The Senior Towelboy
By Ben C.
This story contains sexual acts (domination, humiliation, oral, masturbation) between young males.
If you don't like it, or it is illegal in your country or state, please stop reading.
Please keep in mind that Nifty needs our donations to keep this great free service running.
Thanks for all the comments!
And thanks to DeeCee Uk for the Italian translation!
In case you are interested, here is a list of my other stories:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/game-sessions/ http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/scottys-tailor/ http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/hosting-skater-dudes/ http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/the-senior-towel-boy/
Chapter 4
"Vince, please, I can't walk back to my car looking like this. Please give me a ride, I've got cum all over my face."
He climbed in, started the engine and leaned out of the open side window. He winked at me – the ever-mischievous Vince.
"Can't risk being seen with a fag," he said and drove off.
I made it to my car; walking as fast as I could, but trying not to draw attention in the deserted strip mall. I had almost reached my destination, when a car full of rowdy teenagers passed me. The car slowed to a crawl so that the kids could scream insults at me, and one of them threw an empty beer can that missed my head by a couple of inches.
Luckily the next day was Saturday, and I was able to recover from the previous day's ordeals by spending some quality time at the mall. I burned a couple of grand in the Gucci and Armani boutiques, and relaxed afterwards at our swimming pool, enjoying drinks and snacks served by our staff. On Sunday we had an informal lunch at our Country Club – the oysters were superb but the foie de gras was nothing to write home about – and I played some golf with my friends. On Monday I was able to go to school refreshed and in good spirits. Unfortunately, my spirits were ruined when I got home.
I drove up our driveway when I saw something very unusual. A pizza van was parked in front of our main entrance. And not just any pizza van; it belonged to Gino's family. I parked my Porsche in a far corner of the parking lot and waited nervously, not knowing what to expect. I knew by instinct that it probably meant nothing good for me. One thing was certain: my parents would never order something they considered little peoples' food, and pizza belonged to that despicable category. It was a regular joke in my family, repeated every time my Mom and Dad pondered what to have for dinner. Someone would say, 'let's order some pizza' and we'd all laugh at the idea of my parents munching pizza slices, dressed for dinner, at our mahogany dining table.
I didn't have to wait too long. The front door opened, and out stepped Gino, dressed in a black jacket, white shirt and beige slacks. His normally unruly long hair was tied into a neat ponytail. My father came out too and put his hand on Gino's shoulder, obviously discussing about something important with him. Then my Dad smiled and shook Gino's hand. Gino said something to him, and they both laughed, and waved final goodbyes. Then Gino started his van and drove away.
What the hell could that be about? I was too scared to ask my Dad, so I waited a couple of minutes before slipping inside. After half an hour the intercom buzzed in my room – yes, we use intercoms to communicate in the huge house – and my Father's hard voice boomed from the speaker.
"Ray, you home?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Come to my study."
When my Dad tells someone to come over, he doesn't tolerate any delays, so I combed my hair and climbed to his third floor office. I knocked the massive door and entered his huge study. There was a long conference table for board meetings, and some nice leather armchairs around a coffee table for more relaxed discussions. But the most impressive part of the room was Dad's twelve feet wide work desk and the mighty high black chair that only he was allowed to occupy. As usual, there were no papers on his desk; he had staff to take care things like that.
"Sit down," he grunted and pointed at one of the two chairs in front of his desk. So, we were not going to have an informal father-and-son chat at the coffee corner this time.
The chairs for visitors and employees in front of my Dad's desk were decidedly small and uncomfortable; no one was expected to enjoy sitting there, and even the tallest visitor had to look up to face my Dad's hard eyes.
I sat down and squeezed the metal armrests of the chair nervously with my sweating hands, not knowing what to expect. Dad went right into business, as always. He wasn't into niceties.
"Coach Bennett called. He isn't happy about your behavior, Raymond."
Raymond. That was ominous.
"Dad, I... I can explain everything..."
That made my Dad freak out. He smashed his palm on the desk with a loud bang that echoed in the huge room.
"Dancing under the shower fully clothed to entertain some snotty brats? Somebody told the Coach you even offered to wash a guy's damned legs! Are you out of your fucking mind, boy?" he bellowed.
Tears welled up in my eyes. This wasn't fair!
"I didn't believe any of these stories at first, so Bennett suggested that I have a word with the captain of the team. The Coach told me that Gino is a very capable and fair-minded young leader, so I invited him here. I wanted to get a second opinion about you without the Coach being present."
