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 Eight

Patrillo's Pasta Palace was packed as usual. The food was excellent, and guests didn't mind paying extra for the quality and special attention they received from the wait staff. Matthew and Samantha had set aside this particular Saturday night to celebrate Matthew's twenty-third birthday, and they soaked up the pleasure of dining on good food at the expense of Patrick, who had begged to pay for Matthew's birthday meal.

Matthew was grinning as he buttered his warm bun. "What do you suppose that faggot is doing right now? Washing the kitchen floor? Scrubbing my toilet?" Matthew smirked. "Life's good, Sam," he said as he raised a glass to toast himself. "Got our own little queer boy, don't we? A little slave back at my place gettin' it ready for tonight's party. Knowing that pansy, it'll be spotless."

A slim waiter came by to offer some more wine, and the pair accepted; Patrick's financial contribution to the evening had been substantial. The waiter hovered a little too long over Matthew, eyes sweeping the body of the big man, betraying a lust for the muscles clearly outlined in Matthew's crisp, blood-red dress shirt.

"Nice shirt, sir. Is that custom made?" the waiter inquired as he poured the wine. Samantha was used to Matthew getting all the attention -- not that she wasn't attractive, but bodies of Matthew's caliber were more rare than women of her own beauty. She didn't care; she found the fags drooling over her boyfriend to be quite a turn on.

"Actually, it is," Matthew replied, smiling. "Dress shirts for guys like me don't come off the rack."

The waiter nodded appreciatively. "You're very well-muscled, sir," he said. He smiled coyly at Matthew and added, "If there is anything I can do for you, please just let me know." He nodded politely to Samantha and left the couple to their meal.

Matthew had a boner. He loved being catered to, and he loved being called 'sir'. He knew the waiter would be boned up too. Matthew smiled to himself. God, he loved the power of turning on those fags! He'd be sure to leave a fat tip.

* * *

Patrick had just finished cleaning. He always left the bathroom to the last as a special treat for himself; he loved to imagine Matthew naked in the shower, lathering up his big muscles, hands sliding sensuously over the bulges. Patrick imagined himself as the bodybuilder's personal attendant, handing over the shampoo, soap, and razor as required. Patrick hoped that one day Matthew would allow him to shave those gorgeous armpits. The smaller man had had many orgasms while fantasizing about applying the cream and razor to those wonderful areas, those caverns deeply recessed among the pumped muscles of his arms and chest.

Patrick knew the couple would be home soon, and the party guests would arrive shortly thereafter. He had bought his butler's uniform as Matthew requested, and spent several minutes arranging the details of the long-sleeved white collared shirt, and the black bow tie, waistcoat, tail coat, and trousers. His shoes were also coal-black, and Patrick made sure they shone. The uniform got him aroused, knowing it marked him as Matthew's servant, the signature of one who takes orders, who submits to the demands of a master.

"What will this party be like?" Patrick mused. He knew Matthew had invited a bunch of his buddies over for some drinks, but didn't know many details. Patrick was supposed to serve the beer, mix the drinks, and make the guests feel welcome. The prospect of taking orders from Matthew in front of a group of people was deliciously humiliating. Patrick was a lawyer; being a butler for a man eight years younger than himself, especially with an audience who would likely also be substantially younger could prove decidedly embarrassing. Patrick's cock twitched.

When Matt and Sam arrived, Patrick was pleased that Matthew seemed impressed. "Spotless, as usual. And nice uniform. Makes you look ready to serve me, queerboy! Seems I've finally arrived at my rightful place in life -- got a hot girl, my own faggot butler who'll do anything for me to plow his ass, and a great bunch of buddies on their way to celebrate my birthday. Couldn't be better."

Patrick cringed slightly when Matthew referred to fucking him, but the crass words made him hot nonetheless.

Matthew snapped his fingers. "Butler...drinks, now!" The bodybuilder laughed as Patrick retreated to the kitchen to fill the order. "I could get used to this!" Matthew gloated as he sat in his easy chair, feet up, waiting for his beer.

A knock came at the door, and Patrick hurried from the kitchen to respond. He opened the door, and two very large men stood there, one a little bigger than the other. The smaller one sported a crewcut and a green sweatshirt that read "Falcons." The more massive one looked vaguely familiar to Patrick. The two guests looked astonished to see that Matthew had a butler answer the door.

"Jesus, Matty! Ya got yerself a butler?" the larger of the two exclaimed as they entered. "Christ! Makin' the big bucks at the warehouse are ya?"

