Garrett's Brown-Noser

Disclaimer: This story is a gay authoritarian fantasy. No part of it is based in fact, and none of the characters are intended to resemble real persons, living or dead. It features a domination/submission relationship between two consenting men above 18. If this type of content is offensive to you or illegal in your area, or if you are under the age of 18, please do not proceed.

The following morning, after the exhausting evening I had spent at my now-master Garrett's feet - where he essentially gave me a glimpse to his world of obscenity and lewd sexual desires - I was sound asleep in my assigned room.

"Get up, shitstain."

Awakened by a smack so mighty that it knocked my skull off the edge of the bed, I opened my eyes to the sight of his totally naked body, with Garrett's monstrous balls and soft, foreskin-shielded cock dangling above my face.

"What time did I tell you to wake me up?", he yelled, with an increasingly aggressive tone.

I looked at the clock on my left to see that it was already 08:20.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, Sir. Sir, I slept in, Sir," I shrieked, getting down on my knees.

"Point my cock at your bed, you good-for-nothing cum dump, and make sure you get some on your pillow."

"Sir, please don't do that, Sir. Sir, I'm begging you, Sir," I pleaded, bowing my head to kiss Garrett's giant, hairy feet.

With an effortless kick, my skull was mercilessly banged against the bed frame.

"I'll tell you what, brown-noser. You repeat what you just said while kissing my asshole, and I'll consider it."

Knowing that I could potentially spend my next eight hours of sleep on a wet mattress reeking of Garrett's urine, I rushed to press my face into his dirty, never-shaved asscrack, pucker my lips, and give his filthy butthole the deepest, most affectionate kisses I could come up with.

"Sir, please don't wet my bed, Sir."

My voice was on various levels of obscurity, as I moved my lips between different corners and depths of his absurdly damp buttcrack...

"Sir, I'll make sure to wake up earlier next time, Sir."

...which must've created a hilarious sound effect for him, no wonder he was tittering the whole time.

"Go lower, pussymouth."

Obeying, I dragged my lips just below his asshole.

"Lower."

My lips reached the densely-haired point where his taint met his asscrack, and my nostrils were now stuck to his awful-smelling butthole.

"Sir, I have nowhere else to sleep, Sir," I begged between the breaths.

He must've gone for a long run before waking me up, because the level of humidity of his buttcrack was unusual. Not only was my entire face soaked in his warm sweat, but it was dripping from the chunky hairs above onto my nose. I found myself cringing at the harshness of the scent.

"Sir, please have mercy on me, Sir."

I was so busy attempting to breathe through Garrett's overpowering odor that I wasn't expecting what was coming. His asshole erupted with an offensively loud and sturdy fart that continued to vibrate around my nose for two seconds straight. The intoxicating stench was pure sulfur with a rich protein essence, which was less than surprising considering the amounts of meat that he consumed on a daily basis.

Too scared to piss him off again, my only choice was to allow every molecule of his fart to travel through my nasal passage. When it ended, I fell to the floor, dry-heaving, so repulsed I could throw up, with no escape from the sound of his laughter.

"That felt good," he remarked, adding insult to injury. "I've wanted to do this to you ever since you moved in, and it most definitely won't be the last time."

It made my flesh creep to learn that I was going to undergo this experience again, probably more than once an hour, for as long as I lived under his roof.

A true sadist, it appeared that he wished to see less compliance and smooth performance, more pointless, feeble resistance and disobedience, just for the fun of making me obey anyway.

"So, I thought about it. You did such a good job making love to my shithole, but you still need to learn your lesson."

Still sick in the stomach from snorting Garrett's fart, I no longer had the energy to do any more begging, especially when that only seemed to aggravate things. I simply wrapped my fingers around his now-semi-hard shaft, stroked it back, and aimed it at the headboard.

"Don't forget that this is technically my bed. You're just lucky to be sleeping in it."

As soon as I took his cock into my hand, dark yellow urine stormed my bed with such a force that it penetrated my mattress within seconds. I had no choice but to watch every drop as it saturated my place of sleep, and the humiliation was complemented by his laughter from above.

