Breaking Ethan 6 : The library by Bus Pender
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This is a work of gay fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely unintentional. This text deals with sexual relations between two men. If you find this offensive, if you are underage or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, please leave now. This story is not intended to promote any action on the part of the reader. It is merely a fantasy and I hope you appreciate it as such.
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Since my last encounter with Ethan, I'd been feeling bothered and confused. I was struggling with my feelings for him, walking around in a bit of a delirium. What the fuck was going on? I really liked the guy, and I wanted so much more than just sex with him. But I couldn't let go of the key and what it represented: absolute power and domination over a guy I was obsessed with.
I found myself absentmindedly fingering the key at the oddest times. In class, while the professor droned on. In the cafeteria, as I mindlessly went through the motions of eating lunch while my friends prattled away. Alone in bed at night, thinking, invariably, about Ethan.
Ethan.
My mid-terms were almost over, just one left. It'd been a tough slog, but I felt I'd done okay. The one remaining exam was going to be a motherfucker, though : Fluid Mechanics. It was my most difficult class, and I needed to do well to maintain the 4.0 GPA I'd worked so hard to achieve.
It was Thursday, early afternoon. The day was overcast, a slight chill in the air, and it felt like it might rain. A wind was picking up, and I could see grey veils of moisture hanging in the sky to the East. I decided to swing by the library and get a few hours of study in before heading home. I felt a few drops starting to come down as I ducked through the doors and into the library mezzanine. I went to the central study area where banks of long wooden tables were flanked on two sides by vast shelving units of books and reference material.
I surveyed the scene before me. Evidently, a lot of other people had the same idea as me, the place was packed. I tried to find an empty seat along the outer edge, somewhere I could step into, blend in and immerse myself in my books.
And then I saw him. Ethan. He was sitting with his geeky philosophy buddies, they looked as though they were engaged in some sort of covert plot to bring in a new world order. They were whispering, gesturing dramatically to each other, making sidelong glances around the room as if there might be people eavesdropping on their conversation.
I took a seat at the table behind them, facing Ethan's back. I wanted to take in the sight of him with his friends. Although he was a part of the group, he stayed on the periphery. He was looking down at his papers, making notes, looking up and nodding when someone made a point, but his involvement was limited.
He'd kicked off his shoes, they lay at odd angles near his feet. He looked so cute in his white socks, blue jeans, burgundy turtleneck. Turtleneck. What the fuck. I did a slow and silent burn, then took a moment to calm down before texting him.
`Nice turtleneck Ethe'.
He glanced at his phone and then looked around the room.
`Behind you'.
He turned around and beamed, he was obviously thrilled to see me. I scowled at him and tugged the neck of my t-shirt sharply before letting go, making a jerky exclamatory gesture with my hand. His face dropped and morphed into a look of passive worry. He brought his hand up and fingered the turtleneck, which effectively concealed his hickey.
`Stacks. NOW.', I texted.
As I was getting up, I saw Ethan grab his phone and step hurriedly into his shoes. I marched into the depths of the stacks, Ethan hobbled and skipped behind me, trying to get his shoes on properly as he did. I continued my imperious stride through the ranks of imposing shelves, far into the interior of the building. It felt as though we were entering a deep, dense forest, with enormous trees looming on either side of us. The further in we got, the darker it seemed to become. There was only the sound of my purposeful gait, alongside the noise of Ethan's clumsy efforts to keep up as we made our way into the depths.
At last I found what I was looking for: a remote row with a cement wall at the far end. There were no students in the area, perfect. I slowed down my pace and entered the dead end row, perusing titles as I did. Ethan had caught up, but I didn't pay any attention to him. I continued to browse, luring him further towards the end of the row. He followed sheepishly, an anxious look on his face.
I reached the end of the row and came to a slow stop. I removed a book from the stacks, opened it and leisurely leafed through some of the pages. Without looking at him, I spoke in a calm, impassive voice.
"I thought I told you not to hide the hickey .. Ethan."
"Um, yessir, but, um, it's cool out today, I wasn't thinking, and .. um .. I just put it on to keep me warm."
I turned my head slowly and directed my gaze at him.
"The fuck you did." I snapped the book shut. "You put it on because you were meeting your friends and you figured you had no way of explaining that mark on your neck."
Ethan didn't say anything.
"Well, am I right?" I demanded.
Ethan's face had turned red, he was looking down at his feet.
"Yessir," he said quietly.
"What, I didn't hear you, Ethan, speak up."
He looked up at me.
"Yes sir, I was trying to hide it. I didn't want my friends to see it."
"So, you disobeyed my orders."
"Yessir," he whispered.
"And you lied to me."
"Um, I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."
"Ethan, are you ashamed of the mark?" I asked.
"Um, no sir."
A fucking lie if ever I heard one.
"Then, are you ashamed of our, erm .. arrangement, perhaps?"
"No sir .. well, I do feel a bit funny about it sir. And, um, I haven't told anyone, so I guess one could say that I'm, um, maybe a bit reticent about sharing that information so, that could be, um, construed as .."
He was starting to blather so I interrupted him in mid ramble.
"Take it off, Ethan."
