Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 04

By Greg Alexander

I tried to dart past them, springing forward with a surge of adrenaline and aiming for the narrow gap between them. Using just one hand, Collin casually grabbed my arm and arrested me in mid-stride.

Still I kicked and struggled frantically. But at just 5’9”, with a lithe but nevertheless scrawny build, I didn’t stand a prayer against two muscular jocks at the height of their athletic abilities. Without even breaking a sweat, Collin dragged me back into the room, and Trevor quietly shut the door.

At that point I was a little hysterical. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I opened my mouth and started to scream at the top of my lungs.

Calmly, Trevor reached into the workout bag that he was carrying and fished out a role of duct tape. I tried to run away. But Collin effortlessly took my head into a vice-like grip and held me still while Trevor yanked a long piece of tape off and wrapped it around my face, covering my mouth. Still I tried to scream, but Trevor quickly wrapped the tape around my head in several loops, until my voice had been completely muffled.

“Christ,” Collin muttered. “I thought you said you had the little cum slut trained.”

“I did,” Trevor said grimly. “I guess he forgets fast.”

I was still trying to wiggle away from them. Collin now dropped me to the floor, flipped me over onto my belly with his strong hands, and proceeded to pin me down by kneeling on my back with one knee. There was a limit to how much I could struggle, since my hands were still, after all this time, securely cuffed behind my back. Now, however, Trevor produced a second pair of silver handcuffs from his bag and used them to cuff my ankles together — he quickly locked them, and tucked the key away into whatever mysterious pouch he liked to store my handcuff keys. He retied my knees together with shoelaces.

Then, as if all this weren’t enough, he took out the dog collar and snapped it once again around my neck. Then he took a metal chain out of his bag — I hadn’t seen this yet, it must be new, I thought. He snapped the top link on the chain to a hook in the front of my dog collar, then threaded the chain down along my belly, underneath my pubes, yanked it between my legs (which were shut tightly together as my knees were tightly bound), and up behind my ass. He then pulled the chain TIGHT — very very tight, so that my dog collar was jerked sharply down and I was forced to keep my head permanently bowed. Then, making sure the chain was perfectly taut, he hooked the other end of the chain to the handcuffs around my wrists, so that my arms were now completely immobilized. Trevor adjusted the chain so it fit neatly along my asscrack, biting into it sharply. It hurt like hell

Trevor stood up and backed away. “Caught ya,” he said, softly.

Collin and Trevor, standing over my prostrate body, suddenly cracked up, both letting loose with peals of deep masculine laughter.

“Dude,” Trevor said, thumping Collin on the back and wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh man. So he really fell for it, huh?”

Collin was still chuckling. “Oh yeah, Trev. Hook, line and fucking sinker. He showed up at my room exactly when you said he would.”

“And he really thought you were gonna go file the disciplinary action against me?”

“Dude, I was an amazing actor, you should have seen it. The little bitch THANKED me. `oh . . . gosh . . . gee mister . . . you’re really swell!'” he said in a high pitched mocking voice.

This imitation provoked a second outburst of laugher from both of them.

“God,” Collin was saying, walking around me to the other side, examining my backside. “His ass is bruised black and blue! Did you do that?”

“Whatya think? Yup . . . that’s the pledge trainer’s work right there for you.”

“Jeeesus. How many strokes did you give him?”

“Oh . . . sixty-four. Hard ones, too.”

Collin just whistled. “That’s fucking sick, man.”

Trevor jabbed at me roughly with the toe of his tennis shoe. “Well, obviously the little escape artist here didn’t learn his lesson too good, did he?” He shook his head. “You know, half of me was thinking, after all I’ve put him through, my roommate’s way too much of a pussy to ever try to get away from me. I got him where I want him, I got him trained. But then I thought again. And I realized the little wimp would tuck tail and run away at the first opportunity. So I was gonna have to show him that he couldn’t get away — that I am smarter than him and he’s always gonna get caught. And that when he gets caught, he gets punished.” He turned to Collin. “So, you got his laptop?”

“Yup. It’s right here. I put it in his backpack and took the whole thing.”

“And the password worked?”

“Uh-huh.”

