Jock Sex Slave

BACK TO SCHOOL

Banging. Loud banging.

“Ford! Time for school! You’re late!”

Ford’s eyes flew open. With a start, he sat up. He was nude, sprawled on top of the sheets. He groaned as he realized that the fat Pyrex plug was still up his ass. In a panic, he tugged the sheets over himself just as the door burst open.

His father’s beady eyes took in the strewn clothing surrounding the bed, his jeans, shirt and underwear cast aside for his computer sex session.

“Sleeping naked! I told you never to do that anymore, boy. Or are you asking for a good whuppin’? And what, may I ask, is that thing on your head?”

Ford fumbled at the wireless headset and tore it off.

“Um. Oh. That. Um. Yeah. I - I was just listening to... some music, I must have dozed off before I could... um... get dressed for bed. Sorry...”

“Lying around naked, listening to rock music when you should be sleeping and being ready to get up for school! You’re already late. And I am not giving you an excuse for the principal. And no, I am not going to drive you there, either. You can walk and be even later and explain how you overslept like a naked godless heathen!”

Reverend Spencer stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Fingers trembling, Ford took off the nipple cups and dick sheath and then eased the plug out of his sore ass hole. He was lucky his father hadn’t decided to whip him then and there. The thought of having to explain the lewd sex toys was beyond imagining.

By the time he showered and dressed, he arrived at school an hour late, panting with the long run. It was already twenty minutes into second period.

He opened the door as quietly as he could. Mr. Bunsen, the chemistry teacher, gave him a stern look.

“Detention, Spencer.”

“But, please Mr. Bunsen, I’m sorry I’m late, and we’re supposed to practice for the regional meet after school...”

“You should have thought of that earlier.” Ford sheepishly made his way to his desk and was disconcerted as Bunsen continued to stare at him expectantly.

“Um—sir?”

“Your project, Ford? The one you were supposed to do over the holidays? The one that accounts for forty percent of your grade this quarter?”

Ford felt his stomach plunge in his gut, turning to ice.

“I—I—um—I—forgot, Mr. Bunsen. I’ll do it tonight, I swear, I can make it up, I—”

“That will be detention for the week, Spencer. All right, class, turn to page 143, and if that snickering in the back continues you can join Ford in detention.”

Ford gulped and slunk to his desk, trying not to look at Nick’s smug smile across the room.

***

As the class cleared out at the end of the period, Nick pulled Ford aside.

“Coach says we have to report for special duties sixth hour. I told him you were disobedient while he was gone. He’s really pissed.”

Nick leaned very close, whispering in Ford’s ear.

“Think you’re so hot, with your frat-boy lover? Well, we’re back at school now, and Coach is in charge. And you are going to pay for what you did to me. And pay... And pay! And if you think you’re going to tell Coach about what you and Luke did to me, well, think again. What’s Coach going to do if he finds out you told a stranger what he’s been up to? Huh? You’re dead, Ford. See you sixth hour!”

Nick leered at him with an evil smile, then turned and swaggered down the hall, leaving clouds of testosterone swirling in his wake.

***

DETENTION DEFICIT DISORDER

“Hi, Coach, sorry I’m late, the English class ran over and—”

“Shut up and bend over, Ford.”

Nick was standing in the middle of Coach’s office, looking like he had just swallowed a particularly tasty canary. His hard cock jutted from the fly of his jeans.

Without warning the Coach pushed Ford’s open mouth onto the erect prick.

As he choked and spluttered, Ford felt the Coach pull his hands behind his back and then felt the cold steel of cuffs on his wrists. The Coach yanked his jeans down roughly, tore his underwear in half and rammed the fat dick up his ass.

Ford yelled around Nick’s throbbing cock as the Coach fucked him hard, slamming his face against Nick’s groin, forcing the blond jock’s dick even deeper into Ford’s throat.

The two studs came in minutes, filling Ford at both ends. The Coach rummaged in his toy cabinet to find a new novelty butt plug he had bought over the holidays, and pushed it into Ford’s ass, keeping the big load of cum trapped in Ford’s rectum.

Nick pushed Ford to his knees and ripped the cuffed slave’s shirt off. He held Ford’s head firmly in place as the Coach slid his still-rock-hard cock—covered with gobs of semen and Ford’s own ass slime—deep into his gagging throat.

As the Coach fucked Ford’s mouth, Nick knelt behind his slurping classmate, reached around, and began pinching, twisting, and rolling the rubbery nipples. The rough treatment hurt, but nevertheless made his untouched cock ache for release. His oversleeping had resulted in not having time to care of his usual morning hard-on, and his balls were fully cocked and loaded.

