Owned by TJ, part 5
Author:
For the Love of Paul
Just when I thought I could not feel any more demoralized than I was already, TJ was able to find a way to bring me a notch lower. Any degree of self esteem or self respect I may have had prior to my involvement with him had now all but vanished. Although I had feared it would be only a matter of time before TJ began pimping me out to other guys and taking my money, I really had hoped he would reach a point where he'd draw a line. I'd hoped that he would not go this far, but as had been the case with the entire situation over the past months, fear again triumphed over my false hope.
After making me lug the laundry bag containing his enormous load of filthy athletic gear to the car, TJ ordered me to store it in the trunk. I dutifully heaved it in and then climbed into the passenger seat beside him. I was obviously winded, but he seemed not to even notice or care. In fact, he acted as if I did not even exist, and he didn't even speak to me as he quickly sped out of the parking lot. Finally as he began to approach the main part of town he asked me which bank to go to, and I told him. He asked if I had an ATM card, which I did. I got it out of my book bag and held it in my hand.
The savings account to which the ATM card was assigned was one which I had opened two years ago when I began working at Burger King. Over the past two summers I had saved up over $900. My mom had her name on the account with me, but she never really paid attention to it. She knew that I was fairly responsible when it came to saving money. I had hoped to have enough saved by the end of the following summer to buy myself a fairly decent used car.
As TJ pulled the car into the bank parking lot, I reached up to the door handle, expecting to have to run inside to make the $100 withdrawal. TJ did not slow down, however, and sped right through the parking lot, all the way over to the drive-through ATM lane. As he pulled up next to the machine he lowered his window and then held his hand out to me, expecting me to pass him my card. "What's the PIN number, fag?" he asked.
I hesitated for a second, suddenly realizing that TJ was about to receive full access to all the money I had. That horrible sinking feeling I had experienced so often lately immediately washed over me. I knew that once he had that number, I would have no way of stopping him from cleaning out my account whenever he desired. Suddenly I felt as if I wanted to bawl.
"Bitch, I'm talking to you! Give me the fuckin ATM card... and the PIN!"
How could this now be happening? How could everything have turned so terribly bad? It all had started so innocently on my part. I had merely allowed myself to feel somewhat intimidated when TJ had made eye contact with me back in shop class. The next thing I knew I was doing his homework. Then he was forcing me into sexual slavery and pimping me out to his buds. Now I was gonna be his laundry bitch, and worst of all he was about to take ownership of my only semblance of independence—my bank account.
"TJ—" I began to protest, "please..."
Without another word, he reached over and violently grabbed the scruff of my neck, ramming my head forward into the dashboard. Fortunately it was my forehead that connected and not my nose, but still it was a jarring blow. I reflexively gasped and cried out a pathetic little wimper. I hunched my shoulders upwards and crouched down in the seat, attempting to slide away from him as much as I could, and I also held my hand out and passed him the ATM card.
"Jesus Christ!" TJ exclaimed. "What is fuckin up with you, fag? Why do we have to keep goin over and over these same lessons? Why can't you just fuckin learn that you have absolutely no choice but to do whatever the fuck I tell you? What is the motherfuckin PIN number?!"
"Twenty-four sixty-seven," I whispered.
Immediately TJ released my neck and turned towards the ATM machine. He reached out the window and slid the card into the slot. After entering the PIN he requested a balance inquiry. Then he turned to me and smiled. "Ya know, if I had nine hundred-fifty-three bucks in my bank account, I'd be careful about who I was givin my PIN to. Come to think of it, though, I do have nine hundred fifty-three bucks in my account. What's yours is mine. Right, fag?"
He then quickly turned away from me and made a withdrawal. He laughed as he punched in his request and waited for the machine to dispense the cash. Then very casually he retrieved the card, the receipt, and the small stack of twenties. Calmly he counted them out in his hand, right in front of me. He'd withdrawn two hundred dollars. He then folded the money and stuffed it in his pocket along with my ATM card. "Good thing you work on the weekends, bitch. Gonna have to make a deposit to replenish my savings. I really think I'm startin to enjoy this arrangement. Now I know I'll always have a little extra spendin money whenever I need it."