“OK, cool. Just be sure to hang onto it.” Trevor leaned forward and addressed me directly for the first time. “OK, listen up footstool, cuz I’m only gonna tell you this once. I gather by now you’ve met my buddy Collin here. He’s an RA. He’s also the frat’s treasurer, and the frat’s been having some financial trouble lately. So we cooked up a little deal.” He grinned again. “Show him the disciplinary proceedings form, Col.”

Collin fished into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He smoothed it out and gingerly set it down on the floor below my nose. I squinted at it — it was hard to read from up close.

It was the same form that he had given me before, that he’d said he would get filled out on Trevor. Now the form was filled out. He had signed on the RA line, and the Dean of Disciplinary action had also signed. There was just one problem: the form didn’t accuse Trevor of wrongdoing. It accused ME. And the accuser’s signature . . . was Trevor’s!

I stared at it.

“See, apparently, you’ve been molesting Trevor here for months,” Collin snickered. “You’ve got this obsession with him. Whenever he falls asleep, you somehow end up in his bed, trying to suck his cock. Trevor tried and tried to settle this amicably, but he finally lost it today, came over here and filed this complaint. And if the campus police ever search your computer, after today — since you were nice enough to provide us with your password — they’ll not only find a huge file of pictures of Trevor sleeping, and letters written about how much you want Trevor to fuck you. It seems they’ll also find a large fucking stash of stolen credit card numbers there as well.” Collin clucked his tongue. “Stolen credit card information, Stevie? Don’t you know that stuff’s illegal?”

“Carries a pretty stiff jail sentence, doesn’t it?” Trevor suggested helpfully

“Of course,” Collin added, “it might look a bit suspicious. My and Trev being frat brothers and all. They might suspect maybe we set you up. But then, the disciplinary dean is an alum of the frat, and so is the campus chief of police. So we really didn’t have much of a problem getting the dean to sign this form. And we also won’t have any problem at all getting the police to search your computer, and to determine that the stolen information is all yours. There’s certainly no way we could have put all that stuff on it. After all,” he said with a little smirk, “it’s password protected.”

I shut my eyes. I was totally speechless . . . and not just because of the duct tape over my mouth.

“Of course,” Collin said slyly, slowly withdrawing the form and folding it up again, “as the RA who has signed the form, none of this is gonna happen unless I submit the form to the disciplinary board, and turn your laptop over to the campus police.”

Trevor picked up. “If he does . . . well, definitely expulsion. When they find all the stolen credit card info, probably some jail time. And for sure some really, really fucking nasty publicity. Not to mention the very special welcome I’m sure the inmates will have planned for you to make you feel at home.” He paused, and glanced at me. “Would you like to know whether I’m gonna send in the form?”

I nodded slowly.

“Well . . . see, that depends on how well Trevor here tells me you’ve been behaving from now on.”

They both chuckled at this.

Collin turned back to Trevor. “So . . . we agreed on Wednesdays and Sundays, right?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Trevor nodded. “I’ll bring him to the Frat every Wednesday and Sunday for the rest of the semester, plus on other special occasions, like we said, and we’ll supervise him jointly there.” He turned back to look at me, and his cold blue eyes twinkled happily. “But we’re not starting that till next week. The little bitch is all mine for the next seven days.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe he actually came running to you, trying to get me kicked out of the school. Oh man. Talk about a bad idea.”

“What are you planning to do to him?” Collin asked

Trevor scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah . ..I’ve been thinking about that all day.” He took a step closer to Collin, leaned over, and began to whisper in his ear. As Collin listened, he seemed to be trying hard to keep a straight face. Then, after a second, he lost it and cracked up again.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“No man. I’m serious.

“Can I come by later and check this action out?”

“Sure dude, no problem. I owe you one.”

“Nah, we’re even.” Collin shook his head. “Wow. Well, I sure am fucking glad he’s your bitch boy, and I’m not.”

Trevor thumped him jovially on the back. “Ah, no dude. You’re my bro.” He grinned. “Why do you think I haven’t made you my bitch already?”

