Taste of Power

Taste of Power by: Krazytop ---

Part XXI

"What's going on?"

Hiro's face blotches red. He looks dazed. Dizzy. Disappointed.

"Weren't you listening, Hiro?" Zane says. "Travis is my bitch."

Zane steps up, putting one foot on the bench. Then he grabs the back of my head and pushes me down till I sink to my knees.

All of us are naked. Except the mokimon hat Zane made me wear. I close my eyes, trying to clamp down on my impulses. On my imagination. Trying to get a grip.

Master smooshes my face in his foot, whipping my ass with his handcuffs. I whimper and I kiss his foot softly.

"C'mon, BITCH! Look into Hiro's eyes while you suck on my toes. Watch him judge you."

I nibble on Zane's toes, slurping, before craning my neck to look up into Hiro's eyes--my mouth still full, my vision partly obscured by the bill of the cap.

Hiro wavers between pity and disgust.

Zane likes to push people over the edge.

One by one, Master transforms friends into strangers.

People into animals.

Equals into nothings.

"Zane—just let him go. You were going to have Travis shower. Give him a chance to clean up."

"But you reminded me he likes to shower alone, remember? I thought I was doing him a favor." Zane spits on the floor beside me. "Go ahead, punk. Take the chance to clean up."

I sink to the floor, crawling over to the spot Zane where Zane spat.

"Eat it, CUNTFACE."

I kiss the floor, sucking up Zane's spit.

Hiro's voice falters. "The Travis I knew would never stand for this."

"Hiro—how many jocks do you think stepped on that spot with their grungy feet? Dripped their sweat on that spot after a tough workout? Face it, Hiro. I killed the Travis you knew. He died and went to fag heaven. He's thrilled I broke him. Aren't you, FAGGOT?"

"Yes, Master...Thank you."

"I don't want to watch this," Hiro says, grimacing. His whole face is red now. He lowers himself onto the bench. "I feel sick. I—I meant to come back to check if everything was alright. I got my answer. Just do me a favor, and keep it to yourself from now on."

"But I thought you wanted us to shower with the group?"

"Must you be so contrarian?"

"No. But I prefer it. I like to question things. I find the ideas that everyone accepts are exactly the ideas that need to be vetted."

"You are terrible. I--I need to shower," Hiro says. He gets up, swivels, and starts to walk away, before stumbling sideways into the lockers.

Zane sits on the bench, leans over to me, and whispers in my ear, "Crawl over to him and sniff his ass."

Wasn't he vehemently against me screwing around with other people just this morning?

I look up at Zane, and he gives me the look where I know better than to even think about it.

I crawl across the grungy floor, freezing just as I reach Hiro, losing initiative.

Zane pushes my face into Hiro's ass and takes a step back.

Hiro gasps, reflexively backhanding me. He grips my ear, slamming my head into the locker, and turns, glaring down at me. "What the fuck?"

"Sorry," I croak.

Hiro rounds the corner into the showers, completely disheveled.

"You do what I tell you," Zane says, reaching down to squeeze my balls.

I whimper and nod at him.

"Follow me," he says. I start to get up, but Zane pushes me back down. "On your knees."

Zane reaches down and handcuffs my hands behind my back, and a shiver runs through my body.

I crawl next to Zane around the corner and into the showers, into plain view of the team.

God. What does Zane want to happen?

At some level I know.

Ratchet up the request, bit by bit, in gradual, almost continuous increments.

Each step of the way, I get a chance to acclimate, a chance to understand that it's silly to make a fuss about a difference so small.

Zane drags me out to the middle of the showers, my legs bouncing across the wet ceramic floor, my knees skidding.

"You'd do anything for me. Right, bitch?" He says, his voice echoing throughout the shower.

The others fall deathly quiet, taking notice.

When I look up, my face is inches from his fat cock. My gaze works skyward, catching his cutting abs, his thick pecs, his carefully crafted tattoos, his thin face, his slicing green eyes, his red Mohawk, tinged with black, his crescent eyebrows, and his crooked smile.