He paused, looking at his hands for a while. Then he looked right into my eyes.
"I liked him immediately. Gino is just like the son I always wished I had."
That was too much. I felt tears running down my cheeks.
"Dad," I sobbed, but that only made him more angry.
"For chrissake, Ray! Try to get hold of yourself and act like a man and not like some damned faggot," he yelled.
If he would've known the truth about the faggot thing...
"Gino pretty much confirmed what the Coach told me. Being your friend, he tried to defend you, of course, and that made me respect him even more. But I could see that he did it with reluctance. Finally he admitted that he was ashamed of your behavior, and he is worried that you set a bad example for some of the younger boys in the team."
"But Dad, they made me..." I tried to keep my voice steady, but failed miserably.
"Shut up!"
"I'll give you one more chance, Ray. But it's the last one. If you screw up this one, that's it. You'll move out of my house. No car, no credit card, no phone."
I wasn't able to say anything; I was afraid that I would start crying like a baby.
But Dad wasn't finished.
"It is clear to me now that I have miserably failed with you as a father. That's why I made an agreement with Gino. I hired him to take responsibility of your upbringing outside our home. From now on, he is your personal mentor and leader, and he works for me. I told him to be ruthless, if necessary, and punish you if you do something stupid. And you will follow his every request like it was an order from me. Consider Gino as your big brother. Understand?"
I nodded slowly, horrified. I was nineteen, and my had Dad assigned me a sixteen-year old big brother!
And my ordeal continued.
"From now on, you will ask for Gino's permission every time you intend to leave the school premises during school day. Also, after school, if you want to go somewhere else than home, you will get Gino's approval in advance. If you want to go shopping, you ask for Gino's permission and tell him what you intend to buy. If he says no, you don't buy it. To make sure you don't try to cheat, you will hand over all your credit cards to him. And, I gave him a certain amount of cash. If you need some pocket money, you ask Gino. Any questions?"
I sat silent, my head bowed.
"You're dismissed."
That night I cried myself into sleep. My world had just collapsed.
But in an hour or so I was deprived of the mercy of sleep by the buzz of my phone.
I looked at the screen. It was Gino. I was safe from the bad world in our mansion, with all the security cameras and alarms protecting me from the underprivileged masses, but there was no escape from Gino for me anymore. I picked up the phone.
"Ray."
"Who?"
"It's Ray. Finocchio."
"Finocchio! Why didn't you say so?"
"Sorry, Gino."
"Well, how are you doing, faggot?"
"I'm fine, Gino," I lied.
He chuckled.
"Yeah, sure. Did you speak with your Dad?"
"Yes."
"Good. Did he tell you about our agreement?"
"Yes. He told me."
"Okay, culattone. Take all your credit cards with you tomorrow and bring them to me at lunch break. Understood?"
"Yes, Gino."
"Now, your upbringing starts now with a lesson in Italian. If you don't pass the test, your credit cards will stay in my pocket for the next month. Are you ready?"
I sighed. I was tired and my head was aching.
"Yes, Gino."
I heard him chuckle softly in the other end. I could see his cocky grin in my eyes.
"Gino, why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you're a rich scumbag faggot, and I hate rich scumbag faggots. I've seen you looking down at me in school, thinking you're better than me because your Daddy has dough. You've disrespected me and insulted my family. And you have insulted me with your miserable tips."
"And your perfume-stinking fat Daddy is the biggest asshole in the universe."
I gasped and he heard it. He chuckled.
"Wanna go tell Daddy I said that? Try your luck, and we'll see which one of us he believes."
"It's my rules now, fag-boy. And I'm gonna show you your place."
"You're done that already," I said with my voice trembling.
"That's what you think. You've seen nothing yet."
"Gino, please..."
"Shut up, faggot. Now, I will teach you a couple of sentences in Italian. You will need them every time you come to ask for money, so listen carefully. This is how it goes."
"Gino, sono soltanto un frocio patetico. Scusami per averti rubato del tempo prezioso. Puoi darmi qualche spicciolo?"
"Now, repeat it."
"Gino, soun sauldanne..."
He laughed.
"Fuck, you're stupid. But we'll practice until you learn this. Remember, no shopping for a month if you flunk this. Again, frocio. "
And we practiced these phrases over and over again until I finally passed Gino's exam at 1:30 AM.
"Okay. Go to sleep, faggot."
"But Gino, what do those words mean?"
He told me and hung up, laughing.