I stared over at him in utter disbelief. I just could not fathom the reality of this situation. Everything I'd worked so hard for the past two years was now gone, or soon it would be. TJ now had possession of both my ATM card and my PIN. He could make withdrawals whenever he wanted and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I could only imagine what my parents would say when they found out that I'd gone through all my savings. What would I tell them? I'd have to lie to them to keep them from finding out what really had happened. I'd have to take the blame myself and tell them I'd spent the money.
It was four-thirty when we got to TJ's house. I was beginning to wonder if his parents ever were at home, for again the place was empty. TJ left the garage open after we pulled in. He knew that Brian and Paul would soon be pulling in behind us. As we were walking in, TJ looked down and noticed the wet spot on the front of my pants. It was amazing to me that it'd taken him this long to see it, but when he finally did, he began laughing. "When did you cream your pants, fag? That is a cum stain, isn't it? Or did you piss yourself?"
"No, sir," I answered him, feeling another wave of embarrassment wash over me, "I didn't wet my pants. Um... well, it was in the locker room, before Brian and Paul got there."
"You came in your pants when you were baggin up my laundry?" he laughed. "What a fuckin faggot loser!"
"No, sir," I said again, "before that."
This time he laughed really loudly. "That's even worse, bitch! You fuckin came in your pants when I was fuckin your face. You totally are a faggot. Oh my fuckin god!"
Just as we were stepping in the entryway, I heard Paul's car pull up in the driveway. TJ turned around to wait for them, and I stood beside him, un-tucking my shirt in an attempt to pull it down far enough to conceal the cum stain. "You guys, come `ere," he said. "Look at this. The fag already creamed himself. Got so excited when he was blowin me that he shot right in his pants."
Brian laughed. "Must mean he liked it."
"Why else would he pay a hundred bucks for the privilege? Paul, hope you're ready."
"Yeah, well I'm doin it for the money. I'm still not sure about this whole thing though."
"Believe me, you won't be sorry," said Brian. "TJ's got him trained pretty good."
As tenuous as this situation was, I was starting to feel the excitement build within me when I looked over at Paul. I knew that I was being forced to suck him off and that I even had to pay him for the privilege, but as I stared at him I realized that it may not be such a horrible thing. He was really a hot-looking dude. He stood about six foot tall and had very straight medium brown hair, the bangs of which kept falling into his eyes. He had a way of sweeping his head casually to clear away his bangs. His shoulders were broad, and the letter jacket he was wearing really accentuated his physique. I could see his biceps bulging to fill the tight-fitting leather sleeves. He was wearing jogging pants and sneaks.
When we got downstairs, TJ offered his buds a soda and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then he ordered me to go to the kitchen and bring back the beverages while he casually plopped himself onto the sofa, sprawling out rather comfortably. Paul took a seat in the big throne-like chair where I Brian had been blown the night before. It seemed that chair was literally designed for that purpose.
Apparently Brian and Paul had been discussing the situation on the way over, and although Paul had initially agreed to it, he was starting to have second thoughts. At first he was so shocked by the way TJ was treating me—calling me names and giving me orders—he didn't quite believe that I was actually TJ's slave. He had thought it was some sort of roleplay or possibly even a joke. He and TJ had always gotten along just fine, but in some ways he couldn't help but feel jealous of him. TJ always seemed so cocky, and he always managed to get whatever he wanted. Paul had sort of hoped that TJ would not come up with the money after all, and maybe that would bring him down a peg or two.
On the other hand, if TJ was able to force me to hand over a hundred bucks, then Paul would still make out quite well from the arrangement. He'd not only leave that night a hundred dollars richer, but he would also have gotten himself a no-strings blowjob. No matter how hot or how cocky a teenage jock was, in the real world it truly was not every day that he got his dick sucked and got paid for it. The one thing he was most uneasy about, though, was that he wasn't sure he wanted to do it right here in front of an audience of his peers.
As I returned from the kitchen with the sodas, I heard the three of them discussing it. "So I suppose you expect me to whip my dick out right here in front of you guys for this... um...fag...or whatever he is... to suck it?"
