Hero Worship Times Two

Had someone told me two or three months prior to this incident that I would be excited about the idea of orally servicing two jocks without even the remotest possibility of any form of reciprocal stimulation, I'd have told that person that they were insane. Yet on the ride over to Brian's house that day, I sat there in the back seat smiling to myself, feeling my pulse quicken in anticipation. Twice before I had blown Brian, but I'd only once had the privilege of serving Paul. It was Paul who excited me the most. Merely being in his presence was enough to make me feel woozy at times, and the knowledge that within a matter of minutes I would be face-to-face with his magnificent hardon was almost more than I could stand.

When I'd first gotten entangled in the masterful web of submission and slavery that TJ had laid out for me, I had to come to terms with who I was as an individual. I had to admit to myself that TJ was superior to me. I could not deny my own attraction to him and my own desire to obey and please him. In spite of my powerful and insatiable desire to serve TJ and to be his owned property, I could not deny that at times I felt hurt and abused. At times I felt as if he had virtually no appreciation for any of my efforts.

I still was in awe of TJ, though. I knew now more than ever before that he was everything he had always claimed to be and more. He was undefeated and probably undefeatable. Yet in spite of these feelings of utmost respect and admiration--and fear--of him, I didn't really feel any sort of love for him. Admittedly I loved who he was. I loved his cockiness. I loved the self-confident and arrogant way he strutted around. I loved his popularity and his breathtaking good looks. I loved his smile and his ass and his broad shoulders. And--oh my god--I loved every inch of his huge, perfect cock. But I really was not in love with him as a person.

I had daydreamed of being a friend to TJ. I'd dreamt of being a part of his inner circle. I had hoped we would be intimate with one another. All of those fantasies faded, though, after he started to take control of me. I knew now that I was so far below him on the hierarchal chain, that there was no possibility that he would ever have any feelings for me other than possibly a sense of fondness or familiarity. He may one day acknowledge that I had provided him faithful and loyal service, but he was so focused upon his own feeling of entitlement, that I really was nothing more to him than a possession. I existed to make his life easier, and that was it.

Paul was truly the first and only person I had ever known that made me feel incredibly warm inside. He was like TJ in many ways, yet on the other hand, they were vastly different. Both were jocks who were incredibly attractive physically. They both had perfect form and each epitomized masculinity. Both of them were extremely self-confident and sure of themselves. Either one of them could have easily hooked up with just about any girl on campus. They each were intelligent and had a seemingly natural ability to persuade others to listen to them. They commanded respect from other people simply by being who they were.

But Paul had something that TJ lacked. Paul and TJ both possessed an obvious level of self-respect, but Paul also demonstrated a degree of respect for others as well. We all were aware that Kyle and Trevor had deserved to be punished, but Paul was concerned about setting limits. He knew when enough was enough. He hadn't seemed to forget that in spite of the despicable and deceitful manner in which Kyle had plotted against TJ, Kyle was still a human being. Paul knew that even though I was a fag and nothing more than TJ's slaveboy, I still had opinions and very strong feelings. He seemed to care about them, and he seemed to genuinely care about me as an individual. He knew that my job and my role in life was to serve dominant men--like him--yet he also very pointedly admitted to me that he would not want to force me to do things that I did not genuinely want to do in my heart.

The manner in which TJ had broken me and the way in which he forced me to go far beyond my limits were essential steps in my development as a submissive and obedient slave. Had he been like Paul, unwilling to demand that I do things which I really didn't want to do or was uncomfortable doing, I never would have grown into my role as a genuine sub.

The thing that I did not realize at that point regarding Paul, however, was that he was only on the cusp of discovery when it came to developing himself into a genuine Master. Ultimately Paul would realize that it was his role to push his slave and to challenge his slave's limits. He'd learn that the feeling of entitlement that he had always had was not something that was disrespectful of others who were inferior to him. He would discover that although the role and status of individuals varied, their value as human beings was a constant. All people were equal in terms of their value as human souls, yet we all still had a position in life. Some people are bosses; some are employees. Some of us hold positions of authority or influence, while others needed to be guided. Some men were born to be leaders and were created with a desire to control, while others were born to follow and needed to be led. Some were born to be served and others were born to serve.

Essentially what I think it all boiled down to was that Paul was coming to terms with the fact that he had to acknowledge exactly who he was in the same manner that I'd had to acknowledge who I was. He had to admit firstly to himself that he was a superior Alpha male, just as I had admitted that I was an inferior submissive slaveboy. Then after he had leapt over that hurdle, he then needed to define exactly what type of Master he was going to be. Would he go the same route that TJ had, allowing himself to become more and more consumed with his own selfishness, or would he retain some of his compassion and humaneness?

