[The Final Chapter.]
Recap:
Asher is a promising college football player on the back-up team desperate to make first-team who has a career ending secret: he craves being dominated by men. When he rudely rejects the Dom Henry because he's on first-team, Henry gets revenge by catfishing Asher, tying him up, and forcing his load down Asher's throat.
Horrified, Asher vows to never see Henry again, but crawls back when Henry promises he can improve Asher's football, if Asher agrees to become Henry's sex slave. Asher submits and is forced into chastity. After a bratty refusal to be fucked, Asher was punished with earning four facials, including a thug and his own straight roommate Mike.
The next day, a rumor swirls at football practice about Asher. Henry finds the blackmailer, the thug, and stops him from leaking the photo of Asher. Asher devotes himself fully to Henry in gratitude, and goes to a first team sex party as the cumdump. However, his rival quarterback from first team, Jonathan shows up, the one person Asher refuses to submit to. Asher gives in and gets rammed by Jonathan, admitting as he cums Jonathan's the superior quarterback.
Later, Coach announces try-outs to remake first team, and Asher finally has the chance for his dream of star quarterback to come true...
Chapter 9
I could barely sleep with try-outs for my dream of first team quarterback tomorrow. And by morning, I was rubbing the night off my eyes as I pulled my briefs over my locked dicklet, hours before I needed to get up. As I moved out of the dorm room, my eyes caught on Mike’s laundry hamper. It was nearly overflowing, yellowed socks flopped to the side and crumbled shirts on the floor. I sighed.
As I did his laundry, I rubbed my temple. This was stupid. Why was I doing this? Before I had met Henry, I never had to do anything like this, for anyone. I was on top of the world. Now my own straight roommate saw me as nothing but a faggot. And yet… I could’ve just ignored it. I had chosen to carry the laundry, wash and dry and fold it this morning, without even being asked.
My cock leaked in its cage.
An hour and a half later, I placed the perfectly folded laundry by Mike’s bed. He blinked awake and yawned, stretching hands nearly knocking it over. Then smirked as his eyes saw the pile. “Fuck,” he said. “Why does that turn me on?” His eyes met mine.
Minutes later when I was swallowing his cock, exaggerated sounds of women moaning escaping his headphones to my ears, all my worries and thoughts just melted away. They always did. Because I had cock. Glorious, hard cock in my mouth.
I looked up at my roommate, but he wasn’t my roommate anymore. He was my Alpha. I greedily swallowed his member deeper, the scent of musk intoxicating me. The taste of his pre-cum like a drug. His grunts and moans music that spurred me to go faster and faster.
He clutched my head and gripped my hair as he began to erratically toss my head back and forth on his cock.
After he was done, Mike lounged on the bed, watching me put his clothes away for him with lazy flicks of his fingers telling me where they went. “By the way,” he said, half looking at his phone. “That’ll be the last time you get the pleasure of tasting my cum.”
I froze, hand on a plastic hanger. A hard skip of my heart at his words. He chuckled like he was preparing a knife.
“Look, I met a chick last night. What can I say? I think this whole alpha thing, using you, the confidence… Good work, fag.”
My face glowed as I was able to move again. I had helped. I had helped a real man.
“And don’t worry. I know you need to choke down straight cock like it’s oxygen. There’s this mate I have, I’m gonna tell him all about what you do.”
Instinctively, my body whipped over and I met his gaze. “Wait, don’t! Please… Sir.”
He put his phone down on his chest and eyed me with confusion. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
It was. I did. But… Yet another person knowing? There was already too many. Henry, Mike, Jonathan, my hookups, the first team party goers. It felt like a dozen plates I had to keep spinning, and I’d already had one nearly fall and take me down with it. The thug that had blackmailed me with the photo. Henry had broken down the image of who I was to myself, but the image of the old me was unbroken to the world. If anyone changed that…
“Fine, fag,” Mike said, rolling his eyes, and lifting his arm to reveal his unshowered armpits. “Just put the clothes away. Thought I was doing you a favor.”
“Thank you Sir,” I said, mumbling, a thousand thoughts in my head.
I got to the try-outs, and slapped myself back to focus. The football field felt blazing hot from the unleashed energy of every man, first and second team, awaiting their trial. Jonathan, Henry, Malcolm. Some were pacing, some were dead eyed, but everyone was focused on the do-or-die moment. Coach came out, his silver fox hair and 5’o’clock shadow posed like a war chief, sported a monstrous smirk and surveyed us.
