Owned by TJ, part 4
Owned by TJ, part 4
Author: puppboijeff@aol.com
In the Locker Room
As I lay in bed that night, I could not help but ruminate upon the events of the evening. It seemed so surreal, watching TJ pulverize Kyle the way he had. If there had been any fantasy that I could have even begun to entertain, it would have been exactly what had happened. I had always wanted to see Kyle put in his place, and what better person to do the job than TJ? There probably was no one on earth that could even begin to understand Kyle's humiliation as well as I could. I had also been defeated and humbled by the great TJ. Of course, I was not the jock superhero that Kyle thought himself to be. I guess I did not really have a high horse from which to fall. Still I knew the physical pain. I knew the embarrassment. I knew the degradation and mortification that Kyle certainly now must be feeling.
Although I must admit that it pleased me to know that Kyle was suffering the way that he was, it was not really his plight that interested me. What most enthralled me was seeing the power that TJ had wielded. Watching the look of sheer triumphant satisfaction as he strutted his superiority on that gym mat was the most astonishing spectacle I'd ever witnessed. You could almost see his ego inflating as he dominated his opponent. You could literally feel his lust for power and control.
I had been so proud of him when he won. I had quickly rushed to his side, eagerly offering him my praise and adoration. He was so dismissive of me, though. His flippant remarks to me were actually hurtful, for he obviously did not care whether or not he'd impressed me. I was nothing to him. I was just a worthless fag.
He proved that almost immediately thereafter when he informed me that I had to blow his bud Brian. It hadn't been presented to me as an idea. It was not a suggestion or a question of any kind. It had been a statement of fact and an order. He simply informed me that I would do it.
Obviously I had become nothing more than a possession of TJ's. I had become his property, and he could utilize me in any manner that he chose. He wanted to express gratitude to his bud for helping him that night, and so he very casually offered him an opportunity to get his rocks off. He shared his slaveboy with his bud.
I guess Brian understood exactly what had happened, for in the end he very sincerely thanked TJ. He told him that it was awesome and said how much he appreciated it. TJ acted casual, as if it had been no big deal. It was as if he had loaned his bud a material possession--a baseball mitt, a sweater, perhaps the use of his car.
Brian would now never think of me the same way. He knew exactly what I was. I'd never be his friend again, for the line had been drawn. I'd shown him my true colors, and he knew without question that I was far, far below him.
I suspected that Brian may not be the last of TJ's buds that he pimped me out to. He had me in a position where I was incapable of saying no to him. If he owed someone a favor, he could easily arrange for them to receive a no-strings blowjob at the expense of his owned faggot property--namely me. He even could make some cash off of me if he wanted. He could pimp me out to other dudes and charge them a fee. This thought kind of frightened me, for I wondered just exactly what kind of guys would pay money to be blown by me? Jocks like TJ probably never would. It would probably be old or fat guys--or both.
TJ had already once taken money from me. By the looks of his living arrangements, he did not seem to ever want for anything. He really did not need to steal money from defenseless fag boys. I was sure that the only reason he took that twenty bucks from me was because he had the power to do so. If he did it once, though, I was almost certain that he'd do so again. The scary thing about it was that if and when it did happen, there really was nothing at all I could do about it. If he demanded cash of me, I'd have to hand it over.
I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that my life was totally under the control of TJ. There was not an hour of the day that I was not obsessing about what was going to happen next. I was terrified of ever displeasing him. I was frightened that he would become angry with me and use some of his video records against me. I was worried that he would expose me to my parents or to my classmates at school. I was also constantly fearful of what he may do to me physically. He could easily get me alone just about whenever he wanted and torture me in any manner he found amusing.
I suppose that the road upon which a submissive travels is one that journeys through many stages. Initially I had been in denial. When TJ first began to take ownership of me, I could not admit what was happening. I rationalized and tried convincing myself that none of it was actually happening. I had hoped that he had really wanted to forge a friendship with me. I had hoped that it was only a phase and that he would soon move on to someone else. I had hoped that I could somehow resist his control.