Matthew stood to greet his buddy and slapped him on the shoulder. "Nah, this guy works for peanuts, right babe?" Matthew reached out and pinched Patrick's cheek with his thumb and forefinger.

Patrick was mortified. Babe? Did Matthew just call me "babe"? The buddies laughed, the bigger man looking Patrick up and down several times.

"Hey babe, I'll have a cold one," laughed crewcut. "Little bit-of-a-thing, ain't he?" he said to Matthew as though Patrick weren't even there. Red-faced, Patrick went to fill the orders while Matthew and his friends yacked and hooted with each other.

Another knock. Patrick rushed to the door. Another big guy with a girl in tow. Next it was a girl by herself, then two more of Matthew's buddies.

Patrick was run off his feet for the next hour filling drink orders and answering the door. Good grief! How many people did he invite? One of the last guests to arrive was a guy in his late 20's. As Patrick opened the door, his stomach sank.

Robert entered the apartment. "Patrick? What are you doing here?" Robert worked in Patrick's law office as a clerk.

"Er, just helping out a friend on his birthday," Patrick said. "Uh, how do you know Matthew?" Patrick was feeling uncomfortable. The mixing of his professional and private lives might be dangerous.

"I'm a friend of Sam's," replied Robert. "Actually, I used to date Sam's sister. That's so cool that you know Sam and Matt. Small world."

"Yeah," Patrick said. "Small world. Uh, sorry, Robert. I've got stuff to do." Patrick excused himself a little rudely and returned to the kitchen to busy himself with drinks.

"Shit!" thought Patrick. "Who knew someone would show up from work?"

Patrick was greeted as a novelty by most of the guests, although a few of the women seemed genuinely interested in who he was, asking a number of questions: Was he a real butler? How did he know Matthew? What part of town did he live in? Patrick made up lies, hoping they didn't make their way back to Robert.

Everyone had arrived and the party was in full swing. The apartment was crowded, with groups spilling into the bedroom, hanging around the kitchen, and lounging on deck chairs on the balcony. The music blasted, and people seemed to be enjoying themselves. Fortunately, Patrick successfully avoided Robert much of the time.

By the time Patrick brought out Matthew's birthday cake, much of the alcohol had gone, and its effects had started to show. Patrick lit the candles. The big guy who had arrived first, who Patrick now knew as Sebastian, sauntered up to the cake holding a beer in one hand. "Hey, bu-butler! You make that...cake?" He was apparently a little drunk.

"Yes," Patrick replied, pleased to be recognized for his work. The cake had been a bitch to decorate; Matthew had demanded a Porsche, and Patrick had done a surprisingly good job of creating one with red icing, although it had taken him a few attempts.

"Nice car, babe!" He howled, and so did a few other inebriated guests. The man winked at Patrick and leaned on the table as he stepped aside to allow Matthew access to the candles.

Patrick got a strange feeling from Sebastian. The man looked at him funny. He was as big as Matthew, but didn't appear to be in contest condition like Matthew did. Matthew was always lean and ripped, his body perpetually ready for a proud display of his masculine beauty, a body permanently rippled like the Greek statues at the Metropolitan. Sebastian was also broad, tall, and strong like a bull, but he was slightly stockier than Matthew, more like a trim football player than a bodybuilder.

"Who's gonna spank 'im? Who's gonna spank the big birthday boy?" Sebastian said amidst a chorus of hoots.

"You lay one hand on me you per-pervert, and I'll f-fuckin'...I'll fuckin' throw you off the balcony," Matthew laughed as he spat out the words, shaking a fist at his friend.

"Sounds like a challenge, boys," Sebastian countered. The challenge went unaccepted, for no one really had an interest in spanking Matthew -- other than Patrick, of course, whose mind immediately filled with the image of ripping down Matthew's black dress pants and briefs, hoisting the tails of his red shirt up his backside, and planting a series of firm slaps on the huge, muscular ass. He'd be sure to finish the spank with a series of adoring kisses and a few thrusts of his probing tongue...

"More booze, little man," Matthew ordered as Samantha dished out cake. Patrick went in to the fridge to retrieve the few remaining bottles. "Wish he'd told me there would be this many people!" Patrick complained to himself noting the dwindling supplies.

As Patrick returned, he noticed most of the girls had retreated to the living room, and Matthew and his buddies remained eating their cake by the table, icing gooey on their hands and crumbs clinging to the areas around their mouths. Matthew had drank yet another bottle; he was visibly intoxicated. Patrick had never seen the big man drunk before.

