By Keith Hernandez
I was living with Scott now. I kept my place, partly for appearances, partly as a back up plan, a hedge. But 99 percent of the time I was at Scott's.
It was very clear that he got off on topping me. On humiliating me. He loved showing his dominance. Sometimes it was just ordering me around—pick up this, put this on, go get that...rub my feet.
Sometimes it was a spanking. Never a playful, light spanking either. When I got spanked I got spanked hard. For punishment. And to put me in my place.
Scott liked that he was getting over another man. He got off on turning out another man. A straight male. A formerly straight male. He had yet to ask me to do anything femme. It was clear he liked that I was a man. He could fuck women anytime. And he did fuck women. There were times I would sleep in the guest room while he screwed some chick's brains out.
Sometimes he would make me give head after she left. Either that night or maybe in the morning. He loved that I sucked him off like that. With his cock still reeking of pussy. He never asked me to watch or participate. No three-ways yet.
I wondered if he would toss me out if he found a girl. A girl to get serious with. But he never had one over for more than a night or two. He still mostly fucked me. I know I pleased him. I know it pleased him that I gave it up to him. I know it pleased him that on some level it always hurt my pride to give it up. On some level he got off on the fact that I submitted each and every time.
It wasn't that I was naturally gay. Not at all. It was that Scott
turned
me gay. That is what he loved, that is what he got off on, and it thrilled him over and over. Each and every load I swallowed, each and every time I took it up the ass, it turned him on.
Sometimes he would amp things up. Sometimes he needed to really break me.
One day he told me that I was to "present myself" when he came home, whenever he texted me the time. 5 o'clock or 7 or 10pm or whenever he said.
"Present myself?" I asked.
"Yes," Scott said.
If I got a text like that, no matter what, I had to be waiting on the rug in the entryway, with my head down on the floor, my ass upturned, lubed, and ready. I never took off my jock, I knew that was a no-no unless expressly permitted.
So there I was, waiting...my shaved hole spread and facing the door as the key turned. The door opened...and sometimes he walked right on past me like nothing. Other times he kicked the door shut and dropped right behind me, entering me roughly and giving my rear end a savage fucking until he exploded deep inside me.
Sometimes I took it like a man, gritting my teeth. But sometimes it got to me...
Sometimes it broke me and I came like a woman. Squealing, crying out his name, begging him to stop.
"Please no. Please don't make me cummm oh God please not like this...unngh unnnngg!"
But it was no use. When I reached a certain point I started groaning from somewhere deep inside, leaking and dripping semen as I ramped towards an orgasm. And then my begging would switch. Then I begged him to keep going...then I begged him
not
to stop.
"Keep going sirrrr...ungh ungh ohhh don't stoppp! ohhh it's your puss Daddeee please make me pleeease God don't stoppp ohhhh fuuuuuckk..."
And I would have an orgasm from being fucked up the ass. I didn't even need to jack off, although sometimes I would. I would come right there on the rug while that big thick cock plugged me hard and deep.
It left me no pride. No masculinity at all remained when he was done with me. And Scott would rise to his feet and walk off like no big deal. He tore my ass apart and ground my manhood under his heel, and then made himself a sandwich. I would crawl to the wall and pull myself up before limping off to the bathroom.
One time I flipped on my back and was holding my legs spread way apart when he came in. He liked that. I could tell by the way he shoved into me and held my legs against his chest while I whimpered and struggled to take his size.
I was softly moaning with each thrust and crying out when he went uncomfortably deep. I could feel he was hitting my prostate and I knew no matter how hard I fought, he was probably going to make me cum.
Scott turned me on my side and the next thing I know his hand grabbed my dick and started to pump it. Wow. He had never done that before and I just lost it.
"Ohhhh no no no, you're going to make me cum...ohhhh ohhhh!" I couldn't believe he was going to jack me off and make me cum while fucked me.
I had no control. In a few moments I was spurting my load on the rug and screeching like a bitch in heat. He got me good that time. I was panting and dazed at his utter dominance of my sex.
Scott pulled out with a hard grunt and sprayed my face with jizz before standing. I let some of the sticky strings run into my mouth and tasted the bitter spunk.
"Clean up the rug," Scott said. "You came all over it."
"Yes...Yes sir," I said meekly, trying to pull it together.
————————
One week, however, Scott switched things up. Whenever he fucked me, he finished before I could. Even if I was almost there, even if he was giving me a reach around, even if I was begging like a total slut, he would pull out.
I was never allowed to masturbate or relieve myself, so as the days piled up, so did my sexual tension. He would fondle my nipples, and tongue my ears and the back of my neck. He spent extra time teasing my hole, but he would not let me get off.
I didn't dare say anything, but I pleaded with my eyes and groaned in frustration as he would pull out and empty his big balls all over my face. It was agonizing. I sucked on him and would turn and offer my pussy, hopeful he would make me cum. But he would put my mouth back on his cock and finish, or jack off on me.
The next day, Scott told me he was having some guys over to play poker.
One of the guys was a mutual acquaintance. The other people I didn't know. I didn't think anything about it at first, but on the night of the game he mentioned me waiting on everyone. All this time I thought I was going to be playing.
But no, Scott wasn't going to let me play. In fact, I was going to be serving and bringing everyone drinks or whatever they wanted.
"Oh. Okay," I said, realizing I was to be a glorified maid for the night.
Scott was particular about what I wore that night too. First, I had to put on tennis shoes and long socks that pulled up over my knees. My shirt was a form-fitting tee that was so short it didn't reach my waistline. A jock was out—I had to wear a woman's thong instead.
Scott wanted me to wear a girl's mini-skirt too, but I begged him to let me wear something else.
"Please, I will look like...a woman...in the skirt. Please can I just wear shorts?"
Scott relented and I packed my cheeks into some snug shorts instead. He liked how my ass looked in the tight shorts, so at least I avoided the humiliation of being in a skirt.
The guests finally starting arriving and I hung back as long as I could. I felt really self-conscious when Scott introduced me and told them to let me know if they needed anything because I would get it.