Collin punched him in the arm, reached around and tried to put him in a headlock. “Shut the fuck up!” he scoffed. “You’re a freshman, Trev. Don’t be getting all uppity on me now.”

They horsed around the room for a few seconds, then, grinning, they disengaged.

“Cool,” Trevor said. He glanced back at me, as though suddenly remember I was there. “Hey,” he said, suddenly. “Doya think the little faggot is still hard?”

“Well, if he had a boner the whole time you were paddling him, I guess maybe the fucking pervert likes being blackmailed, too.”

Trevor studied me. “I’m gonna flip him over and see,” he said. He took a few masculine strides over to my prostrate body, and nudged me roughly over with the toe of his tennis shoe. When I didn’t roll over onto my back, he gave me a slow kick. I winced as I rolled over 180 degress, my hands suddenly pinned painfully underneath my strained body. My cock, which had been facing down toward the floor, was suddenly fully visible again, and it was more inflamed than ever. Trevor leered down at me, trapping me underneath his treaded sole, and prodded my balls with the toe of his shoe as he talked, which only served to turn my dick on more. “Yup,” he said. “Regular as clockwork. Oh man, the little creep wants to get off so badly.”

Collin was looking thoughtfully at his bed. “Huh,” he said. “One of my T-shirts that I put in the dirty laundry is sitting out on the bed.” He furrowed his brow, thinking about it. “It’s my frat T-shirt. With the Delta Psi logo. Do you think your little bitch boy . . .”

“Moved it?” Trevor said, his eyes flickering. “Yeah, I bet he did. I’m sure he did. I bet that’s why he was trying to run away when we came in — cuz he found the shirt, figured you were in my frat, and began to wet his undies. Just a little too late.” He looked at my trussed up body again.

“But why’d he move it?” There was a pause. “You don’t think the creep . . .”

“Whacked off on it?” Trevor finished the sentence for Collin, then snickered. “Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what he was trying to do.”

“Oh man. That fucker.”

“He really is so desperate to cum that he’s willing to beat off using your fucking dirty laundry,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “Pretty incredible.”

“Listen, man,” Collin said. For the first time, he sounded genuinely pissed. “You gotta teach that little bitch boy that he can’t pull that shit. As long as you got him trussed up like that, hands behind his back, and you don’t let him cum, he’s gonna keep trying to beat his meat anyway, anywhere he can, rubbing his nasty little dick on your stuff.”

Trevor looked at me with a malicious smile. “Not after today.”

“Even if you do all that shit to him, Trev, and even if you threaten to do it all again if you catch him whacking off, you’re still not gonna prevent him from rubbing his fucking cock against the carpet when you’re out, and that little cum slut is already so hard that that’s all it would take for him to spray his cream all over the floor. You know how horny you and I get, man, and I bet ya he’s even randier. The freaks always are. He must be just desperate to whack off. If you’re not gonna let him cum, you gotta keep him on a tighter leash.”

“Ok,” Trevor said, thinking about the problem. “So what should I do?”

“I dunno. Maybe you should just let him whack off.”

Trevor looked at me coldly. “I should just let him get off thinking about me, about my body? Uh-uh, man, no way.”

“Well,” Collin suggested, after a second of thought.” I might have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hang on. You watch the little fag, make sure he doesn’t try to cum or anything while I’m gone. I’m gonna go down the hall and see if this dude is in his room.” Collin was walking over to the door.

“Who’s the dude?” Trevor asked.

“Just a guy I know I think I might be able to borrow something from him.”

Collin walked out.

He was back after just a few minutes, and he was carrying something in his hand. From where I was lying on the floor, I couldn’t see a thing. What was he holding?

“Do you have it?” Trevor wanted to know eagerly.

Collin grinned. “Oh yeah. Do I ever. It was a little awkward trying to explain why I needed it . . . but yeah I have it.”

“What is it?”

“Well . . . see, this dude has a collection of exotic toys that he keeps stored in this box under his bed. It’s kinda weird actually, but I guess he thinks it’s hot. He’s got all kinds of crap — including this.”

Trevor was studying it. I tried to crane my neck to see it, but couldn’t move.

“What the fuck is it?” Trevor said, staring at it.