Matthew began dancing, but at a pace considerably slower than the music would suggest. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw the collar back to bare his chest and shoulders. Even in his stupor, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Patrick watched how many of the guests eyed him. Seeing his bare body was akin to a religious experience.

"S-somebody likes my...likes my body," he said teasingly, shaking a finger at some of his guests. "Sh-shame on you!" He continued to gyrate, sliding his shirt down his back and up again as though he were a paid stripper. The guests just laughed. Patrick wanted him so bad. He briefly imagined Matthew fucking him in front of everyone: stripping him, pounding him, dominating him.

"You guys...slike my butler?" Matthew slurred out as he stopped his show. "He-he'ss a good little s-slave...s-slaveboy."

Patrick panicked. Shit! What is Matthew going to say? Where the fuck is Robert?

Matthew continued. "He likes - he takes - he takes it up the asshole, b-boys!" Several of the buddies nearby heard Matthew's remark, and they laughed loudly, joking and making lewd comments. Patrick heard a few comments of disgust, some catcalls and whistles.

One of the men piped up: "Hey, Sebastian! He takes it up the ass! Lookin' for a little action?" The boys howled, but Sebastian merely grinned at the insult.

Patrick was humiliated. He knew his red face betrayed Matthew's words as truth, but hoped the gang of drunken boys wouldn't notice. Patrick realized the comment would likely be passed off as a joke; it would be something Matthew might say without a shred of truth, just to get a laugh. Patrick hoped so. He still couldn't spot Robert. He hoped he was on the balcony.

The last of the booze was going, then gone. People began to leave for the bar down the street to continue the party. Matthew came up to Patrick and whispered in his ear: "Mess...mess better be clean up...clean when I get back."

Robert clapped Patrick on the shoulder as he was going out the door. "Sorry we didn't get to talk, Pat. Good party. Thanks. See you Monday at the office." Patrick was relieved he was gone. He liked Robert, but was afraid of what he might have figured out.

Soon Matthew and most of the guests were gone. One guy and girl remained on the balcony, necking, oblivious that the party had moved on. A couple of girls sat on the couch. One was crying, and the other was rambling on about someone named Olivia. The only other person there was Sebastian, leaning against the kitchen door jamb. As Patrick began the arduous task of cleaning, he felt Sebastian's eyes on him. The big man was positively leering.

"'sit true, butler?" Sebastian asked. Patrick tried to ignore him, continuing to collect bottles.

"I said, 'is it true?'" the big man repeated.

"I think you should go, Sebastian."

"Not until I get an answer, babe," he grinned. He didn't seem to be as drunk as Patrick had first thought.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Patrick said crossly, hoping to dissuade the man's question.

Sebastian's hand fell to his crotch, groping a sizeable package. Patrick couldn't help but stare. "D'ya take it up the ass, babe? That's what I wanna know."

Patrick felt helpless. Sebastian continued to grope himself. Patrick looked away, but found himself glancing back at the big guy. Sebastian's manipulations of his hefty equipment demanded his attention. Sebastian simply grinned. He said nothing.

The girls from the couch and the balcony couple made their way out. Patrick thanked them for coming, and continued to clean the apartment, throwing out paper plates and forks, wiping icing from the table, piling bottles under the kitchen sink.

"Just us," Sebastian said at last. Patrick's head was spinning. Good god, what should I do? Patrick was dismayed. He was no match for the man in size. But what dismayed him more was his own raging erection. The size of the man turned him on fiercely. Sebastian's body made his own seem insignificant, a mere wisp next to the powerhouse of muscle and gristle that continued to stand in the kitchen doorway. Patrick's palms were sweating, his stomach in knots. He knew the man wanted to fuck him, and he felt compelled to service the big guy. Patrick loved the possibility of getting that big schlong between his lips and up his ass, but he felt guilty that he entertained thoughts of betraying Matthew. How could he let this man use him when he was Matthew's property?

"Matthew told me you suck him, boy. He told me that you could suck me, too."

Patrick's mouth gaped open. "That's...that's crap, and you know it," Patrick blurted out.

"Not at all, boy. Matthew and I share lots of things. We have a guy we both fuck. Didn't he tell you?" Patrick was stunned.

"You what?"

"Yeah, it's true. We have this guy that we make suck us. Take turns. Name's Martin. He's a little guy like you."

