Bait and Switch

[SUMMARY UNTIL NOW: After gorgeous but cocky college football star Asher rudely rejected the Dom Henry for not being hot enough, Henry has finally got his revenge. Henry has Asher bound and naked with his cum forced down his throat. Will Asher be able to get out from Henry's grasp - or does some sick part of him want this?]

Chapter 3

Sick realization washed over me as I stared up at Henry while the last blast of cum shot out from my cock. It all suddenly made sense. Why the red-bearded Dom was so quiet. Why he walked away mid-scene. Why his dorm room had so much Hunter football memorabilia coating every surface. Why the cock I had sucked seemed so much bigger and hairier.

It was because Henry had set everything up for this moment. To have me on my knees and staring up past his still hard cock, into his stern gleeful eyes, me naked with my throat still coated in his cum.

I had fallen for his trap.

"Hello again, Asher," he said, and let go of my cock.

I stared down at myself, at the trails of cum that went from my belly all the way to my nipples. And I was horrified and disgusted with myself. This 300-pound first team asshole I had rejected had intimate knowledge of what my mouth felt like.

"I thought you might enjoy that, but wow..." he said, studying my cum. "Even I'm at a loss for words at how much you loved devouring my cock. Hungry fucking slut."

"You're a psycho," I said looking up at him. "Let me go."

"Are you really in a position to demand anything, right now?" he asked.

I glanced around. How was I going to get out of this hell? My hands were still cuffed to the closet. I flexed my biceps as hard as I could and let out a deep grunt as I dug my waists into the sharp metal cuffs and pulled. The closet handles budged and the rustic dragging of wood moving millimeters reached my ears.

Pain overwhelming me from the cuffs digging in, I closed my eyes and kept pulling, the image of the handles ripping off and my fist in Henry's face the only thing keeping me going.

"F----FUCK!" I screamed, and had to stop. Any more and there would've been blood. My body collapsed limp against the still intact closet as sweat dripped down my lips.

Sarcastic half-hearted claps reached my ears. "Good job, little muscle cow," Henry said. "That was a cute show you gave."

"I'll call the cops," I said with a breath.

"You could beg, but I'm not sure they'd want your dick-breath on their cocks."

"I don't know how you got the red-bearded Dom to agree to join in, but he'll set me free. And then I'll go to the police and tell them you raped me," I said with venom in my teeth.

Before I could see it, a world-spinning slap stung my face. "Listen to me, you stupid faggot."

Henry knelt down and gripped my face, forcing me to look him in the right in his eyes that were glowing with excited rage. "You signed up for this. You, literally, asked me for this. You sent dozens of messages begging to have this and far, far worse done to you. I wrote out what was going to happen to you tonight. I wrote out what you had to do. And I even told you a safeword to get out of everything anytime your little heart desired."

"You wrote?" I almost laughed. "You didn't write anything, that was-"

Then I stopped again. No, it couldn't be that-

I tried to swallow, but his cum still seemed to be coated on my throat. "Where's the other Dom?"

"Other Dom?" Henry asked with strange confusion and annoyance. "Oh, right. Leroy!"

The red-bearded Dom walked back in. Now fully clothed again, he nodded in deference to Henry and stood by the door, head down.

"Good work tonight," Henry said to him. "I'll have to reward you later."

"Thank you, Sir," Leroy said. It was like the world stopped spinning.

"You can head out now, Leroy."

Henry let go of my head and got up. I moved away from him until my head pressed against the hard wood of the closet. Putting his hand up to my face, Henry showed his phone, and open on the screen was Grindr.

More specifically, the last message I had sent Dom 4 Curious.

Henry typed something out, then showed me the phone again.

A new message from Dom 4 Curious: "Get it now, boy?"

My heart sunk and I felt my mouth go dry.

"So everything was a lie?" I asked, feeling uncontrollable water well up in my eyes.

"The opposite," Henry said. "Everything was me. All the words you read, every dirty thought that penetrated your mind. This message from you gave me a good laugh: 'Everywhere I go people stare at me wanting my body. But they're not hot enough to have it. Only you are.' Pretty ironic now, huh?"

"You... you still catfished me," I stammered.

"You had the safeword the whole time.  Look me in the face and tell me you couldn't tell the difference between Leroy's cock and mine."

