This story features bullying and fighting and some masturbation and oral sex among high-school-age males. I visualize the character 'Karl Spivak' as looking like a model called Karl at boyfun.com. Comments welcome, to antinous48@yahoo.co.nz.
In part 1, Karl told how he and his slave Nicky were kidnapped by Robby and three other jocks. In part 2, Nicky began to explain how he came to be Karl's slave. In part 3, Karl took up the story, describing the first task that he as master set for his slave Nicky. In part 4, Nicky described how his master Karl came to dub him 'toe-sucker extraordinaire', and orders him to report for duty again the next day. In part 5, Karl talked about Nicky's rebellion that wasn't, and the task he was set to make amends for it.
Now Nicky resumes. ______
I'd been massaging Karl's back and arms. Now Karl slowly turned over, smiling dreamily. But his smile turned to look of horror when he saw -- we both saw -- that he had a massive hard-on. That's right! It wasn't me that had the hard-on, it was Karl! A major crisis!
Both of us knew that I got hard when I admired Karl's muscular body. Also when I gazed respectfully at Karl's cute face with its many expressions -- sometimes impish and sly, sometimes stern, sometimes aloof, sometimes (dare I say it?) just endearingly goofy, with his prominent teeth and his acne (gradually disappearing) and his turned-up nose. And (how could I not mention it?) his lovely untidy honey-blond hair. (To think I used to think Karl ugly! What a callow youth I was then!)
Karl must have noticed how, after a few minutes alone with him in the old storeroom, I would have to discreetly ease my stiff cock into a more comfortable position inside my pants. But nothing was ever said about this by either of us. For the slave to lust after his master was OK, provided the lust wasn't satisfied -- or at any rate was satisfied only later, alone. But for the master to to be turned on by his slave -- oh no! Total dominance required supreme indifference to, or contempt for, everything about the slave except his capacity to obey and to serve.
All these thoughts went through my mind far more quickly than it has taken me to describe them.
Karl was sitting on the edge of the old couch, wearing only his briefs, gazing down in horror at his stiff cock. I dropped to my knees in front of him, my head bowed.
'Oh master! I'm ... I'm overcome! Your cock is awesome! It's massive ... it's terrifying ... it's ... it's like a battering ram that could ... that could explode through stone walls and devastate whole cities! Oh master Karl! My all- conquering master! Your worthless humble slave begs permission to do homage to your magnificent manhood!'
I didn't wait for an answer. I let my face sink closer towards his truly splendid erect cock. Half of it was now exposed above the elasic of Karl's briefs. It was a dead-straight rock-hard pillar, with blue veins snaking under the surface and a head that was deep pink, almost purple. I let my tongue touch ever so lightly the head of it. It jerked and stiffened further. More daringly, I licked the outer side of it, just the topmost two inches, upwards towards the head. I heard Karl sigh deeply, a long quivering sigh. His hands were groping towards the waistband of his briefs as if they had a mind of their own, like his cock. He pushed the briefs down so that his cock was fully exposed. I licked the whole length of it now, on the left side. At its base I felt and tasted the tangle of dark brown pubic hair, and this time my tongue touched Karl's belly as well as his cock. Then the right side, then the tip again ...
Oh man! I had never done this before! To lick another guy's cock -- it was revolting, it was fascinating, it was humiliating, it was delicious! It was a bit like sucking Karl's toes, only so much more ... well, so much more everything. The weirdest part was that all that over-the-top stuff about Karl's magnificent manhood demolishing whole cities -- I didn't have to compose it, it just all came naturally tumbling out. It was as if there was another Nicholas inside me that I'd known nothing about before, just waiting to come into the open and satisfy his cock-worship urge.
And from the noises that Karl was I could tell that for Karl it was the first time too. Whatever his tough upbringing had exposed him to so far, it hadn't included having his cock caressed by a delicate eager admiring tongue such as that of his classmate Nicholas. 'Oooh fuck ... oh man ... oooh, don't stop ... Hey, wait a moment ...'
As Karl said that, I drew away. Up to now, Karl had been leaning back on the couch and I had been crouching between his knees. Now he stood up, quickly pushed the briefs down to his feet and kicked them aside. He stood stark naked in front of me, his arms dangling loose, his pelvis thrust out, his swollen cock in all its glory ... I had a fleeting memory of that fateful day when I had tripped Karl up in the classroom. Then, with his thighs pressed against the edge of my desk, I had been aware of his pelvis thrust aggressively forward as he hissed his instructions down at me. But then he was fully clothed. Now, standing directly in front of me, he was naked. And then his aggressiveness has frightened me. Now it didn't. Or rather it wasn't aggressiveness this time but insistence: a fierce, hungry insistence that would tolerate no denial -- that I, Karl's slave, had no choice but to comply with -- that I, Karl's slave, was panting to comply with!
I knelt in front of Karl. I felt his hands on either side of my head, firmly guiding my lips and tongue back to the task of licking the whole length of his cock now, from every angle. I dared to place a hand on the front of his right thigh. My fingers drank in the sensations: skin covered with sparse wiry hair, hard muscle and bone beneath it. With my other hand I stroked the groove of flesh where his left hip and belly met: here the skin was smoother and the flesh was softer than on his thigh, but still firm. Karl did nothing to stop me. Oh my! What had I ever done to deserve such a privilege!