After the denial came anger. I was so furious that he had been so audacious to think that he had any right to manipulate me at all. He was only a human being like me, and so why did he feel that he was entitled to a higher status? Why did he feel that he could own me? And how on earth did he justify his sadistic actions when it came to how he'd tortured me and `disciplined' me? I was downright pissed.
So then I rebelled, which would probably be considered the next stage. TJ had set boundaries for me, and I pushed hard against them. I challenged him. I refused to obey him.
But then TJ once again showed me who was boss. He outwitted me and taught me that I was the one who was being audacious. He reminded me of my status, and he began to instill within me a knowledge of the fact that some things in life really are not fair. They just are. Jocks are superior to fags and everyone knows it. I may as well accept that.
This led me to a place of resignation. I resigned myself finally to the fact that I had no choice but to obey. To resist him any longer would only be hurtful to both of us. I would be displeasing him and causing him serious inconvenience. Then he would have to dole out the consequences which would be quite painful to me, not to mention humiliating. I may as well just accept what I knew I had no power to change.
Eventually I would reach the point where I stopped all of the analyzing and questioning and would simply obey because it was my job to do so. Eventually I would realize that my role in life was to serve, and that was the only capacity in which I would ever feel contentment or fulfillment. If only I had been able to realize all of this in the beginning, then I may not have had such difficulty transitioning into my role as TJ's bitch.
*********************************************************************
I was somewhat thankful for the fact that neither Kyle nor Brian were in any of my classes at school, and my contact with either of them would be minimal. I had no regrets about serving Brian, but I was not sure how he would react to me the next time he saw me in public. As for Kyle and Trevor, I feared that they would target me for retaliation because I had been such an active participant in Kyle's humiliation. In fact I had even stood there filming the whole thing, cheering gleefully all the while.
Had I in any way felt that TJ would rush to my defense to protect me, I would not have had any fear whatsoever. I knew that neither Kyle nor Trevor--nor anyone else at school, for that matter--would have the balls to ever fuck with TJ again. But TJ's words to me that night, when he told me that I was even lower than Kyle, they reminded me that I still was a target. If Kyle chose to exact his revenge upon me because I was the only one vulnerable enough to be victimized, then I surely was at his mercy.
Thankfully nothing happened the following day. In fact, I did not see either Kyle or Trevor. Perhaps Kyle had taken a sick day. Of course, I did see TJ, and I had his homework assignment ready for him as always. He nonchalantly instructed me to meet him at the gym after sixth hour and he would then give me a ride home from school. My heart skipped a beat when he said it, for I doubted that his offer of transportation was without ulterior motives. Surely he had something else in mind.
When I arrived at the gym that afternoon, it appeared to be empty. I looked all around me, scanning the entire auditorium. Perhaps I should just sit and wait. I walked over to the bleachers and sat down, placing my book bag at my feet.
It was only a couple of minutes later when I heard the big double-doors fly open and I quickly shot a glance over to the entrance to see TJ confidently strutting through. He glanced over to me but did not offer a greeting. In fact, he walked right past me and headed towards the back exit where the locker room was located. I was unsure if I was expected to follow until TJ finally stopped briefly and turned towards me. "Get your ass over here, fag!" he said. I jumped to my feet and followed him, snatching my book bag as I did so.
As I followed TJ into the locker room, my heart was racing. I wondered why on earth he would have invited me here. I quickened my pace to keep up with him, having to nearly break out in a run, and when I was finally right behind him he offered me an explanation.
"I've been thinking about out little situation here, fag," he said. "It's been a pretty convenient arrangement for me, never having to worry about my government homework and shit, but then all of a sudden something dawned on me." He smiled down at me snidely. I was beginning to dread that look on his face. I knew that it surely was an indicator that he had devised yet another plan to use, humiliate, or punish me. "I was thinking, `Why don't I really take advantage of this situation? I have this faggot who is totally my slave and will do anything I want, so why not put him to good use?' After all, I'm entitled to use you any way I choose. Right, fag?"
I looked up at him wide-eyed and nodded. "Yes, sir," I answered meekly.
