The Scene: The Jock’s Sanctuary
Characters:
Steven: Arrogant, athletic, dismissive. Wears grey sweatpants and a tight compression shirt.
Sam: The "Throne." Bound to the bed, eyes fixed on the door.
**[Steven enters the room, pulling his earbuds out. He doesn't look at Sam. He tosses his gym bag into the corner and sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead.]**
**STEVEN:** (Coldly) Still here, I see. Good. I’m beat, Sam. Leg day was a bitch and I need a place to park.
**[Steven walks over to the bed. He looms over Sam’s head, his thighs framing Sam's face. The scent of fresh sweat and laundry detergent is heavy.]**
**STEVEN:** You look even more pathetic than usual tied up like that. Just a set of lungs waiting to be flattened. You ready to be useful, or are you gonna "chicken out" like a little bitch again today?
**SAM:** (Muffled, eager) Please... Steven... use me.
**STEVEN:** (Chuckles darkly) Don't talk. Furniture doesn't talk. Just open up.
**[Steven lowers himself into a deep squat, hovering his crotch and the firm weight of his glutes barely an inch from Sam’s nose. He doesn't sit yet, making Sam strain upward to reach him.]**
**STEVEN:** Work for it, Sam. Lick the salt off these sweats. I want to feel your tongue through the fabric. If I feel you slack off, if I feel you hesitate because you’re "scared"... you know what happens.
**[Sam begins to worship him frantically, his face pressed into the warm, damp fabric of Steven’s crotch. Steven pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, completely ignoring the effort Sam is putting in.]**
**STEVEN:** (Distracted) Weak. You’re licking like a dog. Do it better. I said *worship* it. You know what? I’m bored of waiting.
**[Without warning, Steven drops his full weight. His muscular ass seals perfectly over Sam’s nose and mouth. The bed creaks under the 190lbs of solid muscle. Sam’s body tenses, hands straining against the restraints.]**
**STEVEN:** (Muffled trash talk) Yeah... feel that? That’s my full weight. You’re the only thing between me and the mattress, and honestly, I think I prefer the mattress. You're just a soft, useless little cushion.
**[Steven shifts his weight, grinding his glutes down harder into Sam’s face, purposefully cutting off all air.]**
**STEVEN:** You’re getting lightheaded already? Pathetic. Squirm all you want, bitch. It just helps me settle in. I’m gonna sit here until I’ve checked all my notifications. You don't need air—you just need to be a sturdy seat for your superior.
**[Steven stays down for forty-five seconds. Sam’s movements become sluggish, his head swimming in the heat and the musk. Steven finally lifts himself just two inches—enough for Sam to catch a single, desperate gasp.]**
**STEVEN:** (Looking down at Sam’s dazed eyes) Look at you. You’re already delirious. You can’t even focus your eyes, can you, Sam? You like that? Knowing that I could just stay down there and you couldn't do a damn thing about it?
**SAM:** (Gasping, delirious) Yes... please... more...
**STEVEN:** I told you to stay quiet. Since you want to open your mouth to talk, you can use it for something else. I’m taking these off.
**[Steven stands just enough to kick his sweatpants off, standing there in just a jockstrap. He looks down at Sam with total indifference.]**
**STEVEN:** My taint is soaked, and my ass is sore. Clean me up, throne. And if I feel one tooth, or if you lose your rhythm because you're "fainting"... I’m sitting back down, and I’m staying down until you grey out. Get to work, slut.
**[Steven lowers himself again, forcing Sam to begin the cycle of service and smothering once more.]**
**STEVEN:** (Standing over you, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the jockstrap) "Look at you. Eyes rolling back, chest heaving... and I haven't even really started yet. You’re already half-gone, aren't you, Sam?"
