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Disclaimer: If you aren't 18 years of age, or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, stop now. This story contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenagers and is for adults only! The acts are consensual. This story is complete fiction, all descriptions, and names are also made up. Any similarities are purely coincidence. This story also contains violent scenes including force, bondage and humiliation. If this bothers you, please do not read any further!
Perceptions - Chapter 8
As I walked to Master's house to be there by 8:00 as instructed, I thought about him. His lanky but statuesque physique and perfect face, his piercing brown eyes that made everyone melt to his will, his confidence and swagger. He was so much more than I was, so much better, so naturally superior. It made me blush to think that I could belong to him. It was also absurdly unbelievable that we could share the same first name. It was unnatural that God would allow for such a similarity between two beings that reside on complete opposite sides of the human spectrum of worth.
I often referred to him as Captain in public scenes, and in more private places he didn't mind Master GREG, or Master G or G-MAN, along with just plain MASTER. Captain because he was voted Captain of the wresting team this year after he helped turn the team around. Sure he was only a Junior, but he and his friends made such a mark on the team in their short history there, that they carried all of the momentum of the team and it seemed ridiculous to consider anyone but them, and of course Captain GREG was the obvious and deserving leader of their crew. Before they came along, we were barely a team. Three seniors and half a dozen Juniors and a few rookie underclassmen, comprised the team. This year, Captain GREG brought a group of twelve Juniors with him and for their age they were a driving force to be reckoned with. We weren't the best but at least we had focus, purpose and some real game with Captain GREG leading us.
Arriving at his house, I rang the bell and awaited his presence. I was slightly surprised when Laith opened the door with his signature cat-like smile. I shouldn't have been surprised, he said he would be there, but I just didn't expect he would answer the door. Stumbling in my mind for a few seconds, I eventually provided the proper greeting, "Hello Sir." Not much for long conversation tonight, Laith's manner was efficient. "C'mon fag, let's go.", he directed as he led the way to the attic. Following close behind I took in the view of his perfectly muscled legs and ass, and appreciated the confidence of his every stride and movement as he ascended the stairs in front of me two at a time. When we hit the attic floor, I didn't immediately see Master GREG, but within a moment, he was in view. I was thunder struck and awed by his physical perfection this evening. He appeared in a skin tight black leather singlet with red leather piping. It was painted on his ripped muscular frame, showing every curve of his muscled ass and how it melded into his powerful legs. His pecs and baseball biceps and shoulders were on full display as a result of the deep cut in both the front and back of this non-regulation fuck-suit he donned so flawlessly. I had to do everything I possibly could to maintain function while absorbing this most exceptional site. As he measured my response, smiled then chuckled, he referred to his friend Laith for a moment, and commented, "hey buddy, look at this drooling faggot, so fucking hot for my cock and body. You ever seen anyone so hungry man." Laith was too happy to share his observations with his best friend. "Man, he is so hot for dick, your dick it seems, that he might as well have a pussy, because he is fagging out all over you G."
Their words embarrassed me a bit, so I tried not to stare as much, and tried to look down at the floor; but it was almost impossible not to continually steal looks at my Master's incredible body and stance. "Get your clothes off faggot" he directed with authority. As I shucked my pumas, jeans, t-shirt and underwear, he picked up a bag from the couch and directed me with his finger to approach. As I began to kneel to begin my crawl over to my master, he corrected, "I need you on your feet boy." Standing in front of him, he sprayed an oily substance on my dick and handed my a steel ring. "Put this over your shaft and pull your balls through this fag, you're getting locked up tonight." I had no idea what this was, nor did I understand what he meant by `locked up', but he didn't seem to want to discuss it, and I figured I would understand soon enough. Next he handed my a cylindrical wire cage, and he directed "Slide this over your useless dick, whore." I obeyed. Reaching down he somehow attached the two pieces, and before I knew it he was fishing a tiny padlock out of the bag and he placed it through a hole in the ring that was positioned around my shaft and balls. Suddenly, the contraption acted as a shield preventing access to my cock and from allowing it to expand or be stimulated. From now on you are locked and under my complete sexual control.
Reaching in the bag again, he pulled out a leather looking belt. It was more than a belt, but I did not understand what it was. He secured it around my waist. The main strip of leather was wide and it had two steel ring at the sides, one over each hips. He fastened a thinner strap to the two rings, and this hung down mid-leg in the back, kind of like the reigns of a horse tackle. Next, he pulled out a long 2' wide strap with a simple silver circle at one end. He wrapped it around my neck and threaded the stray end of the strap through the silver ring, making a collar and leash around my neck.