"Sir?"
"I said take it off. Take off the fucking turtleneck."
"But sir, I've only got a light t-shirt on underneath, it's too cold .. "
"Have you lost your fucking mind? I just told you to do something. Don't argue, just do it. Take off the fucking sweater!"
He looked at me in silence for a few seconds. Slowly he pulled the sweater over his head and let it drop to the ground. I wanted to burst out laughing at what I saw, but settled for a long, slow shit-eating grin. He was wearing a blue Lego movie t-shirt. It was emblazoned with the "Everything is Awesome" slogan, set against an oversize montage of various lego characters. It was obviously meant for a little kid, but somehow Ethan had managed to get his hands on a larger size that he could actually wear. He must have gone to considerable trouble to find the t-shirt, which I'm sure he'd never wear out in public, unless of course he had on an outer layer to hide it. I had no idea what might have possessed him to sport a thing like that .. maybe he was just a big dopey kid at heart.
"Nice t-shirt, Ethe. Not sure which I like better, the tee or the turtleneck."
Ethan's face was beet red.
"I'm really disappointed in you Ethan. You were doing so well, and now this."
There was a library step stool right by us, the kind that rolls, and gives a bit when you step on it. I kicked it at him. It reverberated loudly, metallically, as it slid and bounced towards him, coming to an abrupt resounding stop against his ankle. He winced and looked around.
"Have a seat, Ethan. You may as well get comfortable."
Ethan sat on the stool. I moved around and stood in front of him, my back facing the open end of the row. I raised my hands to rest on the stacks on either side of us in a `Pillars of Hercules' gesture.
"I think you know what to do Ethan."
He looked up at me, confused, but seeing as my crotch was level with his face, he soon got the picture. His eyes widened.
"No." He shook his head. "Sir, um .. not here. It's the library, there're people around. Um, maybe if we go back to my place we can, um .. "
"Shut the fuck up, Ethan, and get busy."
"Sir, I can't, people will see." He was hissing his words and looking around frantically.
"There's no one here, Ethe, and no one gives a flying fuck anyway. You're wasting time. Let's go."
"Um, sir, please, I can't, not here .."
I put the book I was holding back on the shelf and pulled my phone out from my pocket. I opened the stopwatch function.
"Ethan, I'm going to explain this to you just once, so listen carefully. You've been a bad little boy and you need to be punished. You disobeyed me AND you lied to me, so the punishment is going to be .. special. You're going to blow me, right here, right now, and I'm going to add an extra day of confinement for each minute it takes for you to make me cum. Capeesh? So take your time, Ethan, because it is YOUR time. Starting now."
I pressed `start' and showed him the screen with the large digits rapidly shifting and rising.
A look of panic passed over Ethan's face, as he paused to think about what to do next. He looked around. He peered through the stacks on either side of us. There really was no one nearby. He looked up at me with a determined pout. Slowly, he reached out and tentatively undid my belt, then my pants. He poked his head to the right, looking beyond me down the row, then pulled my zipper down and eased my already hard dick out the fly of my boxers. He held it with his right hand, stared at it for a second, looked around cautiously one final time and wrapped his lips around it.
I felt a rush of intense pleasure as Ethan's mouth made contact with my dick. His lips were soft, inside he was warm and wet. I brought my hands down to rest on his head, smoothing and running my fingers through his locks. I made sure not to move my hips. No thrusting, no retreating. I wanted Ethan to do all the work.
I'm not sure why, but I've always found university libraries to be intensely erotic places. Somehow, the atmosphere just seems charged with sexual energy. Perhaps it's the stillness, the quiet, the knowledge that there are strict rules for use of the place, and consequences for breaking them. Or maybe it's the stress and energy of the students that I pick up on. But whenever I'm in a university library, I feel like I'm riding a wave of sexual tension. So being blown by my little Ethan in a remote corner of the library was the serendipitous realization of a dream I'd long had. The moment was made all the more delicious by the fact that this was a punishment, a purposeful act of humiliation that I was exacting upon unwilling, unwitting Ethan, purely for my sexual gratification.
Ethan was working my cock wonderfully. For someone who'd done this just once before, he certainly was good. He made a point of keeping my dick wet with saliva as he worked it up and down. He was using one hand to stroke my dick, and his other had worked its way into my boxers and was playing with my balls.
I noticed he was repositioning his hips from time to time, and I imagined that despite, or due to, the humiliation of being forced to blow me in a public space, he'd become excited and his dick was probably straining against the unyielding enclosure. Repositioning himself likely helped relieve his discomfort somewhat.
I looked at my phone.
"3:32, Ethan."
He renewed his efforts, speeding up and using his hands to stroke me, tug at my nuts. He kept looking around him surreptitiously, as though someone might suddenly appear in our midst.
While Ethan was busy gnawing on my dick, he didn't notice the young guy who happened down the aisle adjacent to ours. All I could see from my vantage point were several inches of trousers slowly moving down the row, and a blur of face through the gap in the shelf above. I noticed the figure stop, probably searching for an elusive volume. But he remained still, directly opposite us in the next row. I glanced over and was able to see his eye, just above the edge of the books on one of the upper shelves. He was watching us.