"Lick it clean," he ordered, announcing that his bladder was finally empty.

Garrett watched me flick my tongue across his piss slit, with my face leaning upward, in the perfect position for him to drop a sizable ball of spit on it. It exploded right between my eyes, which gave him a nice, well-heard chuckle.

This session was over when Garrett simply pulled his cock out, walked away, got dressed, and left for work.

Throughout the rest of the day, I realized that he had turned down the AC to accommodate his now-full-time nudity, without any consideration to the fact that I lived there too, and still had to wear clothes myself.

Soon enough, a home delivery let me know that the relatively warm temperature wouldn't be that big of an issue, as he had ordered four flamboyant maid uniforms for me online, and they were revealing and delicate enough to let some breeze in.

Garrett returned home early, at 18:00., with two huge underarm wet spots. A wide grin appeared on his face as I rushed to kneel at his feet and welcome him by kissing his shoes, looking ridiculous in a maid uniform.

He took a good couple of minutes to watch and titter to himself at the joke that I was - kneeling, with feminine clothes covering my masculinity-depraved, weak build, French-kissing another man's boots.

"Undress me, faggot."

I immediately obeyed...

"Sir, yes, Sir."

...by undoing the buttons of Garrett's shirt first.

As soon as I slid it over his shoulders, he grabbed me by the back of my head and vigorously locked my face into his right armpit, cutting off my air supply. Suddenly, I found myself in a dark, humid space, where my skull was secured so firmly that I wasn't even able to struggle.

When he finally loosened his hold, I was so desperate for air that I had to fill my lungs with the head-lighting aroma of his armpit sweat. The more of it I breathed in, the more I realized how rich and potent it was. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and made sure to mark me with his testosterone by rubbing my nose and lips into his abrasive hair.

I decided to improvise, hoping that using my tongue to wash his tangy armpit sweat away would help reduce the aroma. I started at the bottom, next to his nipple, and managed to lick every drop going up to his bicep, then to his shoulder.

"Do the other one, bitch boy," he instructed, grabbing my head and moving it to the other side.

I made sure to lick his equally rank left armpit just as thoroughly and comprehensively as I had done the right one. This time, he even made me hold tufts of his armpit hair with my lips and suck on them to make sure they were clean.

"Keep going, fuckface," Garrett said, pushing me down on my knees.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

I continued by taking off his boots, removing his socks, and neatly putting them in the shoe cabinet nearby. Then, I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and lowered them to the ground so that all he had to do was step out of them.

After I pulled down his boxers, he turned around. "Spread them," Garrett demanded, presumably referring to his asscheeks.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

I placed my hands on either side of his buttcheeks and pried them open.

"Get to it, brown-noser. My ass needs a good cleaning."

I picked through the hairs on the inner sides of his asscheeks with my tongue, tasting and swallowing every drop of sweat I could collect. I went from the bottom up on the right side of his buttcrack, then from the top down on the left one, until I found myself close to his taint.

From there, I made my way up to his asshole, and worked on removing the pungent mud that covered it. When it seemed to be clean, I started to draw circles on his anus using the tip of my tongue, gradually moving it towards the center.

He didn't seem to have any patience. "Stick your tongue in there, and don't take it out until told," he ordered, grabbing a fistful of my hair and cramming my face in so tight that my nostrils were shut.

"Stroke my knob and balls while you do that."

I obeyed, caressing Garrett's wrinkled hair-covered nutsack with one hand, and kneading the length of his now-rigid cock with the other, only adding to his satisfaction as my tongue swam inside him. I could hear the hot-blooded pleasure in his growingly loud moans while his asshole constantly tightened and relaxed around my tongue.

Without a warning, Garrett took one step forward. Knowing better than to let my tongue slip out without being told, I crawled forward so that my tongue was catching up with his butthole. That's when I began to realize that I was going to spend a lot more time doing this, and it would be my default position for many days to come. It never failed to amuse him when he walked me like a dog with my face nestled in his asscrack.

