The basement door opened with a heavy creak, revealing a staircase leading into a dimly lit space that smelled faintly of leather and sweat. The Mayor led the way, his hand still on Troy's shoulder, guiding him down into the depths of his twisted playground. As they reached the bottom, Troy's eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. The basement had been transformed into a dungeon, a space that screamed of debauchery and pain.
Rows of whips, chains, and restraints lined the walls, and a large, intricate contraption took up the center of the room. It was clear that the Mayor had spared no expense in creating a space where he could indulge his darkest fantasies. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding that clung to Troy like a wet towel, making his skin crawl and his heart race.
The Mayor's hand was like a vice on Troy's shoulder, guiding him to the center of the room where the contraption loomed over them, its leather straps and shiny chrome gleaming in the soft light. "Strip, leave on the pads." he ordered, his voice low and hungry.
Troy's hands trembled as he complied, peeling off his football jersey and pants, leaving him in just his pads. The Mayor's eyes devoured him, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Troy felt a sense of vulnerability and fear like he'd never experienced before, not even in the most intense moments of their encounters with Coach Waters. This was different. This was a new level of hell.
The Mayor walked around him in a slow circle, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made Troy want to shrink away. "You're even better than the coach said," he murmured, his hand reaching out to trace the lines of Troy's abs. "So ripe and ready to be broken in."
The room was a maze of leather, chains, and steel, a stark contrast to the pristine white walls of the coach's office. The air was thick with the scent of desire and fear, a heady mix that made Troy's head spin. The contraption in the center looked like a cross between a torture device and a piece of modern art, a twisted tapestry of leather and chrome that promised nothing but pain and pleasure.
Mayor Tim's hand was cold and clammy on Troy's bare skin as he guided him towards the contraption. Each step felt like a march towards his own destruction, his body trembling with every movement. The coach had taught them well, but the thought of facing a whole weekend with the Mayor was almost too much to bear.
Once Troy was standing in front of the contraption, the Mayor stepped back to admire his handiwork. "You see this, boy?" he said, his voice thick with excitement as he gestured to the array of whips and paddles on the wall. "These are for when you're a bad boy, and believe me, I know you'll be bad."
Troy swallowed hard, trying to keep his fear at bay. He knew he had to play the part, to submit willingly if he wanted to get through the weekend. He nodded, his eyes flickering over the array of tools that promised pain and humiliation. "Yes, sir," he murmured.
The Mayor's grin grew wider as he stepped closer, his hand stroking the leather of the contraption. "Good boy," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Now, let's get you secured."
With surprising strength, he pushed Troy onto the table, the leather cool against his back. The boy's breath caught in his throat as the Mayor began to strap him down, starting with his ankles and moving up his legs. Each buckle clicked into place with a finality that sent a shiver through him, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. The straps tightened around his wrists, elbows, and biceps, also his ankles, shins, thighs, over his abs and over his chest and neck, holding him in place like a butterfly pinned to a board. His hands were pinned in a flexing biceps position under the table behind his head, so his muscles would bulge beautifully. He looked like a specimen with those pads, socks and jock.
The Mayor took his time, savoring each moment of Troy's submission. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork, before moving to the head of the table. Troy's eyes followed him, wide with fear and a hint of anger. He didn't dare struggle, knowing the futility of it. The Mayor's hand was gentle as it caressed the strap securing his neck, his thumb brushing against his skin in a mockery of affection.
"Now, now," he chuckled. "No need to look so tense. I promise you'll enjoy it." His voice was a purr, a sickening parody of comfort. "You'll learn to love it."
Troy forced a smile, trying to keep the rising bile from reaching his lips as the Mayor secured the strap. The contraption was a work of depraved genius, a table with leather pads that molded to his body. Each strap was placed with precision, ensuring that once they were all tightened, he'd be a living sculpture of submission, unable to move even a fraction of an inch. The leather was cold and unforgiving, the smell of it mixing with the Mayor's cologne and the underlying scent of the room.
The Mayor's hands lingered over the straps that would hold Troy's legs apart, his thumbs tracing the path they would take up the insides of his thighs. "We're going to have such a good time, you and I," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Troy's face. The fear in Troy's eyes only served to excite him further, and he gave a low chuckle.
With a swift movement, Mayor Tim was behind Troy's head, his warm breath ghosting over his ear as he whispered sweet nothings. His hand slid around to cup Troy's cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin before he leaned in and claimed Troy's mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Troy's body stiffened, but the coach had taught them well. He knew that fighting would only make things worse. So he endured, his eyes squeezed shut as the Mayor's tongue invaded his mouth, tasting him like a predator assessing its prey.
The Mayor's kiss grew more demanding, his teeth scraping against Troy's bottom lip until it was bruised and swollen. The young jock couldn't help the whine that escaped him, a sound that seemed to only spur the Mayor on. The Mayor's other hand found its way to Troy's erect cock. It was a testament to the coach's drugs and the Mayor's depraved allure that Troy's body responded even as his mind rebelled.
The Mayor broke the kiss, his eyes shining with lust as he took in the sight of Troy's arousal. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice like a caress. "You want it, don't you?" His hand wrapped around Troy's cock, giving it a firm squeeze. "You're going to scream for me, boy."
With a twisted sense of excitement, the Mayor turned his attention to the ball stretcher on the shelf, picking it up with a sense of reverence. The contraption was a series of 5 metal rings that would stretch Troy's testicles from where they connected under his dick. "This little beauty will make sure you don't get ahead of yourself," he said, his voice thick with anticipation.