Patrick stopped packing bottles and sank down onto a kitchen stool. Oh, my god! Is this true? Why didn't Matthew tell me? Patrick was suddenly angry. He felt betrayed. He had worked hard for Matthew, doing chores for him for months. And Matthew couldn't tell him that he has another guy that he messes around with?

Patrick looked at Sebastian in the doorway, again thinking to himself that he'd met this guy somewhere before. He pictured the man shirtless, in football tights, holding a whip. He imagined the man dominating him, whipping his naked ass, making him beg to feel up the massive legs and butt encased in the stretched fabric.

Then Patrick imagined Matthew begging for forgiveness: "I'm sorry, Patrick! I should have told you about Martin. Please forgive me! Patrick! I'm sorry!" Matthew was pleading now, on his knees. "Martin means nothing to me, Patrick. You're the only slave I really need!"

"So, does Matthew really fuck this guy...Martin?" Patrick's anger at Matthew showed around the edges.

"Yeah, Matty says he's a good fuck. But I bet you're much better." Sebastian grinned, showing his teeth. "So what do you and Matthew do?" Sebastian asked. "Does he fuck you too, or do you just suck him?"

Patrick hesitated, his anger at Matthew consuming him. "Matthew fucks me," he stated defiantly.

"I see. Do you like that? Do you like takin' it up the ass?" probed Sebastian, resuming his crotch groping. "Yes."

"What turns you on about Matthew? Tell me." Sebastian was becoming more insistent. "Tell me what Matthew does for you."

"Matthew's body is hot. I like his big muscles." Patrick wasn't sure why he was telling this to Sebastian. "Fuck! I can't believe he didn't tell me that he's fucking another guy!" Patrick looked hurt.

"Ahh, don't take it personal. Matthew's a smooth operator. He's had lots of girlfriends. Dumped a lot...had lots of guys on the side over the past few years. Dumped all them too, 'cept Martin."

Patrick was fuming. "Lots? He's dumped lots of guys?"

"'course...ah...Patrick...wasn't that your name?" Patrick nodded.

"Cryin' shame that Matty treats guys like that. Not fair at all. I treat people nice."

Patrick felt like crying. He felt angry. He wanted to hurt Matthew. He certainly wasn't going to clean his apartment! He tore off the bowtie.

"So you were saying you like big guys." Sebastian continued pawing his crotch. "What else about Matty turns you on, Patrick?"

Patrick was embarrassed. He felt ashamed to admit his sexual needs to this big stranger, but the words spilled out. "He humiliates me. He makes me do things to serve him, like..."

"Like being his butler and cleaning his place," Sebastian stepped in. "Why do you do those things?"

"It turns me on. I like serving. I get off on knowing that I'm helping him." Patrick's confession felt therapeutic.

"You like to be dominated, then."

Patrick turned red. "Yes."

"You like to be dominated by anybody, or just Matthew?"

"Big guys. Big guys make me feel small, insignificant, worthless. It's perverted, I know. But that's the way I'm built."

"Be proud that you've got something to offer, little guy. You should feel glad that you've got such a gift. Most people aren't equipped to serve like you are. You're obviously a dedicated guy. Be proud of that."

Patrick wanted to hug him. This big guy suddenly seemed so nice.

"So you like to be dominated by big guys. Guys like...like me?"

Patrick knew exactly where this conversation was going. The man continued: "I'll accept your service. Why don't you come home with me tonight?"

Patrick hesitated. "I don't know, Sebastian. I..."

Sebastian's tone changed: "You're a goddamn cocksucker, Patrick. You're a useless little shit who wants to suck my dick. It's obvious. I've seen Matthew's, and I can tell you that my cock's bigger. You're a little faggot craving the touch of a dominant man with a big cock. Come home with me, and I'll make good use of you." He lightly slapped Patrick's face and waited.

Patrick's dick was bursting. "Yes, sir. Please. Please use me. I need it."

Sebastian grinned. "Good boy."

* * *

It wasn't until Sebastian was leading Patrick into the farmhouse that Patrick remembered he had passed the big man in the hallway of his building months ago. He remembered the day they'd almost caught him cleaning Matthew's apartment, the day Matt and his friends arrived just after he left. That was the reason Matthew had spanked him that first time. Patrick remembered the sting of Matthew's hand. His butt needed another spanking.

The smaller man felt uneasy. He hadn't realized that the big man lived out of town, neighbors far outside the range of Patrick's screaming voice, should the need for help arise.

