Disclaimer and Legal Stuff:  Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex
(in which case, why are you here?).  If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it and leave my name on it.  Thanks.

Brains Over Brawn
Chapter 6

Dreamily, I heard someone calling my name.  I opened my eyes, and the room was bright.  Sunlight shone through the windows that paneled one wall of Ryan's bedroom.  I remembered foggily what had happened the night before, and the fog cleared when I felt Ryan shift under me.

"Alex?  Get up."

I rubbed my eyes, and I could feel the somewhat sticky mess on my face from the loads Ryan and I had left there, and that had mixed in with sweat and dried.  Ugh.  Ryan put his hands on my hips and started lifting me off his lap.  I winced as his cock, still embedded in my ass from when I'd shamelessly fucked myself on his rod, slipped free as I stood.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to fall asleep.  I've got to take a leak." He stood stiffly.  The desk chair was padded, but had obviously not been designed to be slept in.  My thighs were a little sore, either from the effort they'd exerted the previous night or from the awkward sleeping position, but my ass was burning.  As Ryan went through the doorway to the bathroom, I reached behind myself and felt along my crack.  My asshole felt hot, and rubbing my fingertip lightly across its lips was somewhat soothing.

I didn't absorb the sounds of him piss and flush until after I heard him laugh.  He stood in the doorway when I looked up, watching me fingering my own hole.  "I can't leave you alone for two minutes, can I?  You really are a bitch, Alex."

"Hey!" I protested, "my ass hurts!"

"That's what happens when you keep putting things inside it," he said as he approached.  He kissed me, and I didn't hesitate when I felt his tongue enter my mouth.  When he was finished, he suggested that we both shower, particularly since I was covered in cum.  He had me wash him all over, and then took the wash cloth and reversed the process.  There was definitely some mild discomfort as he washed down my crack, and the cloth sent shivers up my spine, in spite of the hot water streaming from the triplet shower heads, as it passed over my hairless crotch.  He lathered my cock and balls a lot longer than necessary, but I didn't complain.

Once we were both clean and rinsed, we stood under the shower while he kissed me for a while longer.  He kissed well, I thought, until I realized that he was kissing me like I had kissed girls -- taking the dominant role and inserting his tongue into my mouth, not taking my tongue into his.  Somehow, it felt normal.  When he was satisfied, we dried off.  He ducked into his room with a towel around his waist and returned with the collar he'd had me wearing until I'd passed out.

"Put this back on now, Alex."

"Oh, come on, Ry..."

"Sir," he interrupted to remind me.  "Where ever, when ever, and who ever is around."  I stared at him.  His features were soft, and not arrogant, but I could tell he was serious.

"You've got to be joking!" I retorted.  "I can't go around calling you `Sir' everywhere.  I mean, what about at school?"

"Where ever, when ever," he repeated.  "It's this simple, Alex.  You like a cock up your ass.  I know that; you know that.  You like it so much, you beg me to give it to you.  You like it so much, if I've got a hard on and I let you, you'll fuck yourself on my cock.  We both know that you don't want anyone else to know about this little fetish of yours...although, I think we both learned last night that the idea kinda turns you on.  You have the choice:  you play by my rules, and I'll give you my cock.  Don't play by my rules, and you can find someone else who will give you his.  Now put on the collar."

I turned my eyes down to the floor.  I felt the ache in my ass.  There was the pain from the fucking, the pain from having his cock in my ass most of the night, but there was more.  There was an itch there to have cock inside me again.  Ryan was right, and I couldn't think of how he knew me so well.  I reached out and took the collar, and buckled it around my neck.  I started to wrap my towel around my waist, as Ryan had done with his own, but he took the towel from me and tossed it into a laundry hamper.

"You're dry, you don't need that.  Let's go down and see what the choices are for breakfast."

I remembered my empty stomach.  I hadn't eaten anything since lunch the previous day...well, nothing but a mouthful of Ryan's cum.  I followed him downstairs in silence.  Too much silence.  "Where are your parents, Ry...Sir?"

"They're spending the holidays in Switzerland."

"And they left you here?"

Ryan looked at me coldly.  "Obviously."

I was starting to get a clearer picture of Ryan's family life.  Early on in school, he'd probably worked his ass off trying to impress inattentive parents, which explained his intelligence.  When that was as unsuccessful as anything else, he'd given up on his parents, and his asshole attitude reflected both bitterness and a way to get attention -- positive or negative -- at school.

When we reached the foyer at the foot of the stairs, Ryan told me to get my clothes.  I'd forgotten they'd been laying on his doorstep since he'd made me strip outside the night before.  Without thinking, I opened the front door as Ryan turned down the hall to the kitchen.  There was some frost on the grass, and my breath was white as the cold air hit me.  Just as I stepped out the door, a man walking his dog cleared the hedge marking the side boundary of Ryan's front yard.  I froze.  He glanced at me, then did a double take as I stood there, naked except for the leather collar on my neck, and devoid of body hair.