Troy felt a cold bead of sweat roll down his spine as the Mayor approached, the cold metal rings in his hand glinting menacingly in the dim light. The Mayor's breath was hot on his neck as he began to attach the rings, one by one, each one pulling his ball sack a little further away from the base. Troy bit down on his lower lip, fear mingling as he tried not to scream out. The pain was intense but not unbearable, a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
"How many girls have had the pleasure of this beautiful 8-inch cock of yours?" Mayor Tim asked, his voice a gruff whisper. His hand was still on Troy's cock, stroking it slowly, almost reverently. The question was a twisted game, one that Troy knew he had to play if he wanted to survive the weekend.
Troy swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to think of a response that would satisfy the Mayor's depraved curiosity. "A few dozen, sir" he said, his voice hoarse. "But I don't think about them anymore. Not since... I met Coach Waters."
The Mayor's eyes lit up with a sadistic glee. "Is that so?" he said, his grip on Troy's cock tightening. "And do you prefer his cock over pussy now?"
"Yes, sir," Troy whispered, the words feeling like acid on his tongue. "I'm a faggot. I live for cock, and I want nothing more than to please men." He stared into the Mayor's eyes, willing himself to believe the lie. Coach Waters had drilled this into him, had made him repeat it over and over until it was second nature. The only way to survive was to become the thing they wanted him to be.
The Mayor's eyes narrowed, searching Troy's face for any sign of dissent, but all he saw was the shimmer of fear and the trained eagerness. "Good boy," he murmured, his grip on Troy's cock tightening. "You're going to be so much fun."
He moved behind Troy's head, his hand still stroking the young man's cheek as he spoke. "Now, I want to hear you beg for it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Beg me to fuck your mouth like the little whore you are."
Troy's throat was dry, his heart racing as he forced the words out. "Please, sir," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please fuck my mouth with your big cock." The words felt alien on his tongue, a testament to the power the Mayor held over him. The Mayor's chuckle was like thunder in the small space, and Troy felt his stomach drop with a mix of fear and anticipation.
The table gave a soft click as it reclined slightly, angling his head back and exposing his throat. The Mayor's hand was at his mouth again, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip, pushing it down to expose his teeth. "Keep begging," he ordered, his voice thick with lust.
Troy complied, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, sir," he whimpered, his eyes welling with tears. "Please, fuck my mouth with your big, fat cock." He had never felt so debased, so utterly at the mercy of another person. But the fear of what would happen if he didn't play along was too great.
The Mayor's smile grew even wider as he stepped back and unbuckled his belt, his pants falling to his ankles with a heavy thud, he stripped himself naked. His cock sprang free, thick and veiny, the head glistening with pre-cum. Troy couldn't help but stare, his fear and disgust warring with the need to please. The Mayor noticed his gaze and took a bottle of poppers from the nearby shelf, holding it under Troy's nose.
"Breathe in, boy," he said, his voice a command. Troy took a deep breath, the chemical fumes burning his nostrils and making his vision swim. The world around him grew fuzzy, the edges of his reality blurring like a painting left out in the rain. He felt his inhibitions slipping away, his body growing more pliant, more willing to accept whatever the Mayor had in store for him.
The Mayor's cock was in front of his face, a monstrous beast that seemed to pulse and throb with each of Troy's racing heartbeats. The head was a deep red, the veins standing out in stark relief against the pale flesh. He knew what was expected of him, knew he had to swallow his fear and submit to the Mayor's desires.
With a deep breath, he parted his lips, and the Mayor's cock slid into his mouth, filling him with a sense of revulsion that was quickly overridden by the drug-induced haze. He could feel the Mayor's excitement as his cock hit the back of his throat, the warm, salty taste of pre-cum coating his tongue. The Mayor's hands were on his neck, his balls slapping Troys eyes and forehead.
"That's it, boy," the Mayor murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Take it all." His grip tightened, and he began to thrust into Troy's mouth, his movements growing more erratic with each passing second.
Troy's eyes watered as he struggled to breathe around the Mayor's massive cock, the saliva pooling in his mouth and dripping down his face. He could feel the muscles in his jaw straining as he worked to accommodate the monstrous girth. The Mayor's hips pistoned, his cock sliding in and out with a wet, obscene sound that echoed through the room.
As the Mayor's thrusts grew more forceful, Troy's gag reflex kicked in, and he felt a surge of vomit rise in his throat. He choked, his eyes bulging as he tried to keep it down, but the Mayor's relentless pumping didn't allow for any reprieve. The clear vomit spilled out of his mouth, coating the Mayor's shaft and mixing with the saliva that already covered Troy's face. The Mayor didn't miss a beat, his grip on Troy's neck tightening as he pushed even deeper, the sound of retching muffled by his fat cock.
"Look at the mess you're making, you little slut," the Mayor sneered, his voice a mix of disgust and arousal. "You're going to clean that up with your tongue after I've had my fill." His hands found their way to Troy's chest, pinching and twisting his sensitive nipples, eliciting a whimper of pain. The pain was a welcome distraction from the bile in his throat, and Troy focused on the sharp sting, trying to block out the feeling of the Mayor's cock invading his mouth.
