Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy involving power imbalance expressed
through consensual sexual activity between adult men. Humiliation and body
worship are main elements of this story. Stop reading now if this content
is offensive to you.-----
Begging a Bodybuilder - Part
Patrick found himself doing Matthew's laundry the next evening. He was in the deserted laundry room in the building's basement, carefully sorting and packing the clothes into the coin-operated machines. He took the time to examine each piece of clothing, picturing how it molded to Matthew's muscular form. Most of Matthew's clothes were snug, yet Patrick could wear the XXL shirts like dresses.
Patrick had brought his own change for the machines, of course. He was on the verge of being rich. As a lawyer, he had a large income, and choosing to rent in a cheap building had allowed him to store up a sizeable financial reserve over the past few years. A few coins for Matthew's laundry wouldn't be missed, and the sexual thrill he got from Matthew expecting him to pay was worth more than a few bucks anyway.
Patrick had a long wait for the clothes. As the machines gushed and rumbled, he sat on a chair in the corner and returned to his fantasy about being like Matthew. Patrick imagined he had a stable of skinny men to service his awesome muscles. He imagined directing them to buy his groceries, cook his meals, and clean his apartment in exchange for worshiping him -- Patrick Conneli, musclegod extraordinaire. They would perform for him, just as he was performing to service Matthew's needs. Did Patrick himself have the capacity to extract sexual satisfaction from controlling others? He had never embraced the idea before, but something about being with the muscleman lately had opened his mind.
He also thought about Matthew asking for permission to spank him. Did Matthew seek Patrick's permission because it was an indirect way to get Patrick to tell him what to do? Did Matthew have a submissive side? He remembered the times Matthew sought approval regarding his body: "Do you like it?" he had asked. Was Matthew insecure? Is that why he obsessed over his muscles? Matthew had also chosen to call him back to the apartment after Patrick had walked out on the sleeping bodybuilder. Matthew didn't have to call him back. The purpose for returning was so Patrick could receive his reward. Did Matthew get off on knowing that he was meeting Patrick's need to worship? And why did Matthew permit Patrick to jerk himself off during one of their sessions? Yes, Patrick concluded, Matthew wants to please. "He's just a big musclehead who needs to provide his body for objectification. He needs to meet the self-debasing desires of guys like me," Patrick muttered.
As the machines rumbled on, Patrick closed his eyes. He smiled as he imagined being up in Matthew's apartment. He imagined that he was supposed to be cooking and cleaning for Matthew, but that other plans took priority. He imagined that Matthew was just arriving home from the pub...
Matthew turned the key in his apartment door and walked in. Little Patrick was waiting for him, sitting in an easy chair, sipping a ginger ale, and watching TV. The bodybuilder glanced around the apartment, growing an angry look. Magazines were scattered just as he'd left them. A sheen of dust pebbled the glass-topped coffee table. "What the fuck have you been doing, shithead? I told you to be finished before I got home!" Matthew smiled to himself: This faggot is begging to be punished. Why else would he deliberately disobey? He must be really horny for my body. Can't say I blame him!
Patrick rose from the couch. He calmly walked up to Matthew and looked up into his face. "Ah, my big man. I'm not cleaning for you anymore. Or cooking, or serving you. You see, I'm calling your bluff, tough guy. I've finally figured you out. You're not as dominant as you think. In fact, you're quite a pussy! Your actions have depended on my approval all along. Why else have you given me choices? You don't want to admit that, I know. But it's true. First, you did squats when I told you to. Then you made me worship you, but only after I asked you for it. You've only made me do things that you already knew I wanted. You are performing for me, Matthew -- not the other way around."
Matthew collapsed his huge body onto the couch, looking a little stunned. After a few moments he looked at Patrick: "You're right. Why didn't I see it before? My domination was merely acting to serve the needs of a submissive man like yourself. That's why I needed to ask to get clearance from you first! That's why I gave you choices! I was dominating you because I knew that's what you wanted! It makes such sense now! Thank you for helping me see that!" Matthew looked genuinely appreciative.
"Since you now realize that you act to meet my needs, let me tell you what I really want. Stand up and strip off your shirt, big man!" Patrick commanded in the most authoritative way he could.
The bodybuilder was surprised, but obediently stood up. He untucked his T-shirt and peeled it from his body, exposing his deliciously hard torso. He stood there looking at the little man before him, awaiting his next instructions. Patrick continued: "You're big and beautiful, you stud." Patrick went up and began caressing the flat planes and the bulging muscular curves of the naked chest. He poked and tested the lumps and cavities of the body, squeezing the oversized pecs and arms. He inspected the body as though it were a side of beef being graded for consumption.
"Yes...beautiful, but stupid. You don't know yourself very well, do you, Matthew? Needed me to explain to you what your true desires are. Needed me to make you understand your craving -- to please me no matter what it takes. Well, Matthew, it pleases me to use and dominate you."
