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SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 18
Thanksgiving morning. My eyes opened to the sensation of human contact with the bottoms of my bare feet. I acknowledged that human by rubbing my soles against his face.
"Good morning, Master Connor," I heard from below. Tommy really was a total slave. But who was I to talk? Except I was a slave being serviced by a lower slave. And this lower slave wanted to show me that the morning worship routine I had been practicing numerous times on Kyle was now something he wanted to practice on me.
I stretched lazily and contently. My morning wood thrust more upward as I did so. As I stretched my legs, I also ended up kicking Tommy in the face. I did not apologize for that. Why would I? His face existed to be kicked by his superiors.
"Hey slut, I need my morning wood taken care of, starting by emptying my morning piss down your toilet throat."
Tommy immediately moved to the side of my bed and got in position on his knees. I didn't move immediately, deciding to let Tommy wait for me while I looked at my phone for messages, social media, etc. When I was good and ready, I stood up and inserted my hard dick into Tommy's waiting mouth. Pissing while hard is not the easiest thing to do, and swallowing piss from a hard dick even less so, but Tommy was a pro. Not a drop spilled out of his mouth. "MMMM!" he expressed his appreciation loudly.
"Doesn't morning piss taste awful, you faggot?" I teased. I know from personal experience drinking Kyle's that of course it was.
"No, I love the flavor of your piss, because it's coming out of you. And even if I didn't, the fact I can serve as your toilet to make your life easier for you is a good enough reason for me to drink it."
"I guess so, fag," I said as I climbed back onto my bed. "You know what to do next, bitch." My dick was not fully hard anymore, and I intended to make Tommy do the work to get it fully hard again. For his part, Tommy remained totally hard. Tommy again showed he was as much a consummate cock slut as he was a foot slut. All the techniques he had been using on me were on full display again this morning, and ten minutes later, I dumped another load down Tommy's throat. He climbed up the bed and was ready to kiss me when I pushed his head away. "Go use some Listerine first, fag. I might love cum, but not my own." For the briefest moment, I could see the sadness return to Tommy's eyes, especially since I made him lick his own cum off the floor yesterday. But I still think deep down Tommy wanted me to push my innate superiority, and me playing mind games with Tommy was an expression of my love.
Tommy got out of bed, put on some clothing, and went into the bathroom. Seconds later he returned with minty fresh breath. He again climbed into bed and wanted to kiss me again, but unlike him who was still totally hard, I wasn't horny anymore after my morning release. So I said, "You know what, not now. Go downstairs and help my mom with breakfast. Then bring it up to me."
"Yes, Master Connor," was the poor kid's response. Twenty minutes later, he returned with juice, milk, cereal, eggs and sausage.
"Yeah, I think I want you to make out with my feet some more while I enjoy breakfast in bed. I'll let you eat whatever I don't finish."
Without a second's hesitation, Tommy was back at my feet, kissing and licking and sucking. "Massage them, too, bitch," I said. "Your hands can apply pressure that your mouth can't, dummy." Tommy complied.
After I ate and was full, I threw my plate, bowl and glass of unfinished scraps onto the floor, then gave Tommy permission to eat. But since he waited on me, not the other way around, I didn't sit around and watch him eat. Instead, I hopped in the shower (I'm sure he wanted to be in there with me). When I came out, I ordered him to shower, but told him not to dare to jerk off. Only when he came back did I resume boyfriend-boyfriend mode instead of master-slave.
"Come here, baby," I said. Relieved at hearing the word "baby", Tommy dropped his towel and threw his naked body into bed where I was also fully naked under the covers. Only then did I allow our mouths and bodies to intertwine like the night before. He was so excited to kiss me, and I felt the same way. His hard dick rubbing against mine was also getting me somewhat hard again. When I eventually decided to let Tommy cum, I stood up, made him get on his knees and jerk off and ejaculate with my dick in his mouth. The rest of the day, being the holiday and all, was spent doing holiday things rather than more sex things. Of course, when we went to bed, we enjoyed each other's bodies before falling asleep in each other's arms.
