I did it. Perhaps I should say that I let it happen by not fighting it anymore. Regardless, I'm now in bed alone. My butt is still on fire from the spanking he gave me for my naughtiness. I still can feel how he plowed me with his iron hard cock literally forcing my own semen out of my body as he blasted his deep into my red-hot tail. He even marked me as his in two more ways. There isn't any doubt that he gave a large hickey on my neck. And he also decided that his boi is not man enough to have man-fur so he removed all my body hair.
You might think that I've been the victim of some abusive monster but that is not true. I've been fantasying about Roger for three years yet denying the truth and pretending that I wanted to be free rather than his. But that has changed now and I am overjoyed that it has. The story starts more than three years ago.
* * * * * * * * * *
I was a high school sophomore and turned sixteen in midyear. He was a year and half younger and only a freshman. It was only because we were both on the swimming team that we got to interact. Back then I did not realize much about either my sexuality or my domination/submissiveness nature for there were lots of guys around – all in-shape high school boys whom I saw lots of in the locker room. But my subconscious selected Roger for me to tease although I would have said it was just chance. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, I would roughhouse with him in the pool and felt that it was just good natured fooling about.
There was a long weekend from school coming up and Roger surprised me with an invitation. "Come for a weekend skiing trip." Neither of us knew how to ski but it was super low cost so I agreed. It turned out that his older sister and her friend had a rendezvous plan with their boyfriends in a condo in the ski area and we would be in a cheap hotel and provide the cover story for the parents. Of course, we were not told that but looking back now it is clear. Neither did I question why he chose me as I was not his best buddy but – you know – never look a gift horse in the mouth.
We spent the day on the slopes getting wet and falling a lot during and after our skiing lesson. But at our ages it was just fun and extra good because we were not being watched – no parents – no big sister – no babysitter – no coach – just ourselves. We returned the rented skis, got some burgers and caught the bus back to the hotel.
In our room, we stripped down and parked our wet clothes on the radiators to dry and then got to work on the beer Roger's big sister had thoughtfully given (bribed?) us. Once warm inside and out we soon got to challenge each other. Those arm punches soon escalated. I was confident before things got going since I had always beaten Roger when we had horsed about in the pool. This was not the same – Roger stayed in control. He knew more holds than I did and moved faster. He quickly taught me that he knew how to hurt me although he never got close to injuring me.
As we horsed about, I was very frisky and gave his butt a spank every chance – all three of them – that I got. I should not have done that since it gave him ideas and certainly said it was acceptable. As we tumbled about he got my legs in a tight scissors grip, my arms forced up my back while giving me a great, close up view of the carpet. I was out of breath as he yanked down my briefs and taught me what spanking was really about. It was about hitting my bare butt good and hard. Believe me that, just like they tell in the old stories, those spanks hurt like hell!
The good side was that they motivated me to struggle harder and I broke free. He was laughing and called me "My Apple Butt, faggot." Of course, everyone knows that you got to keep a cool head when you fight or you gonna get clobbered. Unfortunately I was a hot head and soon I was helpless as he got me into a classic school boy pin. By the way, I was also surprised at his use of that term faggot since he was friendly with some gay guys at school so it was apparently a verbal attack especially for me.
With him on my chest and my arms being painfully crushed by his knees, I was forced to look up at him. "Not the same as in the pool, is it faggot?" he laughed.
I laughed back at him not understanding the situation very well. That earned me a couple more red cheeks – those on my face this time from a couple of hard slaps.
"No. You won." I replied getting to realize the message. He laughed and I saw that he was hard. He leaned forward and I could see spittle collecting on his lips. "Please." I begged, not specifying what since it was obvious. What was not obvious were the pheromones he was emitting from his sweaty briefs which were also affecting me.
He sucked it back and laughed. He repeated the taunting a couple of times. "Open your mouth, boy." he ordered and leaned forward again. I kept my mouth closed. "I guess I have to use the manual method and pull the chain to get your mouth open, faggot." he chortled and reached behind and sticking his hand into my briefs grabbed my junk. As he gave it a squeeze, he found another item to taunt me with. "The faggot is enjoying this. It has a little boy boner!" He laughed and continued: "Does the little dicky want to play?" Not only was that true but his handling it made it harder.
"No, please, don't." I begged but, of course, he had to do it so I would know how in charge he was. And since I was begging my stupid mouth was open even though he did not pull the chain. Ugh! Of course, when people kiss saliva is exchanged and that is just fine. It makes no sense. While I was trying rationalize, Roger slapped my face for good measure, stood up and went off to shower leaving me to contemplate what had happened and finish my warm beer.