All those changes he's instilled in me add up to get me to where I am.

With the sword of Damocles swinging back and forth in front of my face.

"Yes Master," I croak.

He pulls the mokimon hat off my head. "Wouldn't want to get this wet." Master puts it on. The red and white colors mingle above me. There is moisture at my eyes, making everything blurry. I can see the green symbol, shivering in the moist light. The broken Penrose Triangle.

"Enough," Damerae says. "You two had a good laugh. Now knock it off."

"You don't think we are serious," Zane says. "But things have gotten VERY serious, Damerae."

"Shit, dude," Eduardo says in an overtone. "Look at Travis's dick. It's hard as a rock!"

Damerae squints, then has a case of the shivers. "They are just playing games with us. And each other. He's not really—"

"Not really what, Damerae? My slave? Travis—you do EVERYYTHING I say. Don't you?"

"Yes sir," I say, my voice hushed and monotone. I look down.

"He really is," Hiro mumbles, clenching his eyes shut.

Master grabs my head and tilts it up at him, making me look him in the eyes. Then he spits on my face.

"This isn't funny anymore!" Damerae says. "Just let him go home. He is NOT really your slave."

"Wanna bet, Damerae?"

"Whatever, man."

"I'll bet you twenty bucks he'll do whatever I tell him to do."

Eduardo hoots. "Do you really think he'd suck his pinga, bro?"

Damerae scowls. "He's a homo, Eduardo."

"But I mean, right fucking in front of us?"

Hiro shudders.

"Maybe he would if he had an excuse to," Damerae says, pouting.

"So then—think of something he won't do," Eduardo says.

"Something he wouldn't do?" Zane says, groping his own ass cheek with one hand and thumbing his chin in mock thoughtfulness.

"He wouldn't!" Damerae snarls.

"He wouldn't what? Give my ass a nice wet kiss?"

"DON`T!" Hiro growls.

"No way," Damerae grumbles. "I'll bet you twenty bucks he won't kiss your ass, Zane. The only thing grosser than your ass is the thought of—someone doing that."

Zane laughs. "Please, please, Damerae, don't fling him in that brier-patch." He turns down to me, swiveling and gripping the back of my head. "Make me rich, coin."

"Zane..." I whisper.

"Call me Master, punk."

He pulls me into him.

In front of half the wrestling team?

There's no time to think. I'm enveloped in the smell of him.

My dick is straining; my breath is ragged; my vision is clouded.

I tongue his rich ass like a dog lapping up water.

"Sick," Damerae says.

Eduardo hollers. "What is fucking wrong with him, bro?"

Zane pulls me off of him and I catch my breath. "You owe me twenty bucks, Damerae."

Damerae gapes.

"Your turn, Eduardo," Zane says, sneering.

"You mean you want me to—"

"Your turn to make a bet, retard."

"No way, man," Eduardo says. "You've hustled me enough."

"Surely you can think of something he wouldn't do."

"Not really. Ugh... I can't decide if I wanna throw up or kick the shit out of him. This fag really might be willing to suck your dick, right here in front of everyone."

"He'd suck whatever the fuck came out of it."

"You'd give him a golden shower? Heck—I might pay just to watch you knock that cundango down a few pegs."

"Twenty bucks and a sandwich?"

"Fine, you got a bet, asshole. Get him to drink your peepee, I'll go hungry at lunch again tomorrow."

"Zane—" I whisper.

"No, no, no!" Hiro mumbles.

"It's time to show them what you are, without a shred of a doubt."

He points his cock at my face. Moments later, he starts to piss.

I close my eyes and whimper. It runs down my face, reaching like sweaty fingers into my hair, little fingerprints greasing all over my body.

The others step in around me; their murmurs echoing into a growing commotion. Damerae's in shock. Eduardo looks like he's been punched. Hiro glares at me. Calvin bites his lip. Chris shakes his head.

"Drink my piss, faggot," Zane growls.

I open wide.

The piss digs past my lips.