"Well every day when I am done at gym, I end up just throwin all my dirty clothes and shit into the bottom of my locker. In fact, I actually have two lockers. One I use sort of as a junk pile. My smelly and nasty-assed jockstraps and uniforms just keep piling up in there, and I keep the other one for the clean or new stuff. Every couple of weeks I gotta empty out the `laundry' locker and drag all that shit home to clean it. Actually it's my mom who washes it all for me."
I was beginning to see where this was going. I could almost see the gears in TJ's head turning as he continued with his diatribe. "So then I was thinkin, `Why am I botherin myself with this kind of trivial bullshit when I own a faggot slave who can do this shit for me?' Don't you agree that I shouldn't have to waste my valuable time toting my own laundry when I have a slave who could be doin it for me instead?"
"Yes, sir," I answered him quietly. I looked down at the floor in front of me, realizing that I was about to be assigned another slave chore.
"So here ya go, bitch," TJ said proudly, swinging open the door to the aforementioned laundry locker. "You've got til tomorrow morning to get all this shit cleaned out, washed, dried, folded, and returned as good as new. Somewhere in that mess is a laundry bag, but I suggest you get yourself a couple extras. This locker is probably gonna stay pretty full once I tell my buds about our new daily laundry service."
I gulped as I stared at the mess in front of me. The locker was crammed full, nearly three-quarters of the way to the top. There were socks and jockstraps and football pants. I even think there were a couple of pair of filthy sneakers in there. TJ laughed as he watched the look on my face.
"Sir," I said tentatively, "Um... how am I gonna... um... I mean where am I gonna go to wash this stuff?"
"Hmm," TJ said sincerely in mock concern, "Well, let me think. Well... I guess that would be your fuckin problem, bitch. I'm just glad I don't gotta worry about my laundry any more." Then he laughed heartily.
My heart sank as I looked at the nasty pile in front of me. I knew that it would take at least three or four hours to wash all these clothes at home in my mom's washer one load at a time. Plus I would then have to explain to her what I was doing. There was no question that I would have to find a Laundromat somewhere to do this job. I'd have to figure out a way to tote all of this stuff there and back, and I'd have to buy soap and fabric softener, and come up with the money to pay for the machines. Then I'd need to store the stuff somewhere that my parents didn't see it. It was not gonna be an easy job.
"TJ--" I said, beginning to protest, "I mean Sir. Um... I don't know how...or, um... I don't think I can--"
"What?!" TJ interrupted me. "You're not stupidly thinking of disobeying another order are you, bitch?"
"Um... well, no Sir. I just--um--well I'm just tryin to figure out how--"
"Like I said, that's your problem, fag. Don't bore me with your problems. Just obey the orders and get the shit done. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Before you get started, though, I'm gonna need some head."
"Right here?" I asked. "But what if someone comes in?"
"Then I guess you'll have an audience," TJ laughed. "Only ones that're here are Brian and Paul. They're over in the weight room. If you don't want them seein you choking on my pole, I suggest you get busy. I'm sure the fuck not gonna stop in the middle of it if they walk in on us."
Immediately I dropped to my knees. It didn't occur to me to ask TJ how he'd known about Brian being over in the weight room. Had I given it any thought I'd have realized that TJ must have just come from there himself. I had not thought anything of the fact that he'd been absent from government class for he was only there half the time anyways. He must have been at the gym this whole time working out.
As I stared up at him it was obvious to me. He was wearing a sleeveless muscle shirt and basketball shorts. He'd clearly been perspiring. I bet that he and his buds had spent sixth hour working out together in the weight room, then he probably had excused himself and met me out in the main auditorium. Now he was about to get some head, catch a shower and then jet. I also surmised that it would not be long before Brian and his friend Paul showed up in the locker room to shower as well.
I was aware of who Paul was, but I did not know him well at all. His name was Paul Fergusen and he was a senior. I'd never really spoken to him but knew that he was a jock. Of course, I'd seen him around school hangin with the other jocks. I already was aware of four people at school who knew I was a cocksucking faggot, and I did not want to add another name to the list. TJ's nonchalant attitude about the whole thing, however, led me to believe that he really wasn't all that shy about the fact that he had a fag who gave him head.
