Miles
Taking cock up his ass was something Miles McKinnon would have found ridiculous a couple of weeks ago, but now, the cum leaking out of his gaping hole was telling him otherwise.
A hand landed harshly on his buttocks, leaving a searing red mark and a lingering feeling of humiliation along with it. He peered at his throbbing dick, which bent downward, the circumcised head bulging, begging for attention and oozing with precum.
“Good fuckin’ whore,” a deep voice said from behind him. “You’re getting used to this.”
Miles didn’t reply; he only rolled over on his back and stared at the man looming over him. His legs were hanging off the messy bed, and his cock lay flushed against his hard stomach, his pale abs glistening with sweat and shame.
He had enjoyed it for the most part, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty for partaking in these sorts of activities. Miles had been a straight boy all his life, and had plowed so many pussy they had all started to feel the same. They were good, but they were just holes for him to use so he could get off. Now, being the hole changed his perspective; he wondered if the women he had fucked had felt the same afterward.
Full and empty at the same time.
Outside, the city moved on without care. Car tires screeched on the asphalt, people were calling for cabs, and police sirens could be heard in the distance. The neon lights cast bright splashes of color through the large picture windows, red and green lights that burned his retinas.
More cum seeped out of him.
“Fuck, the sheets,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry… My hole’s so damn loose.”
The mattress sank to his left.
“Show me your hole,” the voice demanded.
And without thinking, Miles exposed his ruined hole by lifting his legs and spreading his asscheeks.
He was muscular from all the training he had undergone over the years. Boxing, MMA, and powerlifting. He was a massive beast, a force of nature, now domesticated.
All because he had lost a bet.
He would get his revenge, eventually.
He smirked at the prospect.
A thick finger easily breached into him, and a second followed. “You take me so easy now, your training’s paying off.”
“Jordan, please, it’s so raw right now…” Miles pleaded, voice trembling as his body arched under the assault.
“Shut it, and take it,” Jordan ordered. “Be glad I don’t punish you for spilling out my seed, it’s such a waste.”
A third finger was added; this time, Jordan’s knuckles burned him. He was teetering between pain and pleasure, but Miles just stilled, legs up in the air and exposed. He was fingered mercilessly and was soon moaning like he was in heat. He squeezed his thighs against his waxed chest, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from screaming.
Each hit to his prostate got him closer to the edge, and amazingly, Jordan reached for Miles’s cock.
He had never done that; it felt like a blessing.
Or so he thought.
“The rules are the same, you don’t get to cum unless I allow you to,” Jordan reminded him with painfully slow strokes. “If you do, I’ll have to resort to more extreme methods to keep you in check.”
Miles’s chest tightened, his heart stopping for a moment.
What fresh hell was his handler cooking up? The fear that gripped him was partly born of annoyance; this guy would never get tired of reminding him he was under his thumb.
“What does that mean, sir?” He said, anger threatening to break the surface.
“You’ll see,” Jordan said. “Though I think I should’ve done it a long time ago. I know you’ve been misbehaving, fucking around, getting pussy.”
Heat rose to his cheeks. “No, I swear I didn’t, sir, I…”
A firm slap on his balls reprimanded him; his sack bobbed sideways, stinging from the pain.
“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, slut!”
Another slap ensued, and this time Miles fought back.
He had Jordan pinned to the bed in seconds, and the latter didn’t attempt to defend himself. He just stared at him with calm composure written all over his handsome features, tan skin, inherited from his Hispanic roots, dark and sharp eyes, and luscious locks of black hair, framing his perfectly carved face.
Jordan’s breathing was steady, and his hairy chest and happy trail only made him more glorious; he appeared bigger than Miles, even though they were built similarly.
“What are you gonna do, huh?” Jordan said, his cruel smile softened. “You asked for this, I’m only helping you explore.”
“I didn’t!” Miles yelled. “You… you made me…”
“I made you do it?” Jordan asked calmly. “In addition to being a cockslut, you’re a liar. You were slobbering on my cock even before I fucked you.”