Damerae growls. "God, man. I'm okay with you being gay—but this is something else."

"He is something else," Zane says. "He's a faggot. A pussy punk bitch. I don't hear you gulping, coin. Swallow."

I remember when I wrestled Zane the other day, and when I tried to lift more than him today. My defiance rises like fire.

Zane knows just how to drown it.

My wrists flex vainly. Zane slaps my face.

I feel so powerless. My sore balls itch.

I swallow.

Harsh, relentless piss fills my mouth over and over. It sounds like a shell covering my ear on the beach, refracting the sound of the ocean.

I look up at Zane. His body is enveloped in darkness. Rings of light outline his body, blinding me slightly. I lean my head back like a prayer. I gulp his addictive slices of piss down. The glittering stream reaches out; extensions of Zane burrow into my mouth, my throat, my stomach. He becomes a part of me.

"He is so--into it," Damerae whimpers.

"He loves it," Zane says. "He loves me. He worships me."

When the stream ends, I lean in and suck the last drops out of Zane's cock, moaning, accepting my fate—egging it on. Zane slaps my face again.

"Did I say you could suck my cock, faggot? Haven't we been over this?" he asks, his green eyes glinting. His muscles flex above me, glimmering in the shadows he casts. One shadow I don't recognize: a half-circle over his bulging pectorals. It takes me a second to realize it is cast there from the bill of the mokimon hat.

"Sorry sir," I say, my voice breaking.

"Show me how much you want it."

I open my mouth and lean in, letting out a little noise. Zane slaps my face again and a tear bleeds out of my eye.

"I love you, Zane," I whisper. I nuzzle against his body as I move towards his cock again.

"Get the FUCK off me, faggot," Zane says, shoving me down with both hands.

Master holds my head an arms' length from his cock so I can't get at it.

Zane pulls Calvin over, his lips brushing Calvin's ear as he whispers into it.

Calvin's in no position to argue if he wants to protect me. It makes him as much as a slave as I am.

Calvin's blue eyes shimmer. I sense the wheels turning in it.

He gives me a solemn, broken look. His defined swimmer's build looms over me. I can smell sweat in the air.

He points his dick at my face, grimacing.

His stream starts slow and builds quickly. I open my mouth, lean my head back, and gargle Calvin's slightly tamer piss down.

"What, Calvin is in on this too?" Eduardo asks.

"I had to pry Travis off Calvin's dick this morning. He just can't get enough...so I figured—why not drown him in what he wants, then?" Zane smirks. "What did you call it, Damerae? Our little game? Travis is about to test his luck. Do you think he can handle six monsters?"

Six monsters—like mokimon.

Except they were the ones training me.

Flip the coin, roll the dice

Mimic or explore

You can't tell if the land is new

Or ground you've tread before

What is it like inside the die? Surrounded by six walls? A turbulent prison of chance?

The walls of fate are unyielding. Sad-stop-block. That's what I called my mind game, in this locker room, not all that long ago.

As Calvin's stream thins, I lean in till my mouth encircles his pretty, smooth pink dick. I swill from the source. As the stream clears, I slurp out the last drops, then suck his dick till it is hard.

"Finishing what you started this morning?" Zane asks.

"Mmn," I say, the noise buzzing around Calvin's dick as I bob down on it deeper.

"Fucking puta," Eduardo says, his voice soft.

I close my eyes, thinking of how Calvin's lips felt on my dick earlier. Like before, I move up and take him deep down my throat. Slowly, his dick rolls in and out of my mouth. I moan. His warm meat shivers inside me. I lose track of time as his warm, spongy dick teases my mouth. It traces my lips, my tongue, and the corners of my mouth, making me drool.

My moans grow progressively higher.

"Listen to the fag squeal," Zane says. He turns to Calvin. "You know, Chris tells me Travis doesn't like the nickname `coin' very much. Odd, for that to be the thing you complain about. What is it, Travis? Are you afraid I'll turn into a predatory lender?"

Zane pulls me off Calvin's dick for a second. Cool air stings my sticky face. I look up at him, dazed. "I don't know Zane."

