Date: Fri, 18 Mar 2016 22:01:07 +0000
From: T T
Subject: Blake's Bitches Ch. 1

As soon as we started life at the same college, my best friend Dave and I
decided to join the crew team. We had both rowed in high school, and had
developed good physiques. I was 6' tall, dirty-blonde hair, and was fit and
muscular but sort of on the thin side, with a body a lot like Ashton
Kutcher's, but a bit beefier. I rowed a good position in high school, and I
thought I was pretty good.

But nothing really prepared me for the challenge of rowing in college. At
the school I went to, being on the crew team was big, and looking around at
the guys that would try out, I knew it would all be a challenge. Almost all
were about my size, where I had expected little competition; I thought,
maybe I should join lightweight crew? I decided against it, though, I would
take up the fight to be on the more hard-core team. Dave agreed. But of all
the guys there, this asshole, Blake Harrison, probably stood out the most,
not only because of his physique and looks, but also because he showed off
and was so in-your-face (that's why I called him an ass).

He stood about 6'3 and had curly brown hair that he had cut short on the
sides, almost shaved, and kept at a low-cropped level on top, and steely
blue eyes that seemed able to look through anything. He had a thing about
him that he came off as a "natural leader" type and whenever he spoke in
his forceful baritone, with a sort of tone that was aggressive, arrogant,
and uninterested at the same time, everyone else was quiet and seemed to
listen. He seemed like the sort of guy who always got his way, and I
resented him for it; I mean, I've got nothing against a guy doing what's
best for himself, but I don't like stand-offish strong-arm assholes.

Another thing I disliked about Blake (besides his name--what kind of a name
is Blake, anyway?) was that he was so up on his body, or at least was not
at all shy, which I sort of was. He always took his shirt off whenever he
had the chance, or sometimes he did it just for the hell of it, and his
hairless torso of rippling muscles, showing more particular ones than I
knew humans had, shone with a sort of glow I thought was as arrogant as
he. It's not that he was body-builder-beefy, there were some guys on the
team that were bigger, but that he was so well-defined, he could have posed
for an anatomical study of human musculature. I have to concede this point,
fine, I thought he was good-looking, who wouldn't, and I thought his large
muscles all fit in the proper ways, but why always show off? I mean, that's
fucking daft. Even his walk, this sauntering strut, I thought was
just--"too much."

In the bathroom during tryouts my eyes naturally also wondered over the
rest of his body; I was dying to find a fault. I was disappointed though,
and I noticed with a tinge of jealousy and admiration that his smooth legs
were as muscled, perfect, and proportionate as the rest of his body, that
he had an ass of iron with no flab, and--worst of all--he was hung like a
maniac.

I mean, I didn't measure it then, but it was easily five, six inches soft,
cut, and thick. I didn't look too much, I mean, I wasn't gay, and I didn't
want to be caught looking; but he was clearly much larger than I was (or
Dave, for that matter, whose body was similar to mine, though I'll talk
about him later). All of this worked to sort of reinforce my idea that I
was out of my league trying out for this team, and so I disliked this guy
for all he was and represented, and I thought he was a pain; but I kept at
it, and resolved that I would make the final cut. I kind of despised Blake
on another point, since he was so clearly a shoe-in.

At one point towards the end of the tryout season, I ended up talking with
a friend who passed by the docks after practice, and then I was late going
back to change and take a shower. I shucked off my clothes, took up a towel
and headed for the shower room. I was surprised to hear a shower running in
the back; curious to see who it was, I peeked from behind the wall.

There, in the back, under a shower head was--who else--Blake. I turned
around and lay back on the wall for a second, considering what I should
do. Finally I decided to fuck it, and just went in to wash up. I would
ignore him, I thought. I took up a shower on the other side of the wall
from Blake, and started washing up. And yet, try as I did to keep to
washing up and leaving, my gaze kept wandering on its own over to Blake. He
was just resting with his back on the wall, the shower stream coming down
on his glistening body.

He had an expression of pure relaxation and pleasure on his face, and his
eyes were closed. Suddenly I had an idea. I tried to suppress it, but it
wouldn't leave me. I had gotten to dislike this guy so much that I wanted
somehow to ruin his composure. I had often made sarcastic barbs in the past
whenever he spoke in his center-of-attention way, but he always ignored
me. Now, I would do something to piss him off, even if it meant I would be
annoying. That's it--I decided to be annoying and bitchy, which was so
unlike me in general, just to piss him off. So I said,

"Hey Blake, do you mind?"

He sort of came to and turned his head in my direction with an indifferent
look on his face. "Huh?"

"I said, do you mind? Aren't you wasting water? Coach said not to waste
water."