I was silent. The safeword. He was right. I could have used it to stop the scene the moment I'd realized something was off about his voice, or his cock, or his chest. But I hadn't. Why hadn't I?

"That's what I thought. You know why you kept quiet? Because you were rock hard and leaking the whole time. Even if I had taken that blindfold off, if my cock was in your mouth you would've begged on your life for me to leave it there. Fuck, you actually came harder once you saw it was me."

He was lying. He had to be lying. I would've stopped him if I had known earlier. But then, staring up at his face, at his cruel eyes, why hadn't that killed my boner? If anything, the memory of that, the memory of his hard cock inches from my lips, just out of reach from my tongue, remembering how salty and hard and warm it had tasted on my lips...

I shook my head to get back to reality and realized Henry was across the room, putting his clothes on.

"So you're not gonna let me go?" I asked, still naked and feeling my cum begin to dry on my chest.

"I never said that."

He pulled his shirt over his large frame and walked back, his clothed body towering over me. He held his phone close to my face. "911" was dialed on the keypad.

"Look up at me and tell me you didn't like a single thing that happened to you tonight, and I'll press the call button for you," he said.

I stared at the phone. "I already told you, you catfished-"

"I said look at me, boy," a firm command echoed the room.

I gulped and felt his cum in my throat. Then, stared up, far up at the man who had done so much to me. Who still was keeping me shackled naked to his room. Those deep, dark brown eyes that pierced me and refused to let up. How could I have liked anything that had happened tonight? How could I even call myself a man if I did? Of course I had hated it. I hated every moment of him gripping the back of my neck and slamming his cock to the back of my throat, and jerking me off like I was cattle, and forcing me to beg for his cum, and...

That moment when I was swallowing his load, when all my thoughts erased except for "This is who I am meant to be."

I turned away from his eyes. "Just let me go," I muttered.

"What?" he asked, and I didn't even have to look to know he was smiling.

"Please," I said. "Please... Sir."

A moment of silence, then metal against metal, a click, and sweet, sweet relief as my left hand was free of the cuff. Then my right, and his strong hands were on my waist lifting me up until I was eye level to him. It almost felt strange after being on my knees the whole night.

"Thanks," I said under my breath.

He nodded, never stopping staring at me. I turned around, looking for my clothes.

"Where-"

"Do you want your shirt or your pants?" he asked.

"Pants first, I guess," I said.

He went to a drawer and grabbed them. I started to put them on.

"I saw your scramble on the 30-yard line during the scrimmage Wednesday. Fucking impressive," Henry said.

I stopped with one leg in. It took a second to recall that moment, and I had been the person who had done that. Running straight towards an opponent who's only mission was to bring me down and then twisting past him as he tackles empty air. It had felt great, but it was just a moment in one of many games that week. How had Henry remembered that?

"Thanks," was all I could say. I realized I couldn't recall any specific moment of Henry's play.

"Ben bitched all practice saying he couldn't believe that second team kid juked him like that."

A smile crept onto my face. Ben, he was first team defense I think, I forgot which position exactly.

"And it wasn't because he was having a bad game," Henry said to me. "You know how Ben can take down guys."

Honestly, I didn't. This was going over my head and I realized I was in my own second team world at practice when I shouldn't be. So I just tried to fake a nod.

"You're a strong QB," he said. "At least, for second team."

"Fuck off," I said with a laugh.

"I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a Hail Mary from you connect."

"That's why they're called Hail Mary's!"

"Might as well call them dumpster shots with you."

"Like you could do better."

"I know I wouldn't do worse."

"Wanna bet?"

He gripped the back of my neck as I stumbled into the last pant leg. "You'll find you want to be real careful what bet you agree to with me."

His grip sent shockwaves down my neck to my toes. For a moment I had forgotten just what kind of man I had been talking with. We were just flirting like two innocent kids, and then in one motion I was reminded of his power. Still, those fleeting seconds of casual, almost normal conversation had been nice to bask in, and made me almost think there was a softer side to him.

"Can I have my shirt now?" I asked.

Henry chuckled, then shook his head. "No changing your mind."

I stared blankly at him.

"Do you want your shirt or your pants? That was what I asked, and you chose pants. Your shirt I'm keeping as payment for my services."

He wasn't serious right? But as he sat down on the bed and put his hands behind his head in casual relaxation, the answer was obvious. "You expect me to walk through campus past who knows who, shirtless and cum stained," I said, about to boil over.