Calvin, flustered near the edge, starts to jack his dick inches in front of my face.

"So what was Chris's replacement nickname? Honey-bun? Pussy-muffin?"

"Painter," I say, red-faced as ever. "He said—what I did to him...was like making a masterpiece."

Zane laughs loudly. "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. But anyway, it's all backwards. If anything, you are the work of art. Look what we've done to you."

I tremble.

"Calvin—why don't you coat this cunt-face with a fresh layer?"

Calvin groans.

"Cum on his face, punk," Zane growls. He squeezes Calvin's ass and Calvin grimaces. Calvin drags his dick across my lip. Zane holds my head away so I can't suck the dick back in. I whimper as Calvin's balls draw up.

Calvin laminates my face with fresh cum. I catch some in my mouth and swallow, but most of it runs down my cheeks and nose like finger-paint.

"My slave's dick is even harder than before. It's redder and blotchier than your face." Zane says.

Zane twists my head. The circle of men around me seems to spin.

Smaller frame. Peach-brown skin. Narrow features. Nimble muscles. Swirling black eyes.

Hiro.

"Think of how many times he beat you," Zane says. "Now he can't seem to win at anything."

"Hiro," I whisper.

Zane is gambling. He's hoping to lean on his leverage, and transform the core into the fringe, outside-in. Like dominoes, but bigger.

Like a nuclear reaction.

Hiro turns to Damerae, his eyes uncertain. "I—"

Zane cuts him off. "How rude of me! I never gave you a chance to make a bet. Anything you think Travis wouldn't do?"

Hiro shakes his head.

"Smart cookie," Zane says. "I know you don't always feel you fit in here, Hiro. I haven't the slightest clue if you like me. All I know is that Travis abandoned you. He left you alone in your weight class, because he couldn't be bothered to cut back on cheesecake or whatever. Then he lost your Penrose Triangle Key-chain within a week of you giving it to him, after lying to you about it in the first place. He's nothing close to the person you thought he was. You have every right to be pissed."

Hiro's cheeks are a deep shade of red. I wouldn't have expected him to be so affected by a few embarrassing comments.

"You always thought you were so special, Travis," Hiro says softly. "Aloof. Emotional. Rebellious. You go out of your way to stick out." He stands crooked. Calvin moves over beside him, acting as a crutch so he can move without wobbling.

Hiro grabs the back of my head, tilting it back so I can see the anger etching his face.

We are at the brink of critical mass—I can sense it.

"How did I lose to THIS?" Hiro whispers, the anger morphing to disgust.

"Open up for him," Zane says, mirth in his voice.

I open my mouth, lull my tongue out, and half-close my eyes.

"It's hard to imagine him beating anyone when he's like this," Zane says.

Hiro's dick plumps up in spite of himself.

Hiro, who just tried to protect me, but is now twice as bitter for it.

He'd been my best friend since Calvin abandoned me, after middle school—which wasn't saying much. I just wasn't meant to have friends, was I?

"Do it Hiro," Zane says.

Hiro's face is beet-red, his eyes are glossy.

"I tried not to be a part of this, Travis. But you never seem to cut your losses. You brought this upon yourself."

Hiro points his dick at me. The menacing red head dominates my visual field.

Hiro releases his stream. My stomach grumbles, unprepared for what will follow. I swallow Hiro's piss down as best as I can, spitting some up despite myself.

As he finishes, the look in his eyes sharpens. He grabs me by the hair, glaring. "The nail that sticks out is the one that gets hammered down."

His angry-looking dick fills my mouth in sloppy waves. The moment engulfs me—I lose track of time and space.

Hiro's cum cements my face.

The chain reaction begins; the balance shifts; the majority's reality-cast framework redefines.

I feel Zane tighten his grip on my hair, twisting me again.

"Want a turn?" Zane asks, grabbing my head and pointing it one person down.

Light gold-brown skin. Saltier smell. Lithe muscles. Cocky stance. Dark eyes. Curling smile.