At this, Blake just got back into the position he was when I came in,
shaking his head a bit and smiling. I kept lathering and washing off under
the shower for another minute. Fuck it, I thought to myself, I went this
far; I mean, I knew I was being really annoying, but I decided it's OK to
stoop to this level once in a while, just to piss off this asshole. So I
started singing to myself in this really nasal voice. I did this for maybe
thirty seconds before Blake finally surprised me, saying,

"Hey Mark, shut the fuck up." I looked at him for a moment, but then back
at the wall, and kept singing. I mean, what was he going to do? I felt I
could carry myself in a fight--he was bigger, but size doesn't matter all
that much in a fight--and besides, if he so much as hit me, we both knew
he'd jeopardize his entry on the team. But suddenly I heard steps and felt
someone coming towards me. I turned to see Blake a few arms' lengths away,
and closing in. The light in the room played on his broad shoulders and the
deep cleft that ran down the middle of his rippled abdomen. I was expecting
a face to face "stand-off," where he'd try to tell me off. Instead, he just
walked up to me and took my wind out with a powerful punch in my stomach. I
doubled over. "I told you to shut the fuck up, shithead," he said, without
much emotion. Catching my breath, I started raising my head up again, and,
still bent over, looking into his burning eyes, I said a faint,

"Fuck you, Blakeshit!"

At this he just smiled slightly and shook his head; the next thing I knew I
was down on the floor with a bloody lip, dizzy. He had just back-handed me
accross the mouth. Mother-fucker, I thought. I was on my side and I wiped
off my lower lip and the running water was washing the blood away. Then I
started raising myself on my palms, but at this point, I felt a powerful
grasp on my head, and my neck was bent back. Fuck! I thought...this guy was
going to break my neck. But Blake just raised me by my hair until I was on
my hands and knees and he was behind me, standing astride, with his calves
brushing against my sides. I tried to get up off my hands, but he pushed me
down forcefully, until with a whimper I was back down on all fours, still
resisting.

"I'm fuckin' tired of your shit, Mark," he said, now in that aggressive,
domineering deep voice. Suddenly, I felt it, SLAP, SLAP! Two loud slaps on
my ass, and I squealed in pain and surprise. "You got that you little fuck?
You fuckin' stand up to me, I'll redden your ass like a baby, dipshit."

I had tears of pain and humiliation in my eyes, and I struggled to get free
and get back at this prick. But this only got him angrier. Blake kept
holding my hair tight with his left arm but drew me further, my head bent
back more and more, as he walked a step behind me, and then, with his right
palm, slapped alternately my left and right ass-cheeks. I burned with shame
and rage and tried to get free, but on my knees, and with his fingers
gripping the back of my head, I could only bend my middle forward, and inch
and slide down the wet surface.

"Beating your ass like a little boy, Mark! Shit! You better fuckin' behave
from now on, dumbass, or I'm gonna do this in front of the whole team!"

I shuddered at the prospect of Blake spanking me in front of the entire
team--I knew he would do it. But I thought I still had a chance at winning;
pretending to put up less resistance, Blake predictably relaxed his grip on
my hair. At this I took my chance and forcefully pulled forwards until I
was free. I leapt forward, stood up, then turned, ready to give him a
forceful sock-punch right in the nose. But by the time I turned he was
already in my face and easily blocked my blow; he promptly took my breath
out again with a powerful thrust to the stomach.

This time I fell to my knees in front of him, coughing and gasping for
air. I felt something on my face, and realized that it was the sole of
Blake's right foot; he pushed on my face until I fell backward on my ass,
finally getting back some air in my lungs. Blake was standing there in
front of me, arms crossed, muscles standing out, shining in the dim light
of the room, looking like a powerful conqueror. At this not only did I
realize I would not be able to win a fight against him, but something
else--something deep, a pang of shame, jealousy, but also admiration, and
yes...desire. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I...

Suddenly Blake grasped my hair again, cutting short my stream of
introspection. He wheeled me around like a rag doll until I was on all
fours again, and he was standing now on his knees behind me. Pushing back
and still resisting a little, I froze at feeling something rub up and down
around my ass--and I realized soon enough that, not being hand (I was
expecting another round of spanking) it must have been Blake's hard
cock. At this I froze. Blake could tell my reaction.

"Better relax, you little bitch...you wanna act like a bitch? Huh? I'm
gonna show you what it's like to be a bitch, you wimp-ass fuck; my bitch."

I desperately tried to lunge forward hearing this, but the incredible pain
of Blake's grasp on my hair put a stop to my effort. Blake beat his
rock-hard cock several times on my ass cheeks and ran in up and down on my
crack before he easily found the entrance and started applying pressure. I
couldn't believe this was happening! This guy whose guts I couldn't take
hadjust beat me up, spanked my ass red, and was about to fuck me! This was
the lowest, most degrading thing that could happen to a guy...to be made
another guy's bitch, to be beaten and fucked--and Blake was about to do it
to me! I hated the thought of this guy winning, period; I hated the thought
of losing to him in anything with a passion; but this...for him to win over
me in such a complete way! Fuck! I pleaded with him,

"No, no, please Blake...please, don't fuck me, I promise I'll do anything,
listen to me..." but he just kept pushing against my hole. "Blake...listen
to me, wait a second, just listen...OK?"