"Why not?" asked TJ casually. "We've all seen each other in the shower. If it were a chick, I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem with doin it."
"No shit," agreed Paul, "but that's the point. It's not a chick. It's a dude, and the whole thing seems kind of faggy to me."
"Well, suit yourself. If you don't want the head and you don't want the money, I'll offer it to Brian."
Brian looked over at TJ and grinned. "Dude, you should've made the fag pay me last night. How come Paul gets paid and gets his rocks off?"
"Guess you should've said so at the time," responded TJ, "but from this point forward the fag's gonna know that it's a privilege to serve jocks like us, and it's not free. He'll pay one way or another. You enjoyed it last night, anyway. Said it was the best head you'd ever had, so quit yer bitchin."
Brian laughed. "So what are we waitin for? Why don't you get things started, Teej?"
"Can't I do this someplace private?" Paul asked. "Like can't I take him into the bathroom or something?"
"Just chill," said TJ. "I'll put in a porn for ya." He then slid himself off the sofa and walked over to a double-door cabinet near the back of the room. He rifled through some DVDs until he found one that was acceptable to him.
As TJ slipped the DVD into the player, I started to feel really anxious. It seems I would be starting to get used to the fact that I had to do this sexual stuff for TJ and his friends, but it was still no less degrading and humiliating. Both Paul and Brian seemed like pretty cool guys to me, and had I not been in this situation where I was being forced to be a slave to them, I probably would have felt honored to even be in the same room with them. After all, they were the sort of dudes I had always secretly worshipped. It just really amazed me how easily they came to accept the fact that TJ owned me and that it was no big deal for him to treat me the way he did.
I think that part of the reason that TJ enjoyed this scene so much was because it was a way for him to show off. He brought his buds over to his house where he lived in a state of constant luxury and comfort. He had pretty much all that any teenage guy could ask for. The entire downstairs living quarters was literally his own private domain. He had his own weight room right in the house. He had a rec room which he used as his personal living room area for entertaining, and there even was a small kitchen in the back. Plus he drove around the nicest and newest sports car, had a huge closet full of clothes, all the newest and nicest shoes. He had a personal computer, an entertainment center, a plasma TV, and now apparently his own personal slaveboy.
As the porn video started, I crouched down near Paul's chair and sat with my legs crossed on the floor. I felt my heart racing again excitedly. I looked on the floor beside me, to my left, to see Paul's sneakers as he sat there with his feet sprawled out comfortably in front of him. He was wearing Nike Shox. I had an urge to reach over and begin untying them for him, but I thought it best that I just sit there and wait to be told what to do. In all likelihood, Paul would not even have to take them off anyways. He seemed to be fidgeting nervously in his seat, and suddenly he leaned forward and removed his letter jacket, tossing it across the arm of the sofa where TJ was sitting.
"Here, bitch," said TJ, motioning to the jacket. "Go hang this up in the hall closet. Get Brian's from him too."
"Yes, sir," I said, as I scurried to my feet. When I gathered the jackets and walked with them around the corner to the hall closet, I couldn't help but hold Paul's up to my face. I inhaled a big whiff of his scent. It was a mixture of his cologne and the distinct aroma of leather. Once again a wave of excitement washed over me.
I could still taste the bitterness of TJ's cumload in my mouth from when he had throat-fucked me a few minutes earlier, and I found myself wondering just exactly what Paul would taste like. Clearly the biggest difference was gonna be the fact that Paul had just showered. TJ made me blow him right after a fierce workout, and all I could smell was the overpowering scent of his sweat.
I then returned to the rec room and again crouched down beside Paul's chair. The movie had started, and I was really surprised at how incredibly cheesy it was. There were three slutty girls dressed like cheerleaders, sitting on a big king-sized bed chatting with one another. They each were sharing a story with the others, one-at-a-time. As they began talking about their experience, the movie would go into a flashback scene that depicted their slutty encounters. The first girl began her story and told how she got down and dirty with the football quarterback in the back of his car. It then showed them making out, which led to an oral sex scene, and then finally the main-event fuck scene. Ultimately he dragged her from the car, bent her over the hood and fucked her mercilessly up the ass.