“Well maggots. Today’s the day where you either rise to your true potential, or fall to nothing. I expect nothing less than the best from each and every one of you. Let’s go!”
“COACH, YES COACH!” a unison of chanting shouts erupted.
And then it began.
Drills with an intensity and focus I’d never seen began. I flung each leg over tires spaced out over yards, hurtled my body towards the tackle dummy with cosmic gravity, and sprung up from tackles fast enough to rip grass off the field. Grease-stained sweat, fresh dirt, the light scent of copper in my mouth as full breaths filled my lungs.
Each time I was close to collapse, I found Henry and remembered all he’d put me through. My body had been tortured, my ego broken, my ass pounded and spanked, my face drenched in strangers’ cum. He had trained me, molded me. I could take this.
During the final scrimmage, Coach pointed down the line to assign teams – a mix of first and second on each. Jonathan on A, a few first team guys on B. Then, he stopped at me, strong jawline froze, and I swear a flicker of a laugh passed his face. For a horrible moment I thought my chastity bulge was too visible. It was like he somehow knew what I was. “Team A”. As Team A huddled, Jonathan taking the quarterback position like it was his birthright, two feelings bubbled inside me.
The old feeling of resentment, hatred towards him. It was automatic, like a memory. Like seeing a food you hated as a kid. But as we began, and as I fell into each play, finding openings to receive the ball from Jonathan, the adrenaline of catching what he wanted me to catch, the other subsumed it. Respect. That was what I actually felt for this man. He was like a fine wine I grew into. As I watched Jonathan score the winning touchdown, I noticed my lips smiling.
The next part was the most brutal. The entire team waiting outside Coach’s office. Coach called each player in and spoke to them, alone. Some meetings took less than a minute. Some over 20. Henry’s meeting took only 2 minutes, and he walked out, a subtle nod to me. Malcolm went in over an hour later, and came out strutting – stopped by my seat, and whispered “you and me.” There was a longer meeting, and then muffled shouts from the office. With a slam, Ben, the first team defensive lineman, stormed out. All eyes were on him with a deadly silence. I gulped. Tried anything to calm my mind as the hours passed.
Finally, it was my turn. I closed the door and turned to see Coach behind his desk. It was my first time alone in his office of refined wood furniture, carefully placed gold trophies, framed sports magazines featuring our team, and a half empty bottle of Macallan on a high shelf. He gestured to the chair opposite of him. “Sit, maggot.”
I nodded, and tried not to sweat, or adjust my cage that was digging into my leg. He just stared at me for what felt like hours with eyes that seemed to x-ray right through my uniform.
“Listen, Asher,” Coach finally said. “You’re a good guy. The growth you’ve shown these past weeks, it’s been unbelievable. Damn near two different players.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said.
“Today’s scrimmage, your service to Jonathan,” he paused. “In the field. You’d make a great running back for first team.”
My throat tightened. First team. Running back.
“But you shit stains always want more, huh?” Coach said, shaking his head. “You want quarterback.”
There was silence I couldn’t fill. A shake of Coach’s head, then he turned around, and began to rummage through papers in a filing cabinet.
“If you’re quarterback, you’re the image of this team. Do you even know that? And there was a, let’s say unsavory, rumor a few weeks ago about you.”
Coach handed me a piece of paper. And I felt the room tilt 180 degrees. On it was a photo of me. The photo that I’d never seen, but heard so much about. In it was a muscled freshman kneeling naked, eyes closed, in a wrecked dorm. His body was red with welts. On his face was wads of sticky white. And shining in the light was his exposed groin, but where his cock should be, was just a metal nub of a cage. It was me.
“What do you have to say?” Coach’s voice was low, dangerous. Like it could echo through my skull. Drag me across the room. And cut off the air from my throat.
I tried to speak and somehow explain myself, but my vision was blurring to black. This couldn’t be happening. Please, I wanted to beg. Please, Sir.
Coach tapped his finger to the wood, an echoing demand. I looked up, feeling my lungs fighting against its ribcage. “Ever since I saw this photo, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind,” Coach said. “You really have everyone fooled. You even thought you could fool me.”
Through my haze, I watched his salt-and-pepper beard. His lips in a hard frown. His eyes narrowing to meet mine. Then, he pointed to the floor.
“Show me,” he ordered.