The Mayor leaned back, giving Troy a moment to breathe before slamming back into his mouth. His teeth scraped against the tender flesh, and the vomit that had coated the Mayor's shaft now painted a grotesque picture on Troy's face. The Mayor's hands moved to the side of his head, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth without mercy. Each thrust was punctuated with a guttural grunt, and Troy could feel the man's excitement growing.
Troy's eyes were watering, his vision blurred by the mixture of saliva and vomit that plastered his face. He could feel the straps biting into his skin as he desperately tried to pull away, his whole body shaking with the effort. But the contraption held him firmly, not an inch of give in its leather embrace. He was utterly at the Mayor's mercy, and the realization filled him with a primal terror that made his stomach clench.
The Mayor's grip on his head was unyielding as he continued to thrust his cock deep into Troy's throat, the veins in his neck bulging with the effort to keep breathing. Each time the gag reflex hit, Troy's body spasmed, his abs tightening under the leather straps that held him in place. The Mayor took it as a sign of his enjoyment, grinning down at the young jock with a twisted sense of pride.
Troy's eyes rolled back in his head, his body desperately trying to fight the suffocation, his muscles bulging and flexing under the straps as he struggled to pull away. The sight was erotic, and the Mayor took a moment to appreciate the power he had over the boy, the way his body was putty in his hands. "Such a good little slut," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of pleasure.
The Mayor's grip tightened, his hips moving faster and faster as he fucked Troy's face with brutal force. Each thrust brought a fresh wave of bile up Troy's throat, but he managed to swallow it down, the taste of it mixing with the salty tang of the Mayor's cock. His chest heaved, his muscles straining against the restraints as he tried to draw in enough air to sustain him. The leather creaked and groaned with the effort, but it held firm, keeping him in place.
Finally, with a roar, the Mayor pulled back, his cock slipping from Troy's mouth with an obscene pop. Troy took a huge, gasping breath, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. "Thank me," he ordered, his voice a low growl.
Troy's eyes fluttered open, the world spinning around him as he tried to focus. He swallowed hard, the taste of bile and the Mayor's dick still lingering on his tongue. "Thank you, sir," he managed to croak out, his voice hoarse from the abuse. The words felt like acid in his mouth, but he knew he had to play the part if he wanted to survive.
The Mayor's grin was wide and wicked as he stepped away, reaching for a set of shiny chrome nipple clamps on the shelf. They were attached to a small battery pack that buzzed with the promise of pain. "These will keep you on your toes," he said, his voice a low growl of anticipation.
Troy's eyes widened in fear as the Mayor approached, the clamps glinting in the soft light. The contraption was already a living hell, but he knew that the Mayor was just getting started. The Mayor's hand was gentle as he lifted the football pad that the boy was wearing and took Troy's right nipple, pinching it before sliding the clamp onto it. He screwed it tight, the cold metal biting into the sensitive flesh and sending a jolt of pain through Troy's body.
The Mayor repeated the process on the other side, his eyes never leaving Troy's face as he watched the boy's reaction. Troy's chest was heaving now, his eyes squeezed shut as the pain grew unbearable. The Mayor leaned in, his breath hot against Troy's ear. "You're going to love these," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "They'll make sure you're always ready for me."
With a sadistic chuckle, the Mayor turned the temperature in the room up a notch, the air growing hotter and more suffocating. Troy could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, his body already on edge from the strain and fear. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he had no choice but to endure. The Mayor was enjoying his suffering, the power dynamics laid bare.
The Mayor's fat stomach and ass jiggled as he walked around the room, his bare feet slapping against the cold concrete. Troy felt his muscles tighten even more, the straps digging into his skin as he struggled not to panic. The repositions Troys arms so that they are now by his side rather then flexing behind his head.
The Mayor returned to the contraption, his eyes gleaming with malicious excitement. In his hand, he held a device that looked like a nightmarish cross between a dildo and a medical instrument. It was an inflatable prostate and perineum massager. "This little toy," the Mayor said, holding it up for Troy to see, "is going to make you feel like you're in heaven, boy."
With a cruel smile, the Mayor lubricated the device before pressing it against Troy's tight, exposed hole. Troy's body tensed, his eyes squeezed shut as the cold, rubber pushed its way in. The Mayor's fingers were gentle as they inserted the device, the tip of the prostate massager sliding into him with surprising ease. The contraption's straps held him open, leaving him utterly exposed and vulnerable.
Once the device was in place, the Mayor took a moment to admire his handiwork, his eyes lingering on Troy's stretched anus and the way the leather straps framed his body. "Now, let's see if you can handle the full experience," he said, his voice thick with anticipation. With a push of a button, the Mayor turned on the device, and Troy's body tried arching off the table as the vibrations hit his prostate and perineum.
The Mayor then put his testicles in a metal ball crushers, adding further misery with the already attached ball stretching rings.
With a cruel twist of his wrist, the Mayor screwed in the ball crusher, the metal rings closing in on Troy's sensitive testicles. The pain was immediate and intense. He tensed, his body trying to jerk away from the unbearable pressure, but the straps held him firm. The Mayor chuckled, his eyes never leaving Troy's face as he watched the boy's reaction.
"Now." He stepped around to the side of the table, his cock still hard and dripping. "Beg me to let you taste my ass, boy."
Troy's eyes snapped open, meeting the Mayor's gaze with a mix of horror and desperation. His mouth was still slick with vomit and spit, but he knew what he had to do. "Please, sir," he whispered, the words barely audible. "Let me... let me eat your ass."