Patrick slapped the bare skin hard leaving momentary blemishes of red. Matthew didn't respond. "Yes, you're a big brute, but dumb as an ox. Where'd you go to college, Matthew? Answer me, you fucking idiot!"
"I didn't, Patrick."
"Oh, of course. Weren't smart enough, were you? That's why you work in a warehouse. Lifting takes big muscles, but no brains. Your boss even tells you what to do. Don't even have to think, do you? But I know you like your job, Matthew, because someone tells you what to do all day long. Pretty submissive, aren't you muscle freak?"
Patrick continued: "You know I'm a lawyer, Matthew. I'm smarter than you and make four times your salary. If you're a good boy and do as I say, I'll reward you." Patrick casually drew out his wallet and thumbed through a big wad of cash. Matthew nearly salivated. He'd love Patrick to pay him for the use of his big body. He'd do repairs around the apartment. He'd fix Patrick's car, or take out his trash. He'd flex for him, fuck him, do whatever Patrick wanted. He'd be paid for using his muscles. That's all he was good for.
Patrick couldn't hold back an evil grin. "No, you stupid fuck. I'm not going to pay you. You're not worth my money. Don't be absurd! I'm just...teasing you." Patrick chuckled and put his wallet away. "Your reward will be that I won't tell Samantha you are fucking me."
Matthew looked uncomfortable. Patrick was small, but he had more power than Matthew had ever imagined.
"Before I give you your first task, before I let you please me with your big body, I want to hear you tell me how stupid you are, Matthew." Matthew hesitated. "Go ahead, you moron."
"I'm dumb," Matthew said simply. Patrick nodded. "And..."
"I'm just a big dumb fucker. I'm sorry for being so stupid, sir! I'm not smart enough to be rich like you." Patrick was pleased. Revenge is sweet indeed.
"Such a big, strong, masculine body, Matthew. I want to use your muscles now. Get down on all fours. I'm going to ride your big body like a fucking mule." Matthew's hulking mass descended to the floor, and Patrick climbed onto the broad, naked back. He dug his heels into the sides of the big man. "Giddyup!" he laughed, slapping the bodybuilder's ass.
Patrick ordered Matthew to crawl around the apartment for several minutes. He directed him by pulling on his ears, and lovingly patted his head when he obeyed commands correctly. "Good donkey...That's a good boy."
The big man felt powerless and ashamed. Here was this puny guy giving him orders, making him perform the role of a filthy animal simply to degrade him, yet he couldn't seem to break from the spell to do anything about it. He was performing as Patrick wished. Matthew knew he had a deep need to please the man.
Patrick was getting off on the idea of controlling the big brute. "Such a huge fucker you are. And such a huge fuckup! Letting a weakling control you...what kind of real man does that? A big body, no brain. I'll be your brain, Matthew. Don't worry. I'll tell you what to do..."
The washing machines ground to a halt, and Patrick was wrenched from his fantasy. He unloaded the clothes into dryers. He set the timers, inserted coins, and resumed his position on the chair...
"You're just a body, big boy. Nothing more. Not a brain in your fucking head. Just a collection of muscles for my enjoyment." Patrick turned on the stereo and set the volume. A slow Latin tune filled the room. "Dance for me. Strip for me. Move your muscles to please me. I want you to seduce me with your body."
Matthew took up a rhythm with his body to match the music. He was a surprisingly good dancer for being so bulky. His movements were masculine and powerful. He shook his massive frame, and his muscles reverberated erotically. His big bodybuilder pecs shuddered with every beat. He turned his back to Patrick, and his hands guided his pants down over his ass, which he shook seductively as the little man drooled. "Keep that up, musclehead. You're pleasing me."
The bodybuilder turned frequently so Patrick could see him from all angles. "His muscles are so fucking beautiful," Patrick thought. Patrick imagined pimping Matthew's body to clients. He'd earn a fortune. Of course, the kinkier the client, the more he'd charge. With Patrick in control, Matthew wouldn't be allowed to set any limits. Patrick would make him do whatever the client wanted. Matthew would be a tool for Patrick to use in servicing the pleasures of the rich. Matthew would be used in every conceivable way. He'd fuck and be fucked. Suck and be sucked. Dominate and please. Matthew would stoop to eat the shit of the rich.
"Seems I've caught me a muscle freak," Patrick said as Matthew finally tossed off the last of his clothing. His body always caught Patrick by surprise when he saw it completely naked. He especially loved the powerful hamstrings that swelled up into the large buttocks, now shaking and wiggling as Matthew continued the dance to please his master.