The next morning, Tommy begged me to fuck him -- something I had never done before. Tommy, on the other hand, had bottomed for Brad many times since the summer, so had no trouble doing so for me. And while I liked blowjobs since the cocksucker did all the work, fucking was my way of exerting full control. Like Brad, I shot my wad directly into Tommy's ass. Afterwards, Tommy made a point of telling me that he had no expectation of reciprocation, both because he thought either Kyle or Brad had first dibs on taking my virginity, and because Tommy really had trouble topping. It was as if Tommy's submissiveness was so profound that his dick physically could not perform in the ultimate non-submissive position. I decided to call Tommy a "pathetic faggot" and then left to go Black Friday shopping with my folks. When I came back, Tommy informed me that Brad and Kyle had indeed stopped by for a quickie, and showed me the presents they had left for us -- their smelly socks. With Brad's pinned to his face and Kyle's pinned to mine, we went to town sniffing and slurping on those socks until both of us shot huge loads once again. Like Thursday night, this night we again fell asleep spooning each other, except we had the delicious smell of the Peterson bros' socks wafting into our noses since we put them right on our pillowcases.
The next day was Saturday, and Kyle alone came over, saying Brad was tied up with family stuff. As I would find out, Kyle was far from done taking his revenge out on me for how Brad purposely elevated my status earlier in the week for no real reason other than to mess with Kyle.
Kyle glared straight at me and began, "So, Brad called you Fag 1 and Tommy Fag 2. I hate that. Connor, I'm renaming you fag shit. Cause that's what you are -- a gay piece of shit. Tommy, you'll be renamed Kyle's favorite -- like in that new movie where the queen has her favorite. Well, I'm the king, and Tommy's my favorite since Connor is such an ugly, pathetic low-life." Kyle knew just what buttons to push. I was almost fine being called "fag shit" or whatever else Kyle wanted to call me. But him calling Tommy "Kyle's favorite" made me so jealous. Even though I knew Kyle was toying with me, I was still jealous.
"So Tommy, how do you like being Kyle's favorite?" Kyle teased.
Tommy dove to Kyle's feet and started kissing them, cooing, "Oh Master Kyle, I am head over heels in love with you, so to be your favorite gets my little fag dick roaring with appreciation and desire."
Kyle proceeded to strip off his hoodie and undershirt, revealing his beautiful upper body. "Come up here and suck my nipples, Kyle's favorite." Wow, in all the months (which seemed like forever) I had been serving Kyle, he had never yet let me worship him above the waist. Now, all of a sudden, Tommy was getting to go straight to Kyle's beautiful quarter-size nipples without any prerequisite. I was immensely jealous to the point of resentful -- until I remembered I, too, was so in love with Kyle that caving to his caprices, no matter how mean, still made me happy.
"Now my abs, Kyle's favorite." Tommy moved instantly. He was so lucky. I think I started drooling.
"All right, since you are my favorite, you're gonna get your dick sucked now by fag shit. But fag shit needs to properly beg, starting with begging to kiss Tommy's feet."
Kyle had his mind set on turning the tables on me, and I had no way to resist. Tommy worshipping me was one thing, because Tommy was in fact more submissive than I was. I, on the other hand, was getting used to the one-way dynamic between me and Tommy, and now Kyle was going to flip it by his sheer will. Before all was said and done, I had called Tommy "Master Tommy", worshipped Tommy's feet, sucked his dick to completion, and swallowed his cum. Nothing about it was intolerable; I am a homo after all. But Kyle was making a point and doling out a punishment, and I had to take it. When Tommy and I were alone again, I would be in charge anew, but Kyle wasn't finished yet.
"I'm going to fuck you now, fag shit." Kyle announced matter-of-factly. "And Kyle's favorite is going to be rimming my ass while I do that." This was the moment I had been waiting for, losing my virginity to Kyle. I had long been practicing by shoving dildos up my ass, and now I was gonna get the real thing.
Kyle wanted to start doggy-style, with me on my knees. So after whimpering, "Yes, Master", I got into position. Kyle then ordered Tommy to lube his cock and my ass using his tongue. Tommy complied. Saliva isn't the best lube, but it's better than nothing. Even with all the self-practice, it was still very painful at first, but I soldiered on. After a few minutes, because this was technically me having sex with Kyle, that realization got me to start enjoying the pounding. "Kyle was making love to me," I deludedly said to myself. As if knowing he had to disabuse me of my delusion, Kyle shouted his torrent of usual epithets ("stupid faggot, piece of shit, dumb fuck, foot stool, nasty queer, disgusting homo, bitch slave", etc.) while fucking me, then after a few more minutes, came deeply and forcefully in my ass without warning (it was his royal prerogative). To "thank" my services, Kyle slapped my face a few times before spitting into my mouth.
After Kyle left, I immediately ordered Tommy to tongue as much of Kyle's cum out of my ass as he could. I inserted my own finger into my ass to scoop out more of the ass juice - stud cum mixture to feed to Tommy. Then I made Tommy suck my cock to completion, both for my enjoyment and to put Tommy back in his proper place. That night, for the fourth night in a row, Tommy and I did our boyfriend thing (including me topping him again and cumming directly into his waiting hole).