I had stated before that I did not think I would have even been attracted to TJ at all if he had not been the cocky jock that he was, but then here was Paul who was every bit the self-confident, athletic hero that TJ was, yet he was not mean to or inconsiderate of other people. So perhaps it was possible for a man to be a dominant Alpha male Master without being cruel or utterly selfish.

And maybe it was a combination of all of these factors that made my heart seem to skip a beat every time Paul looked at me. Perhaps it was this perfect mixture of masculine strength and human kindness that made him seem so wonderful to me. But all of this was just silly, to be honest. None of it really mattered to me personally--not in the long run. TJ was my Master and it was he who owned me, heart and soul. I had no choice about this. I could not inform TJ that I wanted to serve Paul. All I could do was pray that TJ was in a benevolent mood from time to time and would thus allow me the privilege of serving Paul.

Apparently today was gonna be one of those days. I guess maybe it was part of a deal they had made. I knew that TJ had paid Paul to help him today and had somehow negotiated with him. Perhaps my service was part of that negotiation. Maybe this was why Paul was taking me away from the scene. Maybe he wanted to use me in private. Of course, I knew none of this for sure, and it wasn't for me to be concerned with. I didn't honestly care. All that mattered to me was that I was going to be with this gorgeous and wonderful man again, and it made my heart soar!

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This was the first time I had ever been to Brian's house. In fact, prior to this, I hadn't even known where he lived. Unlike TJ's place, Brian's was extremely modest. It was a small, ranch-style home, probably a modular style. There was no garage or basement, and basically what you saw was what you got. There was a small outbuilding, a shed of some sort, to the side of the house, and the yard was nicely kept, landscaped with meticulously trimmed shrubbery and lots of flowers. Basically it appeared that Brian's family was of modest means but took pride in caring for what they had.

"We're here alone," said Brian, "got the house to ourselves. My mom's at work and my little brother is at my dad's for the weekend." Obviously Brian's parents were divorced, and I wondered why his father had visitation of his little brother but not him. I didn't wonder long, though, because Brian explained. "My dad has Josh and me every other weekend. This is Josh's weekend, and next weekend it's mine. Then we both have dinner with him one or two nights a week. Kinda weird, huh?"

"Nah," said Paul. "It's cool. Least that way ya don't gotta put up with your kid brother so much."

"No kidding," agreed Brian. "He's all right though, for a little brother."

"Yeah, I like your bro. He's a cool little guy, sort of a miniature version of you." Brian laughed and nodded his head.

"He's worse than I ever thought of bein. I was always a good kid, never really got in trouble or anything. Josh is always doin shit. He's grounded half the time." I noticed pictures of both Brian and Josh proudly displayed on the living room wall. Brian's brother appeared to be about three or four years younger than him. He did indeed seem to be a miniature version of Brian. I wondered if the reason Josh was in trouble so much was because it was difficult to grow up in the shadow of such a perfect brother as Brian.

"You guys want a soda or somethin?" asked Brian.

"Yeah, sure," said Paul. "You got any Gatorade?"

"Um, I think so, Jason, go check in the fridge. I think we have regular Gatorade or Coke. Or we also have bottled water."

"Gatorade's cool," said Paul.

"I'll have a coke, and if you want somethin for yourself, go ahead," Brian said to me. "You wanna do this in the living room or the bedroom."

"Your call, man. Living room's cool with me."

Brian plopped himself on the sofa comfortably and Paul took a seat in an overstuffed recliner. I smiled to myself, realizing he'd once again chosen a throne-like chair for himself.

They had the TV on when I returned to the living room, and Brian was kicked back comfortably with his feet up on the coffee table. I found it particularly amusing that they were watching the Cartoon Network. Was I gonna be blowing them while they sat there watching Bugs Bunny? I carefully placed Brian's Coke on the coffee table next to his big sneakers, and then turned to Paul. Already my heart was racing, for it felt so exciting to me to know that the entire reason I was here with these two guys was because they were ready to get their dicks sucked.

It seemed odd to me that they were so casual about it. They had made only the one reference to it in the car and then afterwards carried on as if today was no different than any other. They seemed to be just hangin with each other and chillin, and getting head was really no big deal at all.

Paul was smiling, laughing to himself at some stupid thing on TV, when I handed him his Gatorade. He took it from me and then looked up into my eyes. The smile on his face faded and he became very serious. "Why don't ya get down there and take my shoes off, boy. Make me comfortable." Then he un-screwed the cap of the Gatorade bottle and took a big swig. I dropped immediately to my knees and scooted myself in position at his feet.

"So you gettin anything cool for Christmas?" Brian asked Paul. "I think my Dad's gettin me an X-Box 360."