The Mayor leaned in closer, his breath hot on Troy's cheek. "Not good enough," he said, his voice a low purr. "Beg harder, boy. Show me how much you want it."
Troy's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded, his voice shaking with fear and revulsion. "Please, sir," he sobbed, his voice thick with the taste of bile. "I'll do anything. I'm just a faggot, a worthless piece of meat. I'm here to serve you, to be your toy, your personal fleshlight." The words were like shards of glass in his mouth, but he knew that the more he degraded himself, the more the Mayor would enjoy it.
"Please, please let me lick your ass," he continued, his voice a broken whisper. "I want to make you feel good. I want to be the best slut you've ever had. I'm nothing without your cock in my mouth, your dick in my ass." The tears spilled over, mixing with the vomit on his cheeks.
The Mayor's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at Troy's words. He reached down and caressed the boy's face, his thumb swiping at a tear. "That's what I like to hear," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr.
He stepped back, revealing his massive, hairy ass to Troy. "Now, my slut," he said, his voice dripping with mock affection. "I've been saving this for a special occasion. You see, I haven't washed in a week." He chuckled darkly. "And I expect you to make my ass sparkle."
Troy's stomach churned at the thought of what he was about to do, but he knew better than to protest. He took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet the Mayor's, searching for some semblance of humanity in the monster before him. But all he saw was the gleaming excitement of a man about to indulge in his darkest fantasies.
With a sense of resignation that was almost palpable, Troy leaned in, his tongue tentatively touching the Mayor's sweaty, hairy ass. The taste was rancid, a mix of sweat and something else that made his gag reflex kick in. But he swallowed down the bile, knowing that he had no choice but to endure. He began to lick, his tongue tracing the crevice between the Mayor's cheeks, the coarse hairs scratching his face.
The Mayor's grunts of pleasure grew louder as Troy's tongue delved deeper, finding the tight ring of his anus. He pushed past his revulsion and took a deep breath before diving in, his tongue pushing past the sphincter and into the warm, foul-smelling cavity beyond. The Mayor's body tensed, his muscles tightening as he felt the young man's tongue invading him. "That's it," he groaned, his hand reaching back to stroke Troy's hair. "You're such a good boy, such a good little slut."
With a flick of his thumb, the Mayor activated the inflatable prostate massager, and Troy felt his ass cheeks spread even wider as the device grew, filling him completely. The vibrations grew stronger, sending waves of painful pleasure through his body. His legs kicked and his body bucked against the restraints, his mouth full of the Mayor's ass as he choked back a scream. The contraption's leather straps held him firmly in place, not allowing an inch of movement as the Mayor's weight shifted and his cock grew even harder.
The Mayor's breath grew ragged as he watched Troy's body convulse with each pulse of the massager. His own cock was rock-hard, bobbing in the air as he reveled in the power he had over the young man. With a smug grin, he reached for the remote that controlled the nipple clamps, turning the vibration to the highest setting.
Troy's body jolted at the sudden, intense sensation, the clamps sending shockwaves of pain through his chest. The Mayor leaned back, his own breathing heavy as he watched Troy's body react to the dual assault. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a greedy little slut."
Troy's tongue grew bolder as he tasted the Mayor's unwashed ass, the bitter flavor of shit coating his mouth. He had never felt so degraded, so utterly used, but the fear of what would happen if he didn't perform was like a vice around his heart. He licked and swirled, trying to ignore the taste as he focused on pleasing the man above him. The Mayor's hand was in his hair now, guiding him deeper, the stink of his unwashed body filling Troy's nostrils.
"That's it, boy," the Mayor sneered, his voice echoing through the room. "You're such a good little shit eater. I knew you'd come around." His words were like knives, slicing through any remaining dignity Troy had. He was nothing but a plaything, a receptacle for the Mayor's depravity.
Troy's tongue worked with a fervor that surprised even him, driven by a mix of fear and the need to survive. He felt the Mayor's shit smearing his face as he licked and sucked, his mouth filling with the bitter taste of excrement. Each time the Mayor inflated the vibrator, the pressure on his prostate grew, sending shockwaves of painful pleasure through his body.
The Mayor's verbal degradation grew more intense with each moan of pleasure that Troy couldn't suppress. "Look at you," he sneered, his voice a mix of disgust and arousal. "You're loving this, aren't you, you little shit slut? You're going to take everything I give you, and you're going to beg for more." His words were like a whip, cutting deep into Troy's soul.
Suddenly, the Mayor's hand shot forward, grabbing the chain that connected the nipple clamps. He yanked hard, the metal biting into Troy's sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pain through his body. "Show me some enthusiasm," he barked, giving the chain another vicious tug. "Fucking eat my ass like you mean it!"
The pain was blinding, but Troy knew better than to disobey. He buried his face deeper into the Mayor's asshole, his tongue moving with a fervor that was a stark contrast to the revulsion he felt. The Mayor's grunts grew louder, his hips bucking as he grinded into Troy's face. "Yes, yes," he hissed, his grip on Troy's nipples tightening. "That's what I want."
The Mayor climbed off Troy's face with a wet smack, leaving him gasping for air, his eyes watering from the strain and the stench. The Mayor's cock was still rock hard, the head a dark, angry purple from being denied release.
"You're doing well, boy," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "But I think you can take more."
The Mayor's eyes were wild with desire as he leaned in, the tip of his cock touching Troy's lips.