A little later he returned just wearing his jeans and man enough that it was clear he was going commando. "Go shower, faggot." I went off to shower and to cool my butt. While I was doing that, he came into the bathroom, peed and washed. Unfortunately he also took the towels when he finished. I went looking for them and, surprise, my complaints were not addressed so I had to do with the washcloth to (sorta) dry. Then I discovered that my clothes were also missing and he was smirking.
My questions and complaints were brushed off. "Get down here, my pussy faggot!" he ordered pointing to the floor between his feet. When I hesitated, he asked: "Do you need that I bust your sorry butt again? Down!" I got down as he ordered. I got a couple of hard slaps to my face. "That's for the delay." I just hung my head, afraid and ashamed. He continued: "I trust that you understand who is in charge, pussy faggot." I did not answer. He ruffled my hair like I was his obedient puppy. I guess that I was.
"Now, it's time for your spanking for bullying me in pool so many times, pussy faggot. You are going to get over my lap without a word. If I have to 'help' you, then you will be punished and still get spanked, boy. Understand?"
"Yes, Roger." I said. I knew that he could make good on his word.
But before I could get into position I got another slap to my face. "That's 'Yes, Sir.' pussy faggot." he snapped authoritatively.
"Yes, Sir." I repeated and docilely got over his lap. He rubbed my butt.
He started to spank me. Slow and steady, alternating cheeks and not terribly hard. But it was terribly effective. Over his lap, naked, and getting spanked with his bare hand had me feeling like a little boy over his daddy's lap. After a while the pain built up and I was fighting back the tears and straining to keep quiet. But his aggressiveness won so he continued spanking me 'til he drove me over the edge and I started to sob. I'm sure he could have made me cry or even bawl, but mercifully he stopped before that happened.
"If you bully me any more, you'll get spanked again and it will be much harder. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir." I responded knowing that he was in charge now. He had me get back on my knees between his legs.
Roger pushed my head down saying: "Kiss my feet." After I did that a half dozen times he wanted me to lick them which I did and then to suck his toes. I was having terribly mixed emotions. It was, of course, humiliating to be used like this yet it was also very exciting and my cock was hard. There must have been something that I liked about this.
Then came another order: "Open my jeans, pussy faggot." I reached up and undid the button and pulled down the zipper. "Take my cock out, pussy faggot." I had to free his hard cock but then it sprung up – rampant and proud from its nest of thick pubes. "Kiss it. Lick it, pussy faggot." Tentatively I stuck out my tongue to obey and he was patient with me but gradually I kissed and licked it a lot and then came the next order: "SUCK IT, pussy faggot!" Again I obeyed slowly taking a taste of my first cock. His hands were on my head assuring that I remembered he was in control.
Somehow, I had the nerve to ask "Not in my mouth, please." and he was understanding. When he was on the brink he pulled me off and blasted a zillion shots of thick semen most of which landed on his chest. He stuck his finger in one and then licked it off. He fingered it again and offered it to me. I licked it off like a starving kitten lapping at a finger covered with milk. He kept this up until he had fed me all the cum he could reach. The result was pretty much the same as if he had cum directly in my mouth. "Good boy!" He told me where I could find my clothes.
We watched TV for the rest of the evening before going to bed. My head was spinning. The next morning was normal. We dressed, ate, checked out and went skiing until Roger's sister picked us up to go home. I avoided Roger for the rest of the swim season and then we did not have contact at school.
Between summer camp for me and a family trip for Roger and then off to a private school for the rest of high school I did not have to confront Roger or even my own feelings about any of this.
* * * * * * * * * *
Now, three years later, away at college I keep thinking back to that fateful day when Roger evoked my deepest feelings and hidden desires both as a submissive and bisexual. Occasionally there are group texts from my old high school gang where both Roger and I are included. And then there are those very innocent "How's college?" texts from him. I have not been responding. More and more I feel that I want to respond. Psych-101 taught me that I'm having an approach/avoidance conflict. Unfortunately, it did not teach me how to resolve it.
What is he now? A monster who will knock me about and then rape me leaving me with a shredded anus or is he more of the handsome, cute, super sexy stud who has me wrapped around his potent cock and will carefully relax my pussy hole and drive me crazy (in a good way) claiming my cherry as his right? Is he my worst nightmare or my wonderful fantasy dream?
I have to know! It is killing me not to know so I answer one of his text. We exchange small talk for a while and now the moment of truth is near. He has graduated and I'm back home after my freshman year. We are both free.