"I don't know," said Paul thoughtfully. "I didn't really ask for anything this year." I was kneeling at his feet, beginning to unlace his sneakers. "I need some things for hockey, and I usually get all kinds of clothes and shit. My parents don't get me a bunch of crazy stuff for Christmas usually. Be cool if they got me a new computer. Mine is so fuckin slow."

"Fuck, mine is ancient," said Brian. "And I gotta share it with my bro. It sucks." I wanted to interject just then and tell them about my new computer. I wanted to tell them about my flat screen monitor and my 2.0 gigabyte hard drive, but I knew better than to participate in their conversation when I was here for other purposes. I gently placed my palm against the heel of Paul's shoe and slipped it off his foot. He casually raised it slightly from the floor to accommodate me.

The smell of Paul's sweaty sock wafted up into my face and I felt another wave of excitement wash over me. He stretched his foot out a bit, slightly wiggling his toes, enjoying its sudden freedom from his confining sneaker. I quickly reached over and removed his other sneaker. "Kiss it," he said to me bluntly. "Kiss both of em, and give me a nice foot massage." Brian sat there comfortably watching, laughing a little at the spectacle.

"You like havin your feet rubbed?" he asked. "I'm not really into it. Too ticklish or somethin."

"I like the idea of makin my cocksucker worship my feet," Paul said lightheartedly. "Makes me feel like a god or something. Like I'm a king and he's my servant."

"Well, he is a slaveboy. That's what TJ calls him. Might as well enjoy it."

"I'm gonna," agreed Paul. "I think I'll have him suck you first though. I wanna watch him do someone else."

"Why would ya wanna watch him suck my dick? That sounds kinda gay, ya know." Brian laughed.

"What's the difference between that and watchin a dude get blown on a porn video? It's a turn-on cuz I know it's gonna be me next gettin some head. You were watchin me that night at TJ's when the fag blew me."

"True," shrugged Brian. "Just seems funny the way you're so casual about it. It's like no big deal or somethin."

I had slid my body completely down to the ground and was lying on my belly, resting my upper body weight against my elbows. Slowly I began massaging Paul's right foot with both hands. I pressed my face up to his sole, kissing it reverently. Apparently they both were watching me for they laughed as I did it. "He likes your stinky feet, dude," said Brian. "That's kinda gross, actually."

"He totally worships me," Paul said confidently. "Don't ya, gayboy?"

I quickly craned my neck back to look up at him and nodded slightly. "Yes, sir!" I whispered.

"I knew how much you were into me from the first time I saw you. I thought you were gonna choke yourself on my cock when you blew me. You are a total bitch for me, aren't ya?"

"Yes, sir... totally."

"Oh my god!" Brian guffawed. "Are you two gonna start mackin with each other?"

"You know I'm not a fag," Paul countered. "He's the one who's into me, not the other way around."

"You should make him take your socks off and lick your stinky feet," Brian said, clearly finding the entire scene entertaining.

"Do it!" Paul commanded, and instantly I grasped both of his ankle socks and pulled them from his feet simultaneously. His soles were right there in my face, perfectly smooth and unblemished. They were not at all calloused or misshaped. His toenails seemed to be neatly trimmed and clean. I gently gripped his right foot again and pressed my lips against his gorgeous sole, darting my tongue out to taste it for the first time. Slowly I licked my way up from the bottom of his heel to his toes.

"Eww!" Brian exclaimed. "That shit is nasty!" They both were laughin. "Make him suck your toes now."

"You heard him, fag," Paul said casually. I glanced up at him briefly and saw that he truly did look like a king sitting there on his throne. I opened my mouth and slid my lips worshipfully around his big toe, sucking it in a way that was as teasingly seductive as possible. I wanted him to be reminded of the reverent way I had sucked his cock, and to look forward to how I was gonna soon be doing it again. "Get your tongue in there between my toes, bitch. Clean out all the toe jam." I was quick to obey him, although there really was no toe jam or residue of any kind. His feet were very clean, but they did smell somewhat sweaty from being in his sneaks for so long.

Paul had his hand in his lap and was obviously rubbing his hardon. It was exciting to me that he was so turned on by having his feet worshipped like this. I sort of wished that my own Master was into this more. TJ had made me kiss his feet as a means of humbling myself, but he didn't seem too aroused by prolonged foot worship. If he did, he'd never given me any indication of such.

"You like it, don't ya, boy?" Paul asked. "You like havin a jock's feet in your face. You like kissin my stinky, sweaty feet, lickin my toes, eatin my toe jam!" Every word that came from his mouth was true. I loved being Paul's footworshipping faggot. I loved bowing to his feet. I loved kissing and licking every inch of his soles and looking up to see him lording over me! It just felt so right to me. It felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

"Now go blow my bud!" he said suddenly. "Go get some lunch, and when you're done, I'll have dessert waiting for ya!" Brian laughed at his words, and quickly pulled his feet back to place them against the side of the coffee table. He shoved his legs forward, effortlessly sliding the coffee table out of the way. I slid myself over next to him and finished pushing the coffee table back. Brian then stood up and quickly removed his pants and underwear and sat back down comfortably. He was wasting no time, apparently ready to get right down to business.