I felt myself get up and move behind his desk until I was kneeling in front of Coach. Staring up at the man who would decide my fate. This was my punishment. This was my crime for flaunting my body across campus like a free use cum dumpster. It was always going to end here, exposed in the one place I’d fought to protect myself from.
The sweat-slicked fabric of my uniform caressed my chest as I stripped it off. Coach stared down at me, eyes hard with judgement. I pulled down my pants, shedding myself of our team’s colors. Just the white groin guard protecting me from utterly exposing myself to this completely clothed older man in his office.
“Please…” I said, more of a whispered prayer.
“Do it,” he said.
I nodded. And grabbed the elastic tips of the jock strap. My eyes closed, I pulled down, feeling the air of the office hit my cage as the groin guard fell. And when I opened my eyes, I was kneeling naked in front of my Coach. He stared down at my cock cage, only breaking to take a quick note on a sketchpad.
“God, so this is what you are,” he said, voice vile.
“I’m sorry, Coach Sir,” I said. My face was hot with shame.
“Tell me, how many men have you sucked off?”
Their faces flashed across my mind. Mike. The four men whose facials I needed for Henry’s cruel game: the football fan, the nipple play, the bathroom Dom, and of course – the thug who took that photo. Steven and Ben from first team, who both used me at the party. And then Henry. Henry, so, many times.
My cage bulged. “I… I don’t know Sir. A lot.”
“You can’t even remember. Because it’s so many.” He scribbled with his pen like he was marking a play, smirking casually.
“Yes Coach, Sir.”
“And this… thing?” he kicked my chastity cage lazily. I yelped out in pain as his shoe collided with my balls.
“Weeks and weeks…” I gasped out. “Ever since you noticed me improving.”
He raised his eyebrows. Then leaned down so his eyes were just inches from mine. “You’re trying to tell me it helped you?”
“It made me better. Yes Coach, Sir,” I said, thoughts crystalizing under his burning gaze. “Chastity made me focused on exercise, on working out, on service, on other men. My own pleasure was no longer an option. So I had to improve.”
His rough hands groped my pecs. I let out a moan of pleasure involuntary.
“Just a dumb pack of muscles,” he said, low and predatory.
I should tell him to stop touching me. I should get up and put my clothes on. I should leave now, at this final chance at dignity.
But my cock leaked in its cage.
“I need to serve real men,” I said, the words spilling out. “I need dick. I love it Coach, Sir.”
He began to explore my body, hands caressing the base of my hip all the way to the tip of my neck. His fingers dug into my skin as eyes hungrily devoured my muscles and smooth body. Two fingers from each hand pulled my nipples, hard. I thrashed in pain, moaning, and started to let out a scream until his hand covered my mouth.
“Quiet, maggot!” he said, eyeing the door to the office.
I nodded, eyes wide with lust falling out of me. Coach began to palm at his pants, and unzipped.
A stiff, already oozing 7-inch cock sprung out. The head was fat, juicy, and shining in the light, and the base was a forest of bushy hair.
“I haven’t been able to get that photo out of my mind,” Coach said again, but this time slower and more deliberate. It was clear what he meant. His large hand cupped the back of my head, and led me towards his cock.
“Thank you, Coach Sir,” were the last words I said before my lips tasted his pre-cum.
He was aggressive, pushing me all the way to his base in the first thrust. My throat gagged, but I held strong. I breathed in, the intoxicating new scent and taste of him filling me up. He groaned deep, guttural, a full body outlet of pleasure. And then and there I knew I’d work tirelessly until his load was down my throat.
His dick went the entire length of my throat as I went up and down. I savored each swallow, using my tongue to lick his shaft and my fingers to massage his balls.
“I haven’t – fuck – been serviced like this in years,” Coach said in a murmur.
That made me go down even harder, relishing each and every moan of pleasure this man made. His cock was rock hard in my mouth, huge and delicious and slicking pre-cum across my hungry throat. My stupid cock was straining in its cage, useless and dribbling on the floor. All was right.
“Look at me… Maggot!” Coach said.
I tilted my head up, his dick still deep in my mouth. Coach was staring down at me with hunger and didn’t break eye contact as I continued to suck him off. He stripped off his polo shirt to reveal an unkept hairy chest. I moaned in pleasure and he let out a chuckle. The scent of his sweat and musk was beginning to fill the air.
His grunts were getting lower, more primal. I felt his hand dig into the back of my skull and start to violently thrash me against his cock. More slamming me against it than guiding. My vision began to blur. I struggled to keep my mouth wide and my throat open to receiving him.