He stopped and his mouth dropped.  In a flash, I grabbed my clothes into my arms, backed inside the door and slammed it shut.  I stood there shivering, both from the shock and humiliation and from the cold.  I turned down the hall, still carrying my clothes.  I walked in the kitchen and Ryan removed his head from deep inside the refrigerator.

"You can put them on the coun..." he started.  Then he saw my face.  "What?"

"There was a guy outside walking his dog.  He saw me.  Outside.  Naked.  Shaved."

He looked at me for a second, then shrugged.  "Don't worry about it, my parents know I'm gay.  If he tells them there was a naked guy at my front door, they shouldn't be surprised."

"But no one knows I'm gay!" I retorted.  Ryan smiled wickedly, and I realized what I had just said.

"You and I know, Alex," he taunted.  I looked back at him as I felt my body turn deep red.  "Put your clothes on the counter by the sink, and tell me what you can cook for breakfast."

What I could cook?  "Uh, I don't really know how to cook.  I mean, I could make some toast or something, I guess."

He cocked an eyebrow.  "I'll have an egg white omelet -- tomatoes, ham, and Muenster.  I like marmalade on my toast, no butter.  Grapefruit juice.  I'll be in the great room.  After you serve me, you can make whatever you want for yourself."  He walked passed me to the doorway.  "Oh, yeah, the great room is the one on the left, right before the foyer. Got that?"

"Yeah," I answered as he disappeared into the hall.  He ducked his head back in.


"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy," he smiled, and then disappeared again.

I stood in the kitchen.  I looked up at an over head rack well equipped with all kinds of cooking utensils and implements.  I'd never cooked anything before.  I walked over to the refrigerator and began to take out the items I'd need, laying them on the counter beside the island range.  I selected a skillet from the rack and set it on the range.  It took a few minutes to get the thing going, and by the time I had finished, the end product looked like a pretty disgusting mess.  So did I, with egg goo and tomato juice on my hands.  I washed myself up and slid the attempt onto a plate.  I poured the juice while the toast cooked, spread marmalade when it was done, and added it to the plate.

I carried the juice in one hand and the plate in the other as I headed down the great room.  When I arrived, Ryan was sitting on a long leather sofa watching a large-screen television.  "That took long enough," he complained.  I set the plate and the juice on the coffee table in front of him and he stared at it, and then up at me.  "You've got to be kidding."

"I said I didn't know how to cook!" I protested.

"That looks pretty disgusting, Alex.  Are you sure that's the best you could do?"

I looked down at the glumps of fried egg swimming in tomato juice with bits of ham and a partially melted flotilla of white cheese.  I nodded.

"Where's the silverware?  Am I supposed to eat with my fingers?"

I looked at the floor.  "I forgot the silverware, Sir."

Ryan shook his head.  "OK, back to the kitchen, and bring that crap with you."  He stood and walked back to the kitchen.  "What the fuck happened in here?!" he demanded, seeing the mess I'd left behind.  "You really are a dumb jock, aren't you?  Can you do anything right?  Have you got any common sense?"

For some reason, although I knew that I didn't know how to cook, and I'd never have pictured myself making him breakfast, I felt ashamed.  Ryan threw all the equipment I'd dirtied into the sink.  He proceeded to gather around him an assortment of bowls and things, and set about making his own omelet.  He made it look easy as he diced and sliced and whisked and fried, and when he slid his creation onto a plate, it looked perfect.  My mouth watered.

"You can eat that disgusting thing you made.  And when you're done, I want this kitchen spotless."  He loaded his breakfast onto a tray he took from the cupboard, added silverware, and walked back towards the great room.  "Oh, and you can eat yours without silverware," he called back.  I stared down at the mess on the plate.  Even the toast had gotten nasty because it had soaked up the tomato juice.  And now, it was cold.  My stomach rumbled again.  I wanted to cry.  I couldn't believe this.  I especially couldn't believe that I was about to cry.  I didn't want the crappy, cold omelet, and I couldn't understand why I had to eat it.  Nevertheless, something told me I had to.

I looked at my clothes on the counter, and thought about leaving.  Fuck Ryan, I thought.  I can stop by MacDonald's and go home.  Anger welled up as I remembered him eating dinner in front of me last night, and then how his idea of feeding me was cumming in my mouth.  And hell, he even shot most of his load on my face!  As soon as I thought that, the irony hit me.  I was whining about not having his cum to eat.  I remembered the fucks he'd given me, or more accurately the fuck he'd given me on the bed and the fuck I'd given myself on the chair as we watched our home movie.  God, I didn't want to get aroused, but it was beyond my control.

I sat there staring at the repulsive excuse for a meal in front of me, and I thought of how Ryan had told me that I would have to find another guy to fuck my ass if I didn't play by his rules.  I thought about how I had basically subliminally admitted that I was gay, and how Ryan taunted me.  Slowly, I began to scoop at the blend of egg on the plate with a corner of the soggy toast.  I lifted the glop into my mouth and began to eat.  It was revolting, but I didn't stop until the plate was empty.  I downed the juice in quick gulps, swishing it around to get rid of the taste of the omelet.