Karl's balls now hung free and loose. I fondled them with my left hand and let my tongue drift down to experience their taste and their strange silky texture. In my nostrils I got a pungent whiff of -- what? Sweat? Dried cum? Urine? Little Nicholas reached a new peak of ecstasy and revulsion. In my pants I too was about to cum ...
'OK! I'll do it now!' Firmly but not roughly, Karl pushed my head away while seizing his cock in his right hand. It was well lubricated with my saliva. In only a few long strokes he reached a climax. In fact, we climaxed together. Oh, wow! Did Karl notice? If he did, he pretended not to.
It was my first-ever close-up view of another guy ejaculating. The milky goo gushed out over Karl's abs. A little of it even landed on my forehead. I wiped it off with my finger, then put my finger in my mouth. It was bitter and salty. In fact, it tasted revolting. But what did that matter? It came from my all-conquering master ...
'Say, that was something!' I felt Karl's hand on my head, ruffling my hair. 'You stood up for yourself, that was good, and ... and this new task ... you did it well! Next time I'll teach my slave more about how to look after himself!'
What did that mean? Well, I found out in a couple of days time. Meanwhile, I could see that the story Karl was telling himself (or, at least, the story for the purpose of his relationship with me) was that my helping him to cum was just one of the new tasks that he had imposed on me as a kind of punishment for my outburst against him. Did Karl get a kick out of having me specifically jack him off -- a nerdy little guy, but above all another GUY? That was a question best avoided by both of us.
Next time we met, as I had expected, the toe-sucking was curtailed and we went straight to the cock-sucking routine. And it was as good as before. Karl's powerful legs, his abs, and his glorious cock and balls and pubes framed between them: to me, his whole body was a masterpiece of glorious, naturally developed (not artificially scultpted) eighteen- year-old masculine beauty. (Yes, I worked out when his eighteenth birthday was, though I knew it wouldn't be wise to let him know I took that kind of personal interest in him, just I would never have dreamt of telling him that he looked so cute and sweet when he was gazing blankly out of the window in class.) I still sometimes cringe in shame now, remembering how I was tempted to think otherwise of Karl just a week or two later ...
What 'looking after myself' turned out to mean was learning some street-fighting skills. Was this a task imposed by my master, or was it a reward granted? Well, who cares? If Karl, my master, wanted to instil a bit of toughness in me, his slave, that was OK with me.
'OK, Nicky, pretend I've come up to you in a dark street and asked for your wallet. What you gonna do?'
'Uhh... Hand it over, I guess.'
'Well, maybe. But pretend I'm no bigger than you. Aren't you gonna at least try to punch me? C'mon -- punch my stomach!'
Karl was in shabby jeans and shirtless when he said this. There were his abs, bare. I landed a tentative jab just above his navel.
'Oh man! You can do better than that! Look -- don't use the flat part of your fist, make sure it's the point of your knuckles that makes contact! That way, the force of the punch is more concentrated. And lean into it! Use the weight of your whole body! OK, let's see ...'
I let fly before Karl had finished speaking. This time, Karl staggered and leaned forward, clutching his belly and gasping for breath.
'Hah! ... Not bad ... little Nicky!' He was panting and laughing at the same time. 'You took me by surprise ... and that's good! I hadn't tightened my abs ... to be ready for ya! The mugger ... he would probably drop your wallet and run! OK, next lesson. What's your most useful weapon at close quarters?'
'Uhh ... my feet? Or my knee? I could knee the guy in the groin?'
'Yeah, but to use your knee properly, you need a little distance between you. Even more so with your feet. At really close quarters, like if he's got you in a bearhug, use your head. Literally. Just smash your skull hard into his face! He gets a split lip and maybe a broken tooth, even a broken nose. He's not going to feel like hassling you after that.'
'Ah, I see.'
'Now imagine I'm holding on to you but you've got one hand free. (Here, I'll demonstrate.) What's the best way to dislodge me? Remember you haven't room for a good punch to the abs.'
Now Karl had his arms tight around my waist and my left arm too. I was enjoying this lesson!
'An upper cut to the jaw?'
'Nah. Needs skill, and you risk breaking your hand. And it's no good pressing up under the guy's chin either, because the neck muscles are pretty strong. No, much better to bring the edge of your hand up hard under the guy's nose, and keep pressing.'
'Like this?' I demonstrated, not too gently.
'Ooomf!' I heard Karl's protesting groan. He let go of me, put his hand to his nose, and inspected it for blood. Fortunately, there wasn't any. 'Hey, that's pretty good, little fella! We'll make an expert street fighter out of you yet! Well ... maybe not quite that. But a slave of Karl Spivak needs to be a credit to his master, and you're doin' OK!'
Our very next meeting after that was the fateful one when there were uninvited guests in the old storeroom: the four jocks Robby, Steve, Pete and Brainless Brad ...