As I knelt there in the middle of the locker room floor staring up at TJ, a wave of frustration started to come over me. It was as if in an instant I realized the gravity of the situation. I had been just given another ridiculous and nearly-impossible order by this arrogant jock who thought that the entire world revolved around his every whim. I already was doing all of his government homework. I'd already given him oral sex twice and had obediently serviced two of his jock buddies, one of which was one of my least-favorite people on earth. I'd had my ass beaten by him to the point where I had visible blisters. He'd even videotaped me against my will and was basically blackmailing me with it. Now on top of everything he was adding another chore to my list of duties. Not only would it be impossible for me to get all of this filthy laundry back and forth from the locker room, but I honestly would not even have much time to actually do it. Plus I still had to figure out how to get my own homework done as well as his.
I felt my face getting red as I knelt there. I felt myself becoming angry and distraught. I just wanted to either cry or scream. I was so irritated and angry at that moment, but as I glanced up at TJ I saw how opposite his own mood was from my own. He looked relaxed and smug. He was actually sort of grinning as he stared down at me. I suspect that he sensed my frustration and was enjoying it very much. He knew how pissed I must be right now, but he also knew I was powerless to do anything about it. In spite of the fact that I was mad and hurt and worried, I had no choice but to find a way to obey him. Plus I had to suck his cock!
My gaze then traveled down his chiseled body to his waist and then his bulge. I could see that he already was rock hard. Perhaps it was the fact that he was witnessing me squirm the way I was that turned him on so much. The power trip that he must now be on was something I only could imagine. I had no real idea what it must feel like to be able to dole out orders to someone who was in a position where they had no choice but to obey. In addition to the enjoyment that he must feel by knowing I had to obey him, he also probably was really pleased by the fact that his order was something that would be extremely difficult for me to do. He also was aware of the fact that I definitely did not like it one bit. Oh well... tough shit for me.
Finally TJ laughed. "How's it feel bitch to have virtually no control over your own life? How's it feel to know you have no choice whatsoever? Even though you don't like it one bit, you have to obey!"
I gulped as I looked up into his eyes. I wasn't sure if I was expected to answer him or if his questions were merely rhetorical. "Sir," I said, "it doesn't feel very good at all. It makes me feel... um... miserable."
TJ then erupted into a gale of nearly-hysterical laughter. When he composed himself after a few seconds, he said to me, "I know. It must be hell, bitch. Now get busy and start polishin my knob!" Then he quickly grabbed his waistband and slipped down his basketball shorts and boxers, freeing his throbbing cock. It bobbed urgently in front of my face, already oozing precum from the piss slit.
Suddenly I felt my own dick start to harden in my khakis, and all of the frustration I'd been feeling seemed to be irrelevant. On my knees, I scooted myself closer to him, opening my mouth eagerly. Before I even made contact with his cock, he'd reached down to grab the back of my head. Then with ease he slid into me smoothly, using a swift and clean thrust of his hips. Instantly I was overwhelmed by the powerful smell of his sweaty jock groin. His rigid pole swelled in my mouth as I formed a tight suction around the shaft. Then he began to hump my face mercilessly.
For the next five minutes TJ battered the back of my throat with his ramrod, showing me not the slightest bit of mercy whatsoever. He held onto my head tightly and jackhammered his cock relentlessly deep into my throat. I braced myself as well as I could, placing my hands against his calves, yet knowing better than to offer any resistance at all. I knew that I existed at that moment as his fuckhole, and that he would not be finished until he was completely satisfied.
Fortunately for me, he was anxious to cum, for had he continued at this pace for very long, I'm not sure I would have been able to handle it. It was only a period of a few minutes before he was approaching climax. I kept the suction as tight as I could around his pole as he drilled it into me, and then once he built his way up to the peak of sexual anticipation, he finally crossed the point of no return. He forced me all the way down on his prick mercilessly, grinding my nose against his pubes, and he held me there. Then he triumphantly pumped his load straight into my gut. "Take it bitch!" he commanded, and of course I did.
This was the third time I had swallowed a load of TJ's jock cum, and to my credit, this time I did not gag or puke. I simply knelt there obediently and served him as his cum dump. As he was shoving me off of himself I quickly reached for my own crotch, squeezing it almost involuntarily. When I did so, I instantly erupted in my pants.