"Open your mouth," he barked, and Troy had no choice but to obey. The Mayor grabbed the back of his head and plunged his cock deep, holding it there as he pumped his hips. The vibrations from the prostate massager were at their peak, and Troy's body was a maelstrom of pain and unwanted pleasure. He felt like he was going to break, like the straps holding him down would snap and he would shatter into a million pieces on the cold, hard floor.
The Mayor's cock was a hot, pulsing brand against Troy's face, the smell of his unwashed crotch making him gag. But he kept his mouth open, his tongue licking and lapping at the shaft as the Mayor's hips thrust into his face. The Mayor's breathing grew heavier, his hand tightening in Troy's hair as he fucked his mouth with a ferocity that was almost animalistic.
"That's it," the Mayor growled, his voice strained with effort. "Take it all, you fucking whore." He pulled out suddenly, a thick rope of precum connecting his cock to Troy's lower lip. "Look at you," he sneered. "Covered in your own vomit and my shit. You're going to be the talk of the town by the time I'm done with you."
He stepped back, admiring the scene before him: Troy, bound and broken, his body a canvas for the Mayor's twisted desires. The boy's eyes were pleading, his breathing ragged, but there was a spark of defiance in his gaze that the Mayor found intoxicating. He knew he had to break that spirit, to reduce him to nothing but a quivering mess of need and fear.
"Beg for it," the Mayor said, his voice low and menacing. "Tell me how much you want my cock. How much you crave it."
Troy's mouth was a mess of vomit and spit, his eyes red and swollen from crying. But he knew the game. He took a shaky breath and looked up at the Mayor, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Please, sir," he whimpered, "I want your cock. I need it."
The Mayor's hand shot out, slapping him across the face with a resounding crack that echoed through the dungeon. "Is that the best you can do?" he sneered, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and rage. "Beg for it like you mean it, you pathetic little slut."
The slap sent a jolt of pain through Troy's skull, and his vision swam. His cheek stung, the imprint of the Mayor's hand branded on his skin. He could feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, a stark contrast to the cold sweat that covered his body. He knew he had to play the part, to give the Mayor what he wanted if he had any hope of making it out of this weekend alive.
With a tremble in his voice, Troy began to beg anew, his words a desperate, pleading stream. "Please, please, sir," he sobbed, his voice hoarse. "I want your cock so badly. I'm nothing without it. I'm just a worthless slut, here to serve you. I need you to fuck me, to fill me up. I crave it, I crave your cum. I want to be your toy, your personal whore."
The Mayor's grin grew wider, he leaned in, his cock once again pushing against the boy's bruised and swollen lips. "You're going to get what you deserve," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. He slammed back into Troy's mouth, his hips moving in a brutal, punishing rhythm that sent shockwaves of pain through the young man's jaw.
Troy's eyes watered as he felt the Mayor's cock fill his throat, the head banging against the back of his mouth. He could feel the Mayor's balls slapping against his face with each thrust, the smell of his sweat and unwashed body overwhelming him.
The Mayor's breath grew more ragged with each stroke, his grunts growing louder. Troy's nose was pressed into the Mayor's scrotum, inhaling the rank scent that filled the room. His tongue was bruised and sore, his jaw aching from the abuse, but he didn't dare stop. He knew what would happen if he didn't satisfy the Mayor.
The Mayor's cock grew even more engorged, the veins standing out like cords. He pulled out, his cock coated in Troy's saliva and mingled with the Mayor's precum. Troy's eyes widened in horror as he saw the Mayor's cock spasming, the head pulsing with his impending release. The Mayor leaned in, his breath hot and foul, and whispered, "Open your mouth, boy."
Obey, or suffer the consequences, Troy's mind screamed, and he opened his mouth as wide as the he could. The Mayor's cock slammed back into his mouth with the force of a battering ram, hitting the back of his throat with enough power to make him gag. The Mayor didn't relent, holding Troy's head still as he thrust deeper and deeper, the leather straps creaking under the strain of his movements.
Troy's eyes bulged as the Mayor's cock invaded his mouth, his throat tightening around the girth. The taste was bitter, mixed with the acrid flavor of precum and sweat, and it filled his nose, making him choke and gag. The Mayor's hands were a vice around his face, holding him in place as the Mayor's hips pumped in a furious rhythm.
The room was a blur of pain and fear as Troy's body was used, abused, and discarded like a ragdoll. He could feel the vomit rising, his stomach lurching with every thrust, but the Mayor's grip was unyielding. The contraption below him was unforgiving, the vibrations from the prostate massager sending waves of painful pleasure that only served to heighten his nausea.
And then, with a final, brutal thrust, the Mayor was there, his cock pulsing in Troy's mouth. The boy's eyes rolled back in his head as a torrent of cum filled his mouth, the taste bitter and overwhelming. He tried to swallow, but the sheer volume was too much. It spilled out of the corners of his mouth, mixing with the vomit that was already cascading down his face.
The Mayor pulled out, his cock glistening with a mix of cum and saliva. He watched with a twisted satisfaction as Troy's body convulsed, his throat working to keep the disgusting mess down. The contraption beneath him continued to pulse, the prostate massager mercilessly assaulting him as he choked and gagged.
"Swallow it," the Mayor ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "Every last drop."
With a tremble, he closed his mouth and swallowed, the thick, salty cum sliding down his throat. His stomach roiled, but he managed to keep it down, the taste lingering on his tongue like a foul memory.