I sat through the morning classes in a daze. My sleep had been restless, but when I woke up I remembered what I had been dreaming about. In the dream I was on my knees at Vince's feet again. This time the whole team was watching and laughing at me, as I begged Vince to shoot his cum on my face once more, but he just laughed and backed down, gradually disappearing inside a cloud of fog. My cum-smeared pajama pants confirmed that it hadn't been a nightmare at all.
And I remembered Gino's lesson. He would use it to humiliate me, but where and when? I decided to make a pit stop at the ATM in the morning to make sure I wouldn't need to go to see Gino for cash for a while.
Came lunch break, and time for me to hand over my beloved credit cards to my recently appointed big brother. I saw Gino lounging with Vince and Seb in a far corner of the school yard. They were eating their lunch sandwiches at a picnic table. Seb and Vince smirked at me expectantly when I walked over. Obviously they knew about the new circumstances. I decided to face the music right away with the gallant attitude of a martyr thrown in with the lions.
I took out my wallet, picked out the five credit cards I had there and offered them to Gino without a word. He didn't reach out to take them, just sat back, smiling that cocky teenage smile of his that I hated and desired so much.
"Put them on the table, faggot."
I placed them on the table in front of him. He took a bite of his sandwich and munched it for a good while. Then he sipped his soda and burped.
"Lemme see your wallet."
"Gino, my Dad said just the cards."
"And I say the wallet. I'm responsible for your upbringing now, so I've gotta make sure my little homo isn't carrying anything that might be harmful for his future development."
Vince and Seb snickered.
I sighed and offered him my wallet. He took it and inspected the contents. He took out the wad of bills I had withdrawn from the ATM that morning to survive a couple of days while I tried to figure out a plan to get back to my comfortable old life.
Gino counted the money with a frown.
"Nine hundred bucks? That's a no-no, Finocchio. You need seven for lunch. Add three for coffee and a donut in the afternoon."
He picked a twenty-dollar bill from the bundle and handed it to me. The rest of the money disappeared into the side pocket of his ragged jeans.
"This is your allowance for two days. If you need more, ask me."
I was horrified.
"Gino, please. Give me at least a hundred more. I really need it. I've got expenses."
Gino listened to my pleading with a smug smile. Seb and Vince looked at him expectantly.
"Well then, you know how to ask, don't you?"
"Gino, please. Not here."
"I told you the rules. No exceptions. Ask me nice. No Italian, no money.
I looked at Gino, pleading. He smiled back, knowing he had me once again.
I took a deep breath.
"Gino, sono..." but he interrupted me, pretending to be displeased.
"A-a, frocetto. Don't you have any manners? Are you really going to ask me like that, standing in front of me like a man?"
Vince and Seb laughed. I noticed a bulge in the crotch of Vince's faded jeans. It seemed he enjoyed very much watching me being humiliated.
Gino was going to sink me as low as any guy can ever be sunk. I sank slowly on my knees in front of him. He nodded and I started over.
"Gino, sono soltanto un frocio patetico. Scusami per averti rubato del tempo prezioso. Puoi darmi qualche spicciolo?"
Gino laughed mockingly. Vince and Seb laughed too, although they didn't understand the Italian words.
"What did the faggot say, Gino?" Seb wanted to know.
"Tell him Finocchio," Gino ordered.
"Gino, I am a pathetic..." I mumbled.
"Speak up, faggot."
I started over, this time louder.
"Gino, I am a pathetic faggot and I apologize for taking your precious time. Please give me a little money."
The boys' hysteric laughter seemed to continue forever.
"Way to go, faggot," Seb rejoiced. He wasn't going to forget the way my Dad had fired his Dad.
"Well done, Finocchio," Gino said and took the money bundle from his pocket. He choose a twenty-dollar bill and showed it to me. I was horrified.
"Please Gino, I asked for a hundred."
"Yeah, that's what you asked. And this is what you're gonna get, he said and stuffed the bill into my wallet.
He flung the wallet carelessly towards the table but it missed, and dropped to the ground in front of Seb's scruffy Converse hi-tops. I crouched down to take it, but Seb moved his shoe on top of it. Then he picked up the wallet, spread it wide open and hocked a generous loogie. I watched in horror as his slime slowly flowed down, glazing the only money I owned in the world.
Seb lifted the walled in front of my face and suddenly slammed the flaps together so that his snot sprinkled all over me. Then he stood up and threw the wallet as far away as possible. A devilish smile appeared on his handsome face.
"Fetch, faggot!" he called out, and the boys' laughter accompanied me all the way to the remote landing zone of my assets.
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