Taking One for the Team
There are powerful men out there who feed off the thrill of taking ownership over the bodies and minds of strong, vital, young men under their authority. This is the story of my first encounter with such a man. I would like to thank Ken for his assistance editing this piece.
The metal top of Coach's desk was cold as I gripped its edges, still in my practice jersey, bent over with my ass cheeks exposed to the air, framed by the straps of my jock. We'd had a terrible Monday practice, and as the captain I had to take one for the team.
Coach was a mountain of a man: 6'5" and a fit 235 pounds. He was tough, but fair, and we all worshipped him and craved his approval. We would do anything for him, anything to draw his rare praise.
I was beyond honored when he chose me as captain. I was nineteen, a little older than the usual senior. My parents had held me back a year, which set me up well for leadership. I'd gotten a full ride to Stanford for the next year.
I had admired the strong, tightly muscled leaders who had been captains before me, prototypical examples of young men at the pinnacle of fitness that only years of dedication as an elite athlete could produce. Coach had a type of leader he favored: hard bodied and square jawed, like a marine, the height of clean-cut masculinity.
As the captain, I, like those before me, was the voice and representative of the team with the coaches. I was the vessel through which Coach imposed his will on the team.
I felt his hand on my rear. I was nervous and had butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I knew this was wrong in thousands of ways, but Coach's word was law. I was desperate to please him, desperate for his approval, even if it meant that I had to allow him to use me for his pleasure.
I felt his thick fingers, coated in the same lubricating jelly we used to prevent tape burn on our ankles. I could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of naughtiness when they penetrated me. I struggled to relax my sphincter. Almost involuntarily, I pushed back against his invading fingers.
"That's it. You're hungry for Coach's cock, aren't you."
Embarrassed by my reaction, I remained silent. He removed his fingers, leaving me exposed. The chill from the window air conditioner hit the lube on my ass. Then I felt him line the tip of his cock against my hole and rub it up and down on the outside of my ass, mercifully coating it with lube.
"I want you to repeat after me. I accept Coach's cock on behalf of the team."
"I accept Coach's cock on behalf of the team."
I felt the tip of his cock push against my hole, which spread to accommodate the pressure.
"I am going to go slow. I don't want to hurt you because I need you to be ready to play this weekend. This is going to become a regular part of your senior year. I want you to be my bitch. I have always been pretty good at picking the boys who like to please Coach."
I wanted his approval and acceptance more than anything. How could he know that I would submit to his cock, that I would not turn him in to the school or tell someone? How did he know my devotion to him? It was like he could see through me. It was like he could see the dreams and most secret thoughts that swam deep in my brain.
He slowly pushed into me. I gasped as my ass stretched to accommodate his girth. Then I felt a painful little pop as my tight sphincter gripped him and closed over the ridge ringing the tip of his cock. I struggled to receive him, to relax my virgin ass.
I groaned.
