Category Archives: Story

Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 13

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By Greg Alexander

After the ordeal with the itching gel, in fact, as I have explained, I finally began to quickly get most of the feet in the frat down my heart.

As I got better and better at that task, of course, the frat brothers began to look for now excuses to punish me, and began to stress more and more the importance, not just of learning to identify each frat boy not just by licking and smelling his feet, but also by sucking his cock, licking clean his ass crack and swallowing his piss.

Each cock of course had it’s very distinctive own shape, and in time I also became better and better at identifying each one. Some of them were easier than others . . . Bryce’s cock especially was so enormous that it was hard to mistake for anyone else’s. It was a question of identifying which particular way their cocks curved when they were fully erect, obviously whether they were circumcised or not, how much pubic hair they had and how clean they generally kept it, and countless other more subtle sensory cues. Some of the guys moaned softly as I sucked them off, some of them grunted, some of them even w some of them were stone silent.

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Story

The Examination – Part 7

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By Slavebladeboi

I sat back in the bondage chair and watched. David was all but making love to his brother. The leather restraints that held Brandon to the cross squeaked as his wrists put pressure on them, twisting them in his ecstasy, his brothers hands massaging his nipples and reaching down to gently stroke him to a point of no return. I could see them whispering. David stopped and turned.

Why?

Why what?

Why would you do this?

What?

You fucking know what! You playing with us so when you’ve finished you’ll chuck us back to that greasy, sadistic perv!

I stared at him. It’s certainly not what I had intended but then I wasn’t sure what exactly I had intended.

Is that what you think?

We don’t know what to think. Bran thinks he trusts you. Me, I know better, as does my ass.

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Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 12

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By Greg Alexander

My situation did not improve over the course of the next several days.

By the end of my first day tied down over the spanking bench, no fewer than 23 alpha males on testosterone overdrive had, in the course of that single afternoon and evening, made me worship their feet and suck their dicks, and then, in punishment for my consistent inability to identify even one of them with the blindfold on, much less recite their sports facts, aggressively spanked and then fucked me.

The spanking, in particular, was excruciating. Nothing, nothing, could quite compare to having 23 muscular athletes in rapid succession deliver a stream of unrelenting punishments to my behind. By the end of the day, my ass felt like it had been seared by a blisteringly hot iron, and it felt like a train had careened through my asshole. My legs were frozen in an wide open spread eagle, my ass was as defenseless as ever, and my inner sphincter and prostrate were throbbing relentlessly from the repeated violent large-scale invasions to which they had been subjected over the course of the past 6 hours. My legs quivered uncontrollably, even though I was unable to move them at all.

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Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 11

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By Greg Alexander

The brothers of Delta Psi were out, and they were getting hammered.

Trevor was downing his 6th beer of the night, and compared to most of the other guys, he was taking it easy. Across the table from him, Hank, his face flush with red under his Stetson, was gulping down another pint of Guinness. Collin and Reid were grinning and slamming their glasses together forcefully as they gulped down their Logger’s ale. Bryce, for his part, was doing shots of vodka, and although the bottle of absolut in front of him was more empty than full, he seemed only mildly affected. Wes and Shane were the only two pledges who had been invited along. Wes was downing shots with Bryce, trying to keep up, and obviously not succeeding, he was already completely smashed. Shane was sitting next to Trevor and tapping his flip-flop to the beat of the background music in the bar. He had also had his fair share of shots, and his tongue was loose.

They were at Dirty Nick’s, the frat’s favorite hangout. Midterms were finally over, and nobody in the frat had seen their GPA so low that they were in danger of being kicked off any of their teams. It was reason enough to celebrate.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 9

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By lthr_jock

The next day, Davis had a day off work but he still started off early with a heavy two-hour session at the gym and an eight-mile run. As he towelled off after his shower, he looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. The gym was definitely working on him – he now had some serious definition on his abs under his pelt of hair, and when he did a double bicep pose his arms swelled impressively. His legs were similarly growing, and his arse was definitely getting tighter. His new high and tight haircut looked good against his craggy face, and removing the beard and moustache had taken 10 years off him. He grabbed his electric razor and shaved, remembering to run it around his head to preserve the effect of the haircut.

He padded naked through to his bedroom and opened up his wardrobe to decide what to wear today. The card he had been given the night before had an address on one side and the words “Cohiba Esplendidos” on the other side. The address was close to a local shopping centre, so he decided to drive there. He grabbed some clothes and started to put them on.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 8

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By lthr_jock

Davis submissively allowed himself to be led across the club, the thick leather of the collar around his neck somehow as reassuring as it was arousing. As they moved through the crowd, he felt hands running over his leathers, caressing his muscles through it, and with a groan he pressed against them. He felt a hand fumble at the buckle of his Sam Brown and looked down to see who it was. As he did so, Fletcher stopped walking and jerked on his leash.

“Eyes FRONT, Sergeant.”

Davis obeyed and fixed his eyes on Fletcher’s face. Fletcher dropped the leash and stood where he could get a good view. Davis felt the Sam Brown being undone and the leather strap fed out from under his right epaulette. He could feel the straps dangling down against his leathered legs as the unseen hands unbuckled his jacket and unzipped it. Without moving his eyes, he could see glimpses and reflections in the mirrored shades Fletcher was wearing. Several men were clustered around Davis – all of them wearing some form of leather or rubber, though some were virtually naked.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 7

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By lthr_jock

Davis was gasping as he pounded up the pavement at the end of his eight-mile run. Going on a run was not unusual for Davis – the length of the run and what he was wearing was. He had on a pair of black Underarmour compression shorts, a black and orange pair of Adidas trainers and a sleeveless orange and black compression vest. He had on nothing else except his iPod, which was docked in a holder on his right bicep. Today’s run had been a good one, so he’d done eight rather than five miles. It felt like he was floating along, so he had cranked the music up and ran around oblivious to the stares of the public, who got an extremely good view of the bulge barely hidden by his shorts.

As he approached his house he saw someone stepping away from his doorstep. He pulled out his ear-buds. “Hey there – can I help you with something?”

The man turned and Davis recognised him, though he wasn’t totally sure from where. It was a 6-foot tall young black man – maybe in his late 20s. He was wearing a tight pair of leather jeans, boots and a white wife-beater vest under a leather jacket. His hair was neatly trimmed and he was clean-shaven.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 6

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By lthr_jock

Fletcher grinned to himself as he led Sergeant Davis down to the garage level. The Sarge was clearly having trouble keeping up due to the transport chains, and his shuffling walk only made the chains clank more loudly. Fletcher made sure to keep his pace fast so that Davis had to work to keep up – all the more difficult as Davis couldn’t see out of the headbag.

Fletcher led Davis to the backdoor of a transport van and helped Davis inside. There, he secured the transport chains to a ring in the floor and locked Davis inside the van before clambering into the driving seat. As he drove across town, he fondled his growing cock as he thought about what was in store for Davis.

The journey took about 20 minutes – but to Davis it seemed like hours. He couldn’t see anything, and the back of the van was uncomfortable and noisy. Finally it stopped and he heard the sound of boots on gravel as Fletcher walked around to the back of the van. He heard the low rumble of voices outside the van, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Suddenly, the door of the van was opened, his chains were unlocked from the bolt in the floor and he was being pulled outside. There were multiple hands on him – three men at least – and from the feel of them they were strong and clearly used to dealing with restrained people. They grabbed him around the arms and started to march him off. He tried to keep up by hobbling along, but they were moving too fast and he soon tripped. The hands held him upright but did not stop – they just dragged him along until he struggled back onto his feet.

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