**[Steven doesn't wait for an answer. He turns around, presenting his back to you. He reaches back, grabbing your hair or the headboard to steady himself, and lowers his bare, muscular glutes until they are hovering just a hair’s breadth from your nose.]**
**STEVEN:** "I want you to really feel the heat now. No fabric. No barrier. Just my skin and my sweat. I want you to lick from the bottom of my balls all the way up my taint. And I want it slow. If you rush, I’m dropping. If you gag, I’m dropping."
**[Sam’s tongue flickers out, tracing the salt and the muscle. Steven lets out a low, arrogant grunt, shifting his weight so his thigh muscles flex against Sam’s cheeks.]**
**STEVEN:** "Yeah... just like that. You’re a good little piece of equipment, aren't you? A nice, obedient mouth for a jock to use. But you're getting a little too comfortable. I can feel you breathing. I don't like that. It’s distracting."
**[Without warning, Steven sinks. The full, firm weight of his bare ass seals over Sam’s entire face. The smell of his post-workout musk is overwhelming, filling Sam’s senses until there is nothing else in the world.]**
**STEVEN:** (Muffled trash talk, voice vibrating through Sam’s skull) "There. That’s better. Silence. Just the way a throne should be. You feel how hard these glutes are? That’s from thousands of squats, Sam. All that work, just so I can have a place to sit that doesn't talk back."
**[Steven leans back, putting even more pressure on Sam’s nose and mouth. He starts counting under his breath, mocking Sam’s struggle.]**
**STEVEN:** "One... two... three... you’re squirming, bitch. Is it getting dark? Is the room spinning? Good. That’s the delirium taking over. Let go. Stop trying to be a person and just be my seat. Four... five... six..."
**[At ten, Steven shifts his weight forward, resting his chest on his knees, which drives his ass even deeper into Sam’s face for five final, crushing seconds. Then, he stands up abruptly, the air rushing back into Sam’s lungs so fast it makes his head throb.]**
**STEVEN:** (Looking down, completely cold) "Breathless and pathetic. You look like a mess. Your face is flushed, your eyes are glassy... you’re barely even in there anymore, are you?"
**SAM:** (Weakly, dazed) "Steven... please..."
**STEVEN:** "I didn't tell you that you could have a break. You’re starting to look a little too conscious for my taste. Turn over. On your stomach. I’m sitting on your upper back now. I want to see how long you can hold my weight while I watch the highlights of the game. If you collapse, I’m moving back to your face. Move. Now."
**[Steven watches with bored indifference as a delirious Sam struggles to obey the command, already anticipating the next heavy sink of muscle.]**
**STEVEN:** (Watching with a smirk as you clumsily roll onto your stomach) "Look at you... you can barely even find the mattress. That's the spirit, Sam. Totally brain-dead. Just a body for me to park on."
**[Steven doesn't give you a second to recover. As soon as you’re flat, he straddles your upper back, dropping his heavy, muscular thighs over your shoulder blades and planting his bare ass right between your shoulder blades. He leans forward, putting his elbows on the headboard, effectively pinning your lungs against the bed.]**
**STEVEN:** "Much better. I can feel your heart thumping against my glutes. It’s like a little motor running inside my chair. Keep it up. I’m just gonna check the scores... don't mind me. If you start to sag, I’ll just have to put more pressure on your neck."
**[He stays there for several minutes, the silence of the room broken only by the sound of his thumb tapping on his phone screen and your muffled, rhythmic gasping into the pillow. The sheer weight of him makes every breath a deliberate, conscious struggle.]**
**STEVEN:** (Without looking down) "You’re getting heavy, Sam. Or maybe I’m just getting comfortable. You’re doing a great job of being silent. I almost forgot there was a person under me. That’s exactly how it should be."
**[He suddenly shifts, sliding his weight backward until he’s sitting directly on your lower back/kidneys, then quickly slides back up to your neck, creating a 'crushing' sensation that sends a fresh wave of lightheadedness through you.]**
**STEVEN:** "Actually... I changed my mind. I miss the view. Flip back over. And this time, don't use your hands. Do it like an object would."