We meet. We talk. He senses my fears and my crazy attraction for him. "I won't really hurt you, my pussy faggot." he tells me. "We can go on from where we were three years ago. We can go where you were afraid to go – although you wanted to deep in your heart. Where you still want – no, need to go and you must go."
Shit! He read me like a book! He has matured a lot in the three years. Maybe more than I have.
His hand is on my nape the whole time we walk in the woods talking. He is using it to direct me where to go. I am following, as a good submissive must, the lead of the alpha male. When we get back to the edge of the woods he removes his hand. My house is to the right and his to the left. "You want to come with me and grow or … run home to mommy and remain a despicable pussy faggot?"
He's giving me a life choice – dexter or sinister. I chose … sinister! I take a single step to the left and instantly he is right behind me with his hand back on my neck with a firmer grip than before. He does not have to tell me that was my last choice. A few minutes later we are in his bedroom. His family is away and we have the house to ourselves.
He undresses me. He also strips so that all he is wearing are his tight sexy jeans and I can see his well-developed torso. He is well defined and extruding maleness. He is even more sexy than he was three years ago.
"You have been a naughty boy." he states flatly. I wonder what he means but he quickly explains. "You rudely did not respond to my text messages. That has earned you a spanking." He sits down and pulls me over his lap. I recall the first time he did this. I feel him get a good grip on my waist. "I am no longer SIR to you. I'm now your MASTER, pussy faggot." and I grip the chair leg tightly. That was a good precaution because he started right in spanking hard. Spank after spank rained down making sure that I am being well chastised for my rudeness.
I can't help myself for I yell from the pain but he does not let up. I think of running away but he would really despise me so I grip the chair tighter. Then I'm crying like a baby. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I whine. By the time he stops, I am a mess. I know – not just in my mind but deep inside to the very marrow of my bones – that he is the Master and I am just the little boy. The naughty little boy who has earned a good hard spanking. I know that I must not be naughty any more or Master will punish me.
Roger pushes me to the floor and I lie at his feet. His foot is in my face. Yes, the Master's foot to be worshiped. I kiss and lick and even suck his toes. It feels terribly right. He switches feet and I do the other one the same way. I keep at it until he commands once again: "Open my jeans."
I eagerly obey for I know there a juicy reward awaiting me. A reward that I did not get properly last time. His cock is hard and the pre-cum is practically dripping off the end when I engulf it. He grips my head to control how I suck. It is right that he does so. I know that this time he would not let me stop before he explodes in my mouth but he wouldn't have to as I want to please him. And then he explodes in my mouth. Some goes right down my throat, much stays in my mouth where I savor it and some even runs down my chin. I struggle to swallow it all. I get a second reward when he says: "Good boy."
"Thank you, Master." I say when he withdraws. I keep my face in his crotch and continue to inhale his pheromones. Everything is feeling right. We stretch out on his bed to rest. He turns me prone and starts working my butt hole with his lubricated fingers. He has warned me that his was going to happen and I must trust him. I recall his promise that he will not hurt me. He is being gentle and tells me to relax. My cheeks are aflame, but he is now being very gentle and patient unlike that hard spanking.
Roger gets on top of me while still working his hand in my butt hole. He has kept his promise – at least until now – not to hurt me. I think to myself: «I must trust Master.» over and over. I don't realize that he has replaced his fingers with his hard cock just as he said he would. He has claimed my cherry as his. His hard cock pounding on my love nut is utterly fantastic. He's gotten a good grip on my shoulders as he pounds away in my butt. He is kissing me on the neck. I am over whelmed and cum without my cock being touched. He explodes in my butt hole. Several bursts fill me.
He remains on top of me and it is a wonderful feeling. "Thank you, Master." I say.
"You're welcome." he replies. Of course my head is spinning for a lot has happened. I am very glad that I trusted Master Roger.
Master gets up and takes me to the bathroom and parks my ass on the throne so I can drain. He is fussing to get some stuff and when I'm finished he has me stand in the tub. "Stand still." he orders and attacks my pubes with a hair clipper. My beautiful bush is gone in seconds although it took years to grow. He gets me wet and covers me with shaving cream and then uses a razor to make my body as bald as a baby's. He remains quiet until he is done and we shower together.
I know, already, that he has transformed me. He took my cheery and my pubes. He gave me a hot red tail and, most importantly, extracted that bottom boy who was hiding inside. Oh, excuse me. I'm getting a text message. It is from Master: "How is my boi feeling?"
"Wonderful, Master." I reply noting this is the first time he did not call me 'faggot'. I have been reborn.