The Mayor's eyes bore into him, the smug satisfaction clear as he demanded, "Now, tell me how much you enjoyed it, slut."
Troy's throat burned, his mouth still full of the Mayor's bitter cum, but he knew the drill. He had to play along, had to keep the beast sated. He coughed and forced out a string of words that sounded almost convincing. "Thank you, sir," he murmured, his voice trembling. "It was... amazing."
The Mayor leaned in close, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Troy's face, searching for any sign of deceit. "You liked it, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "You liked the taste of my cock and the feel of my cum down your throat."
Troy's eyes watered as he nodded, the lie feeling like acid on his tongue. "Yes, sir," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was... everything I dreamed of."
The Mayor's smile grew wider, the sadistic glint in his eyes never dimming. "Good boy," he said, his hand reaching down to stroke Troy's cheek. The touch was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the brutal treatment he had just endured. "Now, tell me," the Mayor leaned in, his breath hot against Troy's ear, "what are you?"
Troy's throat was raw from the Mayor's abuse, but he knew the answer that was expected of him. He took a shaky breath, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "I'm a slut, sir. A worthless faggot here to serve you."
He leaned in and licked it off, his tongue flicking against the boy's skin. "Say it again," he demanded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Say you're my slut."
The words were like nails on a chalkboard, but Troy knew he had to play the part. He took a deep, shaky breath and whispered, "I'm your slut, sir."
The Mayor's grin grew wider, and he reached for a blindfold, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He secured it over Troy's eyes, plunging him into darkness. "Now," he said, his voice a dark caress, "we're really going to get started."
Troy's heart hammered in his chest as he felt the Mayor's hands on him, the vibrations from the prostate massager and nipple clamps growing more intense by the second. The heat in the room was suffocating, his body slick with sweat, making the leather restraints stick to his skin like a second layer.
The shuffling grew closer, the Mayor's footsteps echoing in the silent dungeon. Troy's breaths were shallow and rapid, his senses heightened as he strained to listen for any clue of what was about to happen next. The anticipation was a living thing, coiling in his stomach like a serpent, tightening its grip with every passing moment.
Suddenly, the Mayor was there, his heavy hand pressing a popper to Troy's nose. "Inhale," he ordered, his voice cold and authoritative. The boy's nostrils flared as the pungent smell filled his senses, the familiar rush of chemical warmth spreading through his body. The Mayor's touch was a brand against his skin as he took hold of Troy's cock, still rock-hard. He began to stroke it, his grip firm and deliberate.
The poppers took effect almost immediately, the world around Troy becoming a haze of color and sensation. He felt the Mayor's hand on his cock, moving in a slow, taunting rhythm that was maddening in its restraint. His body was a live wire, his muscles tensing and releasing with every touch, desperate for relief. But he knew he wouldn't get it - not yet.
The Mayor's other hand found its way to Troy's balls, playing with them gently at first, rolling them in his palm before tightening his grip. Troy's legs began to shake, the metal ball crushers biting into his skin as he tried to lift himself off the table. The Mayor chuckled darkly, his grip tightening even more as he watched the boy's agony.
He said, stanting between Troys muscular legs, "You're going to come when I say you can, slut. And not a moment sooner."
The Mayor's grip tightened around Troy's balls, his thumb flicking at the sensitive skin behind them. Troy's body bucked, the leather straps cutting into his skin as he fought against his restraints. The vibrator inside him was a constant, unrelenting pressure, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of climax.
"Please, sir," he begged, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, let me cum. I'll do anything, just let me cum."
The Mayor's laugh was cold and cruel, his grip on Troy's cock unyielding. "Oh, you're going to come," he assured, his voice a dark promise. "But not until I say so." His hand continued to stroke, his thumb pressing into the sensitive spot just below the head, keeping him on the edge of an orgasm that never came.
Troy's whimpers grew louder, his body trembling with need. The poppers had heightened his senses to an unbearable degree, making every touch feel like an electric shock. The Mayor's hand was a blur of sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain that left him dizzy and disoriented.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the Mayor let go of his cock. The sudden absence of touch was like a cold shower, leaving Troy gasping for air, his body pulsing with unreleased tension. The vibrator inside him continued its relentless assault, the prostate massager sending waves of agony through his body that seemed to echo the Mayor's cruel smile.
The Mayor stepped back, his eyes gleaming with a malicious light as he reached for the cane hanging on the wall. "You're going to count every hit, slut," the Mayor said, his voice a low growl. "And you will thank me after each one. Understood?"
Troy wasnt sure what he meant by that but he had a pretty good guess.
The Mayor's grip on the cane was firm as he stepped closer, the sound of leather soles on the cold stone floor a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. "Understood?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Troy's spine.
Troy nodded, his voice a raspy whisper. "Yes, sir."
The Mayor took a step back, the cane whistling through the air before it connected with Troy's bare back with a sharp crack. The pain was instant and searing, sending a jolt through his body that made him arch off the table. "One," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Thank you, sir."
Another swing, and another hit. The cane left a trail of fire across Troy's skin, each strike more painful than the last. "Two," he counted, his voice shaking. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor's sadistic smile grew wider with each hit, his eyes gleaming as he listened to Troy's pained moans and forced gratitude. "Three," Troy whispered, his body writhing against the unforgiving restraints. "Thank you, sir." The leather was sticky with sweat, the metal of the ball crushers digging into his flesh with every movement.