"Move your hips, you brainless beauty. I want to see you gyrate." Matthew fucked the air. He stared into Patrick's eyes as he ran his hands down over his thick pectorals to his lower abs. He thrust his crotch seductively, his hands gripping the hard flesh above his pelvis. He swaggered and sauntered. He turned, stuck out his ass and slapped himself repeatedly, moaning "Spank me! Please spank me!"
"Stick your finger up your ass, Matthew. Turn me on even more!" The bodybuilder bent, massive legs thrust apart. He sucked his finger briefly, and shoved it up his asshole, fucking himself with it. He threw back his head and grunted, loving the finger fuck he was giving himself. His eyes rolled back. His mouth gaped open as his free hand pinched his tits. His lewd obedience to this smart little guy was liberating. He didn't have to think at all; he just had to obey.
Patrick wished Matt's girlfriend could see him now: naked, obedient, impaled on his own finger. Patrick watched the erotic display until he could no longer stand it. Directing such a muscular stripper, one who had no limits, was the most erotic thing he'd done. He'd need to cum soon.
At last Patrick shut off the music. Matthew's sweaty body stopped moving. The smaller man approached him and slapped his ass. "You big cunt. You fucker. You shithead," he said. With each insult he slapped the ass harder. He was too weak to hurt the big man, but his words stung.
"Got some posing oil?" Matthew nodded his response. "Get it," Patrick ordered.
When Matthew returned with a small bottle, he passed it to Patrick, who put it in his pocket. "Go find some rope."
Matthew returned again. "Sit on the weight bench, as though you were going to do shoulder presses, and stretch out your arms to the sides." Matthew was obedient, taking up his assigned position. Patrick then firmly tied Matthew's outstretched wrists to the squat rack supports. Matthew was naked and vulnerable. The huge man sat there with the muscular power of several Patricks, but he was unable to use it. The helplessness was a huge turn on for the weaker man.
"I control you, Matthew. I command your enormous mass. I have the power to do anything I want to your flawless body." For emphasis, he cuffed the big man across the face. The two were eye to eye, even though Matthew was sitting.
"Beg me to lick you, boy," Patrick said as he went toward Matthew. "Beg for the touch of your master's tongue."
Matthew didn't hesitate. "God, I need it so bad! Please, Patrick, for fuck's sake, lick my body! I've got to have your worship. I'm sorry I was too arrogant to beg before. I do need you to worship me so bad!"
"That's a good start," grinned Patrick. "Tables are turned, aren't they stud?"
"I'm so insecure. Stroke me, please. Please, my ego needs it, my cock needs it! Please praise my big muscles. I need to hear your voice of approval, master!"
Patrick was in heaven. The stud begging him...it made him so hot. "You're so smart, Patrick," the muscleman was saying. "I've always wanted to be smart and couldn't be. I wish I could be you, just for a day. I want to know what it's like to be you." Patrick ate up the words, his ears absorbing every syllable of the stud's confession.
Patrick worshiped the muscular chest for a long time, running his tongue everywhere over the tight smooth skin, then focusing on the sensitive nipples, perky and hard. Matthew was pleading for a break. "Please stop, master! Please! Too much stimulation! I can't handle this much!"
Patrick showed no mercy. His hot tongue swabbed the nipples, rolling them around, nipping them, sucking them. He licked the armpits, sucking and chewing them. The ridges of Matthew's abs were bathed in Patrick's hot spit. The big man tugged on his bonds, but his wrists couldn't break the ropes. Matthew writhed in bliss and agony. He alternated between pleading Patrick to stop and to begging him to continue. Finally, he burst out, "GOD, PATRICK! PLEASE LET ME CUM!"
Patrick only chuckled evilly, "No way, big fella," and continued his licking torture. Matthew's body delivered dose after dose of endorphins to his mindless brain. He was numb from the neck up, his huge muscular physique simply an object of extreme sensitivity, hyper-responsive to Patrick's tickling tongue. The beautiful body had become a liability; it had betrayed him. Matthew had fed it, cared for it, built it. It was repaying him with the torture of too much pleasure. The stimulation overload was driving him crazy.
"Ahh! Ahh! Please, you cocksucking fruit! Stop teasing me, please. Show me some mercy! I beg you. Patrick...master, my beautiful little master, my god. I'll do anything. Anything you say, just stop! I can't take any more. Please, I need to cum so bad!"
Patrick had avoided touching the enormous penis, engorged, purple, and throbbing. It bobbed wildly, as though searching for somewhere to make contact. It craved friction, the key to relief from the pressure of so much cum. "Please touch my cock, Patrick. Please! I need you to touch me so I'll cum. I beg you. I goddamn fuckin' beg you to touch my cock!"
Patrick stood. "Think I'll go brew a coffee, Matthew. You don't mind waiting, do you?" Patrick smiled, got up and calmly went to the kitchen, deliberately following the same torturous plan that Matthew had used on him during their first encounter.