On the bookcase was a picture of Sebastian and Matthew, both dressed in American football gear from their high school days.

"You and Matt went to school together."

"Yeah, we were fierce competitors, I'll admit. Always stealing each other's girlfriends...was a bit of game between us."

"That's a hot picture." Patrick hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"Like football gear, boy? I knew a few fags at school who were totally hot for it. When you're an all-star player, you find that it makes girls, and some guys, do weird things."

"Got a weakness for football guys," Patrick confessed. "That uniform's hot...love to see you in it...so are you basically straight, or what?"

"Let's just say I like a tight ass, Patrick. I'm quite sexual. I like to fuck. Like the power of it. Like the feeling of overcoming another person, being victorious. You know...it's a dominance thing. That's why Matty and I were so competitive. We're a lot alike. Now, speaking of dominance, get naked. Take off that uniform and let me see that skinny, pathetic body that so badly wants to please me."

Sebastian's directness came suddenly, and Patrick felt the thrill of compliance as he nodded at the big man. He removed the butler's uniform carefully, a little too slowly for Sebastian's liking.

"I love having my orders obeyed, but promptly, boy. You'll do what I say, when I say it." Sebastian approach the naked man and grabbed him by the throat. Patrick's heart leapt, but the grip wasn't tight. But it did threaten the promise of power, of pain.

Sebastian backed Patrick up against a wall, still gripping him by the throat with a large hand. With his other hand, he explored the small man's nakedness.

"Really white, aren't you, boy? The thick fingers played about Patrick's nipples, gripped his skinny arms in a tight squeeze, and worked their way down to his genitals. Sebastian grabbed them and squeezed causing Patrick to grimace and whimper.

"I see Matty hasn't broken you in completely. Think I can teach you a few things."

Sebastian motioned to the floor. "On your knees, faggot."

Patrick's body went down and his cock went up. "Thank you for ordering me around, sir. I really need it right now."

"Tell me you want my cock, boy."

Patrick begged like a pro. "Please, sir. I want to suck your big cock. Let me worship it, choke on it, give it pleasure. Allow me to humble myself before such a handsome, muscular man as yourself. I don't deserve you. Thank you for taking pity on me and allowing me to serve the needs of your cock, ass, feet...whatever you want, just order me to perform, and I'll do it. I'd be honored to take your cock in my throat and suck out your cum."

Sebastian was taken aback. "Holy shit! Matty's done a good job!" he thought. Aloud he said, "Take out my dick and lick it."

Patrick unzipped the big man's pants and withdrew a hideously fat prick. "Oh my god!" Patrick gasped. It was the biggest cock he'd ever seen. The gargantuan prick hanging from the fly of Sebastian's pants was positively obscene.

"Like it, boy?"

Patrick pleaded with an intensity like never before. He had to taste that cock, to worship it, to pay homage to the king of all male organs. "Oh my fucking god!" His heart raced; his breath was ragged. "Please let me be used by that thing!" He stretched out his tongue and began licking.

Sebastian loved Patrick's reaction. The look of shock always pleased him. The desperation made him want to tease and torture the man a little.

"Open your mouth." Patrick opened as wide as he could. He was like a baby swallow, waiting in the nest for the big bird to feed his little throat.

Sebastian slapped Patrick's face with his half-hard cock. Patrick felt as though he'd been hit with a big salami. Slap! Slap!

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir," Patrick chanted to the slapping. "I need your cock to put me in my place, sir!"

Sebastian was pleased. "Don't worry, faggot. This cock will definitely keep you in your place. You'll serve it, boy. You'll beg to serve it."

Sebastian stripped off his shirt, displaying his bulky muscles. Patrick found the sight of the big body made him lightheaded. Sebastian was all man. His large barrel-chested pecs were covered in a thick mat of short, dark hair. His arms were naturally thick and rugged. His stomach wasn't ripped like Matthew's, but it still tapered down to a trim waist, a trail of hair running from sternum to belt buckle. His body appeared to be extremely solid, fit for the farm where he lived.

Sebastian's cock took a long time to get hard. He needed more from this faggot to arouse him. "Go into the bedroom," he said, pointing the way. Patrick complied.

"Get on the bed on your knees. Ass up high. Face pressed down into the bed."

Patrick knelt, then bent at the waist until his face went down to the bedspread. His exposed ass was on display for the big man. His posture underscored his subservience: his face was unimportant, hidden against the bed; he was simply an upturned asshole for the dominant musclehead. That's all he was: an asshole.