As the movie played, I began to ease my way over closer to Paul's chair. I knew in my mind that I really should be dreading this whole twisted experience. I knew that it was in reality extremely degrading to me to be used as sex slave like this, but for some reason I was instead actually beginning to feel sort of excited about it. On the one hand, I wanted to get down to business and get it over with, but I also was beginning to feel a rush of anticipation. I wondered what Paul's dick was gonna look like, what it would taste like and smell like. I wondered how long it would take me to make him cum.
When Paul shifted in his chair and spread his legs apart, I finally took this as my cue to get myself into position, and so I slid over in front of him and crouched down on my knees. I knelt there patiently, staring directly at the bulge in his crotch. I did not want to overstep my boundaries by touching him without permission, but I also wanted to be waiting for him whenever he was ready to get started.
TJ and Brian were starting to get into the movie, laughing with one another and making comments about the size of the chicks' breasts and stuff, but Paul just sat there virtually stone-faced and quiet. When the second scene of the movie started, where the next slut told about how she had gotten pulled over in her sports car and had to do a three-way with two young police officers, Paul finally reached down to his lap and rubbed his crotch a little. I could see the stiffness of his bulge inside the loose-fitting athletic pants, and so I expected that it would be any moment that he'd be ready for some oral service.
As he was rubbing himself, I mustered the courage to finally look up at his face. As I did so, he made eye contact with me and nodded. Then he removed his hand from his crotch and placed it on the armrest, and he refocused his attention to the movie. Quickly I slid closer to him and placed both of my hands against his inner thighs. Instantly he spread his legs further apart, an indication to me that he was welcoming me to slide in and begin doing my job. I was quick to accept his invitation and suddenly moved my face directly into his crotch, gently pressing my lips against his bulge.
"Wait!" he said, immediately grabbing hold of my shoulders. "I want the money first." I spun my head around quickly to look over to TJ who by this time had reclined on the sofa with his feet casually propped up on the far armrest. He craned his neck to look over to me.
"Crawl over here and get it fag," he said nonchalantly.
Immediately I obeyed him, assuming a canine-like position on all fours and crawling over to my owner. "You want that jock cock in your mouth bad, don't ya, fag?" he asked me teasingly. "You're such a cocksucking faggot bitch! Well first ya gotta pay for it, and the only way that's happenin is if you earn your money back from me."
I wasn't exactly sure what TJ meant by this, other than perhaps that he wanted me to blow him again first before serving Paul, but I heard Brian laughing as he was obviously watching us intently. I knelt there beside TJ on the floor next to his sofa, not knowing exactly what to do when TJ then further instructed me. "Kiss my feet, fag," he said, and I rapidly slid myself down a couple of feet so that my face was right next to his sneakers. He still had them on, and his feet were crossed casually at the ankles, resting comfortably on the armrest. I pressed my lips to the tops of the sneakers and kissed each of them several times while hearing snickers from all three of the jock buds who were in the room. "The bottoms too," he said, and so I moved even further downwards and began kissing the soles of his sneaks. "Are you deaf, bitch?" TJ asked. I was starting to get used to this insulting question, but obediently turned my face to look up at him. "I said kiss my feet, not my sneakers. Take em off and kiss my fuckin jock feet, bitch!" Immediately I reached up and unlaced his shoes, gently removing them from his size 13 feet. I placed each one reverently on the floor beside the sofa and again pressed my lips against his socked soles, kissing each of them repeatedly. As I did so, the powerful smell of his jock feet overpowered me. He wiggled his toes a bit and thrust his foot downward to grind it in a bit against my face. Chuckling a bit to himself, he then reached into his pocket and retrieved the stack of twenties, holding out five of them. "Use your mouth, bitch." I then opened and he slid the money between my lips. I bit down, clenching them firmly in my teeth and then crawled obediently back to my position between Paul's legs.
