Jordan
Jordan Olivera was determined to break Miles McKinnon, or else his own loneliness would break him instead.
Was it really the right approach? He wondered.
Exhausted from punishing the unruly boy, Jordan felt strong arms cuddling him. He could recognize that chest anywhere.
Miles was everything his heart desired: a man with a good cock, a good ass, and an attitude that both enraged him and drew him in. It wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but he didn’t give a shit. There was a spark between them that he couldn’t ignore. However, he was still debating whether Miles would admit it. Jordan wouldn’t let him get away without a permanent memory of their time together.
The first time Jordan had understood he had that kind of power over people had been exhilarating.
Snow was falling that day, and he was heading out of the gym with his second-hand duffel bag slung over his shoulder when a ding alerted him to a potential fuck. He swiped his lockscreen open and was greeted by a butt that made his dick jump.
A short but suggestive answer in the chat set the mood, and he stayed put until his phone buzzed again.
EagerBtm28: wait for me at the front of the gym 😉
Five minutes, and he’d be off if nobody showed up.
The faceless profile would’ve been blocked if Jordan hadn’t been so horny.
His breath formed large, white clouds, obscuring his vision at times. The frost-covered cars parked on the streets appeared permanently frozen, forgotten. The sounds of the city were muffled, and it was especially unnerving when you came from a place where snow never dared to settle.
The gloves he’d bought were thick, but ineffective at keeping his hands warm. In his opinion, they had been one of the most worthless purchases he’d made since moving. He was blowing hot air into his frigid palms when someone tapped his shoulder.
A man in his late twenties, shorter than Jordan, with a loose manbun, stood on the sidewalk with a languid expression. Striking blue eyes and a prominent nose almost overshadowed the stranger’s voluptuous lips.
Lustful thoughts raced through Jordan’s mind, his grip tightening on his bag.
“Looking for a good fuck?” he asked offhandedly, looking around as if he didn’t care if the answer was no.
“I wouldn’t have messaged you if I didn’t. I saw you in the showers multiple times. I’ve been wanting to test that dick for a while now.”
A blunt bitch, Jordan thought with a cocky smirk.
He wouldn’t go easy on this guy, not like he had on the others. If this bottom boy didn’t leave with trembling legs and a destroyed hole, then it wouldn’t be worth it.
“You got a place?” Jordan said, scratching his nose.
Jordan’s dingy little apartment wasn’t much to look at, and if he was being honest, he was ashamed of it. He had sworn he’d get to the top, no matter what it took.
The hurdles of life wouldn’t be a problem anymore. There would only be work, stacked with gratification, and no more deprivation.
“Just a few stations away, I got plenty of lube and condoms.”
“You swallow?”
“As many loads as your balls can hold.”
Jordan scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”
The transition from the damp, stuffy subway into the freezing streets was brutal. Jordan was sure he was going to catch a cold.
They silently reached a red-bricked two-story house after walking for about ten minutes. Once inside, Jordan understood it was as close as you could get to a fraternity house. There were beer cans scattered here and there, and shoes stuffed with dirty socks in the corridor. To top it off, everything was permeated by the stale smell of cigarettes and joints.
“The rooms are upstairs.”
The stairs didn’t creak, and the house was apparently empty. The bottom boy’s roommates wouldn’t hear him plead as he got fucked.
Pity.
The upstairs was as messy as the rest, but Jordan was pleasantly surprised when he was led into what was probably one of the tidiest rooms in the apartment. Scanning the room for details became an afterthought as the nameless guy began to undress.
“You’re that much of a whore?” Jordan sneered. “I bet you’ve taken so much dick, I won’t even have to prepare you for mine.”
The stranger slid a spit-slicked finger in his hole; it went in without resistance, and that’s all Jordan needed to see to remove his clothes and roll a condom over his leaking dick. The guy had been true to his word; he had plenty of lube and possibly all the condom sizes available on the market.
Jordan still stuck two fingers inside him for good measure, but also out of habit.
A backhanded slap made the bottom’s ass wiggle and was followed by a satisfied grunt. The position the stranger had chosen, on all fours, conveyed his need to be used.
Jordan pumped his cock a few times, massaged his balls, and slid into the hole offered to him in a single thrust. The bottom would’ve tried to pull away if Jordan hadn’t been holding him by the hips.
“Tut, tut, no turning back now,” Jordan said, removing almost his entire cock before ramming it back in with full force.
Cries and desperate pleas accompanied the slapping sounds that followed.
“I can’t hear you,” Jordan said, leaning over.
“Shit, just destroy me.”
“You want me to make you cry?” Jordan asked maliciously.
“Yes,” the bottom replied, swallowing hard. “Just plow the fuck out of me.”
Legs were spread further apart, and Jordan rewarded this kind gesture with more punishing thrusts. A flurry of spanks quickly turned the ass of his new toy beetroot red.