"No way, boy," Blake said now, in a low voice. "I don't fuckin' want to
hear your shit again, and I'm gonna make you know it. I know you're going
to do anything I say anyway, dipshit; check this," and he quickly passed
his hand on the underside of my cock; I was hard! I couldn't believe it!
Was I enjoying this? "You're fuckin' hard, you wimpy fuck, just as I'm
knocking at your door...gonna bust you wide open, pussy. Get it?" I got
it. In the most certain way possible, Blake was going to show me who's
boss.

I was never going to resist him or stand up to him again after
this. "Besides, you've got a fine ass, bitch...gonna make you my boy, take
your firm ass up with my cock like I would any girl's, pussy! Damn, I bet
it's so fuckin' tight..."

Blake's words petered off now, as, with greater and greater pressure, the
spearhead of his cock broke through the entrance to my ass. His powerful
penetration knocked the wind out of me, just as when earlier he had subdued
me with punches to the stomach. But the forceful, sudden penetration of the
next few inches of his massive weapon almost made me faint with pain. After
that, Blake let go of my hair and firmyl grasped my shoulders. My back
arched to take in the length of his cock that was now inching up my ass,
spreading me wide and going deeper, but slower. I gasped now with a mix of
pain, humiliation...but again, there was something else; my hard cock
pulsed and I got now, more distinctly than before, a wave of sharp pleasure
from my cock. Blake kept pushing in; he spat several times on his cock, and
the sound of his spitting made my cock twitch for some reason. I gasped
again.

"Push out, faggot, it'll make it easier on you," Blake orderred, and all of
a sudden, I complied. I was still resisting; I terribly wanted to get away
and defeat him. But on the other hand, it was getting harder and harder to
deny the pleasure...slowly, as Blake's cock conquered my ass inch by inch,
the pleasure was taking me over, and my gasps were unwillingly turning into
moans of ecstasy. "That's it bitch; I knew you'd fuckin' like this
shit. You know your place bitch, don't fucken' deny it
again...pussyboy...fuck, what a tight hole, boy..." And I did, I was
starting to love it, to push back my ass and my ass muscles, to take up the
length of his throbbing, massive weapon; I was feeling like I never had
before--physically split in half; and shamed as hell at taking pleasure,
intense ecstasy at the large cock breaking through my ass, the strong hands
gripping my shoulders, the sound of Blake spitting so he'd ram me easier,
the idea of so totally submitting to this asshole, this rich-boy hunk who
had just spanked me silly and was now, as I could see in the reflection of
the tiles in front, his muscular physique mounting me like he would any of
his girls, making me his pussy.

Finally Blake's hips slapped against my ass, and I could feel his pubes
scratching my cheeks.

"Aaall the way in, baby, that's it...fuck yah, your ass is mine now, Mark;
nothing's ever gonna change that," Blake said as he slowly scrunched his
hips forward, moving the rod-length of his cock up inside me while my ass
adjusted to the incredible girth. "You're officially my bitch now, boy, my
fuck-toy! Gonna fuck your ass silly, you dumb pussy, you're not gonna be
able to walk for a week," and he chuckled as he took me with a long stroke.

I whimpered in shame, jealousy and pleasure; I would never, in any way, be
able to challenge Blake again, I would always be his bitch after this, he
would always win anything between us; the thought of this filled me, again,
with jealousy, admiration, resentment, and, with his thick cock now sending
shock-waves through me by ramming out my ass, intense pleasure. Blake's
thrusts became faster and more forceful, and the feel of his muscular
thighs slamming with each in-thrust against my hamstrings drove me wild--I
could feel his powerful strength taking me over. With each lunge of his
cock now I was moaning like a bitch. Finally, I couldn't help it; between
moans, I whimpered, timidly,

"Uh...fuck Blake...this feels so fuckin' great, fuck me, man...shit...your
cock's so fuckin' thick, Blake, take me," and I grunted a couple of times
as he took a stronger hold on my shoulders and thrust twice up my ass with
strong, short strokes, "make me your pussy, I'm your pussy, Blake, fuck me,
fuck me harder, man!" Blake banged down his cock in my ass at this with
such force that I yelped with pain and surprise.

"I'm gonna fuck you until you can't see, faggot; I turned you into a pussy
fag, and I'm gonna take my time with your ass as I like it, Marcia..." I
shuddered now on all fours, taking in the power of his thrusts, moaning
incoherently..."You got that, boy?"