Looking to Laith, he inquired "So, how does my slave look?" Not responding immediately, Laith took the view in and remarked, "This guy is a first rate cunt G. It's written all over him. He looks like a guy, and he's got muscles and shit, but he is a 100% submissive queer. Want me to get a picture of this shit?" My Master enthusiastically responded, "Sounds like a great idea. On your knees slave." Once I hit my knees at his side, he took hold over the short leash, applied a little pressure and instructed, "show me what I deserve boy." I begin to whimper and rub my face up against the pouch of his obscene wrestling singlet. I put my cheek on his muscular thigh and whimpered for his body. I began to wildly lick his leg, and with a few tugs on my leash, he positioned my face at his ass and I eagerly buried it in the crack of his sculpted muscular ass while straining to smell his musk through the tight leather of his gear. It must have been a sight on camera because I was desperate and inconsolable in my quest, my desire to please and humiliate myself to worship his perfection. When he finally tired of my display, Master instructed, "On your hands and knees over on the coffee table slut." I whimpered one last time as I broke from his body, and scurried onto all fours on the table top. Laith took a few final pictures of me in all of my pathetic glory before pocketing his phone.
Master suggested to him, "You might want to lose your own clothes now", to which Laith enthusiastically stripped. So there we were, me totally exposed with a harness around my waist, Laith naked wearing only his ripped and powerful god given body, and my Master, the ultimate specimen of male beauty and masculinity combined, with his singlet straps released and hanging to the side of each of his legs, the front of his singlet pulled down exposing his semi rigid cock. He positioned himself behind me and pulling on the leather leash, cranked my head back so I was looking up. He gestured to Laith who assumed a wide and powerful stance in front of me. Before I knew it Laith had slid his cock into my throat and had begun rough fucking my throat. My Master Greg had since left go of the leash, and I could feel him taking up the slack of the thinner strap that circled around the back of my harness. Lining up his cock at the entry of my pussy, he pulled back on the straps to plunge me down onto his now fully hard cock. Pain ripped through me and I was launched from the coffee table from a complete body spasm designed to protect myself from the rape these two best friends had in mind for me. Working as a team, they wasted no time in dragging me back. There were no niceties or encouraging pep talks, they just put me in position again. My Master asked Laith if he had a good hold on me, to which he affirmed, "This bitch isn't gonna get away from us again." Then he added, "You bite me and you die faggot". My Master. Once again lined up at my entry, took up the slack on the harness strap and plunged his cock into my hole and held it there. My scream while I choked on Laith's cock was felt by everyone there, even if it could not be well heard because I was being gagged. I writhed and bucked, but attempted not to convulse uncontrollably. I was not in full control of my body initially because the pain was the most intense I had ever felt. My Master was slicing me open and pummeling my delicate hole with abandon. I was not prepared for this. I was in the most vulnerable position possible, not offering myself, but being taken. Tears streaming down my cheeks I endured for these gods among men. Being gagged and face fucked helped to overload and distract me from the criminal act that I was enduring from behind. Once I was able to regain just the tiniest bit of mental energy, I began to focus on my purpose once again. I was a lowly faggot to serve real men. I reminded myself that my greatest value was in pleasing and serving my superiors, and without that I was and had nothing. Within a minute, I had begun my sacred chant to him, "I am yours, I belong to you. I am yours, I belong to you."
This seemed to go on forever, being spit roasted like a pig from both ends. Best friends enjoying the work they were performing together, high fiving a little bit and getting off on their shared dominance, their shared conquering of an older inferior. As my Master Greg got near to climax, his pace and intensity increased, as did his need to express his dominance. "Whose faggot are you?" He demanded. "Yours" I obediently gurgled. "Who do you worship cunt?" "You Sir", I grunted. "What faggot?" "You SIR, you! I am yours SIR.", I tried to proclaim while being choked on Laith's amazing cock. "Fuck, you fucking cunt, take my dick and my seed you bitch" he howled as he unloaded his golden seed into my guts, blessing me with his gift.
Pulling out and panting, he let go of the harness strap and collapsed onto the couch to watch his closest friend take control of my mouth. Laith, watching me get turned out as a whore by his friend was so near climax himself that all he needed were a few deep thrusts into my sloppy throat and he was spewing his seed and his disrespect for me. "You fucking whore, take my cum you cunt. Choke on me .......... You..........Fucking.......... Whore........ Swallow........ My....... Cum." And then he was unloading in waves down my throat, breathing so heavily, his chiseled body soaked in sweat. As he pulled out and twisted my head and neck so that I was looking up at him, he gathered up a mouthful of his saliva and spit it into my face.
Follow your instincts, that's what my Master said that first day I served him. Back then I had no instincts, but now I was developing them. Kneeling here battered and destroyed by these two alphas, I just had a feeling; so I looked up at Laith and scooped some of his spit from my face, and using my fingers I pushed it into my mouth and swallowed. "Thank you Sir", I continued. Finally, I slid to the floor and leaned forward and placed a kiss on top of each of his powerful feet. Now, wanting to give the bulk of my attentions to my true Master GREG, I slithered over to where Master G collapsed on the couch, assumed my lowest position on the floor before him and began to devour his perfect feet. My mantra returned automatically, and I don't know if it was audible or not but over and over I repeated, "I am yours, I belong to you. I am yours, I belong to you."