Eduardo.

He rubs his cock all over my face. "I can't believe you drink piss, cundango. I can't even..." His voice trails off, his cock plumping in his palm. "Get your puta mouth open."

His cock is uncut, like Zane. I can see he hasn't cleaned it in a while.

I open up my mouth and Eduardo fills it with sour piss immediately. He bursts out laughing. "Maricon. This is fucking unbelievable! I TOLD YOU, Damerae. He ain't one of us. Look at this bitch." When the stream ends, he slaps his cock against my face. "Clean my cock, cundango. Get all that piss and smegma. I know you want it."

I suck the last drops of piss down, and swirl my tongue under the hood of his cock. It tastes like bad meat. I feel a little sick. I groan.

"I think he likes it," Zane says.

"Of course he likes it," Eduardo says, bouncing on his feet. "I shoulda got you swinging on my cock a long time ago, cundango. It's where you fucking belong."

He pushes his cock across my tongue, dragging Hiro and Calvin's cum around as it moves.

"Mamapinga," Eduardo says.

Layers of cum and piss stick on my face and in my hair, while clumps roll down in swirling beads. I close my eyes as they sting. Eduardo doesn't wait for me to recover. He just stabs my lips and mouth with his cock over and over and over, laughing. Zane's chuckle joins the echoes.

"This is what you exist for, isn't it?" Eduardo says.

Zane grabs my head and shoves me down balls-deep on Eduardo's salty, meaty rod. "Admit it faggot. You never thought you would suck Eduardo's cock. You believed you had standards. But the fact that you don't—that you are the fucking team whore—turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Mmmn," I whimper.

Eduardo rubs his cock all over my face, pushing Hiro and Calvin's cum around and feeding it to me.

I swallow the sweet and sour mix down. I suck Eduardo's cock in deep, swirling my tongue around and tightening my throat.

"Fuck," he growls. "I'm cumming, cundango," he whimpers.

Zane pulls me off and Eduardo's thick, grey cum plasters my face--in what feels increasingly routine.

Everything washes together.

Zane twists my hair again.

Thick muscles. Dark brown skin. Soft brown eyes. Matted hair. Crooked smile.

Damerae.

"I don't know about this," Damerae says softly. "I don't think I can do this."

"Oh come on, Damerae," Zane says. "Don't be cruel. The faggot wants it. Isn't that right, coin?"

"Yessir," I say softly.

"Ask him for his piss," Zane says.

"Please, Damerae," I say softly. "Put me in my place."

"Everything about this is fucking disgusting," Damerae says.

"When did you get so judgmental?" Zane asks.

"It's not the gay stuff that bothers me," Damerae says. "I mean—that's not something I want for me. I'm not gay. But I think you've crossed the line, past where you can just chalk my disapproval up to personal preference."

"What are you trying to prove, Damerae? That you aren't gay?" Zane pauses, chuckling. "People are not inherently identified by what they do, which is situational anyway. People are identified by how a group perceives them. People are not so simple. But they are made to seem simple. Taught to act simple."

"And what about Travis? Isn't he a person too?"

"Not anymore."

"What if you are wrong?"

"Kiss his feet," Zane says, glaring at me. "Show him."

I crawl over to Damerae, planting my face in his warm feet, swirling my tongue between his toes.

Zane crouches down beside me, spreading my ass cheeks apart.

The buttplug starts to slide out of my ass for all of them to see. Zane slams it back inside.

"This BITCH has been wearing it all day."

"Fuck," Eduardo growls.

Zane stands and circles Damerae, stopping next to his ear. "He wants it, Damerae. Make it his lucky day."

"C'mon, Damerae, everyone did it. Even Hiro," Eduardo says, clapping Damerae's shoulder.

"Hiro has the alcohol tolerance of a bacterium," Damerae mutters.

"Don't you have to piss?" Zane asks.

"I can use a toilet," Damerae says.

"What's the difference?"

"Toilets don't stare at me like that."

"So I'll have Travis close his eyes."