But Nick just tortured his nipples, while whispering a load of abusive filth in his ear.

Ford’s needy cock bobbed and drooled, and he longed to retort, but his mouth was full, and he knew Coach MacAnally would go ballistic if he found out Ford had shared his sexual activities with a bunch of frat guys across town. He would have to find some other way to get back at Nick.

Near the end of the period, they un-cuffed Ford and made him put on an old pair of tight gym shorts, and his socks and sneakers. They left the plug in place. His erect cock stretched the tight fabric into an obscene tent, with a dark stain spreading from the tip.

“Uh—Coach—I don’t understand, I have to go to my next class soon...”

“No, you don’t, Ford. We have an appointment with the dean.”

“Wh - what?”

“To work off your detention.”

“But—the detention is after school, with Mr. Bunsen—”

“Not any more. Mr. Bunsen was more than willing to let me handle your detention... if you got an official paddling instead!”

“The school’s not allowed to do that anymore, not unless you have special permission!”

The Coach grinned triumphantly and nodded at Nick.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right, Nick, would you please go to my desk and get that note from Reverend Spencer. You see, I called him this morning and told him you have been parading around the locker room showing off your shamelessly erect dick.”

“No,” Ford whispered, “no, you didn’t, you couldn’t...”

“I could and I did, Ford. Ah, yes, here it is!”

The Coach opened a note and held it out for him to read. His father’s angular, fussy handwriting was unmistakable.

Dean Flagely,

I hereby waive any parental objection and authorize you to use corporal punishment on Ford at any time as you see fit for the rest of the school year, including the use of paddles, belts, etc. I firmly believe in a good whipping at home as Ford will tell you, and I make the little devil strip naked for it to teach him a lesson. Please feel free to do so yourself.

Yours Very Sincerely,

(The Revd.) Obadiah Spencer, DD.

Before Ford could think of anything to say, the bell rang, and the Coach grabbed him by the elbows and propelled him at top speed into the hall. The Coach yelled back at Nick as they left.

“Tell the seventh hour to do their gym routine as usual, Nick!”

Ford was quite a sight, shirtless, his tight gym shorts tented out hugely by a very noticeable erection. With the Coach pulling his elbows tightly together behind his back, he was forced to walk with his groin thrust forward, making it even worse.

They passed the senior boys coming down to PE, and Ford closed his eyes, unable to face them, but could not close his ears against the whistles and cat-calls.

The Coach paraded him right down the main hall toward the office, just as all the students were filing past to get to the last class of the day. His face burned and he prayed mightily for his cock to soften but it only got harder. People turned to stare, giggling or pointing or making rude comments.

Finally, they turned aside and stepped into the dean’s outer office.

“Hi, Miss Beadle, we’re here to seen Dean Flagely.”

The corpulent secretary practically shot out of her seat, looking frantically everywhere except at Ford’s crotch.

“Is he expecting you?”

“This is a disciplinary emergency.”

“Yes, I can see that, - I mean... er... I’ll just buzz the Dean.”

***

The Dean tapped his fingers impatiently on his immaculate blotter. The Coach had called up during fifth hour to say that he would be bringing a difficult case in after sixth hour for special discipline.

Dean Flagely raised an eyebrow as he saw who the “difficult case” was, and both eyebrows crawled up over the tops of his spectacles as he saw the boy’s condition.

“Well, well! What have we here, Coach?”

“What we have here, Coach, is a boy who is insubordinate.”

“Insubordinate. Yes. Very bad.”

“He lies.”

“Prevarication. We can’t have that, now, can we, Coach McAnally?”

“And I caught him masturbating today.”

“Mastur - what? I mean, yes. Oh. Well. That is very, very bad indeed. Yes.”

He adjusted his glasses.

“What do you propose to do Coach? I believe his father is a minister—”

“All the more reason his punishment should be harsh.”

“Yes.” He eyed Ford up and down. “Yes, I quite agree.”

“I suggest a good paddling.”

“Well, now, you know the rules Coach, and as much as I would like to, I can’t let you do that without a note from... oh my... yes... well, I can see that this is in order. Yes. Well. How do you suggest we proceed?”

“I see a wooden paddle on the wall, Dean. I suggest we use that.”

“Ah yes, my old fraternity paddle, The Enforcer, we use to call it.” He rubbed his hands briskly then took the paddle off the wall and placed it on the desk.

The Coach released his elbows and Ford almost lost his balance.

“All right, Ford, now take off your shorts.”