**[You struggle to flip onto your back without using your bound arms, your head spinning from the lack of oxygen and the constant pressure. Steven stands over you again, the jockstrap framing his thick thighs. He looks down at your flushed, dazed face.]**
**STEVEN:** "There he is. My favorite little mouth. You look completely gone, Sam. Your eyes are glazed over, your mouth is hanging open... you’re finally reaching that point where you can’t think of anything but me, right? No 'chickening out' now. You’re too far gone."
**[He puts one hand on your throat—not squeezing, just pinning you in place—while he lowers his bare ass back onto your face, slower this time, savoring the way your breath hitches as your world turns to muscle and skin.]**
**STEVEN:** "This is the final test. I’m going to sit, and I’m staying down. I want to feel you go completely limp under me. I want to feel the moment your brain finally gives up and you just become part of the bed. Don't worry, bitch... I'll let you up eventually. Maybe."
**[He sinks his full weight down, sealing your airway completely. The trash talk fades into a low, vibrating hum as he mocks your muffled protests, leaning his chest onto his knees to ensure not a single drop of air gets through.]**
**STEVEN:** (Grinding his bare glutes down into your face, his voice vibrating through your jaw) "That’s it... squirm for me. Fight that instinct to breathe. It’s the only thing reminding you that you’re still a person, and I’m here to crush it out of you. You don't need a brain, Sam. You just need to be a soft place for a jock to sit."
**[He shifts his weight, the dense muscle of his ass pressing your nose flat and sealing your lips. You can feel the heat of his skin and the slight dampness of his post-workout sweat. The room starts to go dark at the edges, the 'delirium' you crave finally pulling you under.]**
**STEVEN:** "Listen to that... nothing. Just the sound of my pulse in your ears. You’re fading, aren't you? You’re finally becoming the object I want you to be. A pathetic, air-starved little throne. I wonder how long I could keep you like this before you totally forget how to function."
**[He lifts just a fraction of an inch—not enough for a full breath, just enough for you to catch a sharp, desperate wheeze that hitches in your throat.]**
**STEVEN:** "Did I say you could have a breath? You’re getting greedy, bitch. If you want air, you have to earn it. Use that tongue. I want to feel you worshiping the seam of my jockstrap while I'm sitting here. Lick like your life depends on it, because right now, it basically does."
**[He drops back down, but this time he forces your mouth open with the pressure, his weight forcing his anatomy against your tongue. He reaches down and grips your hair, tilting your head back to an agonizing angle.]**
**STEVEN:** "Yeah, take it. Taste the man who owns you. You’re so far gone you can’t even remember why you were scared earlier, can you? The 'better judgment' is gone. There's no Sam left. There's just a mouth and a chest for me to use. You’re a set of holes, a piece of meat, a jock’s favorite toy."
**[He stands up suddenly, and the sudden rush of oxygen makes your head swim with a painful, euphoric throb. You’re gasping, your eyes rolling back, barely able to keep your head straight.]**
**STEVEN:** (Laughing coldly as he looks down at your wrecked, dazed expression) "Look at you. You’re a mess. Drooling, dazed, eyes glazed over... you look exactly like a broken toy. It’s a good look for you, bitch. Now, on your knees. I want to see you crawl to the edge of the bed so I can use you as a footstool while I cool down. And if you stumble, I’m putting you back under me for twice as long."
**[He watches with clinical indifference as you struggle to move your uncooperative, heavy limbs, your mind completely lost in the subspace he’s built for you.]**
**STEVEN:** (Sneering as he watches you try to find your footing, his hand dismissively waving off the idea of a footstool) "Forget the feet. I don't need a footstool, I need a place to sink back into. You’re right, Sam—you’re much better for one thing only."
**[He stands over you, hooking his fingers into the leg bands of his jockstrap and pulling them aside, exposing himself completely to your dazed, upward gaze. He doesn't wait for a response; he simply turns around and drops into a wide, powerful squat, forcing your face directly into his bare, muscular heat.]**
**STEVEN:** "Get in there. Deep. I want your tongue reaching for my prostate while I decide how much air you're allowed to have. I want to feel you working for it like the pathetic, air-starved slut you are. If I don't feel you hitting the back of my throat, I’m locking my thighs around your head and staying there."