“Dude, you haven’t ever seen one of these before?”

“No! I don’t check out those websites, Col. Tell me what the fuck it is!”

“It’s a chastity belt,” Collin said. “A chastity belt for guys.”

He suddenly held it up to the light, and my whole body went cold.

I studied it with dread. It wasn’t so much a belt as a cock cage. It was made of a weird combination of steel and leather, meshed together. It was small — but it looked effective. There was a tubular meshed cage — six silver rings, forming concentric circles, spaced tightly together, joined together by leather bindings to form a narrow cylinder. Then there were two leather straps connected to the device, each strap equipped with a brass padlock. Finally, there was a metal hook connected to one of the straps.

Trevor just stared at it. “Holy shit, man,” he finally said. “That’s so fucking sick.” He walked over to Collin, took it gingerly into his hands, and examined it cautiously. “So . . . you can actually put this on a guy’s dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Did your perverted buddy show you how?”

“Oh, yeah. See, this leather locking strap goes around his cock, the other around his ball sack. I think my buddy said this model is called “the gates of hell,” or some weird shit like that. Each strap secures to the cock cage with a brass padlock. Then, just to make sure the thing can’t come off, you can link this hook, here, to something else — like that chain he’s wearing would be perfect.” Collin gestured toward the chain that was still wedged between my asscheeks, connecting the dog collar to my bound hands.

Trevor continued to study it. “And there’s no way a guy wearing this can cum?”

Collin shook his head. “No way in hell, not if it stays on right. If a dude is wearing it, and you fasten it right, then your cock is totally encased — no way for it to touch anything. You sure as hell can’t whack off. There’s an opening at the end for your cock head to let you piss, but that’s it.”

“Huh.” Trevor ran his finger over its surface. “So . . . how long can you keep it on someone?”

“Oh, I think you can keeep it on for weeks, if you want. Probably even longer.”

Trevor nodded with satisfaction. “Good,” he said. He glanced over at me again. “Let’s put it on the fucker.”

I wanted to try to desperately wiggle away, but — mindful of the new leverage Trevor had over me – I didn’t dare. I couldn’t have moved far, at any rate, and just in case, Collin held my body down while Trevor fastened the straps around my cock and balls, tightened them, and then latched them into place. The contraption was now on tightly and securely — I could feel it wasn’t going to budge. It was squeezing my ball sack far too tightly to come off. But, for good measure, Trevor flipped me roughly over, yanked on the chastity belt’s hook, so that the whole contraption was being tugged at from behind, and snapped the hook around one of the links in the chain wedged between my ass-cheeks.

Trevor then took my rock-hard cock in his hand. The very act of him touching my dick sent powerful shivers down my spine — I began drooling precum. My chest was heaving. Trevor blew lightly, sadistically on my cockhead. I gasped.

“Hope you’re enjoying this, foot slave.” He said. “It’s the last thing your overworked dick is gonna feel for a long time.” With that, he slipped the metal cylindrical cage over my cock, snapping the base of the cage to the straps with bronze locks. As he effortlessly tightened the chastity belt still further, I stared at the metal rings sheathing my dick. It was completely secure — I couldn’t feel a thing. My cock was still aching, still hard as a rock, my whole body crying out for Trevor’s massive man-paw to continue to clutch it — every fiber of me wanted to explode in a violent, spasming orgasm. But my cock was completely sealed off. Until Trevor decided to unlock the belt and remove it, nothing could provide me with relief. My cock was locked away permanently.

“Alright,” Trevor finally announced. “I think that should hold. Thanks, man. Well, do me one more favor and help me get him back up to my dorm room, will yah?”

Collin grabbed a big sleeping bag that was lying along the side of the room. “Just carry him up in this.” “K. Help me lift him.”

The two frat boys grabbed me on either side, and like a bag of produce, dumped me into the big sleeping bag head first.

“Hey — thanks for all your help man,” I heard Trevor say. “Seeya later.”

The bag was heaved up into the air, and I felt us moving. I wondered helplessly what Trevor was planning for me next.

I had to wait a while longer to find out.