"This is the weirdest thing," Brian said to Paul. His tone was still extremely causal. It struck me as rather unusual that they would chat with one another in such a nonchalant manner while I knelt there ready to suck Brian's dick down my throat. "I'm totally into chicks. I mean, I don't have any desire at all to make out with a dude or anything like that. In fact, it's about the grossest thing I could ever even imagine.

"But since I started getting head from this fag, I don't really even wanna get a blowjob from a chick any more."

"So why is that so strange to ya? Just means that faggots give better head than chicks. Seems logical to me. A guy knows what feels good to a guy so he's gonna give a better blowjob."

"Yeah, I hear what yer sayin, but it's not just that. I've only got head a couple times from a girl, but when I did I was like thinkin the whole time how I was gonna have to return the favor and eat her pussy. Plus, I never really even touched her the whole time she was goin down on me. With the fag, I know for damn sure I ain't about to return the favor--ever. And I can grab hold of his head and fuck his brains out if I wanna. I don't gotta worry about bein too rough or anything."

Hearing him describe what I already knew to be so true was almost enough to make me shoot a load right in my pants. I think that the absolute biggest turn-on to me about serving these cocky jocks was their attitude about it. They were so into the idea of one-way, non-reciprocal head. The idea of having someone service their sexual needs without having to be even remotely concerned about their cocksucker's own needs or desires--or even whether the fag was comfortable or not-- was enormously arousing to them.

As Brian was sayin this shit, his cock grew exponentially right in front of my eyes. He was staring down at himself as he spoke, not yet signaling me to go ahead and start sucking, but obviously anticipating my slippery, warm mouth. The way he had been talking about me seemed to indicate that he'd forgotten I was even in the room. He and Paul were discussing me as if I weren't even there.

Finally Brian did acknowledge me, though. "You ready for it, Jason?" he asked. "Ready to smoke my cigar, polish my knob--"

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Paul, "Just get on with it and stop torturing him! He's sittin there practically drooling for it."

Brian laughed. "Go ahead then. Blow me... slaveboy!"

Of course I needed no further directive than that, and I instantly surrounded his cock with my mouth, pressing my tongue firmly against his shaft as I slid down.

"Oh fuck!" Brian sighed as he savored the first contact of my warm mouth with his dick. "Dude, that's what I'm talking bout. Deepthroated it on the first thrust. What chick gives head like that?"

Paul was laughing. "You're almost as pathetic as the fag is. It cracks me up that you make such a big deal about how great he is at givin head, but you were the one who told me how it was no big deal. `A mouth's a mouth,' you said."

"I was just sayin that it doesn't make you a homo if you get a blowjob from a fag. But I didn't say that the actual blowjob was no big deal."

"Well I'm gonna go use your bathroom while you get sucked off."

"Thought you wanted to watch," Brian said.

"Shit, is it gonna be over that fast? I don't think you're gonna shoot before I get done in the john."

Brian shrugged. "I'll make it last... least til you get back. I know ya wanna see your boy eatin my spermies." Brian laughed as he said it. I was sort of shocked by his words, not really understanding why he referred to me as Paul's "boy". Both of them knew that I belonged to TJ, so why was Brian saying I was Paul's?

Brian spread his legs wide apart and stuffed a sofa pillow behind his head. He then closed his eyes and relaxed, just kickin back and enjoying the smooth ride. I had gently placed the fingers of my left hand around his nutsac, while I held the base of his cock with my right as I bobbed my head smoothly and steadily up and down his shaft. Long, even strokes of my tongue and consistently tight suction of my lips created a velvet hole for his throbbing prick. He was boned to the max, his cock pumped full of jock blood, rock-hard to match the tightness of his swimmer's-build physique.

"Ohhh," Brian moaned. It was as if he had been transported to a heavenly plane. "Oh fuck, Jason. That feels so fuckin awesome." His voice was so breathy and seductive, almost like a whisper. The respectful way that he addressed me by name did not go unnoticed by me. Although he clearly knew and accepted that I was a fag and a slave to him and his jock friends, he spoke to me as if I were an individual deserving of respect. I genuinely wanted to please him more than ever before. I wanted to live up to the expectation that he clearly had of me. It made me so proud that he had bragged to Paul of my cocksucking skills.