"I should get home," Damerae says. "My dad says I have to clean the chimney and the gutters."

"Isn't your daddy afraid you'll jump off the roof again?"

"That's the reason I have extra chores in the first place."

"So let Travis finish you off—and he'll do those things for you."

"Let me get this straight—if I let him suck my cock—he'll do my chores?"

"Yep."

"C'mon, Damerae, don't be the black sheep," Eduardo says. "I mean, you can be black. Just not—sheepish. I didn't say that right."

"What he means," Zane says, "Is—don't be the nail that sticks out."

Damerae looks around, possibly searching for a voice of reason.

"Alright, alright," Damerae says. He grabs my hair and pulls me up. "Here I go."

My stomach turns. I can't take anymore. Damerae's piss floods the air and finds my lips. I move in closer, and no one stops me this time as I take Damerae's fat cock into my mouth. I drink the warm piss directly from the source. When I finish, I look up at him, my eyes fluttering. His cock grows hard in my mouth, choking me. When I gag, he starts to pull back, but I lunge forward, keeping him inside me.

"Fffuck," he growls.

He finds my shoulders and forges little circles there. I soften into him, sucking gently, running my tongue over the limber texture of his cock. I make dragging waves with my mouth and throat.

"Guess this isn't too bad," Damerae says softly. He bucks into me.

With one hand he massages the back of my head. With the other, he strokes my chin, tilting my head toward him. I close my eyes, remembering he said he didn't like them.

"Go ahead and open them," he says begrudgingly.

I open my eyes and look into his.

He flashes a half-smile.

He flexes and I relax into him, my rounded mouth and puffy lips and swirling tongue drawing him in and cajoling him to take over.

His big hands roam around my body, finding weaknesses and toying with them. I whimper.

"He needs it rougher," Zane says.

Damerae ignores Master, softening my body by caressing me until I can't take it anymore.

"I'm close, Travis," Damerae says softly.

Zane pulls Damerae off. Seconds later, Damerae shoots his load all over my face.

Zane twists me again—and I know there's only one person left.

Massive, bulging muscles contour his golden body. I sense the softness of his fuzzy brown hair. Some of it is matted down by water. His firelit, amber eyes burn at the sight of me. His mouth is expressionless, though.

Chris.

His long cock hangs down in front of him like a pendulum.

"I'm sick of trying to be nice," Chris says, his eyes glinting.

Zane is right to laugh at me. Whatever masterpiece I thought I had—whatever dream I built up in the back of my mind—it had been desecrated, as had any religion on the wrong side of the biggest armory. The wrong side of history.

"Being nice? You might as well have left me to die."

"So you are dead inside. I guess that explains how after EVERYTHING—somehow, Zane is the one you love."

The pain in his eyes is unmistakable.

Like he's been the victim in all this.

"Fuck you, Chris," I croak.

Chris grimaces, then starts to piss, not even bothering to aim. The glimmering stream hits me on the chest. I look into his eyes; he glares at me.

"Aren't you going to try to drink it, bitch?" Chris asks.

I look at Zane, and he nods.

I move my head toward the stream, sticking out my tongue, looking up into Chris's eyes. He gyrates his cock in his fist, painting spirals on my face. I try to catch it, but he keeps moving the stream, making it impossible.

"Come on mokimon boy," Zane says. "You gotta catch it all."

I whimper.

Some gets in my eyes and I cringe. Zane laughs and Chris points the stream at my mouth. The warm syrup crosses my lips and finds my tongue. My eyes bolt open. Chris has the most powerful, sensual piss imaginable. I swallow, careful to keep my mouth open.

How could I ever have loved Chris? What a husk of a person. There is nothing there to love. Just a wound I misunderstood. In the hollow of the love I once felt, something new seethes.

I hate him.

A pure, enriching revulsion crystallizes inside me.

I can still see the beauty in Chris's body, but that's all that's left.

