The thrill of standing naked in front of the others was completely different when locked in chastity.
The living room reeked of sweaty bodies bundled close together as leaking dicks sullied the floor with precum.
Henry flushed beetroot-red, his eyes dropping to the floor so as not to cross anyone’s gaze. His hole was still agape, unable to close after getting plowed by Charles, and the slight pain Henry felt was like a desperate prayer. A plea for more cocks to scratch the itch that bothered him. A single finger pressing against his prostate would do, but a wet cockhead would be even better.
He stood, exposed, painfully aware that everybody around him was hard while his own manhood was denied. Few things were more humiliating than that. His heart was pounding, his pits were damp, and the stale air around him hummed with raw sexual energy.
How could a quarterback of his stature recover from that? From being displayed like a bag of meat. He focused on the old wooden slats when someone slapped his ass.
“Look at you, dude,” Jeremy said. “Bend over.”
Henry stopped breathing. “I…”
“Bend over,” Jeremy repeated, spanking him harder this time.
Hunching over, Henry felt a bit of water trickle down his glutes. He clenched his asshole, but Jeremy was quick and stuck a spit-slicked finger into it. Sex prevailed over everything; hands were stroking cocks as glances lingered for too long. The sloppy sounds of tongues intermingling and mouths kissing filled the space, leaving Henry wondering how often he’d be used as a cum dump. When Charles was the slave of the house, he’d been fucked one way or another every single day. As Henry thought back on that, his mouth went dry, his legs trembled under him, and his clammy hands nearly slipped from his knees.
Shame pooled inside his belly, his abs contracted, and his muscles bulged as another finger breached his sensitive hole. All he could do was comply.
Obey and endure.
He remembered the contract, how it bound him to Oakfield House and its residents.
“Come take a look, Anton!” Jeremy called. “Prime jock pussy right there, so fucking pink. You did a good job stretching him out, Charles. He’ll be feeling you for a while.”
Henry swallowed, and Anton circled him like a predator, running a hand down his spine. Henry’s cock tried to get hard, but its cage kept it in check. The pressure was unbearable; the weight of his balls reminded him that he had more cum to give.
A month, he thought sourly.
If he’d just left, none of this would have happened. Desire had tricked him, and now this was his punishment.
A drop of precum pearled at the tip of his dick, but all the frat boys ignored it. They radiated with heat and had gathered around him to admire his freshly deflowered jock pussy.
The room had become increasingly warm, and the shower Henry had taken had been useless, all things considered. Perspiration dripped from his hairline, and his back and chest were beaded with sweat. He was a dirty, filthy thing. His head spun as he was groped, as his nipples were pinched, as his testicles were pulled.
“They’re so heavy,” Kyle told him, kissing Henry’s shoulder and then his neck. “They’re going to feel even heavier soon. Do you regret being here, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Henry admitted through gritted teeth.
“You wish you could leave?” Kyle taunted him, a cocky smirk plastered on his beautiful face.
“Yes,” Henry hissed.
“Too bad, you agreed to this, and I can see you’re loving this. Charles told me you loved getting fucked. Why fight it?”
Henry tensed up, and his tits stood at attention while his entire body heated up. The painful throb of his caged dick only made him clench his fists tighter. He was still bent over and getting scissored open, now by Charles, who apparently hadn’t had enough of him.
The smell of cock was overpowering, sweaty balls were at eye level, and Henry was too dizzy to do anything about it.
So, Anton helped by pushing him to his knees, “Kiss my nuts,” he commanded.
Henry frowned.
“I said, kiss my nuts.” Anton’s dick was rock hard, his frenulum taut and thick.
The first kiss was shy, and Henry understood from Anton’s sneer that it wouldn’t do. Instead of acting up, of risking further punishment, he brought his lips to the hairy sack presented to him.
“That’s better, bitch,” Anton chuckled. “Know your place. It’ll get easier once you do.”
Henry sprang to his feet and tackled Anton against the wall. “Who are you calling a bitch?”