I was not even starting to recover from the whole ordeal by the time TJ had stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that he had not noticed the way I had cum in my pants. Then I dragged myself up off the ground and made my way to the open locker containing the filthy laundry. Digging through the massive pile, I found the crusty laundry bag. TJ was right, I was definitely gonna need to get a new one. I began grabbing wads of clothing and stuffing them into the bag, wondering if I even would be able to fit it all in.
When I was finally on my last handful, I heard voices approaching the locker room entrance. I knew instantly that it was Brian and Paul. I looked up right as they walked through the door. "Hey there," said Paul as he made eye contact with me. "Who are you and what are you doing in TJ's locker?"
Brian stopped in his tracks and smiled knowingly at me. "Don't worry about it dude. He's a friend of TJ's. Or... well... something like that. I'm sure TJ knows about it."
"Um... well... er... um... I'm just helping him. I'm helping TJ out with some laundry."
"He's my bitch," I heard TJ's voice behind me. "He's doin one of his slave chores." TJ then laughed, and as I reeled around to look at him I saw he was standing there wearing only a towel around his waist.
Then Paul laughed. "Dude, I wouldn't take that from him. I wouldn't let anyone call me shit like that." Clearly Paul had interpreted TJ's comments as a joke and was waiting for some sort of a response or snappy comeback from me.
"Seriously," said TJ, "he's my bitch. I own his ass, and he takes it from me cuz he has no choice."
Paul stood there for a couple of seconds smiling over at us. Then the grin on his face began to fade as he realized no one was joking. "What the fuck?" he said.
"He's a faggot," explained Brian. I looked over at him quickly and then dropped my gaze immediately to the ground. His words cut me to the quick, for I realized that he really did have a low opinion of me. "He's a fag, and TJ made him his slaveboy."
"You're shittin me!" exclaimed Paul. "What do you mean?"
"You don't know what a fuckin slave is?" asked TJ. "He is my servant. Does anything I tell him to do."
"Come on! No way!" Paul protested in disbelief.
"Faggot, get on your knees, crawl over here and kiss my feet!" demanded TJ. All three of the guys immediately started laughing. I quickly looked up at TJ and knew I had no choice but to participate in this humiliating demonstration. Instantly I dropped the laundry bag and fell to my knees. Then on all fours I crawled over to him, bending my head down quickly until my lips connected with the top of his right foot. I kissed it reverently and then moved to the left foot where I did the same.
Brian and Paul then hooted with astonished laugher as TJ stood there, arms crossed proudly over his chest.
"Oh my god!" exclaimed Paul. "What else does he do?"
"Laundry, homework... let's see, what else?" said TJ. "Fag, tell Paul what all you do for me."
I gulped as I felt my face turning a deep shade of red. I could not bring myself to look up at Paul as I attempted to answer the question. Instead I just hung my head and looked down at TJ's feet. "Um ... I... um... I do stuff for him... like, well... I help him. I help him set up the mats in his home gym."
TJ laughed, "What else, bitch? Tell him what you just did a few minutes ago, before they got here!"
Suddenly I felt as if I might start to cry. I was so embarrassed and mortified. How could TJ be so cruel to make me say it?
"Did you just make him give you head?" Brian demanded in a voice that sounded like a protest.
"What?!" Paul screamed. "You let some faggot ...eww! Say it isn't so, dude!"
Brian then started laughing. "Dude, just chill. It doesn't mean anything. He's just a fuckin slave. He has a mouth. TJ has a cock. Why not take advantage of it? After all, a hole's a hole!"
"You guys are freakin me out! I hope you are not serious about this. Why would you ever let some faggot get all... well, faggoty with you?"
"Shut up, dude," said TJ. "It's like Brian said. He's a fuckin slave. It's not like I would ever in a million years return the favor, so to speak. He blows me when I wanna get my rocks off, and he has no choice in the matter."
"Dude, you are sick! That is so gross! Plus, well... I think it's probably illegal. You can't own slaves. There's a word for that, ya know. It's called... um... what is it? Slavery?"