“Fuck… fuck!” he said.
I felt his cock stiffen deep inside my throat. My heart raced with anticipation. Please Sir. In the final moment before release, my face was pushed away. My eyes met with Coach. And seed after seed of hot cum was shot right onto my face.
Coach groaned out in pure pleasure as he watched shots land across my eyes and lips.
I moaned in ecstasy, face drenched with warm cum from my Coach. It was the best drug. It was what I loved. It was what I was meant to be.
Coach’s cock shot loads of cum onto me until finally, it collapsed and dragged the final drops across my lips. My entire face from chin to brow was covered in him. He stared down at me like I was the 4th quarter winning touchdown.
“Fuck. Goddamn it, maggot,” he said, shaking his head.
He sighed, and drank an entire bottle of water in one go, before quickly putting on his polo. The room felt cold from the heat of the moment. It was clear whatever use he had for me, it was over.
“Thank you Coach, Sir,” I said, softly. I moved to grab a tissue from his desk.
“What do you think you’re doing,” he said, a devilish smirk appearing on his face.
I stopped, tissue in hand. And turned to him.
“You’re not getting off that easily,” Coach said.
“What… what do you mean, Coach?” I asked.
“I haven’t decided if you’ll be on first team yet.”
I gulped.
“Fuck, you look so ridiculous with my cum on your face,” Coach said, unable to stop a laugh from escaping his lips. “Arms behind your head. You’re good enough for either quarterback or running back. First team.”
I couldn’t help but let out a dumb smile through the cum dripping down my face as I assumed the position. That was all I’d ever wanted to hear. “Thank you, Coach Sir!”
“But-“ Coach said, cutting me off. “There’s… this.” He tapped his foot on my chastity cage, sending shockwaves through my body. “There’s the fact of who you really are.”
No. No, no, no.
Coach smirked. “If you want to be quarterback, you’re gonna have to do what you just did for me today. Every damn week. For the rest of your career.”
It was like the air went out of the room as I processed what he had just said. It sounded like… No, it was…
“Or the entire college will see, this.” And with a blinding flash, Coach took a photo from his camera of me, naked, cum drenched, kneeling and at attention.
Blackmail. Coach was blackmailing me. And unlike the thug, this was someone Henry couldn’t overpower. If I wanted my dreams, I would be servicing my older Coach weekly.
But then, why was that a bad thing? Five minutes ago, I had loved doing it. I never felt more alive than when I was servicing real men. So why would this be different. I’d get my dreams, and get to bring pleasure to a man.
Yet, something was growing in the pit of my stomach. That had been there ever since I’d first taken Henry’s cock. I’d been hiding. Hiding from Malcolm, hiding from first team, hiding from the school. Hiding from myself. Meeting more and more guys, always living on a razor’s edge of praying no one would spill my secret. Because I had been so ashamed of what I was. A faggot. Because that was the worst thing I could be.
Henry’s care, his discipline, his use of me though, had taught me something. Without pretending to be a top, I could bring pleasure to real men. Without focusing on my own dick, I could become a better football player. Without such an ego, I could make this team better. He taught me being myself meant I was worth something.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said to Coach. I pushed myself off the floor and stood up over him.
I could keep doing this. Keep pretending to be one thing, the muscled star quarterback who demands attention, and be another in the shadows. I could keep splitting myself in two.
“If you want to use my mouth, you can have it. But you can’t blackmail me.”
His brow furrowed in anger as he slammed down his sketchpad. “I’ll leak the photo you faggot!”
A soft smile curled my lips as I tasted his dripping cum. “You won’t have to, Coach.”
I could keep doing this. But I didn’t have to.
My bare feet echoed softly to the door as I felt my chest breath in, and out. My fingers turned the handle as the warm rush of air fell over my naked body. Outside, the eyes of every single member of the football team turned.
I stood, naked, cum drenched, and caged, in front of the entire football team. A dozen emotions of men I’d known all semester crossed their eyes as they stared me down in shock, disgust, disbelief, and amusement. Stunned silence filled the room and I quickly spoke.
“I know there was a rumor, about me… A few weeks ago,” I said to them. “Well, it was true. If I get to be on your team, you should know who I really am. This is the real me. No more pretending. I’m… a faggot.”