I felt Trevor drag me back into our room — or what I guessed was our room, since I couldn’t see a thing. He hung the sleeping bag up by the tightening cord on the top, from what I guessed must be one of the towel hangers or other hooks mounted on the dorm wall. There I hovered, dangling from midair in a sleeping bag, completely tied up, my erect cock fully caged and inaccessible, listening to Trevor’s footsteps echo around the dorm. I shook my head. How had I ever let things get so fucked up, I wondered? After all this time, I still hadn’t cum! As time passed and I became increasingly desperate, I tried, once, to rub my cock up against the soft fabric of the sleeping bag, but the infernal cock cage worked all too well — it really was the gates of hell, and I had abandoned all hope by entering it. I felt like I was going a little crazy.

I heard Trevor sit down in what sounded like his big easy chair. He flipped on the TV — it sounded like he was listening to ESPN again. This time it was a tennis match. I wondered, with a sense of exasperation, if he ever watched anything other than sports.

I think he read for a while — it was hard to tell, but I thought I could hear flipping pages. Then he talked on the phone — it sounded like he was flirting with some girl who went to another college. They talked for a while — by the end of the conversation, Trevor seemed to have convinced her to come visit him the next weekend. (At one point in the call, he mentioned that he had pushed two beds together in his dorm, so now he had “a new king-sized bed” with plenty of room for two). In the background, I could hear the noise of the tennis match. Through it all, I sat there in the sleeping bag, dripping with sweat, afraid to move a muscle.

Finally, after a while (I was completely losing my sense of time by this point) I heard Trevor get up, come over to me, lift the sleeping back off the hook, and unexpectedly flip it over. I tumbled out onto the floor, blinking at the sudden light.

“Hello, foot stool,” Trevor said, grinning at me.

After warning me that if I screamed again, he would make me very sorry that I had, Trevor unwrapped the duct tape from around my mouth.

“Please sir,” I sobbed, as soon as my mouth was free. “Please sir, do what you like with me, but just let me take off the cock cage for one minute and cum. I’m going crazy. I have to cum! I’m so sorry I tried to run away from you. I won’t ever, ever, ever do it again, sir.”

“Damn straight you’re not gonna do it again, boy. Now that Collin’s got your laptop and that form, if you ever disobey anything I say ever again, I’m gonna put your sorry ass in prison.” He ignored completely my pleas to be allowed one orgasm. Instead, he reached into his gym bag now and took out the dog leash – even though he had already hooked the chain to my collar, he now hooked the leash on as well. “But just in case that fact hasn’t penetrated your thick fucking skull, I’m gonna make sure you learn your lesson.” As he said this, he took ahold of the leash and began to drag me across the dorm room floor. He was heading for the bathroom. I could scarcely move, with my hands still tied behind my back (they had been that way for almost a day now, I thought grimly) but I shimmied along behind him on my knees as best I could.

“Please sir. I’m sorry sir!” I was still saying desperately.

“Yeah?” He glanced behind at me scornfully. “Are you also sorry you took the first opportunity you could to tattle on me like a whiny little bitch, and tried to get me expelled?”

“Uh . . . yes sir. I’m very sorry about that too sir!”

“Uh huh.” He jerked on the leash. “Well, trust me. You’re gonna be a whole lot sorrier by the end of this week.”

I was dragged into the bathroom. As I mentioned already, our dorm bathroom is absolutely filthy. Trevor never cleaned it, ever, and not wanting to get stuck with all the work, I had not cleaned it in a long, long time either. The tiled floor was absolutely covered with dirty grime and muck, the toilet seat and the entire porcelain surface of the toilet was a dirty mess, and even the sink was filthy. The air was stale, and it smelled bad. The drain in the center of the floor didn’t work very well, and there was always a tiny puddle of dark shower water backed up and sitting in the middle of the bathroom.

“Alright,” Trevor said, dropping the leash once he had dragged me to the middle of the floor. He walked over and shut the bathroom door. “Now, let’s go over a couple of things.