A sense of safety swamps me—like a blanket wrapped around me. I'm not really in love with anyone anymore. Not the naïve, heart-wrenching, soul-in-a-fragile-glass- bottle kind of love, anyway. And with my babyish notion of love gone, I'm invulnerable. Love is no longer a feeling I own. It's just a word I can throw around—like the rest of me.

With my soul laid bare, quilted in calluses, I'm not terrified of losing my dignity, my status, my secrets, my—anything.

Because at this point—there's nothing left.

I crawl closer to Chris's cock but Zane prevents me from reaching it by tugging on the handcuffs.

As the stream weakens, Zane lets go of the handcuffs, letting me seal my fate. I whimper, crawling toward Chris and holding my mouth open. He catches my head in his hand, holding me inches away from his cock.

I whine.

"Beg for it, bitch," Chris says.

"Please Chris. Make me your cocksucker."

Chris drags his cock against my face. His balls swing into my lips and he lets me suck them.

"You like that?"

"I don't love you anymore," I whisper. "I just love sucking cock. So why don't you fuck my faggot face?"

Chris growls and tightens his grip on my head. With his other hand, he guides his big cock past my lips and into my mouth.

"At least these handcuffs make it so you won't use your fucking hands." Chris says. The hot meat fills my mouth and stretches into my throat. The warmth radiates in all directions, inflating me. My muscles puff out and eventually soften. I collapse forward into him and he pulls me in till his abdominals fiex amongst my eyes and his balls stick to my chin.

I gag; Chris holds me in place.

"You like choking on my big cock, don't you bitch?" Chris asks.

I nod slightly, my eyes wide, and whimper.

He grabs me by the ears—the force along the earring tingles—I can feel the spark tracing my skin and lingering at my balls. He pulls my head away and slams it back down on his cock. He does this over and over, grunting as he uses my mouth and throat. I suck on his sweet cockhead as it leaks.

Chris is relentless. His big cock corks me as he rocks back and forth on my face. Steam from the shower fills the room with mist, boiling with the smell of wrestling sweat. I can smell Chris towering above me, covered in sleek sweat, and it makes me weak.

Chris pushes his big cock all over my face, feeding me the mix of cum that drips there. I suck his cock into my cum-coated mouth and throat. The big rod stretches me deep, plunging into me, drawing the old cum out of my throat and back into my mouth motion by motion. I suck and lick at his cock, slurping out the sweet taste and closing my eyes.

"Fuck yeah, bitch," Chris growls, tightening his grip on my hair.

I whimper. The motions of Chris's long rod draw the old cum out of me like a plunger as I suck the new pissy precum out of his cock.

Zane pinches my earring and I close my eyes, sucking Chris's cock like my life depends on it.

He shoves his cock deep down my throat, and I'm inundated by him.

"Cocksucker," he growls, glaring at me, shoving me off.

"See what I mean?" Zane asks. "If anything, this fag is my masterpiece. Paint his face."

Chris's balls tense up. I can see his cock expanding where my fate flows through it. I open my mouth wide. Shot after shot coats my face. Some of it runs down. I catch the last shot in my mouth and savor the sweet honey taste.

I collapse on the floor, facedown. Moments later, Zane sits on top of me, stroking my back and grabbing my ass.

"I'll make sure he gets to your place, Damerae," Zane says. "He's probably a little drunk. He's had about six beers-worth of piss, after all."

"So—what now?" Eduardo asks.

"Practice is over," Zane says. "That means you all can go."

Calvin stutters.

"Yes, even you, Calvin. I'll call you tonight."

With a hint of uncertainty, and a twinge of what might even be shame, they shuffle out of the shower.

"Don't forget to get me the money you owe me tomorrow—you clowns."

I lie in place, closing my ugly eyes, as the pitter-patter splash claps around me.

We can hear the scuffle as the others leave the showers, put on clothes, and disperse with a biting haste.

Their voices echo and then fade.

Eventually the only sounds are Zane's breathing and the showers still running.

The incessant drip drip drip of the water; the slow gasps and sighs of Master blowing in my ear.

After a minute or so, I try to move, but Master flexes, pushing my head into the tile. "Don't make me force you to lick the floor again, faggot."