"Well let me put it to you this way," TJ explained. "Some guys were born to be served. Others were born to be obedient and to serve their superiors. This fag here knows what his place is and he's accepted it. Why would I not take advantage of a situation like that? Fuck, I'm gettin straight A's in my government class and I've never cracked the textbook."
"And he's fine with it? Are you fine with this?" Paul directed his gaze right at me. "What's your name? You do have a name don't you? I've seen you around school. You're okay with being another dude's slave and ... well... suckin his dick?"
I knew that there was no point in attempting to offer any sort of answer other than complete agreement with TJ, for to do so would result in disastrous consequences later for me, so I looked up at Paul and said the only thing I possibly could. "Yes, sir. I'm okay with it."
Brian and TJ then again burst into jubilant laughter. "See! Dude, we told ya. He is a total fag. He's a cocksucking fag and he loves takin orders." TJ's chest puffed up as he said it.
"Well, it seems pretty twisted, and little dude, let me tell ya, you are one fucked up motha-fucker. But whatever floats your boat."
Then Brian again spoke up. "So let me ask you, Paul. Be honest. If some fag offered to give you head with no strings attached and nothing in return, you wouldn't let him blow you? I mean, it's not like you would be queer or anything for doin it. You'd just be getting head. It'd be like jackin off, only you'd be using a mouth instead of your own hand."
"Come on!" exclaimed Paul. "Shut the fuck up! No way! I'd never do fag shit with another dude. Never in a million years."
"All right," interjected TJ. "I'll make you an offer. Just hear me out. Let my slaveboy here blow ya, and just see how you like it. It'll be just between those of us here. It'll be my favor to you, and I don't want nothin in return. You can be as rough as you want. He'll suck you dry--swallow every drop of your load. I'll even make him pay you for the privilege. Then you can decide how you feel about it at that point."
"No fuckin way! I'm not a fag!"
"I'm not either, dude!" responded Brian, "but I did it."
"I'm not fuckin hearin this!" objected Paul. "What the fuck!"
"Dude, I'm serious. "Last night this fag sucked me off. It was the best blowjob of my fuckin life. It doesn't mean anything. He's nothin. He's just a fuckin slave. Why not use him like one?"
TJ then chimed in again. "When's the last time a chick let you cum in her mouth?"
"That's none of your business, man!" answered Paul.
TJ laughed. "Right. Never, probably. Or if you did, it was probably the first and last time. Well this bitch swallows every time. He has no choice. You don't gotta worry about hurting his feelings or pissing him off. You can do whatever the fuck you want to him. He'll keep comin back for more. He can never say no. Never!"
"I'm tellin ya, dude," said Brian, "you should try it."
Paul sighed and then spun around, placing his hands on top of his head. Then he turned back around, bent over and pulled himself back into an upright position. It was as if he just in total shock, unable to believe anything that he was hearing. "You said he would suck me off and pay me for the privilege?"
"Sure," said TJ casually. "How much you want? Name your price."
Paul's mouth dropped open and he rolled his eyes. "Oh dude! This is crazy! Okay... all right wait. Um... a hundred. A hundred bucks. Make your slave pay me a hundred dollars and I'll let him... well... blow me."
"Deal," said TJ casually. My eyes widened as I looked up at him. "Faggot you got til tomorrow to come up with the dough. Understand?"
I stared up at TJ in disbelief. How could he be saying this?
"Bitch, I said, `Do you understand?!'"
Quickly I nodded. "Yes, sir."
"You want the blowjob now or do you wanna wait til tomorrow when he has the money?"
"If he's really your slave, make him get me the money now," Paul demanded. He was obviously trying to push the envelope with TJ.
TJ just grinned back at him. He continued to stare at Paul while he addressed me as I continued to kneel there at his feet. "Fag, you got a hundred bucks on ya right now?"
"No, sir," I answered honestly.
"You got a hundred bucks at home or in the bank?"
"Yes, sir. I do in the bank, sir."
"Okay, we're goin to the bank then. We'll meet you two over at my house afterwards. You gonna shower first or do you wanna make the fag lick your sweaty balls first?"
Paul's mouth dropped open in disgust. "I'll shower first... thank you."
"Suit yourself." TJ walked over to his locker and began getting dressed.