“One. Stop fucking talking to me. You keep trying to fucking talk to me. `Please, sir, don’t do this. Please, sir stop, it hurts. Please sir, I’m very sorry sir. Please sir, let me cum sir.’ I already told you, I don’t want to hear your girly ass voice unless I ask you a direct question. For a while it was fun to hear you beg and grovel, but now it’s just annoying as hell. The only reason I took the tape off your mouth is that you’re about to need to use your tongue, again. But it sure as hell isn’t for talking. You got that?”

I nodded wordlessly. I couldn’t really look up at him as he was talking, because the chain attached to my dog collar kept my head perpetually bowed — all I could really do was stare at his sneakers.

“Hey — I said, you GOT THAT??”

Yes sir. I understand sir!!” I quickly said.

“Good. Two. More generally. Just in case you haven’t gotten the picture yet because your even dumber than I thought, you are no longer going to class, for the rest of the year, unless it’s MY class to take notes for me. Collin has already filed a form withdrawing you from all your classes. From now on, your entire life is about only one thing: ME. MY needs. Pleasing ME. Doing whatever the fucking hell I say.

“Let me elaborate, in case that’s not clear. Like I said, this week is punishment week. And then from now on, there’s a new motto around here. It’s this: Trevor doesn’t lift a fucking finger. From now on, your gonna do all my homework. If I get grades I don’t like, you’re gonna be punished. You’re gonna do all my laundry. Your gonna pick up after me, put my clothes away, shine my shoes. After I wake up every day, you’re gonna make the bed.

“Three: all of your possessions — every single thing that you own, from this second on belongs to me. Understand? It’s no longer yours, its mine. As of this moment, I now own your cellphone, your DVD player, your camera, your shoes, and every fucking last scrap of clothing that you used to consider yours. I own your socks, your underwear, your towel, even your fucking toothbrush. If you ever want to use any of those things, you will have to beg me for them, as they are now mine. And since you aren’t allowed to speak to me unless I ask you a direct question, you may find that somewhat difficult.

“So what does that mean? You should assume that whenever I direct you to do anything, unless I tell you different, I mean for you to do it bare-ass naked. If I say to you `bitch boy, go sit out on the quad,” and don’t tell you anything else, you are gonna go out the quad wearing nothing but your fucking birthday suit, and that handsome chastity belt.

“Now, four: I’ve been a little strapped for cash lately, but that problem is solved. When I want money from you, you’re gonna give me some. You may be wondering where your gonna get that money. Well, I’ll tell you: you’re gonna get it from a campus job that I’m gonna find for you. On Wednesdays and Sundays, and for other special events, you’re gonna work over at the Frat, like Collin and I agreed. Otherwise, your ass is mine. Whatever I say goes. And if you ever try to complain about any of this to another soul, or to in any way escape from me, ever again, I’m gonna march downstairs and tell Collin to get you expelled and arrested. And before I do that, I’m gonna punish you again.

“Last, five: you are of course my sex slave. Whenever I tell you to, anytime time of day or night, in any position, for however long, you are gonna suck my cock. If I am horny, and I can’t find a real bitch to get me off, you’re gonna do instead. And if I am for any reason dissatisfied with the blowjob I receive — if you take too long, or if you go to fast, or if you gag on my massive cock, or if your teeth ever touch my dick, or if you ever fail to swallow my cum — I will punish you for that. I also plan on whacking off a lot in front of you. I can whack off wherever and whenever I want. I can whack off while I’m sitting in my easy chair with my feet propped up on my new foot stool. Every time I whack off, you are gonna watch me closely, as you sit there, with your tiny little dick trapped in that cock cage, and you are gonna think about why you don’t deserve to ever stroke your cock again. And when I am done, you are gonna lick up my cum, and thank me for it.”

“Do you get all that?”

I stared at him — or, more precisely, at his shoes.

“I said do you GET all that you little bitch??”

I was totally defeated. He had me by the balls in every way. Even if I hadn’t been completely tied up at his feet, even if I hadn’t been locked in the room, even if my cock hadn’t been imprisoned in a tiny chastity device, even if he hadn’t been far stronger than me and easily capable of subduing me, he still would have been able to blackmail me into doing whatever the hell he told me to.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. “I get it.”

He chuckled. “Aren’t you wishing you hadn’t complained about your ipod now?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I am wishing that, sir.”

