. Jake wasn't in class either day, so I didn't even get a chance to say a proper goodbye to him. Perhaps he thought that drinking his piss was a proper goodbye from a faggot to a jock god. Besides, he'd been signed to play for State, and was now the center of a lot of attention and activity, so I probably wouldn't even be able to get near him. I seriously debated going to his graduation, just for a chance to see him again before he left, but decided against it. Despite everything that had happened, all the cruelty and pain and abuse, I was still madly in love with Jake, and seeing him again would only have made it worse.
Everyone dreams about what senior year will be like. You have eleven grades to think about it, after all; years to imagine how great it will be when you are finally at the top of the heap, the big man on campus, even if you are really a nobody like me. Mine, of course, was nothing like what I'd visualized. Instead of ruling the school I spent mine trying to keep a twisted underclassman happy, living in fear of his displeasure and his arousal. Both only resulted in pain and humiliation for me.
I was so wrapped up in getting through each day without extra abuse from Connor that I became hyper-focused on him. As a result, my grades dropped. Where once I was a star student with great grades, by senior year I was barely scraping by, pulling mostly Cs and the occasional B. After all, it's hard to concentrate and do well on a test when you were up half the night before doing someone else's homework instead of your own, and while you are sitting on a hard plastic chair with a fat rubber plug up your ass, especially when you know that the same thing or worse is waiting for you as soon as school lets out.
So, my parents were pretty disappointed when it became clear I wasn't going to apply to any colleges. My grades were barely passable, and as much as I wanted to get far, far away from Connor and pretty much everyone at my school, I was convinced I would never get in anywhere. That's why I was shocked one day when I came home and found a large envelope waiting for me. I will be forever thankful I took it to my room to open in private, instead of opening it in front of my mom!
When I pulled the package open, the first thing I saw were some papers. Pulling them out, I was shocked to see it was a college application for State, already partially filled out with my name, address, and other info. I had no idea where it came from or why, since I hadn't requested an application, let alone filled one out. Looking inside the envelope for something to explain what was going on, my heart leapt. I reached in and slowly pulled out an object which suddenly caused this to make sense: a jockstrap. Not just a jockstrap, but a soiled, sweaty one. I immediately took a huge whiff of the pouch, confirming my suspicions – it was Jake's. I'd know the smell of his ball sweat anywhere!
I didn't understand exactly what was going on, but one thing was clear: Jake wanted me to go to State. I checked the application and saw that the deadline was only four days away! I wasted no time completing it, and spent the next two days in a whirlwind getting the entire packet together to submit, along with the fee. Finally, I put it in the mail along with a sincere prayer for acceptance.
A few months later, I'd almost forgotten about the application when two packages came for me on the same day. Again, I was smart enough to open them in private. The first was great news: I'd been accepted at State! I was not only going to finally get out of this town and get to live on my own, but I'd be at the same university as Jake. I started imagining us hanging out, having sex, maybe even becoming friends.
The second package though, dashed those dreams. Inside, there was a standard college housing application. It had been prefilled for me. It said I was waiving dorm housing, and would instead be living just off campus in a house, and included the address. When I flipped through the application, a picture fell out. It was Jake and several other guys I didn't know, all standing or sitting on the front porch of a house, flipping the bird at the camera.
I may be a dumb fag, but I'm not stupid. I quickly figured out what Jake had planned: he wanted me at State so I could be his personal, live-in servant and cum dump. Knowing Jake, I'd probably be serving all those other guys as well. He was nothing if not generous with his belongings. Signing and submitting that housing application was a trap, plain and simple. It would practically guarantee me years of service to Jake and abuse from a bunch of other alpha jocks. As bad as my life now was, that might end up being even worse. No way, Jose!
Just as I was about to wad up the application, I looked again at the picture. Jake was so beautiful the way the sunlight was gleaming off his golden hair. As much as I wanted to hate him for all he'd done to me, I just couldn't. I still wanted to worship him. I still craved the chance to be close to him, no matter what that took.
What the hell, I thought, as I picked up a pen and signed away the next few years of my life.
The End
Thanks to all who have written to me about this story, especially those of you who have been patient enough to wait for the conclusion. This was my first published story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I love feedback from readers! Please contact me at jeffhamby1025@gmail.com
If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to keep Nifty in business! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html