The cane struck again, a white-hot line of pain that seemed to burn through Troy's very soul. "Four," he choked out, the word a sob. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor's laugh was the only reply, the sound of his feet on the cold stone floor a sinister echo as he moved around the table. Troy's body was a map of pain, the cane leaving a trail of welts and bruises wherever it landed. The Mayor's strokes were precise, calculated, each hit a new form of torture that left Troy's body trembling and begging for release.
The Mayor's hand paused in the air, the cane hovering just next to Troy's bare feet. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a silent scream building in the boy's throat as he waited for the next wave of pain. The Mayor's eyes were fixed on him, a twisted form of amusement playing out across his features as he took in Troy's suffering.
"Now, let's move on to something more... sensitive," he said, his voice dripping with malice. He swung the cane, and it connected with the bottom of Troy's left foot. The boy's scream was high-pitched and piercing, his body jolting against the restraints. The pain was like a white-hot knife slicing through his nerves, making him feel as if his very soul was being ripped apart.
"Five," Troy choked out through gritted teeth, his voice a mix of pain and rage. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he raised the cane once more, this time aiming for Troy's right foot. The boy braced himself, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. The poppers had worn off, but the pain remained, a constant throb that seemed to resonate with the rhythm of his racing heart.
The cane came down with a sickening thwack, and Troy's scream echoed off the stone walls of the dungeon. "Six," he managed to get out, his voice barely recognizable through the pain. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor's footsteps circled the table, his sadistic excitement palpable in the air. The anticipation of the next blow was almost as unbearable as the pain itself. Troy felt his body tighten, his muscles coiled and ready to snap, his skin feeling like it was on fire.
With a swift, cruel motion, the Mayor brought the cane down on the tender flesh of Troy's inner thigh. The impact was like lightning, the pain searing through him as he jerked against his restraints. "Seven," he screamed through gritted teeth. "Thank you, sir." His voice was a raw wail of agony, each word forced out as the Mayor's hand hovered, ready to deliver the next blow.
The Mayor's eyes never left Troy's as he swung again, the cane connecting with the boy's other thigh. The sound of the impact was like a gunshot in the small, echoing space. Troy's body jolted, his cock bobbing with the movement. "Eight," he gasped, his voice trembling. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor stepped closer, the cane tracing a line up Troy's body, pausing at his erect cock. "I think it's time we give this little slut a taste of something new," he murmured, his eyes flicking to the shiny, engorged organ. "You're going to count these too, and thank me. Do you understand?"
Troy's heart was racing, fear and anticipation mixing into a toxic cocktail. He nodded, his voice a strained whisper. "Yes, sir."
The Mayor's smile was predatory as he stepped closer, the cane now pointing at the very center of Troy's being - his rock-hard, throbbing cock. "Good boy," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He swung the cane, and Troy felt the world go white with pain as it made contact with the most sensitive part of his body.
"Nine," Troy screamed, the word a desperate cry torn from his throat. "Thank you, sir," he choked out, his body shaking uncontrollably. The Mayor's eyes never left Troy's as he took another swing, the cane striking the base of his cock with a brutal force that made stars dance before his eyes.
The Mayor's grin was a twisted thing, a macabre parody of pleasure as he watched the boy's body convulse. "Ten," Troy whispered, his voice a ragged whisper. "Thank you, sir." The cane hovered for a moment before coming down again, this time hitting the tip of his cock. The pain was indescribable, a blend of agony and humiliation that made him feel like he was drowning in his own despair.
"Eleven," Troy gasped, his voice trembling. "Thank you, sir." The Mayor's strokes grew more erratic, his breathing harsh and ragged. Troy could feel the precum leaking from his cock, a testament to the conflicting emotions of pain and arousal that warred within him.
The cane struck again, this time across the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. "Twelve," he screamed, the pain like a branding iron searing into his very soul. "Thank you, sir."
The Mayor's rhythm grew more erratic, his breaths heavy with excitement as he listened to Troy's pained moans and forced gratitude. Each hit of the cane was a symphony of agony, a crescendo that seemed never to end. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen - each number a grunted confession of his degradation, a silent prayer for it to be over.
Troy's body was a canvas of pain, each strike leaving a fresh, crimson welt that stood out starkly against his pale skin. 25 in total. The Mayor's eyes drank in the sight, his excitement growing with every number that left the boy's trembling lips. The room was filled with the sickening sounds of flesh meeting cane, the wet, gagging noises of Troy's mouth, and the harsh, ragged breaths of two men engaged in a dance of dominance and submission.
The Mayor's grip tightened around the cane, but then, abruptly, it was gone. Troy was sweating like a lig from the heat in the dungeon the sweat stinging as it touched his caning welts, and for a brief, hopeful moment, he thought it might be over.
But the Mayor wasn't done with his twisted game. The sound of something heavy being picked up was followed by the cold, plastic feel of a gas mask being placed over his face. Troy's heart hammered in his chest, his breaths coming in panicked gasps as he realized what was happening. The stench of piss filled his nostrils as the Mayor secured the mask.
The plastic tube attached to the gas mask snaked its way back to the floor where a canister filled with the Mayor's own urine stood. The scent of ammonia was overpowering, making Troy's stomach churn.
"Breathe," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "Breathe in your new reality, my little slut."
-------‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the dimly lit master bedroom of Troy's house, the live feed of the Mayor's twisted game played out before Coach Waters and Ryan. The Coach's fingers tightened around his nipples as he watched Troy's suffering, his own desires mirrored in the boy's contorted expressions.