"Yeah, I like that," Sebastian said, his voice getting thick with arousal. He stood beside the bed, still dressed in his pants and socks, and spanked the ass with his prick until blood filled the shaft. "Gonna fuck that pretty little asshole, boy," he said as he gathered some lube from the bedside. "D'ya want it bad?"

"Oh yes! I want it so bad. Please use my ass, sir! Fuck me. Cum in me. I need it."

"First, you need to tell me that you want my dick more than Matthew's. Tell me that you'll be my little slaveboy, not Matthew's. Tell me how much more you want a fucking from me."

Patrick hesitated. He adored Matthew. He had served Matthew faithfully for months and been rewarded with countless fucks and chances to humiliate himself. How could he betray him?

"I'm waiting, boy," Sebastian said, somewhat irritated. "Tell me I'm more worthy of your worship than Matthew is. Remember he lied to you, boy."

Patrick did remember. Anger again burned in him. He wondered who Martin was. Patrick wondered how long it would be before Matthew dumped him like all the rest. That son-of-a-bitch. I hate him.

"Say it!"

Patrick exploded: "I want you more! I hate Matthew. I don't want to serve him anymore. I want to serve you, sir! Please, Sebastian, let me serve you with my ass. Please fuck me!"

Sebastian glowed with those words, and he grinned to himself. He could almost see the look on Matty's face already! He wrung his hands in delight. This was the best one yet -- even better than when Matthew had tricked him into telling the high school principal that he had weed in his locker. Sebastian had stolen Matthew's personal slaveboy and made him admit serving Sebastian was better than serving Matthew. "Ha, ha...my friend. Guess the ball's in your court now. Or it will be when I have the pleasure of telling you the news," Sebastian thought as he prepared to mount Patrick's tight little ass.

Sebastian focused on the task at hand: "Beg for my cock!" he growled. "The harder you beg, the harder I fuck! You useless shit...serve my cock with your ass. Yeah, you bitch. You'll suck the cum right outta me." Patrick let loose with a stream of profanities, accompanied by a host of "pleases" and "sirs," although muffled by the bed in his face.

"You asked for it, bitch. Don't complain if you can't take it." In one powerful thrust, the enormous cock impaled Patrick's wriggling ass. Sebastian grunted. Patrick emptied his lungs of air. His eyes bugged. His ass felt split in two.

"Who's the boss, Patrick?" Sebastian retreated and thrust deeply again.

"Uggh!" Patrick caught his breath. "You are. You're the boss. Oh, my fu-fucking god, you're huge!

"Yeah, I'm the bossman, boy. Can't wait to put your fucking ass to work for me."

"Oh yesss! Please boss me around. Make me. Order me. Command me. Use me. Oh please sir, use me!"

Sebastian's cock plummeted into the deep recesses of Patrick's guts. The boy was an expert at taking size. He hadn't even complained. That pleased the big man.

"I'm the boss, boy. Take my fuckin' cock." Sebastian's powerful hips slammed Patrick's butt, smacking repeatedly the small rear with an insistent tempo. "Yeah, boy...yeah...that's a good boy...swallow my cock. Take my fuckin' slime up your ass."

Sebastian heard Patrick's muted voice: "I'm just an ass. It's all I am. Just an asshole for your pleasure..." At these words, Sebastian felt the surge of his cum, a wave of his seed welling up from his balls. Heat flowed from his body, hips grinding away at the battered ass of the submissive object bent before him. "Yessss..." he hissed. Sebastian's balls cranked out their load. His big hand clamped down on Patrick's back, pressing this willing victim firmly into the bed. This boy was a receptacle for his manly cum, a dumping ground, a womb to house his precious seed.

Sebastian's other hand gripped the small hips for support as he rocked his massive body against the small butt. "Take it. Take it, you shit! Ahh! Ahh! Fuck! I'm the boss!" Sebastian exploded again and again. Patrick's little ass gripped the huge prick, sucking it, milking it of its precious juice.

"Thank you...thank you..." It was all Patrick could murmur as he collapsed completely on the bed, spent.

* * *

The next morning Patrick awoke in the strange bed. Suddenly, it all came flooding back: the party, the betrayal, the royal fucking. He sat up, and there filling the bedroom doorway was Sebastian, decked out in his football gear, helmet under an armpit. "God, you look hot in those tights," Patrick said. Saliva flooded his mouth.

Sebastian smirked: "Ready for another round, bad boy?"