"Honestly, good on you for choosing pants. Think about running home with your scrunched up balls flapping in the wind."

I was speechless. My face burned red as I stood pouting. Any chance of thinking there was a softer side to him evaporated and I was back to wanting to tackle him to the floor.

"Give me my shirt," I said.

Henry opened the drawer and dangled my black t-shirt in front of me. "Maybe eventually. As long as you don't mind a few dozen piss stains."

I lunged at him. Threw my body against his, arms reaching for the shirt. We collided onto the bed and I felt the full force of his body against me. I wrestled my hands against his arms to pin him to the bed but he was hard to grip all at once. As I did, I realized that even though he was large, most of it was muscle.

My eyes grew wide as he threw my hands off his arms and spun my body to the mattress. I kicked my feet up to his shins to try and gain leverage. But he had the weight and the strength. I was pinned and he was staring down inches from my face, chest crushing mine and legs pinning my feet.

"Don't tell me you want round two already," he said, warm breath in my ear. I felt his clothes against my naked chest, his teeth brushing the skin of my earlobe, the pressure of his weight, and to my horror I felt my cock twitch.

"Just give me my shirt," I said, spitting the words out.

"You're so natural underneath me and helpless. I bet you're getting hard just thinking about me stripping you down."

"Fuck you."

"If you really beg, this time I'll stick in it." He smirked.

"I promise you you'll never get the satisfaction."

"Unfortunately for you, you don't have a choice right now."

He hiked his body up so his feet were able to kick off my pants. I felt his hard, musky soles begin to work off my pants. My mind raced. He was going to fuck me. And my cock was rock hard and leaking at the thought.

But if he fucked me, that was it. He completely owned me. Any shred of plausible deniability, of dignity I had was gone. I was first team's bitch for life. My pride was worth more to me than anything else.

"RED!" I screamed out the safeword.

Instantly, the weight lifted off me and any contact Henry had with me was severed in a moment. I was left alone on the bed as Henry stood up.

"Alright then," Henry said, nodding. He had a forced half smile on his face and eyes that stared at the wall.

"Alright," I said. Already, I regretted saying the safeword. It was spur of the moment, a cry of defiance more than warning. What had been said though couldn't be unsaid. I had made my choice.

"I'll get your shirt," Henry said, and moved to grab it from the bed.

"Wait," I said. "Don't. Please. I'm sorry." I stared at the floor, unable to see him.

"Asher-"

"Please," I said again.

There was silence. I looked up, and the fake, forced smile Henry'd had was replaced by the hint of a real one.

"Don't get too cold now," he said, the hint of a smile ballooning to a full-on smirk.

My whole body begged to reply "Yes Sir," but I swallowed. Which made me taste his cum again. Fuck.

I walked to the door, then turned back. "Once I leave here, this is never happening again," I said. To him, but mostly to myself.

"You made your choice," Henry said simply.

It was devastating.

I opened the door and took a step out. Realizing now that if anyone saw me, they'd wonder why I was shirtless. The consequences of my actions beginning.

"Asher," Henry said.

I turned back. That deep voice like an echo through the forest.

"Yes S-, so?" I said, catching myself.

He laughed, then became deadly serious. "I know something that will help you. With football."

This caught me off-guard. "What?"

"It's not a drug, or some who-do-voodoo bullshit. But it's also not something I can just give you."

"Sounds like bullshit."

"I did it with Ezekiel Richards for a year. I'm sure you know him."

Ezekiel Richards. He was the best quarterback we'd had in 25 years, and had graduated last year. "What is it?"

"Now you want to know."

"Just tell me."

"If you really want to improve, you'll have to come back to me on your knees."

I let out air in a scoff. So, this was all some fucked up power trip for him to get me to swallow more of his cum.

"I'm not forcing you to submit for my ego," Henry said. "It will only work if you come to me ready to submit."

"What is it?" I asked again. I'd never heard of anything like this. And for some reason, my mind was racing trying to figure out what strange thing it could be.

He just smiled and closed the door in my face.

It was a long, cold jog back to my dorm room. Not only was I shirtless, I was still commando from my trip over. Each jog my balls would hit the seams of my jeans. Night owls coming home from studying and hordes of partiers passed by me as I ran across campus. "Lost your shirt hot stuff?" one particularly drunk guy jeered at me. I just bit my lip and ran faster.