Matthew screamed: "Come back, you cunt! I mean master! Please come back, master! I need you so bad. I've got to get off! I really need to shoot!" His pleas fell on deaf ears. He unsuccessfully tried to rub his thighs against his prick to get release. He leaned forward attempting to suck himself off, but the wrists tied above his head prevented him from bending far enough. His lips were so close to his cock. Nine and a half inches of cock weren't enough. An even 10 and he would have succeeded.
By the time Patrick returned with a coffee, Matthew had calmed down and resigned himself to his fate. He tried to reason with Patrick. "Okay, Patrick. I'm sorry I treated you the way I did. Please forgive me. I really regret it. Now, please untie me. I'll do what ever you say."
Patrick ignored him and flicked on the DVD. "Oh, there's porn on, Matthew! Straight porn. I know you like that." Patrick turned up the volume so Matthew had to listen. The sexy dialogue kicked Matthew's libido into overdrive again. Patrick returned to his licking. Matthew's bulky muscles were so tired, and he could barely struggle to free himself. Patrick worshiped the bodybuilder's feet, calves, and thighs. He licked what he could access of the crack dividing the halves of the gorgeous ass. He sucked the balls, exposed below the upright, dripping prick. He nursed the nipples, nipped the pecs, caressed the armpits, and nuzzled Matthew's thick neck. Finally, he kissed all over Matthew's angelic face. Lips and tongue explored the square chin, high cheekbones, ears, eyes and nose. Patrick's tongue had raped nearly every area of this stud's body. Finally, Patrick closed in on the bodybuilder's mouth. He tenderly kissed the sensuous lips, then aggressively thrust his tongue into the hot, wet mouth, exploring the even teeth, finding the touching of tongues erotic. Matthew didn't respond. He was too numb. He let Patrick pillage his mouth, virginal to the kiss of a man. Patrick spit on his face and into his mouth.
Matthew's head buzzed. At last, through a thick haze of lust, he heard Patrick announce, "Okay, big guy. Time for your reward." Patrick twisted Matthew's big bodybuilder tits hard with this fingers, and the massive shaft of his cock throbbed with more ferocity.
"Oh my fucking god! Please make me cum!" Matthew pleaded once more. Patrick viciously slapped Matthew's fat cock once with the flat of his hand, and cum shot up. Matthew's balls contracted violently again and again, squeezing painfully, pumping out a massive volume of slime. The fluid was propelled high, arcing past the bodybuilder's face, globbing down onto the side of his upper neck. It streamed down his big body through the deep valley between his rocky pecs, over the rippled abs, down into his pubic hair around the base of his prick, and it finally returned home as it reached his sweaty, bloated nuts.
"Thank you...oh, thank you for the release, master! Thank you!" gasped Matthew. His brain exploded in bliss.
Matthew's cock was still shooting its cream. Patrick didn't think it would ever quit. More volleys rose and clung to the muscular tits. Matthew's prick juice then drenched his abs. Finally it simply gushed from his prick and flowed down the engorged shaft, dripping onto the weight bench in a hot puddle. "That boy's got healthy balls," Patrick mused as he leaned in and proceeded to suck the trail of fluid from Matthew's pumped up chest. He spent several minutes happily lapping the cum from the bench, as a cat might settle in for a leisurely drink of milk.
Patrick tongue-bathed Matthew's body for a second time, and then he pulled the bottle of oil from his pocket. "When I release you, you will oil up, flex for me, and pose while I jerk off."
Patrick became aware of the dryers, still churning and clacking. He had twenty minutes before the clothes were done. He ran up the stairs to his apartment, went into his bedroom and found his lubricant. He returned to the spot on the couch where Matthew had spanked him. Patrick lay there moaning and stroking his cock. "Oh, god, Matthew! Matthew! Your fucking hot body...your muscles! Oh, god! I love them. I crave them. Oil up for me. Yeah, make those muscles glisten. Spank me. Please hurt my little ass. Make me beg you to be your slave. Make me beg you for the privilege of being your master. Beg me to use you, you fuckhead. Beg me to fuck your ass! You stupid, stupid cunt! Beg me to beg you to submit to me!" Patrick's images were all jumbled. He finally latched onto a closeup image of Matthew bent at the waist, huge ass sticking up in the air, his dark asshole puckered and quivering. Patrick mounted him like an animal. His cock went in hard to the tight, virgin hole. His hips banged against the muscular butt, dick thrusting into the core of the body. And Matthew screamed with agonizing pleasure.
Patrick shot hard. His body writhed, his tiny balls convulsed, his cock exploded. "Ah! Ah! Fuck you, you piece of shit!"
Awhile later, Patrick cleaned up and went up the stairs toward Matthew's apartment. He completely forgot about the clothes in the dryer. He and the bodybuilder needed to have a long talk.
END OF PART SIX