"Yes...yes...sir," I managed to utter, instinctively...

"Damn, whore, you moan like a bitch in heat," continued Blake. The
dominating teenage classmate continued fucking me on all fours for another
few minutes, slowly, deliberately, asserting his superiority and dominance
over me. With each thrust I realized I moaned or made a high-pitched yelp,
and could hear Blake chuckling. From time to time he slapped my ass. The
sounds of his muscular hips slamming against my ass, of his slaps, and of
my uncontrolled moans and yelps filled the shower room and resounded off
the walls. Blake had won.

I was sort of surprised, and was waiting to see what would happen next. I
realized I was out of breath and totally drenched in sweat; Blake grabbed
me by my sides and buried his cock up my ass to the hilt. Then he lay back
and dragged me along, until he was sitting, with his back to the shower
wall, and I was sitting on his hard-rock prick.

"Spread your legs, faggot," Blake curtly ordered, and I obeyed.

Blake placed his powerful, smooth legs in between mine; the round muscles
around his knees seemed to glow with power as they flexed. Blake, grasping
my sides, started to raise me up and down the length of his cock, and I
started going wild with the feelings his fucking was causing me. This was
amazing; this guy I couldn't stand, and maybe because I coudlnt' stand him,
was making me love the fact that he had beat me, spanked me, and was now
fucking me like a girl, just like that. The feel of his arms on my sides,
the strength of his hips when I took his cock completely on the way down,
the heat, sweat, and smell emanating from his rubbery skin, all of it was
driving me insane with desire.

"You like this, you fuckin' little wimp? Not so tough now, huh? And you
thought you could stand up to me, pussy? Huh, pussy? Pussy?"

Blake slammed me down on his cock every time he called me a pussy. The
sounds of his voice was just about enough to make me cum. Now he ordered me
to place my feet on his thighs, and I did, feeling the smooth skin and
strong muscles underneath; totally supported by Blake's body, and his cock
ramming my ass, I was sort of losing my breath with ecstasy; every time I
took his cock all the way in my ass, I yelped sharply; every time he raised
my body on his cock, I grasped at it with my ass muscles and moaned
slowly. Blake continued talking in my ears, calling me his boy, his bitch;
he was enjoying the feeling of my tight ass on his cock, but most of all, I
knew, he was enjoying the turn-around, the fact that only hours before I
was mouthing off sarcastic bits in public to him, that he and I were just
two of the guys, and now I was hopping on his cock, his total butt-bitch...

"You gonna be a good bitch from now on, Mark? Huh? You fag? You like the
way I turned you into my pussy, like a little girl, huh, Mark?"

"Oh Fuckin' God, Blake," was all I could mutter, "You're so fucking
strong!"

I screamed as he slammed me down on his dick again. I grasped two pipes,
one at each side with my hands, tightly. Blake released my sides as I now
willingly and roughly sat up and down the length of his weapon cock that
had conquered me and turned me into his bitch. Blake instead reached around
and squeezed my nipples hard. We continued like that for several minutes,
me fucking myself on the girth of this dominant god's cock, as he squeezed
my nipples tightly and lightly slapped my sides and ass, playfully enjoying
his conquest. Then he started flicking his fingers around the head of my
cock, lightly slapping my dick up and down with hs fingers.

"Got a fuckin' hard clit, baby...hard clit and tight ass-pussy, Mark, you
fag...you like being my bitch?"

"Oh fuck Blake..." I continued gasping, yelping with the force of his cock,
"I fucking love it! I'm gonna fuckin' cum! Oh fuckin' holy shit, I'm gonna
fuckin' cum without touching myself, your cock ramming out my pussy...." my
words petered incoherently as I started to erupt.

At this Blake grabbed my sides again, lunged forward until he was on his
knees and I was also on my knees in front of him, bent over; the feeling of
my fucker's hard, muscular body and thick cock deeply buried in my ass was
more than amazing as I was coming and half-passing out; Blake held me with
one hand around my firm, fit midriff, and with the other he grabbed my head
by the top of my hair; with a roar of power and victory he exploded in my
ass, and I could feel his throbbing cock pulse and burst loads and loads,
one, two, three, five times. Blake came loads in my ass as my own semen
spurted on the ground, proof of my natural submisson to the force of his
body, cock, and personality.

After he came, Blake released my hair, and my head drooped; I felt
exhausted. We stayed in that position for a few minutes, until his cock
softened some, and then Blake pulled out of my ass and I fell forward. I
was a mess, on the ground, in my own cum, as Blake stood, muscles
glistening with sweat and water, a few feet away, chest out, the rippling
muscles in his chest and abs expanding and contracting with breaths. He
just smirked at me,

"Clean up, faggot," he said, pointing at the ground. "Then get the fuck out
of here."

Blake went back to his shower to wash off.