I looked around at the disaster area I'd made of the kitchen.  Ryan had dirtied more stuff than I had as far as bowls and knives went, but I'd slopped stuff on the counter and onto the range.  At least I knew how to clean.  I ran dishwater and washed the dishes, and cleaned all the food preparation surfaces.  When I was done, I dried and put away all the equipment, returning it to the places I thought it belonged.  I then went and reported to Ryan.

He was sitting on the sofa again.  He'd finished, and his tray lay on the coffee table.  "You disappointed me, Alex," he chided, never turning from the television.  "You should have been better than that.  I was going to fuck you this morning, but I don't think you deserve it."

My mind turned.  I didn't deserve to be fucked?  I should have been angry at his presumption, but inexplicably, I was sad.  I stared at the floor.

"There are a few more rules, besides calling me Sir.  First, whenever I let you come over to take my cock, you'll wear the collar.  You can put it on in the car and drive over with it on.  I'll be nice and not make you wear it all the time...for now.  But you will not take it off until you are out of my driveway.  Second, until my parents get back, you'll strip outside on the doorstep; you will not ring the bell or knock until you are naked -- except for the collar.  Third, you can let your hair grow back, except for your pubes and around your ass.  If you can't shave your ass, I'll do it for you, but there will be a price.  Finally, you are not to ejaculate without my permission."  He looked at me.  "Do you understand, bitch?"

I nodded.

"Look at me and tell me!" he scolded.

My eyes met his.  "I understand, Sir."

"Good.  Now, come here and sit down."  I sat beside him.  He opened his towel and began to stroke his balls.  When his cock grew, he wrapped his fist around it and began to pump.  I couldn't take my eyes off his crotch, and he never stopped reading my face.  After several minutes, I saw precum bubble from his cock slit.  I licked my lips.  "Would you like me to fuck you?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," I whispered.  My cock began to harden.

"Beg me."

"Please let me sit on your cock, Sir.  I want to feel it sliding inside me, I want to feel you fuck passed my hole and ram my prostate, Sir."

He silently continued to stroke.  My cock was a throbbing rock as I watched.  Eventually, he put one hand behind my neck.  "Would you like me to fuck your mouth?"

"Oh, fuck, Sir!  Please let me suck the spunk from your cock!"

He said nothing, but as he continued to work his cock, he began to grunt and thrust his hips.  I watched him, feeling a desperate panic as I recognized his orgasm drawing near.  My mouth was watering, and I felt the itch in my asshole.  My eyes widened as I saw his load spurt out over his abs.  He lay there panting, milking his cock, as he wasted his seed until he softened.  "Would you like to lick me clean, bitch?"

"Oh, yes," I sighed with relief.  I started to lean over him, tongue outstretched.  His hand moved up from my neck to my hair, took hold, and stopped me.  He tilted my face up to his.

"You should have done a better job with breakfast.  No dessert for you," he smiled wickedly before his face grew stern.  "Now get your fucking clothes on and get the fuck out of my house."

A cry of angry disbelief escaped my lips.  I stared at him, stunned, as my own cock drooled.  He turned back to the television dismissively.  After a few seconds, realizing he was serious and that I had no other choice, I stood, returned to the kitchen, and dressed.  My cock raged as I walked down the hall, out the door, and climbed into my car.

As I drove home, I knew I'd be back.  I knew that I'd shave my cock and ass.  Or maybe I'd let him shave my ass, just to see what the price was.  I knew I'd wear his collar.  I knew I'd strip on his doorstep.  As I had sat there, naked on the sofa in his great room, watching him punish me by depriving me of his spunk, I knew he had taken control of me.  I'd call him Sir, even at school, even around other people, because I knew I didn't want him to cum again, unless it was inside me.  When I arrived at home, I sat in the car in the driveway.  My cock was hard, but I knew I wouldn't jack off.  Not without his permission.  I looked in the rearview mirror, and saw the leather collar under my shirt.  I ran my finger along its smooth surface before I unbuckled it and tucked it into the glove compartment.  I knew I was gay, and I knew that I was Ryan's.  And when I watched his eyes when he searched mine, I knew that he was mine, too.  And that's all that would matter.

Author's Note:  This is the final chapter of this story.  I had originally outlined through Chapter 4, and wrote Chapter 5 based on interest in the question of whether or not Ryan humiliated Alex in front of his friends.  I wrestled with the idea of continuing the story, including some scenes of the spring semester, but decided against it.  The further the story line departs from the kernel of truth at its heart, the less confident I feel about the quality of the plot.  This chapter completes Alex's metamorphosis, and that was the real objective of this story.  Thanks to all who have emailed.  I have another story partially outlined, and a few more latent ideas; I'll work on them as I can juggle them into my schedule.