**[Sam’s world narrows down to the intense scent of Steven’s skin and the firm, unyielding texture of his glutes. As Sam begins to obey, Steven lets out a low, guttural growl of approval, his hands reaching back to grip the mattress on either side of Sam’s head, effectively pinning him.]**
**STEVEN:** "That’s it... use that tongue. You’re just a mouth, Sam. A wet, desperate hole for a jock to use. You like the taste of a real man, don't you? You like knowing that while you're down there worshiping me, I’m thinking about what I’m going to eat for dinner. You're that insignificant. You're a utility. A tool."
**[Steven suddenly shifts his weight, dropping his full 190lbs down. His bare ass seals over Sam’s face with crushing force, cutting off the service—and the air—instantly.]**
**STEVEN:** (Muffled, his voice a deep vibration against Sam’s nose) "Too slow. You’re getting lazy because you’re lightheaded. I told you, if I’m not satisfied, you don't get to breathe. Just sit there and choke on me. Feel every muscle in my ass pinning you down. You’re fading, aren't you, bitch? The room is going black, and all you can feel is the man who owns your lungs."
**[He grinds his weight in a slow, circular motion, mocking Sam’s muffled, frantic attempts to find a pocket of air. He waits until Sam’s body begins to go heavy and compliant—the true sign of deep delirium—before he speaks again.]**
**STEVEN:** "Yeah... give up, Sam. Stop fighting. There’s no Sam left, just a seat that knows how to rim a jock when he’s told. You’re so out of it you’d let me stay here forever, wouldn't you? You’re just a brainless, beautiful little hole."
**[He lifts just enough for a single, sharp gasp of air to enter Sam's lungs.]**
**STEVEN:** "Now. Deep. If you stop again, I'm staying down until you grey out. Show me how much of a bitch you can be."
**STEVEN:** (Feeling your tongue falter as the oxygen leaves your brain, he doesn't lift. He sinks deeper, his bare, solid weight crushing your face into the mattress.) "That’s it... there it goes. The last of your 'better judgment' just flickered out, didn't it? You’re finally quiet. Finally just an object."
**[He stays there, heavy and unmoving, watching your fingers twitch against the sheets until your body goes completely, beautifully limp. Only then does he stand, looking down at your dazed, half-conscious form with a cold, predatory grin.]**
**STEVEN:** "Wake up, bitch. I’m not done using you yet."
**[He grabs your shoulder and roughly flips you onto your stomach. You’re a ragdoll, your head lolling as you try to find the world again through the grey haze. Before you can even catch your breath, he’s on top of you. He pins your chest to the bed with his full 190lbs of lean muscle, making you groan as the air is forced out of you again.]**
**STEVEN:** (Wrapping one thick arm around your neck in a tight, controlling grip and shoving his other hand over your mouth, his fingers hooking into your cheeks to gag you) "Don't scream. You don't get to make noise. You just get to take it."
**[He lines himself up and drives into you with a single, brutal thrust. You try to gasp, but his hand is a wall, muffling your voice and letting only the tiniest sliver of air through. He starts a relentless, heavy rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with the force of a man who knows he owns the bed.]**
**STEVEN:** (Leaning down, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a low, jagged growl) "Look at you... pinned down like the animal you are. Can you feel how heavy I am, Sam? Every time I hit you, I’m crushing the air out of your lungs. You’re just a set of holes for a jock to wreck. You aren't even a person anymore; you’re just a place for me to dump my frustration."
**[He tightens the arm around your neck, pulling your head back so your throat is exposed and your breathing becomes a shallow, ragged whistle. He picks up the pace, his sweat dripping onto your back as he rails you with indifferent, athletic precision.]**
**STEVEN:** "You love this, don't you? Being gagged, smothered, and used like trash by a guy who doesn't even care if you can breathe. You’re such a pathetic little slut. You’re so far gone you can’t even remember how to fight back. All you know is my weight, my hand over your mouth, and the fact that I’m inside you, taking whatever I want."