Every fiber of my being wanted to hasten things along. I wanted to suck him hard and fast, for I was horned up and eager to swallow his jock load. But I desperately wanted the experience to last for him. I wanted to maximize his pleasure, so I willed myself to continue on at an even and somewhat slow pace. I never allowed myself to remove my lips from his shaft, realizing that I must maintain contact with his cock at all times. I wanted him to enjoy constant stimulation so I was careful to consistently intake breaths through my nostrils on the upstrokes. I drove my head all the way down his shaft with each downstroke, burying my nose firmly into his bush. I caressed his balls gently with my fingertips, and salivated heavily in order to keep his fuckpole smoothly lubricated.

"Dude, you look like you died and went to fuckin heaven," Paul said as he sat back down in his overstuffed chair.

"I have!" Brian admitted. "Turn on the stereo, would ya?"

"I'll turn on MTV," Paul said as he stepped across the room to grab the remote from the coffee table.

"One of these days, I'm gonna fuck ya up the ass while you blow my bud," Paul leaned in and whispered to me. He was standing directly behind me. "I bet you'd really like it. Wouldn't ya, boy?" My mouth was too full at the time to answer him, but it sent a wave of excitement through me. I had never been fucked that way before. My ass was as much a virgin hole as had been Kyle's before TJ had raped him. The thought of being deflowered the humiliating way Kyle had experienced was terrifying to me, yet somehow the idea of this dreamy godlike Adonis Paul stripping me of my virginity was arousing beyond description! He was absolutely right. I would like it very much. I'd like it more than anything.

I knew that such a dream was beyond the scope of reality. Now that TJ had crossed the line and had fucked Kyle, it was only a matter of time before he regularly did the same to me. I could expect to add another responsibility to my duties list. Taking it up the ass would come right between blowing him and folding his laundry.

I forced myself not to think about TJ but to instead concentrate upon my task at hand. Not only did I want this to be the best blowjob of Brian's life, but I wanted Paul to get a good show. I began to suck faster, bobbing my head at an increased speed. I tightened the suction of my lips around his shaft. I was getting anxious to bring him to the brink of ecstasy. I was enjoying it very much, but my ultimate goal was to get it over with so I could move on to Paul.

As Brian placed his hands around my skull, I knew he was beginning to build up to a climax. He liked to be in control when he blasted his load. He liked to pump my cocksucking head on his fuckpole and use me like a jackoff machine. I relinquished all control to him, permitting him to use my head as his hand-held jack-toy. He tightened his grip and began to pump, forcing me up and down at an increasingly faster pace. As he continued, I focused upon keeping my wet tongue pressed firmly against the underside of his shaft. His legs were spread wide apart as he held onto my head with both hands, pumping me furiously on his rigid pole. Faster and faster he continued, and I gave up completely on the idea of even trying to breathe.

"Ohh, dude! I'm so fuckin close!" He growled. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck yeah" His fingers were digging mercilessly into my scalp as he gripped my head ferociously. "Suck it, bitch! Suck my fuckin cock!" Then he forced me down suddenly all the way on his jock fuckpole. His body tensed and his abs tightened as he firmly held me in place. "Ohhh Yeah! AAAAHHH! Ungg!" He moaned loudly as his hips thrust suddenly forward. I felt the shaft pulsing against my tongue and he erupted violently in my mouth. Each gusher jetted out of his throbbing prick with volcanic force, deep into the back of my throat!

The bitter, salty taste of Brian's seed backed up onto my tongue and I gulped eagerly, drinking down every drop of his jock load. His body continued to tremble slightly as he was overcome with waves of shudders. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "Oh fuck! Dude... I'm fuckin tellin ya dude. That shit's awesome! That is so awesome!"

Paul was now sitting in his chair laughing. "My turn!" he said cheerfully.

I knew that Paul was majorly boned from watching his bud's earth-shattering orgasm. I must admit that I was extremely turned on myself. Had I reached down to grope my crotch, I knew I would have erupted immediately. I honestly didn't want this to happen, though, for I wanted to be fully charged and eager as I moved on to the main event.

For the past week, since the time I had first served him over in TJ's basement, I became more and more obsessed with Paul. Seeing him today at Beer Can Hill was amazing. He actually had seemed more in control of the situation than was TJ. Of course he was dominant and self-assured, and he did not appear overly sympathetic towards the pathetic losers who had been overwhelmingly defeated, but he did provide a voice of reason.

Only a few minutes prior I had knelt at the base of his chair to worship his big, athletic feet. As he sat there comfortably in that overstuffed recliner, I stared up and saw what appeared to be a god to me. He was kingly and superior, the embodiment of everything I admired in a man. The shock of blonde hair that so casually wisped across his brow made him appear so boyish, almost like a Ken Doll in the flesh.