I wasn't in a position that allowed me to see his face, or anything but his butthole and the hair around it for that matter, but I was sure he was smiling the whole time as he walked.

"Go get the water ready, ass-licker," Garrett demanded, violently grabbing my neck.

I had my face pulled out of his butt to find that we were in his four-piece bathroom.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

It only made it more degrading to know that he had only made me give him a tongue bath and because he was about to shower, and he valued his own sweat and dirt way too much to let them go to waste.

Over the next ten minutes, he made me soap, scrub, and rinse every inch of his naked body with my bare hands, leaving my maid uniform to get drenched under the shower. I made sure to get into his armpits, crotch, buttcrack, and even between his toes, forced to feel every muscle on my fingertips, and acknowledge his physical superiority over me.

Garrett hadn't lost his hard-on ever since the moment my tongue touched his asshole earlier, and there was only one way to get rid of it. While I was washing his thighs, he backed me into the corner so that his feet were on either side of my hips, and shoved his stiff cock between my lips.

For a prolonged period of time, he enjoyed fucking my face without any mercy, with so little space between his crotch and the bathroom walls that I couldn't move my skull in any direction to escape his iron-hard prick poking every corner of my mouth and throat, while I helplessly choked and whimpered.

At some point, I was so desperate for air that I felt the need to put my small, weak hands on his hips and feebly try to push him away, at which he exploded into cold-blooded laughter. He ended up shooting a hefty load at the heart of my mouth, which gave me a proper taste of his creamy essence before I had to swallow it.

When I had done a thorough job of cleaning his body, he closed the tap, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and dragged me out of the shower cell.

"Towel," was all Garrett had to say.

I picked up a large towel I had previously placed in the bathroom...

"Sir, yes, Sir."

...starting with his hair, then his upper body, down to his feet, paying extra attention to his privates.

"I've got to drain the main vein," Garrett mentioned, walking towards the toilet.

I knew what was expected of me. Face sandwiched between his butt muscles, fingers around his member, pointing it at what I assumed would be the ideal position not to wet the seat.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

Even after the extensive cleaning I had given his butthole - first with my tongue then soaping it and scrubbing it with my own hands - it still had a faint musk to it. Then again, it was a big, hairy, hard-at-work man's ass. That was as fresh as it could be.

"Sir, I think I can still do a better job cleaning your hole, Sir," I hinted, since I was going to put my face back there sooner or later.

"Why don't you give it a lick?"

With that, I touched Garrett's asshole with my tongue, lapped it, and eventually stuck the tip inside. Along with the hostile sound of his sturdy piss stream splashing against the toilet water, his butthole gaped open with a massive fart that was silent at first, then became more audible as he grabbed my head and pushed my tongue inside.

"Is that better, brown-noser?"

Tasting his fart was definitely not as brutal as having to take it up my nose, but the flavor was still intense enough to make me nauseous. He let out a taunting sigh of relief as he continued taking a piss.

I couldn't help but clench my teeth in disgust. It was a reminder that even freshly showered, he could always find a way to abuse my sense of smell. If he wanted to blast each one of his farts right up my nostrils, he could, and totally would.

While I tilted the tip of his cock back just before the last drop, he instructed, "Whenever you have the chance, you must thank me for my fart by kissing my nuts. Got it, asswipe?".

"Sir, thank you for farting in my mouth, Sir," I said intermittently between the kisses I was giving his full, round balls. "Sir, please feel free to do that to me whenever you feel like it, Sir."

There I was, kissing a man's nuts and verbally thanking him for farting down my throat, just after I had served as his shower and bathroom helper. I felt ridiculous for every word I was saying.

"Good job, cocksucker. This time, you managed to get all my piss in the toilet. As a reward, you get to take a swig."

I wasn't dumb enough to think this was in any way optional.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

In obedience, I pulled my face out of Garrett's ass and lowered my head down the toilet. Even saturated in water, I could taste the sourness of his urine.