As promised, the next morning Brad and Kyle both came over, but Kyle just observed (and took the requisite pics and vids) while Brad took his time using both me and Tommy thoroughly before we all met again. Only after Brad had fully satisfied himself (and I mean, fully -- by now, you can imagine the various things Brad (and his 8.5-inch uncut cock and size 13 God feet) demanded and the myriad ways he abused and tortured his two fags) did Brad and Tommy finally leave to go back to school. I spent the rest of the afternoon implementing all sorts of oral gymnastics on Kyle's feet and cock and ass and, you get the picture. My mouth now spent more time being Kyle's sex organ than for any other purpose. But still never above the waist like he granted to Tommy. What a brilliant tease.
So that was the Thanksgiving I lost my virginity to the soccer stud who now owned me, Kyle Peterson. By the time I submit this, Christmas will have come and gone. Kyle and I had settled into a routine. I was his full-fledged servant and sex slave. If you go back and read prior chapters, you can see the recurring activities and dialogue that now ruled my life. I wake up and instantly think about Kyle. If I am fortunate enough to be waking up in Kyle's presence, I immediately prepare for morning worship. During the day, I am at Kyle's beck and call. Whatever he wanted at whatever hour -- foot worship, cock worship, ass worship, or a quick fuck (which now joined the permanent rotation of ways for me to get Kyle off) -- it was my duty to provide (usually after prolonged begging and Kyle's mercilessly teasing denials to heighten my desperation and the theme that me servicing him was him doing me a favor). Like he'd say, "Yeah, I don't know, fag, why should I let you make out with my precious jock feet?" or "Hmmm, you don't really sound all that desperate, faggot. Is that really the best you can beg?" Hearing him say things like always got me even more all hot and bothered, and I'd redouble the way I begged him. He sometimes stretched it out 10, 15, 20 minutes before he finally let my unworthy washcloth mouth make physical contact with his stinky, crusty toe jam. The begging and provision of services would be simultaneous with and/or followed by me profusely thanking Kyle or Kyle's body part for granting me permission to worship him or it.
Other than Brad and Tommy, the only other person who came close to uncovering our secret was Nick that one time at the diner, and I'm sure Nick quickly forgot about the episode soon afterwards. (Brad's buddy Joe D'Agostino and Brad's harem of college girls knew about Brad and Tommy's arrangement, but were none the wiser about Kyle and me.) Kyle was just too possessive to share me with anyone else. Put differently, Kyle was enjoying the status quo too much to disturb it. I've read there are other masters out there who pimp out their sex slaves as a further way to degrade them. Kyle was not keen to do that. Kyle was the center of his own (and my) universe, and diluting my undivided attention with the occasional intervention of Brad was annoying enough to Kyle. I didn't complain. My entire life I had not crushed on anyone the way I crushed on Kyle. And Kyle was at the age, soon-to-be 17-year-old, where he was only getting hotter (both in terms of being so amazingly good looking even more so now than ever, and the manly development visible on the rest of his winning jock bod) every day. I was immensely and intensely attracted to him, more so now than ever before, and growing day by day. Routine was sometimes boring elsewhere, but I was such a shameless fag for Kyle that my servitude of this straight soccer jock stud never got boring.
So I'm going to take a somewhat long-ish break from writing more chapters in this series. Among other things, pausing the writing gives me even more time to maximize Kyle's pleasure. As I enter 2019, junior year isn't even half over. I still have so much time left to saturate my ears with Kyle's endless insults and teasing, suck Kyle's magnificent cock (multiple times a day sometimes), make passionate mouth love to Kyle's smelly size 11.5 feet (definitely multiple times a day), rim Kyle's hairy ass, inhale Kyle's nasty farts, eat Kyle's toe nail clippings, smell Kyle's sweaty socks, lick and swallow Kyle's creamy cum or acrid piss from my dog bowl (or guzzle it directly from the source), and turn my hole into a (100% of the time bareback) pussy for Kyle's 8-inch cock whenever he demanded. Every time I thought about how much time I still had to serve Kyle in all those ways, I would feel all warm and gooey inside (and usually get hard instantly).
So we'll see what 2019 brings, and if my routine of servitude drastically changes, I'll write about it. There's the doorbell. Time for my fag mouth to get to work again.
MAYBE TO BE CONTINUED AFTER A BREAK ...