The insult was delivered with infinite intimacy, but it didn’t come out as brutally as it should have. The tone he used only pressed on the point that Miles was lying to himself the most, and it made him more wary of his situation.
Anxiety gripped him.
He despised not knowing who he was.
He hated that it was all so complicated.
“You still see yourself as a straight boy, but you’re not. Your true purpose is to bounce on dick, take loads after loads. You have to admit that to yourself.” Jordan explained, taking the opportunity of Miles releasing his grip to capture his mouth in his tenderly.
The showers at the gym were where Miles had lost his footing; he himself knew that.
It was true that he had sometimes found guys attractive, but it didn’t go any further. He loved the smell of wet pussy in the morning, and plump tits flopping about as he fucked into the girls he picked up at clubs.
They loved his tattoos, the snakes slithering up his left arm and over his chest. His bad boy persona did the trick on most of them, and Miles has settled into a predictable routine where he didn’t even have to try.
He was proud of it, too; he had never gone soft when fucking. And each day was good to unload.
Sex was one of the most important aspects of his life, and it never included going down on another dude.
Until he met Jordan.
His uncut dick had fascinated him straight away, the way the skin covered the head, while his had been tightly circumcised. Even flaccid, it would’ve stretched a hole nice and wide.
It was then that Miles approached the Latino, drawn in by his confidence, or so he presumed.
It was also at that moment that his life took a turn for the worse.
Because each time they sparred, each time Jordan hit him, Miles felt his cock stiffen. It wasn’t too bad in the beginning. But two weeks ago, during a friendly boxing match that dragged on late into the night, Jordan noticed his little problem.
There was no hiding it anymore.
“You’re a gay lad, then,” Jordan said cheekily, a fire in his gaze. “I knew it, you brag about getting chicks too much.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Miles exploded. “I ain’t fucking gay!” He pressed on, taking a jab at the other man.
Miles didn’t miss.
They were both drenched in sweat, and Miles was feeling his balls and dick slopping around. His loose shorts gave them free range. They weren’t wearing any protection because they had agreed to a chill training session.
“Fuck, man,” Jordan said, massaging his jaw with his boxing glove. “I don’t give a shit about that, I’m gay, dude.”
“Oh,” Miles replied. “Didn’t take you for a dick lover.”
“I don’t like your tone. Especially for someone with a raging hard-on,” Jordan moved closer, light on his feet, his intoxicating scent reaching out to Miles. “You want this too, the smell and taste of cock on your tongue. You’re just too damn scared to admit it. You’re just a fucking pussy.”
“Bullshit.”
The atmosphere in the ring had shifted, and what had started as a fun competition had turned into a battle of wills. Jordan, broad and gorgeous and naturally domineering, remained cautious and composed. His knowing look didn’t display any cruelty, but comprehension. There was a bit of sadness behind his frown.
Meanwhile, Miles was attempting to hide his arousal by turning away.
As he was about to exit the ring, Jordan’s booming voice ordered him to stop. And for some reason, Miles froze in his tracks, and his dick jumped at the command.
“That’s good,” Jordan was closer now. “I think you’ll be easy to break. I couldn’t see it at first under all those layers of straight boy bravado, but now I can see it.”
Jordan was walking around the ring, gloves on his hips. There was quiet danger radiating off him, like a predator about to lunge on its prey.
“I got an idea,” Jordan started. “Let’s settle this in a match, no protection, nothing, no fatal blows, of course. But the one who wins gets to use the other however he sees fit for a full month. No permanent markings, no injury, but everything else goes,” he paused and leaned against the ropes of the ring. “You’d have to get tested, of course, and I’ll show you I’m STD free as well. Because if I win, I want to breed you any chance I get. You’ll learn to take dick like a pro.”
The proposition was straight out of a porn movie; somehow, Miles found it rather comical.
And yet, he hadn’t gone soft. He blamed it on his high sex drive, but his interest was piqued. It all had to do with the fact that he had never gotten a boner due to another guy before.
He also knew nobody would truly care in the big city.
It would be a completely different scenario back in his small Midwest town.