“Aren’t you wishing you had apologized to me when you had the chance?”

“Yes sir. I wish I had apologized to you, sir.”

“Aren’t you wishing you could cum right now?”

“Yes sir. Very much.”

“Well . . .” he shrugged. “As they say, it’s water under the bridge.” He paused, almost gleeful. I could tell he was enjoying every minute of this. “Would you like me to tell you your first punishment now, foot stool?”

“Yes sir.”

Without further ado, Trevor bent down, lifted the toilet seat up, and tied the end of the leash to the toilet seat. He double-knotted it. He had left a good amount of slack in the leash, so that I could travel a radius of about 8 feet from the toilet — enough to cover most of the bathroom floor. Nevertheless, I was now chained to the toilet until Trevor daned to untie me. With my hands still cuffed behind my back, and my ankles and knees also tied together, there was no way of escaping.

“Bitch . . . in addition to being my foot stool, you are also now my toilet slave.” He paused. “Let me show you. Lie on your back directly in front of the toilet.”

He stood there, looking at me, waiting. Moving slowly, I managed to scoot my naked body across the filthy bathroom floor and then lie down directly in front of the toilet bowl I was now leashed to. Because of the way my dog collar was chained to the handcuffs behind me, I couldn’t put my head down – it was forced into the awkward position of remaining propped up, so that I was staring down the length of my body, across my naked torso down to my bound knees and ankles. The chain connecting the dog collar and my handcuffs was biting savagely into my ass now – I winced.

“Good,” Trevor said. Without warning, he suddenly stepped forward and stepped onto me, placing his two white, high-top tennis shoes firmly on my chest. I gasped involuntarily — the pain was extraordinary. My jock roommate, standing 6 and a half feet tall and weighing probably around 200 pounds (of mostly muscle mass) was suddenly bearing down on my chest. I felt like I was being crushed.

Trevor had a knack, through his bondage, of forcing me to stare at his feet. He had tied me to the foot of his bed so I had no choice but to stare at the soles of his feet while he slept. He had chained my dog collar to the handcuffs behind me, so that I had no choice but to keep my head permanently bowed and stare at his shoes while he talked. And now, with my head forcibly propped up, I had no choice but to stare directly at his massive athletic feet, sheathed in big laced up snakers, clumped down on my chest. He was wearing ankle socks — the only kind of socks frat boys will wear — and these socks were so low that both his big, smooth, masculine, tanned ankles, and ankle bones, were clearly visible, and indeed directly in front of me. They were so close that I could clearly smell the odor of gym practice — I remembered that he had put on dirty socks, and his shoes were smelling manly and foul. My mouth started to salivate. I suddenly, desperately, wanted him to let me take off his shoes and lick his feet. Something about being stood on top of while I lay, naked, on the filthy bathroom floor made the whole situation especially degrading.

“See,” Trevor was saying. “This is the foot stool part. And this is the toilet slave part.”

While I was lying underneath him, struggling to empty and fill my lungs under his weight, Trevor unzipped his crotch and took out his massive, eight inch cock.

“I really need to piss,” Trevor announced. “I’ve saving this up for the last 2 hours, just for this. But today, I’m gonna try something new — I don’t think I’m gonna use my hands. Let’s see how much I can get in the toilet bowel.”

With a massive fooooosh, Trevor let loose. A yellow stream of piss shot out of his dick. It started out shooting down into the toilet bowel, but without Trevor aiming, it quickly strayed off couse zig-zagging across the toilet seat, shooting down onto the tiled floor, and then spraying directly onto me — I felt a warm shower of it sprinkle over my head. Trevor just stood there, unconcerned, continuing to piss all over the bathroom floor.

“Huh,” he said, as the stream finally slowed to a drip drop, and few final splashes fell on my heaving chest. “Well, a lot of it didn’t go in. Ooops.” He shrugged, as he stepped off of me. I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Get up on your knees,” he instructed curtly. Straining my muscles and wincing with pain, I managed to wrench my body up, leveraging myself despite the fact that I couldn’t use my hands. As I knelt there, Trevor took his big dick and rubbed it against my hair, wiping away the last remaining drops of piss.