Paul was now no longer stone faced but instead was grinning as he stared down at me. I'm not sure if it was because he was pleased to be getting the money or because he'd found the whole foot-kissing scene to be amusing. I considered what he must be thinking of me as I knelt there in front of him on all fours like a dog. His face was so cute as he sat there grinning. He had a very boyish look about him, with the wisp of hair hanging in his eyes. He had that kind of look that reminded me of a skater boy. His face looked almost cherubic, and I bet that he'd be the type who would get carded every time he tried to buy alcohol for at least the next decade. In spite of the youthful look of his face, he seemed to be almost like a king sitting there on his throne. He was taller than either of the three guys I had served previously in this very chair. His long legs were spread widely apart with the soles of his feet planted flatly on the ground. He just looked so comfortable as he sat there, even though we both knew that he was not sitting there merely for the purpose of relaxation.
He reached out and snatched the money from my mouth, holding it up proudly in front of him, thumbing through all five bills to make sure it was all there. Then he set the money down on the side-table next to his chair, and returned his arms to there resting positions against the armrests. Still grinning, he then looked down at me, and the smile on his face instantly vanished. He again nodded to me and once more I scooted myself into position and placed my face directly in front of his now-obvious bulge. I leaned in respectfully and gently kissed it, making my first contact with his genitals.
The fabric of his athletic pants was that shiny silk-like material, and it felt so soft against my lips. I moved my face slowly back and forth against the outline of his erect cock. He slid down a bit in his seat, easing himself into a comfortable position while at the same time pushing his pelvis slightly upwards. I ran my fingers gently across the smooth fabric of his pants, tracing my way up his inner thighs, eventually finding my way all the way up and over his groin to his waistband. I slid my fingers into each side of the waistband and waited for him to shift slightly and allow me to pull them down. In a very smooth motion I then pulled the pants down over his thighs. I backed up a bit as he brought his knees together so that I could take them all the way down. The loose-fitting pants slipped easily over his sneakers, which he lifted slightly from the floor as I undressed him.
Paul then quickly stood up from chair and jerked down his underwear. He was wearing white ribbed Calvin Kleins. My heart skipped a beat as I got my first glance at his throbbing cock. After all, it was right there in my face. With his underwear now at his ankles he sat back down, and I reached down to pull them off over his sneaks. He then toed off each of his shoes and kicked them aside. Then he spread his legs again, now even wider than before. He had scooted down a bit further in the chair so that his but was closer to the edge of the seat, but he leaned back so that he was quite comfortable. His cock jutted out in front of him, already boned and oozing precum.
The sight before my eyes was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Although TJ was admittedly very well hung, and Brian had nothing to be ashamed of, Paul was by far champion when it came to sheer cocksize. I don't think his dick was any longer than TJ's but it certainly was much fatter. Seeing it there in front of me got me so excited that I popped another boner myself, but this time I was going to make sure I didn't even touch myself. I didn't want the three guys to see me cum in my pants for the second time in one day.
"Nice, isn't it?" Paul asked. "You think it's worth a hundred bucks?"
"Yes, sir!" I whispered sincerely. "Every penny." TJ and Brian then burst into laughter.
"Jesus fuckin Christ!" said TJ. "What a pathetic faggot!"
At that point, though, I didn't care what any of them said about me. The only thing I could focus upon was the task before me. I had found myself excited about serving Brian the day before, but those feelings paled in comparison to what I now was experiencing. The earlier comment about it being a privilege to serve these jocks was a reality that I was now very pointedly realizing. I had been so distraught by the fact that TJ had drained two hundred bucks out of my savings account, but as I knelt there in front of this godlike jock, I now was becoming aware of how likely it would have been that I'd have willingly withdrawn the money myself just to be afforded this amazing privilege.
There was no doubt in my mind that Paul was aware of my feelings as he looked down at me. He must have been able to see the eagerness in my eyes as I stared intently at his throbbing hardon. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I then reached my small hands upwards and gently cupped his tight and firm nutsac. I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and stroked his balls with the fingers from my other hand. "Go ahead," he said, "start suckin."