Close to my dorm, I rounded the corner, thanking God this was almost over. Why had I willingly chosen to humiliate myself like this? A figure appeared out of the brush, and I nearly toppled over stopping.

"Sorry!" I said.

The figure turned, and raised his brows. Much to my chagrin, I realized it was Jonathan, the first team quarterback. He stared at my sweaty chest, at the traces of my cum I prayed were hidden by the dim light.

"Trying to sweat out your lack of talent?" he asked.

"I- Not that you need to know, I was just over by A-Dorm," I said.

"Why were you at A-Dorm?" he asked.

Shit. Why had I opened my big mouth? The one guy I wanted to appear inscrutable to was him. I wiped sweat from my face in a nervous twitch.

"Mostly upperclassman like Henry live there," Jonathan said.

"I know," I said. "I mean, I didn't know about... I was just seeing a friend."

"Cool," Jonathan said, dripping with sarcasm.

"Should be a good game tomorrow," I said, willing to say anything to change the subject.

"You'll have a good bench to watch me," he said. Then he waved me off and walked away. I watched him shake his head before I facepalmed. Great. I looked like an idiot in front of that dickhead.

Tomorrow was game day. Seats were packed as they always were, even though we were shoe-ins to win. I sat on the bench with Malcolm and the rest of second team, shit talking as usual. My eyes now focused beyond just Jonathan to Henry now.

It was like I was seeing him for the first time. Henry was a monster on the field, his massive arms bowling down defensive linemen like they were puppets. When an o-line was inches from Jonathan and Henry threw them to the ground like he was ready to spit on them, I realized how futile it had been to ever try to wrestle him. This man could destroy me if he wanted.

It started with just a simple sack of Jonathan. Malcolm leaned into my ear, "You would've skated right past those guys," he said. His hand moved up my thigh as I felt his teeth nibble the lobe of my ear. "And I would've congratulated you after the game just how you like it."

I shifted in my seat, trying to refocus. There was a blitz by the opponents out of nowhere that demolished us. Before first quarter we were down 0-7. And then by half-time I watched in dismay as an interception cost us another touch-down.

Coach Tillman was livid throughout halftime, threatening to sub in second team. I silently wished he'd stand by his word. Henry pushed as best he could, but our gains were meager. By the time the final whistle sounded, we were 0 to a shocking 21.

"Words are useless to describe how terrible that showing was," Coach Tillman said in the locker room. "DO YOU EVEN CARE?!"

"COACH YES COACH!" we all roared at the top of our lungs.

"I don't see it!" Coach Tillman yelled. "That was pathetic. You should've wiped the floor with those shit stains. The only redeeming part was offensive line with Henry, and even that couldn't save us."

He rubbed his brows.

"Next week, the roster is open again. NO ONE is safe. NO ONE. First team can fall to second team, second team can fall out their ass off the team. And you second team shits that sat on the bench, maybe one of you has what it takes to rise up and do something for this team."

My heart erupted like diet soda and mentos had dropped in it. This was what I had been waiting all year for. This was my chance. To finally show Coach, to show everyone who I really was. First team material.

That night, I couldn't sleep at all. Just projected back every play like a theater in my mind.

The stress overwhelmed me and I began to stroke my hard cock to let it out. Looking up muscle men fucking each other and kissing. Yet my mind went back to Friday night and being bound to a closet with a cock down my throat. I gripped my cock harder and remembered how good Henry's hand had felt.

I wished he was the one touching it right now. That his cock was in my mouth. I should only be allowed to cum with his cock inside of me. He should be spanking my ass right now for even touching myself without his permission. Me, a stup-

I blew over my chest with loud gasps. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not again.

Sunday practice I came in ready to wow. Yet for some reason, it was like I'd grown an extra foot. I was stumbling over drills I should've been able to do in my sleep. In the scrimmage, I got sacked more times than I could count. What was going on? Coach Tillman's screams of disappointment echoed in my ear all night as I lay staring up at the ceiling. I had to do better. No matter what it cost me. The feelings of shame bubbled inside my stomach like acid.

Enough was enough. I jumped up and jogged across campus. To a dorm, and to a door I had to force myself to knock on. I closed my eyes as half of me pleaded that no one would be home.