“Please, please Dean Flagely, don’t let him—”

“Well, Ford, I understand your concern, yes, I do, but this note from your father... he all but orders me to give you a could hard paddling in the nude, and a parent’s wishes must always be honored in these matters...”

Eyes closed in misery, Ford put his thumbs in the waistband and slipped the shorts down over his shoes. He heard the Dean give a small gasp as he stood up. Then his eyes shot wide open as he felt the Coach reach around and slap his cock, making it bounce up and down.

“That’s right, Ford! A paddling on the bare buttocks will teach you a lesson. And exposing your shameful condition to the Dean will teach you another lesson. Now put your hands behind your head, spread your legs and bend over the desk.”

Ford was dizzy with heat. The Coach was pushing all his mental buttons. Being forced to strip in front of the Dean, getting paddled, humiliated while someone else watched - he was even harder just thinking about it. The Coach had obviously planned this carefully to maximize the punishment.

“Please, Dean, don’t make me do this—”

“I am sorry, young man, this is out of my hands. Do as the Coach says.”

Ford, blushing crimson, put his hands behind his head and spread his legs. The Coach shoved him up against the desk, kicking his feet wide apart until his balls were resting on the edge of the desk, his cock jutting up obscenely. He then pushed Ford forward, bending him far over the expensive, tooled-leather desk top until he was practically face to face with the Dean.

But then the Coach revealed the next part of his diabolical plan. The novelty butt plug in Ford’s ass contained a spring-loaded plunger, operated by a thumb-ring in the base of the plug. Ford gasped as he felt the toy kick to life inside him, and his dick gave a burp of pre-cum.

“You see his erection, Dean? The shameful symptom of his self-pleasuring ways?”

“Erection. Yes. Indeed yes.”

“I’m going to paddle this boy until his erection subsides, evidence that he has learned his lesson. Please keep an eye on his erection and tell me when it subsides.”

“Eye. Subsides. Yes.”

The Coach took up the paddle with one hand, and Ford felt the Coach’s other hand poised on the plunger still buried in his ass, out of the Dean’s sight. In a flash of horror Ford realized the rest of the Coach’s plan —he was going to use the anal stimulation to make him come in front of the Dean. The degradation would be exquisite.

The Coach raised the paddle.

“One moment, Coach...” Flagely picked up the desk phone. “Yes... Miss Beadle? Why don’t you take the rest of the day off... no, really... I’m afraid I must insist, your filing duties can wait until tomorrow... Yes. Good-bye.”

Ford stared straight forward, tensing himself. The Dean set the phone on the cradle and then let his eyes roam up and down the boy’s flawless torso before settling back on his cock.

“You may begin. I think a slow, long paddling is best in these cases, don’t you Coach?”

“Definitely.”

Ford felt the length of his cock pressed against the embossed leather desktop. The Coach retracted the plunger. Ford gave a gasp as his insides twisted. The paddle fell as the plunger was released, the sting on his buttocks coinciding with the blow to his prostate. Ford groaned. As each blow fell, he slid a bit, rubbing his cock on the rough leather. Oh, yes. It was only going to be a matter of time before he shot a big load all over the Dean’s desk. Well, if he was going to be punished like this, he might as well put on a good show. The Dean was practically eating him with his eyes. Ford decided to hold off coming as long as he could.

With each swat of the paddle, and each pull of the ass plunger, Ford, moaned, squirmed, rubbed himself on the desk.

The Dean fiddled with his tie and squirmed in his seat. After a while Ford noticed that the Dean had one hand under his desk. Ford, emboldened, moaned louder, squirmed more suggestively, made no pretense about rubbing his cock against the desk.

The Coach watched the Dean carefully, waiting for the right moment.

“Dean - if I might make a suggestion?”

“Suggestion. Certainly.”

“I find that boys this age have very sensitive nipples. Pinching them hard can help to cement these lessons into long-term memory.”

The Dean’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I believe I read a study about that. B F Skinner, etc. Yes. Anything to help turn this boy on. Er - around.”

The Dean reached forward with his dry, hard fingers, got Ford’s nipples and squeezed. Ford gasped.

“Oh, please - please no—”

He knew he couldn’t hold off for long, now. The Coach increased the paddling tempo.

“Oh, please - please—”

“Tell us, Ford. Tell us what a bad boy you are.”

Ford was writhing, a rain of blows falling on his reddened ass cheeks, his nipples tweaked deliciously hard, the plunger plug twisting and pushing deep in his horny ass.