After serving Brian, I wasted no time to respond to Paul's statement. When he had announced that it was his turn, I crawled over to him immediately. The taste of Brian's copious load remained in my mouth, and I had to clear my throat and gulp repeatedly, insuring that it all went down the hatch where it truly belonged. In any other circumstance, I'd have loved to remain at Brian's feet and bask in the afterglow of his powerful climax. I loved those moments just after it was over when the worshipped jock simply relaxed and kicked back. I know that it is merely a typical post-coital response which should not be confused with intimacy or tenderness. He relaxes as he comes down from an incredible high. He's just busted a fuckin nut, and he's simply chillin. But as I kneel there sucking on his softening cock, I feel so peaceful. I feel appreciated and loved, even though I know that all of this is pure fantasy. Still, it is the most meaningful reward that I cling to.

This time, however, I did not have any desire to stick around and suckle on Brian's increasingly flaccid prick. Instead I turned to focus upon the incredibly fat and rock hard pole which was tenting the shorts of the man I truly worshipped. He'd said to me that Brian would be my lunch and he'd provide dessert, but the way I looked at it, Brian was just an appetizer and Paul was the main course!

Brian was a hot stud, and I definitely considered myself lucky to have been chosen to serve him, but in this particular situation, he was really just the fire that got my engine going. You might expect that the nice, slow blowjob I had just provided would have made my jaw a bit sore, not to mention my knees and throat. But I really was thinking of none of these things. All I wanted right then and there was to feel, touch, taste, and smell the man now before my eyes. He certainly was enough to send me into sensory overload. He was hot as a fuckin pistol, and he was mine to please!

Paul was now sitting there in the chair shirtless, wearing only a silky pair of navy-colored running shorts. He must have already shed the rest of his clothes while I was blowing Brian, or perhaps he had done so while in the bathroom. I could definitely see he was not wearing any sort of underwear or jock beneath his shorts. The outline of his boner was very distinct. It poked up proudly, easily stretching the silk fabric. I knew how good those athletic shorts felt when worn without underwear. I had a couple pair of them myself, and many times I had lain on my bed and jacked off while wearing them. I would begin by gently rubbing myself, feeling the silk slide across my hardon. By the time I had actually freed my boner and pulled the shorts down, I would already be leaking lots of sticky precum.

Of course seeing Paul in a pair of these sexy silk shorts was far more erotic than my private jackoff sessions. I actually owned quite a bit of athletic-type clothing. I had three pair of expensive sneakers, some pull-away basketball pants, a couple jerseys, sweat suits, b-caps, and even jockstraps. I never played sports of any kind, but I liked to fantasize about what it was like to be a jock. I emulated these high-school heroes so much that I pathetically imitated them by secretly wearing the same clothes that they wore. I couldn't get away with publicly donning most of these items for I knew that I would be mocked and ridiculed--called a "wannabe". I guess my fetish for jock gear explained why I was not too upset about being forced to do TJ's laundry.

As I slid over into position between Paul's outstretched legs, he placed his hand in his lap and squeezed his hardon. Gently he rubbed himself, sliding the silky fabric back-and-forth across his rigid pole. "You want this, boy?" he asked, seeming almost to be teasing me. "You wanna suck my fat dick? It ain't a little hotdog like my bud Brian's here. This baby's a fuckin polish sausage!"

I heard Brian laugh behind me. "Fuck you, dude! I got nothin to be ashamed of here." Of course Brian was right; his cock was by anyone's standards a beauty. It just did not possess the thickness of Paul's. Actually Paul's analogy had been a bit modest. Brian really was more the size of a polish sausage, and Paul was more like a tube of deli salami.

"You want it?" Paul repeated. "Answer me!"

"Yes, sir! I do want it... I want it so bad, sir!"

"How bad? You want it bad enough to beg for it, bitch?"

Brian spoke up again. "Dude, you're the one who told me to stop torturing the fag and get on with it. He definitely wants it... look at him! He's such a fag for ya."

"Well if he wants it that bad, then he'll beg for it. Won't ya, boy? Beg for the privilege of suckin my cock. Beg like a puppy dog who wants his bone!"

Brian was so correct when he said that this was torture for me. I did want to suck Paul. I wanted to once again feel his fat, hard cock sliding in and out of mouth--I wanted it more than anything I'd ever wanted before. I wanted to smell him, taste him, and please him beyond his wildest dreams. "Oh god!" I exclaimed, "Sir, I want it so bad. Oh please! Please let me do it! Please let me suck... I beg you!"

Brian was laughing while Paul stared down at me with a cocky grin on his face. "Okay then. Get over here and kiss it, boy. Show some respect first before I decide if you're worthy of actually tastin it."

"Oh my god!" said Brian. "Whip it out, man! Let's get this over with."

"Shut up," said Paul sternly. "If he's gonna be my slave, I want him to be eager to serve me. I gotta see how much he really wants it."

"Whatever," said Brian. "I'll be right back, I gotta piss."