Now, at 21, he was free to experiment. Still, the shame of his youth and the doctrines he had been taught shouldn’t allow him to have such thoughts.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jordan asked with a sneer.
“No, I’m thinking,” Miles retorted. “I don’t know, dude, I’ve never done anything with a guy.”
“There’s a start to everything, I’ll tell you what. I’ll go easy on you when I fuck you for the first time.”
“Who says you’re the one who’ll do the fucking, I can beat you fair and square.”
Jordan laughed audibly. “Well, prove it, stud!”
It was then that everything changed. The match was swift and brutal; it left both of them bleeding, sweaty, and tense. Miles’s muscles were aching, his face was swollen, and at one point, he believed he had cracked a rib, which he didn’t, fortunately. He put his all into the fight, but Jordan won. The last blow sent Miles flying to the ground. It made him an easy target, and Jordan was quick to pin him in place.
“A deal is a deal,” Jordan whispered in his ear before licking it.
Miles’s fate was sealed.
The memory of his defeat still caused a sort of ache that Miles hadn’t healed from.
His focus went back to the present, on the man under him.
Jordan didn’t have to say a thing for Miles to release him and assume his position. There was no contempt in the way he forced Miles open once more, his fingers digging into him with a certain gentleness.
He was also kind enough to stroke Miles’s cock, at an exceedingly slow pace, that is.
All eight inches throbbed, spurting out clear precum.
The crown of his cockhead was shiny from all the polishing, and the feeling of his hole being stuffed with cum only sent him closer to the edge.
“I’m getting close, sir,” Miles announced weakly.
“What did my boy say?”
“I’m getting close, sir!”
“Not yet, you’re not. Sluts gotta earn their orgasms.”
The fingering became more frenetic, but the stimulation Jordan applied to his cock left Miles wanting more. It was too slow for him to cum, he was on the brink, dangerously close to spilling.
Jordan pressed against him, the feeling of his warm body bringing the comfort Miles painfully needed.
His nipples were a lovely shade of pink, pinchable. Luckily, Jordan had his hands full, but if he had had a third, he surely would’ve taken it upon himself to use it.
The lips of his tormentor pursed on his; they were soft and still bore the intimate taste of the rim job they had performed.
Jordan was always thorough when eating him out; he had admitted it was one of his favorite things to do to a guy. What Miles most hated, though, was how every plea for a blowjob was ignored. He had only been permitted to cum one time in the past weeks, and for someone who was used to cumming every day it was an impossible ask.
Which is why Miles had gone out of his way to find pussy to fuck.
He had found multiple, actually, but now he was coming to regret it. He knew Jordan was punishing him for it; it was his right as his handler. But it didn’t make his treatment any less frustrating.
Maybe, if he were to admit the truth, he would be partly forbidden.
“How’s that orgasm coming, stud?”
Miles opened his eyes; his legs were starting to ache, and his lips wanted to be kissed. “I-I can’t do it, sir, you’re stroking me too fucking slow. Can you go faster, sir? I’m begging you!”
“Only if you admit to what you did.”
“I…” Miles stopped himself from speaking another word.
“You… what?”
To lie, to admit the truth.
Miles wasn’t sure which decision was best.
Which one would grant him the right to cum, if any, and which one would warrant a more severe punishment? Fear was building up as his submission weighed more heavily on his mind.
“I did fuck bitches, sir, I couldn’t stop myself. You weren’t allowing me to cum, and…”
His balls screamed from the slap that followed, and then Jordan’s thick fingers slipped out of his hole swiftly, leaving him empty and leaking.
“I knew it, you horny studs are all the same. I knew I should have taken more drastic measures with you, but I wanted to leave you a chance to prove yourself.”
“Please, sir, forgive me.”
“I can’t, stud. You need to suffer the consequences of your own actions. And I got the perfect thing for that.”
Jordan took a little wooden box from one of his shelves. They were packed with memories, trophies from competitions he had won in high school and college, pictures from his travels, and video games. He was not much of a reader; his skill set was more focused on reflexes and problem-solving.
He handed the mahogany box over to Miles.
“Open it, your new life awaits.”
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