I eased my hand deep into the space beyond the books, into the stacks on the other side, and pushed hard. A good dozen or so volumes tumbled loudly into the adjacent aisle, some of them landing on the guy who was watching us. He jumped back, froze for a second and then scurried away. Ethan gasped and pulled away to check out the commotion. The color had drained from his face and he was looking around anxiously, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I petted the top of his head reassuringly.
"It's okay, Ethan, I accidentally knocked over some books. That's the power you have over me, I can't control myself. You can get back to business now, the clock is still ticking."
Ethan hesitated, looked around again, then returned his attention to my cock.
I was trying to make the moment last as long as possible by using various techniques to delay orgasm. I was breathing rhythmically, from my diaphragm, to help maximize control. I tried imagining things that would take my mind off the sheer pleasure I was experiencing .. a brick wall, my parents, the yoghurt in my fridge that had expired weeks ago. I even attempted mind over matter, willing myself to not ejaculate. But nothing seemed to work; Ethan was just too good. At 5:18, I felt that familiar tightening and tingling, the inevitability of orgasm.
"Ethan, I'm about to cum. You are NOT to swallow. If you do, there will be serious consequences. Do you understand?"
Ethan didn't respond verbally, but he nodded his head, which was all my dick needed to send me over the edge. I relaxed my body entirely, giving myself up to the involuntary contractions that had already begun. I didn't push or try to force them, I simply allowed them to unfold.
With a long sigh, I released, emptying myself into his mouth. It was an exquisite orgasm, as though my insides were being sucked out of me through my urethra. My dick was throbbing and pulsing, electric, as I squirted my jizz into him. I suppressed the urge to scream out, but lapsed into a series of grunts and pants, finally pressing Ethan back into the stacks behind him. More volumes tumbled around us, but neither of us seemed to care by that point.
Unbelievably, Ethan continued to tug at my cock for a good 30 seconds after I'd cum, trying to extract every precious drop. His eyes were wide, actively surveying the scene around us for any sign of possible intrusion, but he didn't miss a beat. My dick was hyper-sensitive and I flinched as he continued to milk me. When eventually I slid out of him, I grabbed his turtleneck from the floor and tossed it onto his lap.
"Spit it out, Ethan. Onto the sweater."
He looked up at me. His lips had formed that trademark flat line, the one he got when he wasn't happy about something. His lips, his mouth were slick, shiny. He hesitated.
"Ethan, the clock is still ticking. I'm only stopping the clock when you spit it out." It was already at 6:37.
Ethan leaned over and spilled my cum, mixed with his saliva, onto the sweater. It didn't really get absorbed; it just kind of hung there, a thick puddle of goo. I stopped the clock. 6:51.
"Now, smoosh it in, Ethan," I said as I packaged my dick back into my pants.
Ethan gingerly folded the sweater onto itself, over the mess, and rubbed the two sides together.
"That's it, Ethe, get it in there good. Let's have a look."
He pulled open the fold. The cum was smeared across the sweater in streaks, and a gluey web stretched thinly between the two folds. Some of the jizz still glistened under the distant fluorescent lights.
"Now, put on your sweater, Ethan. It's cold in here."
Ethan didn't look at me. He was staring at the floor, with the soiled turtleneck sitting in his lap.
"Ethan, put on your sweater, you'll catch cold." I was grinning.
Slowly, Ethan pulled on the sweater, unenthusiastically, robotically.
"Ok, you did good, I'm rounding up the time to seven minutes, so we're adding seven days onto your confinement. You can go back to your friends now, Ethan."
He stood up slowly and was turning to walk away, but before he could, I reached out and grabbed the neck of his sweater and pulled him around to face me.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
I folded the neck of the sweater in on itself, revealing the mark which had already started to diminish. I leaned in and brought my mouth to his neck. He didn't flinch or fight me. He simply stood there passively as I drew on the hickey to bring it back to life. I sucked, slurped, bit noisily, making loud exaggerated moans as I did. After about a minute, I pulled back to see, with satisfaction, the color returning to the mark. Reds and purples were spontaneously rising to the surface, framed by a few random toothmarks. I gave it a final, long, lascivious lick, then kissed him softly on the cheek.
"You can go now, Ethan, go sit with your friends." I patted his ass as he slowly moved towards the study area. I returned to the table where I'd originally sat, watching him rejoin his friends. They hardly looked up when he sat down, but one by one they noticed the sweater, the hickey and, most likely, the bleachy smell that he was inevitably emitting.
Ethan didn't pay any attention to them. He looked down at his work and continued writing. Some of his friends were now staring at him, between glances at each other. Ethan sat there working, in silence, ignoring his friends. I left soon after.
When I got outside, the rain was still coming down. Instead of feeling satisfaction, I experienced a heaviness that I couldn't account for, couldn't shake. I decided to walk home, despite the weather. I was hoping the rain would wash away my curious funk but all it did was deepen the mood. I turned my collar up and plunged my hands heavily into my pant pockets. Once again, I found the key. I turned it obsessively between my fingers as I splashed along, making my cold, wet way home through the bleak afternoon.