“I won’t stop even if you beg me to,” Jordan threatened, grabbing the guy’s manbun firmly and forcing his head back.
“I won’t, I won’t,” the stranger panted.
But in the end, begging was all he did.
His hole looked like it was going to tear around Jordan’s cock, its thickness too much to handle. The two of them were soaked in sweat as their fucking intensified, and the smell of sex engulfed them.
Sweat, spit, and precum stained the sheets of the unmade bed.
The only respite the bottom boy was allowed was the few seconds Jordan took to lube his tool.
Jordan flipped the bottom on his back so that he could see his flushed face and the tears pooling in his eyes. He didn’t care for his comfort and kept on pounding his ass until he filled the condom with cum.
“Ready for round two?” Jordan asked, rhetorically, his dick refusing to go down.
He grew more brutal each time the boy returned to be used, and the memories had him rock hard.
For some reason, domination for the sake of control wasn’t all he desired anymore. Hearing the soothing breathing of the man who was the cause of this had him drift back to sleep as fast as his cock got hard.
Jordan only woke up an hour later, and this time Miles was standing in the kitchen with a spoon in his mouth.
“You got hard while sleeping,” he said without looking at Jordan. “I’m gonna start believing you’re a real perv.”
There was the attitude again.
“I am, almost as much as you are.”
The spoon clinked in the sink, and Miles stretched, his muscles rolling and twisting sluggishly. His hair was flat on one side, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep.
The clock on the wall pointed at 3:37 pm. It wasn’t that late, all things considered, plenty of time for another round, and something more casual.
“Get your ass over here, and get on your knees.”
It came out more gently than intended, but Miles was quick to follow Jordan’s commands. He didn’t bat an eye as he took Jordan’s throbbing cock in his mouth. It still reeked of their last session, but Miles keenly cleaned it with his sweet tongue.
“What were you thinking about?” Miles asked between licks.
“The first guy I truly used as my fuck doll,” Jordan answered melancholically. “He was perfect, but there was no fight in him. He was too content about being used.”
Miles kept quiet, kept on sucking even though he froze for a second.
“But you are different,” Jordan continued. “You want to be treated like this, though you believe you don’t.” He looked between Miles’s legs. “I can see how badly your cock wants to get hard, there’s no hiding it.”
Teeth scraped the sensitive skin around his cockhead, and Jordan flinched.
“No teeth,” he said, pushing Miles’s head onto his dick to make him gag. “Do you want to be punished again?”
“No, sir,” Miles responded, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Then, do your job properly.”
But his hands didn’t clutch on Miles’s head as hard as they should’ve. Instead, he stroked his hair gently and let him lead the blowjob at his own pace.
The wet suction sounds and the sight of Miles’s pink lips dragging gently over his shaft made Jordan happy, and the thought of hurting Miles in any way disgusted him.
But the control Jordan exerted over him was necessary. Otherwise, this formerly straight jock would run back to his old life the moment he was allowed an ounce of freedom. The two weeks were halfway gone, and Jordan was aware he had to do his best to train Miles.
Not for his own sake, but for Miles’s own.
If Jordan couldn’t help him embrace his sexuality fully, then he’d end up as unhappy as one can be.
He was sure of it.
This crusade would be fruitful, he decided as he watched Miles sucking his dick avidly. He fondled his balls, instinctively knowing what felt good and what didn’t. The urge to free Miles’s caged dick and to trust him with his manhood was strong.
Unfortunately, pussy was still on Miles’s mind, and Jordan had to wash all memories of it before freeing him. Then, and only then, would they be able to be together.
The possessive thoughts Jordan had came like a flood he couldn’t stop, just like he couldn’t control the cum surging up his shaft. He held it and forced Miles’s head up.
“You don’t have to swallow it if you don’t want to.”
The illusion of choice was one of the best incentives to break a new submissive’s psyche, and it would help reveal Miles’s true motivations.
Miles only smiled.
“I want to,” he said earnestly.
“Back at it. Don’t waste a drop.” Jordan caressed Miles’s jaw and let his hand wander down his neck before slumping back into the couch.
He imagined having Miles as his houseboy for the rest of their lives. Total access to him, however he liked, whenever he wanted. But the whole control craze faded into something softer the further he imagined their lives together. Control turned to care and submission into dedication.
They melted into the kind of perfection Jordan had only ever witnessed on film.
For now, he could only hope for that future.
In the end, he couldn’t keep Miles to himself forever unless he devoted himself willingly.
Jordan shot his load, and Miles religiously swallowed every single drop without complaint.
“Thank you, sir,” he said once he was done. “Was I a good boy?”
“You were,” Jordan replied, petting his head.
Jordan wasn’t gullible. Defiance was still present behind Miles’s false devotion.
Time was running out, and Jordan feared what desperation would do to him, or if he’d be able to contain it if Miles decided to cast him aside.
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