I was thankful that Brian had finally left the room. I slid myself closer to Paul's crotch, easing my way right up next to his chair. Gently and reverently I pressed my lips against the silk fabric of his shorts. I began kissing his cock, making my way from the base of his shaft all the way up to the tip of his cock head. Over and over I kissed it, feeling the smooth fabric slide across my lips.

"Oh yeah, you really do want it. You want it so bad, don't ya? You're such a cocksucker. You're such a little fagboy. Kiss it boy, keep kissin my hard cock."

I knew that the silk fabric must have felt awesome against his cock. I was using my lips to gently slide the fabric back and forth, breathing into it so that he felt a perfect combination of the heat from my breath and the caress of the soft silk. Paul was so generous to me, allowing me to slowly worship his still-concealed boner while intermittently craning my neck back to stare up at him. He was slouched comfortably in the chair with his legs spread wide and his arms resting comfortably at his side. He continued watching me, staring down smugly at me the entire time. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I wished I knew if he was turned on more by the obvious power he held over me or by the fact that he knew within a few moments he was gonna be getting his rockhard jock boner sucked dry.

"You want it bad enough to pay for it again, fag?" he asked. "Last time you paid me a hundred bucks. Remember?"

I felt a wave of excitement wash over me, coupled with a sudden fearful realization. Although it was definitely true that I would gladly pay Paul again for the privilege of serving him, it truly was not an option to me. TJ held my bank card, and I only had access to it at his discretion.

"Sir," I whimpered, "I ... um... I don't have any money. My master... or I mean--TJ--he has all my money. Or...um...he has my ATM card. I will beg him to pay you though... I promise."

Paul laughed as he stared down at me. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully, as if formulating an idea mentally. "Are you sure TJ still has your card?"

I quickly nodded, staring up at him from my kneeling position. "Yes sir, unless he did something to it. I don't even know how much money is left in my account, though. He might have already drained it."

Paul was smiling. "Don't worry, fag. He didn't use it all." Then he reached beside the chair where his pants lay crumpled on the floor. He pulled out his wallet casually and opened it. "Does this look familiar?" he asked, and pulled out a debit card that looked exactly like mine.

"Yes, sir," I said. "It's the same kind I have."

"It is the one you had, boy. Only I have it now, not TJ."

I was very confused. Why would Paul have my ATM card? Had he stolen it from TJ? Was he holding it for TJ for some reason? Perhaps TJ wanted Paul to use it to make a purchase of some sort.

"I made a deal with TJ," Paul explained. "Let's just say he was strongly motivated to buy my support. He had to make sure he really had the upper hand on Kyle."

"So he gave you my debit card? That's what he used to buy your support?" I was shocked.

"Nah. Not exactly."

I really did not understand, and I said as much. "I'm sorry... I don't get it."

"After today, bitch, you belong to me. TJ sold you to me, along with your bank account."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! How could this even be possible? What about TJ's laundry? What about his homework? Why would he give up the control he had over me? It didn't make sense.

"Why?... I'm sorry, but I just don't...um... I'm sorry--"

"You don't see why TJ would sell you when he had such a good thing? If Kyle had kicked his ass like he'd planned, everything was gonna be over for TJ."

"But TJ didn't need your help really. He could have just not shown up today. Nobody forced him to meet for racquetball. If he had not shown up, then Kyle wouldn't have been able to abduct him."

"TJ knew that he had to beat Kyle sometime. There was gonna be another confrontation, and he wanted it to be now. He knew how sweet it'd be to turn the tables on Kyle and beat him with Kyle's own plan."

"And if he didn't give you what you wanted, you were gonna make sure he didn't beat Kyle?"

"Well, I really don't give a shit one way or another who beats who. I think it's pretty fuckin stupid, to be honest. They both think they're hot shit, and it really don't matter to me which one wins. They're both a couple of bullies, and I'd be happy if they both got the fuckin shit kicked outta em."

"Who's gonna do all this stuff for TJ now? Who's gonna do his homework and his laundry?"

"My guess is that Trevor's gonna be his new slave. Least that is what he seemed to be planning. I don't think he needs him to do his homework for him, cuz he's almost done with government class. Maybe he'll just bully someone else into it, or maybe make Trevor find someone. Trevor's too dumb to do his own homework, so I don't see him doin TJ's"

I nodded in agreement as I stared up at my new Master. "And Trevor's got money. If TJ can take control of Trevor like he did of you, he'll be tappin into a gold mine. Basically TJ thinks that he's upgrading to a better slave... one that he can get more out of. He needed you for his homework, but now he's goin after bucks.

"You're not supposed to know any of this yet, though. That's why TJ wants us to come over to his house tonight. He is gonna tell ya then."

"How come TJ said he wanted me to teach Trevor how to be a slave? How can I do that when I'm not owned by TJ anymore?"

