Brains Over Brawn
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I sobbed openly as I leaned against the wall. I could sense my life, as I knew it, coming to an end. Part of my mind leapt for scapegoats: that fucking Jason Martin and his fucking idea to cheat on the calculus exam; Ryan and his fucking sadism. Part of my mind was telling me to leave. I could leave; Ryan had given me that option. I could leave, but I could never come back. All I had to do was turn around, walk downstairs, put on my clothes that I'd hung in the coat closet, and leave. He had given me permission to leave, but I knew I wouldn't.
It wasn't just cock. Hell, if Jason found out I was gay, the whole school would know by the end of break. I wouldn't need to stick with Ryan just to have secret access to cock, to suck and get fucked with no one else knowing. Everyone would know. My friends, my team, my parents, my teachers, even kids I didn't even know. There would be whispers in the hallway as I passed. "There goes Alex, he was the soccer captain but now he's a fag." Maybe worse than whispers. I shuddered at the thought as the tears flowed. Anyway, if everyone knew, there wasn't any point in trying to hide it. I could go be as slutty as I wanted, go to gay clubs, hook up from personal ads in the paper or the Internet. It wasn't cock that made me stay. It was Ryan.
I wanted him. I didn't know why I wanted him. I liked the way he looked. I liked the way he controlled me, at least as long as it was private. He made me cum like I'd never cum before. And I knew why he was a jackass all the time, and I sympathized with him. No one should be alone like this, and I didn't want him to be. He didn't need to be. He had me if he wanted me. He just wouldn't accept it; he would never see me as a companion, a friend, a lover, a boyfriend. Only as a toy and a slave. Something to be played with and used. I'd lost my chance at anything else because I'd been too afraid, too disgusted, too ignorant of myself that first night we'd had sex. Anything I did now would be seen as a ploy, an attempt to manipulate him into leniency. And that made me cry more. I'd never have the chance to make him happy, only to obey.
Eventually, I stopped weeping and stood, sniffling like a child, my nose in the corner. I could hear him eating slowly behind me, as he clicked around on his computer. Minutes passed. At last, he just turned in his chair towards me. "Alex, what the fuck are you doing still here?"
I turned to him, wiping what moisture still glistened on my cheeks away with my hand. "You told me to wait in the corner."
He stared at me. "You're going to fucking stay? You want to call Jason and suck me off in front of him?"
"No," I answered. "But what choice do I have?"
"You have the choice to get the fuck out of my house," he retorted.
"And then what, sir?" I asked.
He shook his head in disbelief. "And then it's over."
I was dumbfounded. It was over. He was done. He had had no intention of outing me to Jason. He had been trying to push me away. He had expected me to turn and run, and now that I hadn't, he had no idea what to do. "But why?" I asked.
"Alex, my parents are coming home tomorrow. I can't have some jock slave boy keep showing up naked on my doorstep begging me to feed him some cock."
"But you did this to me! I was fine, I was a happily repressed straight boy, until you came along and fucked with me! Why did you pick me? Why did you make me come over here that night? Why did you make me suck you off and fuck me?"
He looked at me intensely, then turned back to the computer. "Go home, Alex."
I stood there, astonished. He was done. He didn't understand. He didn't understand that I didn't want it to be over. I walked over to where he sat at his desk and he looked up at me, that shade of fear creeping into his eyes. I leaned over, resting my arms on the back of the chair, my face inches from his. "You thought I was doing this because I needed cock. That was true, but it changed. You thought I made breakfast this morning, you thought what I said earlier, was all calculated to get out of something I didn't want. You were wrong. You were tired of playing the game, so you tried to scare me off. But you don't understand what's happened. You don't understand that you're responsible.
"You know that I know that there's nothing for me to get out of now. You're not going to make me call Jason. You're not going to out me. So explain this." And I leaned in and kissed him. He sat motionless, frozen. I moved back and looked at his face. He was staring, almost terrified, back at me. It was exactly as it had been that first night, when he'd kissed me in the kitchen, but now the roles were reversed. I'd finally done it, I'd finally gotten ahead of him, and he had no plan and he had no idea what to do. I leaned in and kissed him again, and as I held my lips to his, I felt it when he broke. His lips parted and he brushed his tongue against my lips. I opened to let him in and his arms wrapped around my neck. I took my arms from the chair and pulled away.
He was vulnerable. I could it in his eyes as they pleaded with me. I knew I could crush him if I turned away or if I laughed at him. But that's not what I wanted. Not anymore. Never again. I reached for his glasses and pulled them from behind his ears. I smiled faintly and then I kissed him again. I reached over for the desk and left his glasses there, then took his arms and pulled him up from the chair. His cock was fully erect and as I pulled him into me, it bumped into the plastic cage I wore. It startled him, and he pulled back and looked down. He looked back up at me, and then opened the desk drawer and plucked out the key to the padlock.
He knelt, and I assumed subconsciously it was to see the lock without his glasses. After he opened the cage and dissembled it, freeing my own hard on, I was completely taken aback, flabbergasted, as his mouth closed around the head of my cock. I threw my head back and cried out as I felt him bury my shaft in his throat. Enraptured, I buried my fingers in his hair and held him there until I felt his hands on my hips, trying to push me back. Suddenly, I remembered. He was still the boss. I dropped my hands and as he slid off my cock, I looked down with concern. "I'm sorry, sir," I said apologetically as he stood.
"No more sir, Alex," he said, as his mouth closed on mine. As we kissed, I wrapped my arms around him. I half carried, half drug him to the bed as his hands closed behind my neck. I pushed him backwards onto the bed and knelt between his splayed legs, bowing my head and devouring his dick. He moaned and reached for my hair, but I intercepted his wrists and pinned them to the mattress. I swallowed him whole, to the root, and held him there, gulping his knob with my throat muscles before I pulled back. I moved my head down to his sack and inhaled it into my mouth, washing it with my tongue, weighing each nut, sucking it, then releasing it. I licked my way up his shaft again, and swirled around the head. He called out my name again and again, and as his hips began to buck and roll under me, I rose.
I climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He lifted his head to watch me, and opened his mouth, expecting my cock. He lifted a hand to reach for it, but I surprised him again as I reached behind me, gripped his rod, and began to sit on it. His eyes closed and his face contorted with pleasure as his head slipped inside me. I grimaced with the insertion, but slowly lowered myself onto him, until I sat on his pubes. He opened his eyes and looked down his torso, seeing the root of his cock embedded between my ass lips. He turned his face to me, mouth agape, and I recognized his need. I leaned over him, planting my palms beside his head, and kissed him again.
He rocked his hips up against me, and I rocked mine back as we lay there, chest to chest. He wrapped his arms around my back and held me to him as we made love for the first time. The minutes wore on and time ceased to exist. At some point, one of his hands moved between us, clutching my cock tightly and sliding the skin up and down the shaft. The sensation, together with the friction of the shaft in my hole, the fullness of his cock inside me, and the pounding of his head against my prostate, overtook me. I clamped my ass down onto his fuckstick, and that sent him over the edge. As he unloaded in my ass, I sprayed my spunk between us, over his hand, onto my abs and chest. He released his grip as I came, and moved his slimey hand to my back, still holding me to him. As the tide of ecstasy washed over me and then ebbed, I pulled my mouth from his and, exhausted, rested my face on his shoulder. We lay limply like that, him still inside me, and I kissed the side of his neck.
In those minutes, we had consummated the change in our relationship. And we knew that his control over me was greater now than it had ever been before.