The first story in this series was written by me, from my pov. The second was written by a cocksucker after he serviced me, from his pov.
If a fag was dragging his feet about worshiping my cock, I'll often tell him to write me a story in advance, describing how he fantasizes our encounter would go. This is one of those. Caleb, a college sophomore, wrote this.
------ ...you would need to make sure that your Alpha domination extended into every facet of my faggot life, so one late night you would be standing outside my door, demanding to be let in. All my housemates would be asleep, but saving my face is none of your concern. You would make yourself feel generally at home, turning on lights, grabbing something to eat from the fridge; like we were at your fraternity house and I was a pledge expected to clean up after you. Then you'd finally turn back to me.
"Go into your room, faggot, and wait for me there."
You'd push me backward over the bed with a cocky frat boy sneer and unbuckle your belt. Letting your pants fall to the floor, you'd climb onto the bed and kneel over my chest.
"No hands allowed."
My arms pinned beneath your legs, I'd begin to moisten the fabric covering your massive junk with my mouth. Muscles in my neck straining to inhale the hot scent of your crotch, I'd nuzzle against your big balls, smearing my spit across my face in anticipation of what was to come. You'd leave me like that, moaning and licking for a few minutes, savoring the view of a worthless fag so easily controlled.
"You like that cocksucker? Does my cock make you hot?"
"Yes Sir, I live to please your big frat cock Sir."
After a smack that leave my cheek pink, you'd strip the last of your clothes and lower your musky sack over my face. I'd twist my face side to side, rubbing your balls with every angle of my face, the potent smell of your BO driving me insane with lust. I'd run my tongue all over your heavy sack, and to the base of the growing cock. Upon feeling my tongue, you'd grab your cock and slap it against my face. Then you'd thrust so that your cock and balls would drag back and forth over my whole face.
"Alright faggot, you have permission to pleasure my dick."
I'd begin to work your huge cock, starting with the base. I'd nibble where I could reach, and slowly make my way towards the head, getting drips of precum on my face and in my hair. Tightening my lips, I'd kiss the tip and swirl my tongue around the hole, then take the head and quickly pop it in and out of my mouth. Greeted by a small wave of your taste, I'd rub the head of your cock around the space inside my lips and against my teeth. Immediately you would grab my neck, cutting off my air. "Open your mouth," you'd say, and then spit into it.
"Don't fucking swallow, got it?"
You'd release my throat and slap me across the face, then shove your dick into my mouth. I'd start to suck, moving my head back and forth, letting the saliva drip out onto my chin and cheeks. Then you would start to thrust, pulling your dick out after every few to slap me with it, making a sloppy wet sound each time your cock connected with my drenched face. Strings of cum and spit would stretch between the two, multiplying each time you brought it out for another whack. Hard now, you'd pull open my jaw with one hand and line up your cock with the depths of my hole.
"Watch those teeth - this is going to hurt."
With the hand on my jaw you would pull my face into your crotch, totally filling my mouth with your meat. moving both hands to the back of my head, you'd begin to thrust again, hard, fast and deep. Pure brutality. The pain for me would be unbearable, but it's quite simply my duty to make your cock feel good, no matter what. Ramming again and again, face fucking as long as you could bare, I'd lose all track of time, until suddenly you would pull out quickly and stand on the bed. Your load would go shooting all over the room; on me, on my pillow, the bed, furniture, the floor, books - anything in sight. I would quickly move to my knees and obediently wait for the rain of cum to slow. After wiping off your spit-covered cock on my sleeve, you would walk over to the other side of the room, pump even more volleys of hot frat cum onto my dirty clothes, and survey the aftermath.
"Better not let any of that go to waste, or you'll regret it."
Without making eye contact, I'd crawl over to the floor and begin to lick up all the cum I could find. Sighing with relief, you'd gather up your things and dress. I'd continue to clean the floor.
"Thank you Sir, for marking me and my house as your own. Thank you for establishing your dominance Sir."
Totally clothed, you'd pat me on the head.
"Now be a good little fag boy and be sure to wear those cum soaked clothes tomorrow. Send me a picture every hour so I know that you have completed this task."
"Yes Sir, thank you Sir."
Then without another word, you would leave the house, slamming the door as you departed.
There was no way I could sleep. The manly smell of your balls filled my nostrils every time I breathed. My tongue savored every drop of your cum. And the next day I was honored to wear a shirt covered with your dried cum. I saw countless girls and guys get instantly turned on just by getting a whiff. Every time it reminded me how perfectly sexy you are; and how everyone lusts over your manliness. I envied that whatever hot sorority pussy or worshiping cocksucker must line up at your fraternity house.
------- Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention. Sometimes I'd make fags do "pledge tasks." This usually involved them publicly humiliating themselves, and sending me pictures as proof. Like wearing cum soaked clothes. Or writing on their foreheads with a sharpie in big letters "FAG"
The simple truth is: I'm a selfish, rude, superior, dominant fraternity master, and cocksuckers instinctively obey me.