“I’m sorry sir - punish me like I deserve sir - oh, please, teach me a lesson, I’m such a bad boy, sir—”

“Are you a pervert, boy? A disgusting sexual animal? Do you deserve to be punished?”

“Oh yes sir I admit it yes a pervert make me pay, make me take it like I deserve—”

“Well, if you’re such a disgusting pervert, I bet you’re going to come, aren’t you? Maybe we should punish you that way, make you come to show what a degraded beast you really are!”

“Oh no, please Coach, not that, don’t make me come oh please don’t make me don’t make me come oh no please please—”

“Yes, we are going to punish you and make you come like the filthy little animal you are. You are going to learn a lesson, boy! Through ejaculation!”

Ford, writhing uncontrollably, reared back, ready to come, whimpering.

The Dean piped up, his voice cracking with excitement.

“Ejaculation! Yes! Lesson! Yes! Lesson, lesson, lesson!!!”

And he reached out and grabbed Ford’s penis with both hands, pulling hard.

Ford came, throwing out compact wads of come, the first several shots exploding against the Dean’s chest like jelly bullets. Ford’s upper body flailed while his cock and ass were pinned firmly in place. He only barely managed to keep his hands behind his head as his torso twitched and heaved.

Finally, he was finished. Opening his eyes, he saw gobs of jism dripping down the Dean’s tie and suit coat. There were tiny drops on his glasses, and a streaked trail of slime lead across the blotter to Ford’s cock, which the Dean reluctantly released.

“Looks like this boy made a big mess, Dean. Apologize, Ford.”

“I - I’m sorry, sir.”

“Well, I never really liked this tie, even if I did pay $90 for it - a small price to pay to help correct a wayward youth.”

“I - I’d offer to pay you for it sir, but I don’t have that much money...”

“Well, Ford, maybe the Dean has some chores you could do for him. Let’s make it... three dollars an hour? Thirty hours of work should do it.”

“Chores. Yes. Yes, indeed! When the snow melts I’m sure my hard will need a lot of attention. I mean - er - yard. My yard. Yes. Good idea, Coach.”

“Okay Ford, you’ve taken enough of the Dean’s valuable time. Get dressed and get back to the locker room.”

Ford, dazed, bent over to pick up his shorts and pull them on.

“Ah - uh - one moment, young man -” Dean Flagely’s eyes strayed from his desk calendar to Ford’s rosy ass cheeks as they disappeared into the tight shorts. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait that long to work it off. What you owe me. I mean. We have a Monday holiday coming up on the 19th. That will do very well. Report to my house at 11:00am. And, Coach MacAnally, this boy appears to need a lot of discipline, and I know how busy you are. Don’t hesitate to send him down again if you feel he needs more -reinforcement.”

***

“Coach - isn’t it - you know - kind of risky for you to take a chance like that with the Dean?”

“That old sissy? I can read him like a book. Naw. I’ll send you down for a bare-butt paddling and a hand job once a week and he’ll be happy as a clam.”

“Once a week! No way!”

They were about halfway down the long corridor that lead to the Boys’ Locker Room, just passing a double-door storage closet. Ford suddenly found himself on the floor, the Coach’s knee pinning his chest. MacAnally reached into his back pocket and took out a pair of hand cuffs. In seconds, Ford’s hands were stretched up and secured to the loop door handles and his gym shorts ripped off.

“Coach! You can’t! Not out here!”

“Not to worry, Ford, there’s 12 minutes before the bell. I want your tongue up my butt for 9 minutes, and then you’re going to have 3 minutes to suck me off. If you don’t make me cum I’ll leave you out here like this for the guys to play with.”

The Coach shucked down his soft grey sweat pants and began to squat over Ford’s chest, ass back.

“Coach! Please! NO! NMMMMfffffffsshshlurppp...”

Ford’s face was clamped firmly between the Coach’s hard, muscular ass cheeks, framed by the black straps of his supporter. The Coach eyeballed Ford’s thrashing legs and jutting cock, then grabbed Ford’s ankles and tucked a leg under each of his arms, forcing Ford’s butt up off the floor and exposing his hole nicely. He looped a finger into the ring of the anal plunger and pulled.

The dark-haired jock let out a muffled yelp.

Coach MacAnally pulled his stop watch out of his sweatshirt, and settled his ass back more comfortably against the slurping mouth.

The opposite wall was lined with glass-covered trophy shelves, rank upon rank of faux-gilt statuettes with their muscular icons. These dusty relics of generations of Chained Rock athletes looked on in silence as the noise of muffled slurping echoed down the hall.

***