"Get yourself cleaned up, pussyboy, and do it quickly. I expect to be chugging on a cold beer soon, and I expect you to be chugging on my wood too," he said, watching me flush his piss.

"Sir, yes, Sir."

Within ten minutes, I finished showering, changed into a new maid uniform, brought a huge beer can from the fridge, popped it open, and set it on the coffee table in the living room, where Garrett was relaxing and using his phone. I knelt, picked up his soft organ between my lips, while he completely ignored me.

"Hold it there for a minute."

I froze right where I was, kneeling, with my mouth only serving as a moist shield for Garrett's fat knob, but that didn't stop it from growing inside my skull.

"Tickle my nipples."

Using the same technique that Garrett had used to please himself the evening before, I reached up to his chest and started to rub the ends of my index fingers from the dorsal side on his fully soft nipples.

"Good boy."

His panting became heavier with each passing second, as the nipple message he was receiving was only making him more eager to attack my throat. Less than a minute in, he couldn't take it any longer.

"Go ahead. Work that pussymouth. Take care of my dick."

Since Garrett never told me to stop stroking his nipples, I had to be as focused on keeping them aroused as I was on my worship of his cock. My job was to maximize his delight, and that's exactly what I did.

The look of satisfaction and relief that appeared on his face, biting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut, let me know that I was doing a job to be proud of. Garrett must've been in pure bliss because within minutes, he was ready to empty his balls down my throat...

*WHACK*

...but first, he was going to have some fun his own way.

I found myself on the floor at his feet, with a burning sting on my left cheek. What had just happened?

"Did I tell you to stop, cocksucker?"

I pulled myself up, wrapped my mouth back on his hard tool, and put my index fingers back on his nipples.

He passed his chunky fingers through my hair and impaled my throat until my nose was digging a hole in his pubes, and it was obvious from his breathless moans that he was close to cumming.

A few more seconds of deep-throating would've made him ejaculate down my throat, but instead, his left hand assaulted my right cheek with another heavy blow that landed me back on the ground. That's when I realized that he was using me to edge himself.

While trying to resume my position, I heard a hawking sound, and I knew what was expected from me. I opened my mouth, and caught Garrett's mucus-loaded spit on my tongue, right before taking his cock back in.

Right before his third ruined orgasm, I received a huge strike that abruptly caused my head to hit the floor. Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and he went back to laughing his ass off.

"Suck my balls."

Through the pain in my neck and the burn-like aches on my face, I was able to collect myself and French-kiss Garrett's beefy nutsack, then take it in one testicle at a time until the whole thing was in my mouth.

I could feel the hair of his balls and crotch everywhere, at the back of my mouth, between my teeth, inside my nostrils.

As I would later realize, this wasn't going to end anytime soon. He was enjoying it too much, and cumming in my mouth was not the point anymore. He let my torture continue for much longer than I thought he could resist to flood my throat with his semen.

He spent the next half-hour or so using my lips, tongue, throat, and hands to indulge himself to the point of cumming, then cutting off his own orgasm by pitilessly launching my skull a couple of feet to the side.

The living room was filled with my sounds of retching and sniffling, while Garrett groaned at the top of his lungs throughout every second of my oral service, and insensitively cackled at my predicament.

Whenever I was nursing on his cock, Garrett liked to decorate my face with yet another fresh loogie. By the end of the session, my eyes, my forehead, my cheeks, and the bridge of my nose were covered with his spit.

At one point, I was too exhausted to get back up, and that's when Garrett decided it was time to give it a rest. He straddled my face so that his knees were on either side of my head and he was facing my lower body, and thrusted his solid rod down my throat, while I caressed his nipples. It slid right in, ruining any attempt I was making at catching my breath.

Ruthless, non-stop throat-fucking went on for just under a minute, accompanied with more helpless gagging from my side, which only added to his enjoyment. He orgasmed with six fire-sure loads so deep down that I didn't get a chance to taste any of them before it would go straight to my stomach.

Thank you for reading chapter two. Any feedback will be appreciated.