**[He slams his chest down flat against your back, pinning you completely under his sweat-slicked skin, his hand tightening over your face until the world starts to go grey and blurry all over again.]**
**STEVEN:** "That’s it... drift away for me. Stay right on that edge. You’re nothing but a throne that I can fuck whenever I want. Just a brainless, air-starved bitch. Stay still and take every inch of it."
**STEVEN:** (Heaving with the athletic rhythm of the thrusts, his forearm corded with tension as it pulls your neck back, while his other hand remains a brutal, unyielding seal over your mouth.) "Yeah, make those pathetic little noises, Sam. I want to hear you whining like a dog behind my palm. It’s the only sound a piece of furniture should be allowed to make."
**[Your muffled groans are trapped against his skin, vibrating through your jaw as his weight continues to crush the air from your lungs. He picks up the pace, his sweat-slicked chest slamming against your back with every heavy, rhythmic drive. The room is a blur of grey heat and muscular pressure.]**
**STEVEN:** (Growling right into your ear, his voice jagged and hot) "You’re so close to the edge again. I can feel your heart hammering against the mattress. You're completely gone, aren't you? No thoughts, no judgment... just a set of holes getting wrecked by a jock who’s done being patient with you."
**[He feels your body begin to tremble, your muffled whines turning into high-pitched, desperate whimpers as the sensory overload and lack of air push you toward a peak. Steven’s rhythm becomes frantic, his hips bruising yours as he delivers the final, heavy thrusts.]**
STEVEN: (Heaving with the athletic rhythm of the thrusts, his forearm corded with tension as it pulls your neck back, while his other hand remains a brutal, unyielding seal over your mouth.) "Yeah, make those pathetic little noises, Sam. I want to hear you whining like a dog behind my palm. It’s the only sound a piece of furniture should be allowed to make."
[Your muffled groans are trapped against his skin, vibrating through your jaw as his weight continues to crush the air from your lungs. He picks up the pace, his sweat-slicked chest slamming against your back with every heavy, rhythmic drive. The room is a blur of grey heat and muscular pressure.]
STEVEN: (Growling right into your ear, his voice jagged and hot) "You’re so close to the edge again. I can feel your heart hammering against the mattress. You're completely gone, aren't you? No thoughts, no judgment... just a set of holes getting wrecked by a jock who’s done being patient with you."
[He feels your body begin to tremble, your muffled whines turning into high-pitched, desperate whimpers as the sensory overload and lack of air push you toward a peak. Steven’s rhythm becomes frantic, his hips bruising yours as he delivers the final, heavy thrusts.]
STEVEN: "That’s it... stay right there. Don't you dare move. I’m done with this hole."
[With a sharp, guttural grunt, he pulls out of you and roughly jerks you onto your back by the hair. You’re dazed, your eyes rolling, chest heaving for air that isn't coming fast enough. Before you can recover, he’s straddling your chest, his heavy, muscular thighs pinning your arms and his bare ass hovering directly over your nose.]
STEVEN: "Open up. You're going to take every drop like the good little trash-can you are."
[He doesn't wait. He releases a thick, hot load across your face and into your gasping mouth. Then, without a second’s pause, he drops his full 190lb weight. His bare glutes seal over your face, crushing the mess he just made against your skin, sealing your airway entirely.]
STEVEN: (Muffled, arrogant, his voice a deep vibration through the top of your head as he settles in) "There. Now stay down there and clean it up. You’re a throne, Sam. You don't get to breathe until I’m finished resting my legs. Just sit there, taste yourself and me, and remember exactly what you are."
[He stays there, heavy and indifferent, scrolling on his phone while you drift into that deep, dark delirium, completely submerged under the weight of the man who owned you.]