"Yessir," I mumble.

Zane starts playing with the plug in my ass, drawing it in and out slowly. "You wish you had my cock, don't you punk?"

My other senses come back slowly, and then seem to consume me. "You deprived me all day, Zane."

"Not anymore," he mutters. He spreads out my ass cheeks, ripping the plug out of my ass.

I gasp.

Then—he shoves the dirty butt-plug into my mouth.

"Did you like getting flooded, faggot?"

I squirm underneath him, gagging, sputtering, and choking.

With his other hand, he plugs my nose so I can't breathe, and my eyes bug out. I buck uselessly.

Calvin. My old friend, who wasn't there when I needed him.

Hiro. My old wrestling partner, who resented the pearls of wisdom I'd squandered.

Eduardo. The asshole, who always prickled my nerves.

Damerae. The happy-go-lucky guy, who couldn't believe what I'd become.

Chris. The boy I loved, who left me for dead.

The bile rises in my throat. The buckets of cum and piss. The taste of my own dirty ass.

Zane pulls out the butt-plug, and I vomit all over the ceramic tile floor.

Slowly, it swirls amongst the shower water like marble, collecting around the drain.

"You don't like throwing up, do you?" Zane asks.

I clench my eyes shut, shaking my head, and shuddering.

"Too much jock dick can do that to a fag."

He flips me onto my back, then pins my legs into my chest so my ass points up at him. I open my eyes, gaping, and Zane shoves the plug back in my mouth.

"Get it clean, coin."

My eyes widen. I obey, sucking the plug like a pacifier.

Zane aligns his fat cock with my open hole.

He looks at me, the green light in his eyes fracturing. He raises his eyebrow, reaching one arm up, his bicep flexing as he grabs the bill of the mokimon hat.

Slowly, with a half-smile, he twists the hat so it is backwards.

Then, he slams his cock into my ass balls-deep.

My moan is muffled by the plug in my mouth. As Zane forces his cock into my ass, he grabs the plug, sliding it in and out of my mouth in time with his battering hips.

"I own your holes, faggot," Zane says. "No more frivolous lending. I'm sure we are both sick of that."

I whimper, nodding.

Zane pulls the cleaned plug out of my mouth and shoves my face into his sweaty armpit.

"Lick it, cunt-face."

I lap at his pit, slowly at first, then faster, drawing out his flavor and forcing it down.

Zane laughs. "You are MY faggot from now on. Do you understand?"

I whimper and nod as Zane mines my ass hard.

Zane wraps his arms around me, flexing, pounding my ass and spitting into my gaping mouth.

I swallow.

"Tell me how it is," Zane says, slapping my face.

"You own my holes. You own my body—my mind. You own me. I am your faggot—your slave. And I worship you as a God."

Zane hammers me.

"Cum for me, faggot," Zane says.

I don't have an ounce of resistance left. My balls draw up.

"Fuck, Zane," I whimper. "Fuck! God! Fuck!"

My ass clenches around Zane's cock over and over as the detonation nears.

"FUCK!"

My vision clouds—my perception levels.

It feels as though my whole body is bursting--exploding--into nothing.

My cum splinters the surface of my chest in all directions, like a web of scars.

My flexing ass pushes Zane over the edge and he pumps his load deep into my hole.

Zane smears my cum into his other armpit. I lick it clean as we grow soft.

"Good boy," he whispers, stroking my hair. He pulls out of me slowly. "Good boy."

I nuzzle into him as shower water streaks his skin.

Zane shoves my face into his crotch. "You need to get in the habit of thanking me after I fuck you."

"Thanks for teaching me a lesson. Thank you--Master."

I lick and kiss his balls and the base of his slimed-up cock.

Once I've cleaned his junk, he buries my face in his ass.

"My pleasure--faggot."

I lick and lick and lick.

--- Feedback keeps me in the mood to write and brainstorm and is always appreciated. :) email: krazytop@gmail.com tumblr: krazytop.tumblr.com