There were a few long, agonizing seconds when I wondered if someone would sock me. And then, laughter began to fill the room. Men began to point at my cage and shake their heads in abject shock, like I had just done a standup routine. Second team guys spat on the floor in disgust. A few phones were taken out and pointed at me.
I felt Coach’s cum dripping down my forehead and into my eyes. I tried to blink away the red hot cum that felt like shame. “What the fuck, bro?,” “Is he serious?” “Fucking queer freak.” A few just smirked at me with cold eyes. I felt my cock fight against its cage.
There was no going back. I could never, ever go back now. And somehow, that made me hornier than I’d ever been in my life.
“Faggot!” someone jeered. I stood there, taking the abuse. And then, heavy footsteps echoed through the chaos. Faces turned through the noise. And then, a strong arm crushed around me as it took me into his grip. Henry held me like an anchor as he stared down the team.
“My faggot,” he said, loud enough to crash over everyone like a wave.
Quiet snickers echoed, and then dissipated.
He turned to me, lips brushing against my ear in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “Locker room. Legs up,” he whispered.
The metal of the locker room bench was cold against my back as I waited for Henry. By the time he came in, Coach’s cum had dried on my face. Henry straddled the bench and pulled me towards him, as he pulled down his uniform to push inside me.
The head of his cock broke inside my ass, and I moaned out in pleasure. Only his cock felt this good, the deep red pain combining with him hitting my inside so perfectly.
“Thank you Master,” I moaned.
He began to fuck me, a casual rhythm of ownership that I fell into instantly.
“How’s it feel to be first team’s running back?” he asked.
My eyes widened in glee, then he hit my spot, and I coo’d out a soft moan.
“Pretty… good Master,” I said with a pained grin.
“You know faggot,” Henry said, his deep baritone voice soaking into my brain. “I can’t stop those photos from leaking. Half the school will know by the time I’ve finished cunting you. Thousands probably already have seen it.”
“Yes… Master,” I said, through his deep thrusts.
“How do you feel about that? My little stupid faggot?”
He locked eyes with me.
“Free.”
His thrust got faster. I let out high pitched sounds of pleasure that filled the locker room.
Footsteps from the other side of the room caused me to stiffen. But then I saw a first team guy crack his knuckles and smile. “Nice, thought I’d missed it!”
Henry gestured to my mouth. “Welcome to your new life.” It was unclear if he meant me, or him.
Three loads later, Henry hitched me up and double-timed his thrusts. I looked into his eyes and got lost in them. How brutally he fucked me. How much pleasure he took from me.
And moreover, how much he had given to me. Each cumshot down my throat, each spank delivered to my ass, each day denied in chastity. It had been a gift that had brought me here. I loved it. I loved everything about him. In a moment of clarity, I realized I might even love him.
As Henry cried out in rumbling ecstasy, he kept ramming his cock into me. Even as his cock blasted load after load into my ass, he didn’t slow down. Pleasure overtook me. I leaned my head back, and felt drippling cum leak out from my cage.
“Thank you Master,” I groaned out.
He collapsed onto me, his massive body abusing my muscular frame, his sweat coating my body. I never wanted it to end.
In the bathroom of the locker room, Henry watched with his arms crossed as I rubbed the dried cum off my face. Something was off about his expression. Still proud, still amused, but… distant. I felt a lump in my throat.
“Master?” I asked, scared to know what he’d say.
He gave a soft smirk. So unlike his normal cruel smile I craved like water.
“I’m proud of you, faggot,” he said. And then reached into his pocket.
He handed me a small, silver key. It seemed too small for anything important. Then, I followed his eyes down. And realized what it was for.
“I’ve taught you all I can. You’re free to go,” Henry said.
I stood there. Lip quivering as I held the key to my freedom. What did he mean? I could be unlocked? I could be free of this cage?
“Master…” I said, so lost.
“This is your choice. Always has been,” he said.
I could cum. I could cum whenever I wanted. I could stroke my own cock, masturbate, and not have to be at the whims of getting fucked just the right way. And, I could still service real men too. The whole college knew by now that I was a faggot. It didn’t matter if I was caged anymore now. Right?
I stared into Henry’s eyes. And imagined that world. If I would be happy.
“Thank you Master,” I said, smiling. He ruffled my hair.
My fingers studied every millimeter of the smooth chastity key. The only one of its kind. Our eyes met. There was no judgment from Henry. My choice.
I took my key.
Dropped it into the toilet bowl.
And with two fingers, pushed flush.
THE END.