“Good toilet slave,” Trevor said. He reached for the roll of toilet paper that we had sitting on the window sill, took it in hand, and held it before my eyes.

“Ya see this?” he demanded.

“Yes sir.”

“Well,” he smirked, “the thing about toilet slaves is that when you got one, you no longer need this.” He suddenly took a step over to the bathroom’s tiny window. The window was closed, but he cranked it open, and with one fluid masculine motion, hurled the toilet paper roll out the window. Then he cranked the window shut again.

“Now,” he said, “since we’re all out of TP, you’ll

hafta clean up all my piss up yourself.”

I stared at him.

“You deaf or something? Get to it, toilet slave! Get it all up, every last drop — off the toilet seat, off the toilet’s side, off the floor. And also make sure you clean off the drops that landed on my shoes.”

“Um . . . yes sir, of course sir. Could you please just uncuff my hands and get me a rag sir?”

“No,” he said flatly. And evil smirk spread across his face. “We don’t need any of those things as long as we’ve got your tongue, bitch boy.”

While Trevor stood there, looking on, I bent my head down to the floor and began to slowly lap up his piss off the filthy bathroom floor. Trevor offered helpful suggestions from behind — “you missed a drop over there, lick it up now,” “come on, faster, you piss-licker, I don’t have all day!” — while I worked. Finally, when he was satisfied that I had gotten it all up off the floor and the toilet seat, I put my nose down to his shoes and licked the tops of his smelly athletic shoes clean, trying to swish away any drops of piss that had fallen there.

“Good toilet slave,” Trevor finally said. He looked at me. “Well, now since you got practice licking up that mess, I have a new assignment for your.”

“What is it, sir?”

Trevor gestured around at the entire filthy bathroom. “The whole thing,” he said simply.

I stared at him — or rather, at his shoes. “Huh?” I said.

“What part didn’t you hear, fuck face? I want you to

clean up the whole bathroom.”

I was stunned. “With . . . with my tongue?”

“That’s right, toilet slave. Your punishment is that you are gonna clean this whole filthy fucking bathroom, using nothing but your cock-sucking mouth. You are gonna kneel here, chained to the toilet, for the rest of the weekend. Whenever I walk into this bathroom to use the toilet, you are gonna stop what you are doing, get down on your back in front of the toilet, and serve as my doormat while I piss or shit. Whenever I come in here to take a shower, you are gonna serve as my shower matt, so that my feet stay clean. For the rest of the time, whenever I stick my head in here, I had better see you on your knees, lapping up bathroom grime. And I’ll tell you what — if this bathroom isn’t totally clean, and I mean totally fucking pristine, by the time I walk in here tomorrow morning, then after you’re done in here, I’m gonna make you lick our dorm room floor clean too. And then, when you’re done with that, we’ll continue with your punishment.”

Despair welled up in me. How was I ever going to do this? I was going to have to lick down every single square inch of the bathroom — the floor, sink, the shower, the toilet — everything. My tongue was already so dry just from slurping up his piss – I desperately needed a drink. “Please sir,” I pleaded. “Can’t I have a little water first?”

“You’ve got plenty of water,” Trevor replied. He grinned. “In there.” He pointed toward the toilet bowl.

I looked at him.

“But you’re not allowed to flush it,” he added. “It’s got my piss in there now, and that’s the way I like it.” He shrugged, and walked over to the door of the bathroom. “I gave ya clean water in a nalgene bottle this morning, cum slut, and you tried to run away. So I learned my lesson. Now it’s time for you to learn yours.” He chuckled one more time. “I’m gonna go drinking with my buds. I imagine I’ll see ya later — beer always makes me piss like a racehorse.” And he walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

 

To be continued …

Click for previous part

Click to start at Part 1

 

 

3 thoughts on “Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 04”

  1. If his ass is so bruised, what’s to stop him showing the marks as proof that he’s the one being abused? Surely that’d cast doubt on the frame job Trevor has planned.

  2. Please continue, there hasn’t been a story that I’ve found so exciting in months, but there’s been too little sexual interaction for now. Looking forward to the next part!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.