As I wrapped my lips around the crown of his fuckpole, I inhaled deeply, taking in his clean masculine scent. The fact that he had just showered made me all the hungrier for him. The crisp and clean aroma was almost intoxicating, without a trace of muskiness or sweat. Easily I slid my mouth down around his shaft and formed a tight suction while carefully yet firmly pressing my tongue against the underside. Deliberately I slobbered my spittle onto his pole, creating a means of lubrication, and I slid back upwards towards the top. Then instantly I thrust my head downward again, impaling myself even further onto his big dick.
Hearing his first moan was thrilling to me, and the laughter of the two jock buds behind me only encouraged me to continue. I held his cock deep in my mouth for a few seconds and sucked on it before I began to really start sliding up and down. "I think he likes it," said Paul jokingly to his audience. "Seems like he's in fag heaven."
Even though I was aware that his comment had been meant as a joke and a form of ridicule, he actually had been right on the mark with his assessment. I was indeed in fag heaven, and the ensuing blowjob which I delivered was undeniable proof of that fact. I began to suck his rockhard boner in a way unlike I had ever sucked any before. I was so eager to please him and to take as much of him into myself that I didn't even bother to come up for air. His prick was so big and fat that it surprised even me that I was able to so easily deepthroat it, but it was as if the adrenaline was pumping within me, enabling me to perform sword-swallowing feats which were nearly unimaginable.
I had been absolutely crazy about TJ since the moment I had met him, and I had fantasized and dreamed of one day being intimate with him. When that dream finally had become a reality, though, it was such a disappointment to me. His dominance certainly drew me to him and definitely turned me on, but his mean-spiritedness often stirred within me a streak of rebelliousness. As I knelt there serving Paul, however, I did not have any of these resentful feelings towards him. Instead I felt excited and empowered. I was not at all worried about displeasing him or about possibly being punished. I had no concern of gagging or scraping him with my teeth. I wasn't even feeling shame or humiliation.
Instead what I felt was pure desire. I wanted nothing more than to take all of him inside me and suck every bit of his jock cumload down my gut. I wanted to experience the pulse of his throbbing dick against my tongue as he pumped his load into me. I wanted to taste the flavor of his thick cream and feel it jetting against the back of my throat. As I bobbed my head furiously on his fuckpole all I could think about was accomplishing this goal. I had to get him off. I had to serve him to completion!
The blowjob lasted far longer than I had anticipated in spite of my valiant efforts. Paul seemed to have a stamina that was unmatched by his jock buds, and after nearly a half hour of relentlessly bobbing on his prick, my jaw was really starting to ache. He had not grabbed a hold of my head and pumped it like the others had done. Instead he seemed to be just sitting there relaxing, moaning occasionally. Sometimes he thrust his hips upwards a bit. He would tighten his abs and grip the chair arms firmly which made me think he was getting close, but then he'd calm back down and simply enjoy the sensation of my mouth sliding up and down on his rod.
The movie continued to play throughout the ordeal, and it was now at the final scene which was where the three chicks finally got it on with each other. I was still intensely sucking Paul and focusing upon my ultimate goal of bringing him over the edge of orgasm. He seemed to be getting excited either by the images he was seeing on the screen or by the heightened intensity of my cocksucking efforts. Perhaps it was a combination of both, for I felt his cock swelling even more in my mouth. He then began to moan a bit more audibly and finally reached out reflexively to grab the top of my head.
When I felt his palms cup my skull and realized that he was pushing me down all the way onto his shaft, I knew he was about to dump his load. I eagerly followed his lead and slid all the way down so that my nose was pressed firmly against his pubes. Then he let out a deepthroated groan of pleasure. It sounded almost like a grunt as he thrust his pelvis upwards. His cock shaft pulsed against my tongue as he began firing into me.
Eagerly I began gulping, sucking down every bit of his seed until I could take no more. My inability to breathe was inconsequential to him as he held me firmly in place. I began to taste the bitter taste of his creamy load as it backed up onto my tongue. I gulped and gulped, eagerly milking out every drop from him until I finally felt the grip on my head loosening.
When I finally slid off of him, his prick was already starting to soften, and I wondered only one thing. Had I done a good job serving him?
I think I was falling in love with this jock god, Paul.