“Wow, wow.” Kyle put his hands up, smiling reassuringly. “We’re all friends here.”
Henry increased the pressure on Anton’s throat. “Friends who treat each other like shit?”
Kyle placed a hand on Henry’s broad back, which instantly caused him to relax. His dark eyes weren’t his most mesmerizing feature, though. Instinctively, Henry was attracted by the thickness of his cock, the size of his glans. That’s when Henry’s head dropped, and his grasp over Anton loosened. Guilt washed over him, not due to his condition as the house’s new resident slaveboy.
But for his behavior.
He dropped to his knees again, “I’m sorry, Anton.”
“It’s all right,” Anton petted him, ruffling his hair. “But you’ll still have to be punished.”
Henry’s head snapped upward. “How?”
“A good ol’ spanking.” Anton moved over to the couch and slumped into it. “Get over my knee.”
Without a word, Henry rose up and silently propped himself over Anton’s knees. His ass was up in the air, his face close to the ground. His groin crushed under his own weight.
“Fuck,” Henry whispered.
The first blow landed without a warning, and the second set the pace. Henry tried to remain silent, but when Anton slapped his ass for the eighth time, he grunted. By the fifteenth blow, his reddened ass stung, and his cock had shrunk into its prison. Each slap stripped him of his dignity, and his eyes threatened to break into tears.
The pain was bearable, the rest wasn’t. He was surrounded by respected athletes. Hell, he was a respectful member of the football team, and here he was getting spanked. His hole ached for cock, and Henry had to shake his head when flashes of all the guys taking turns on him appeared to him.
There was no going back; he had to have them all.
He couldn’t deny his nature, even if he wanted to.
“Please!” Henry half-yelled.
“What’s that?” Anton asked.
“I want you to…” he choked, “I want you to fuck me. I want you to breed me!”
“Told you he was a real slut,” Charles commented.
“I thought you hated this?” Jeremy teased to his left.
Henry fell quiet, holding onto Anton’s muscular legs while mulling his answer over. Behaving like a whore was brand new to him, but his arousal was too strong to ignore. Even in pain, he found that he craved the power dick. He yearned for big hands to wrap around his throat as he gasped for air.
His hair was firmly pulled by Anton, “So, anything to say, boy?”
“I don’t… I don’t hate it, sir!”
“Good pussy boy.” Anton got up, pushing Henry off him until he was on the floor. “Get in position then.”
Henry was on all fours in seconds, allowing Anton to line his cock with his hole. The two of them were on the floor, overseen by the others. Anton spat into Henry’s entrance and finger-fucked him for a minute or two before ramming his cock inside him without further ceremony.
Each thrust was punishing, but Henry swallowed Anton to the hilt. His ass-lips flared around his girth. No resistance whatsoever. Balls slapped against his ass, and Anton’s big knob pounded his prostate relentlessly, milking wads of precum out of his locked dick. He was a compliant cock sleeve, the term that came to Henry’s mind as Anton grabbed his hips to pound into him even harder.
Around him, the jocks were kissing and stroking their dicks. Sharing spit and moans of pleasure while peeking at Henry and Anton.
Henry wondered if the guys of his football team would accept a slutty quarterback in their midst, and he shuddered when he thought of after-practice showers.
How would that work?
What if they saw the cage?
Fuck me…
Warmth spread inside him. A recognizable feeling. Cum flooding his insides.
Anton finished with a guttural groan, pinning Henry to the floor as he pumped his fertile seed into him until his balls were empty. Only then was Henry allowed to roll on his back, panting and exhausted and aching.
The others formed a circle around them and jerked off while Henry was kept on the ground. The first jet of cum was Jeremy’s; it nearly hit him in the eye. When Charles nutted, he aimed for his chest. The scent of cum held dominion over him, and Henry salivated as he was soaked by his mates. He grabbed his crotch and groaned in frustration when the plastic shell of the cock cage prevented his own release.
A month.
Only thirty days.
“Welcome, brother,” Kyle said. “We will make a fine slut out of you.”
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