"Guess we might be able to work something out... maybe. But really, that is TJ's deal. It's his problem. He taught you how to serve him, so he can teach Trevor. I can guarantee ya that Trevor is not gonna be any problem. He is more of a pussyboy than you ever thought of bein."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Thank you, sir... I think." I was so excited that the smile did not immediately fade. I just knelt there looking up at him, unable to contain my excitement.

"So answer my question, boy," Paul said, "you want my cock bad enough to pay for it?"

"Yes, Sir!" I eagerly replied. "But you own my bank account now, so I guess I don't really have to pay you. You can just go make a withdrawal whenever you want."

Paul shook his head. "Nah, I don't want your bank account. I don't want ya to pay me either. I just want ya to be ready to serve me when I need it... or want it. Like right now! So get busy."

I pressed my face back into his lap and once again kissed his hardon. He thrust his hips forward as he grabbed the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down quickly. I had my mouth around his cock before he even had a chance to continue removing his shorts. I inhaled deeply as I sucked him into my throat, taking in the musky jock scent of my new Master. Paul allowed me to deepthroat him for a few moments before grabbing my head and pulling me off of him.

Then he pulled his shorts the rest of the way down past his knees and I quickly removed them for him. Now he sat there with his legs spread wide wearing only a pair of ankle socks and his gold necklace. His chest was sculpted so perfectly. His smooth, rounded pecs and his broad muscular shoulders made him look like a god. His abs were a tight eight-pack and his oblique muscles were so tight that he exemplified the term "ripped". There was not an ounce of body fat on his torso. It nearly took my breath away to look up at him.

I did not waste much time taking in his godlike appearance, though, for I knew I had a job to do. I quickly returned to the task, once again sliding my mouth around his fat bulbous cock head. He moaned with pleasure as I pressed my tongue firmly against the underside of his shaft and began sliding all the way down his pole. I cranked my jaw open, stretching my lips to accommodate his sizeable girth. In spite of the enormous thickness of his pole, I managed to again deepthroat him, taking it all right down to the root.

Paul grabbed my head and held me there, suddenly thrusting his hips forward in order to jab his cock deep in my throat. It was startling to me at first and although I eagerly wanted all of him inside of me, I couldn't help but reflexively gag. "Oh fuck yeah!" he said as he felt my throat involuntarily constricting around his shaft.

He continued to fiercely jab his prick into me as I repeatedly gulped, trying desperately not to choke. The more I gulped, the more he seemed to enjoy the sensation. "Gag on it, bitch!" he commanded, and it was as if I could feel his engorged cock pulsing right in the back of my throat. My choking caused me to hack up phlegm which lubricated his shaft, making it smooth and slippery. After jabbing my throat about twenty times, he finally pulled my head up more towards the top of the shaft and began pumping me on it.

"I own you now!" he declared. "You're my cocksucker, and I'm gonna use you whenever the fuck I want!" It was as if Paul had suddenly become empowered, and his testosterone level was flying. He was on a major power rush unlike anything I'd ever seen from him before.

Thankfully for my ever-increasingly sore throat, he did not last too long at this pace. He seemed to be on a mission to bust a nut ASAP. He did exactly that and in record time. Within a matter of minutes he was shouting, "I'm gonna fuckin blow! Fuck yeah! Oh god! Suck my dick, bitch!" Then he once again impaled me, forcing me to take every millimeter of his throbbing hardon, burying it down to the root. He then proceeded to pump out the most copious load I'd ever swallowed. Jet after steamy jet of jock cum flooded my throat and I gulped hurriedly. In spite of my efforts, I was unable to drink it all. I was choking and gagging as he held me mercilessly in place. The jizz backed up across my tongue and out the sides of my mouth while he held me there. His biceps and abs were flexing as he drained every drop of his load, forcing me to suck him completely dry.

When I finally felt his intense grip starting to loosen, I gradually eased my way up his shaft, sucking up as much of the slimy mess as I possibly could ingest. Tears were streaming down my face, brought about strictly from my gagging. I was just so thankful that I had not puked on my new Master.

"Oh fuck!" he sighed. "That was fuckin hot... you did such a good job!" I looked up at him through my tear-streaked eyes and saw him smiling down at me.

"Oh man, I'm sorry. I know I got rough with you. Are ya all right?"

I then smiled through my tears. "Oh sir..." I said, gasping for air, "I've never been better."

He reached down and tousled my hair in a manner that seemed almost affectionate. It felt to me like he was genuinely appreciative of my efforts to please him, and I almost felt like he was as much of a big brother to me as he was a dominant Master.

My heart was suddenly overwhelmed with feelings I had never before known with TJ. I felt something so intense...not just obsession, but more.

Was it possibly--- love?