Ryan lay on his stomach, his forearms digging into the plush bedding as he arched his back and ground his hips into the Coach's thick, throbbing erection. He moved with the grace of a belly dancer, his muscles rippling with each gyration.
The Coach watched the live feed with rapt attention, his eyes flicking between the screen and the boy before him. His hand reached back to grip Ryan's hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck as he whispered dark encouragements into his ear. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Just like that. Show me how much you want it."
Ryan's muscles rippled as he worked the Coach's cock with his tight, eager ass, his movements a silent testament to the depraved education he had received so far. His eyes were closed, lost in the rhythm of his own degradation as he sought to please the man who had claimed him as his property.
The muscles in Ryan’s legs were on fire, but he kept going, driven by a mix of his own lust and the need to satisfy his coach. He could feel the coach’s hot breath on his neck as he whispered filthy words into his ear, guiding him closer to the edge. Coach’s hand moved to playing with Ryan’s newfound sensitive spots, flicking his nipples and sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his cock. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through Ryan’s body, making him squirm and whine like a bitch in heat.
“Look at you, taking it like the best little slut,” Coach chuckled darkly, his hand moving from Ryan’s chest down to his stomach and then lower to the juncture of his thighs. He traced the outline of Ryans balls clad in a tight cock ring that prevents the boy from cumming, feeling them tighten in anticipation. Ryans moans grew louder and more desperate as Coach’s grip on his cock tightened, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
The friction between their bodies was intense, the smell of sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air. Ryans abs rippled with every movement, and his muscles flexed as he grinded and twisted his ass into Coach’s cock. He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked feeling so used and desired. It was a power that Coach had over him, and it was intoxicating in a way that made him feel both powerful and weak at the same time.
“You’re just a filthy little whore, aren’t you?” Coach said, his voice thick with lust as he watched Ryan’s body move. “Your ass was made for this, to be filled up and used by real men like me. Tell me you love it, slut. Tell me you want it deeper, harder!” His words were like a whip, cutting through Brody’s thoughts and driving him closer to the brink of orgasm. Ryan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he couldn’t help the way his body responded. His breath grew ragged as he moaned out, “Yeah, Coach, I love it. I want it harder. Fuck me like I’m your bitch!”
Coach’s grin grew wicked as he listened to Ryan’s words. He knew he had broken him completely. The jock’s body was no longer his own, it was a vessel for his pleasure, a toy to be used and discarded when he was done. He gripped Ryan’s hips and rutted into him with his cock with a vicious force, making him gasp. The head of his cock slammed against Ryan prostate, sending shockwaves through his body. “That’s it, slut. Take it like the little whore you are!”
He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Ryans hair, yanking his head back and exposing his throat. The pain sent a thrill through the young man, his eyes watering as he moaned in pleasure.
He knew what was coming next, the feeling of being used like a cheap fuck toy, but he couldn’t stop his body from reacting, from arching his back and pushing his ass up in the air, presenting himself like the whore he had become.
Coach’s hands were everywhere, one gripping Ryans hair and yanking his head back, the other slapping his ass with a stinging force that made the jock yelp.
Coach leaned in, his breath hot against Ryans neck as he whispered, “You’re mine. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” Brody nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Coach’s cock continued to fill and stretch him.
The hand not fisted in his hair found its way to Ryan’s chest, squeezing and pinching his sensitive nipples. Ryans eyes rolled back in his head, his hips bucking wildly as he chased his orgasm. Coach’s grip on his hair tightened, and he choked out a gasp as his coach’s thumb and forefinger twisted the sensitive buds of his tits. The pain was intense, but it only served to fuel his need for more. The tight cock ring around his balls made sure he would not come unless Coach allows it.
“That’s right, slut. You’re mine to use whenever I want. Your ass is my personal playground,” Coach said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Ryans spine. He felt himself getting closer, his body begging for release. Coach’s hand clamped down around Ryan’s throat, cutting off his air supply, making his eyes bulge. He pulled back just enough to let Ryan gasp for air before slamming back down, his cock hitting Ryans prostate with brutal precision.
With a grunt of effort, Coach flipped Ryan onto his back, his legs still in the air. The boy’s face was a mix of pain and pleasure, his body trembling with every thrust. The coach’s grip shifted, his hands moving to Ryan’s ankles, pulling them towards his ears. Ryan’s body folded in half, the stretch sending a jolt of pain through his legs that only served to heighten his arousal. He could feel the coach’s cock going deeper, filling him completely.
The coach’s fat stomach jiggled with each powerful thrust into Ryan's spasming hole, the sweat glistening in the dim light. His man breasts swung and slapped against the boy's chest, leaving sticky trails of sweat on his skin. Each time the coach’s heavy flesh hit Ryan’s body, it was a reminder of who was in charge, who held the power in this twisted dance of lust and domination.
"Tell me, slut," Coach Waters grunted, his breath hot and wet as he stared down into Ryans eyes. "Where do you want me to fuck you next? The locker room showers? My office? The backseat of my car?"
Ryan's cheeks flushed a dark red, but he knew what was expected of him. He had to play along, had to satisfy the coach's perverted desires. He licked his lips, his voice trembling as he spoke, "In the locker room showers, after practice... when everyone's gone."
Coach Waters' eyes gleamed with excitement at the thought. "Go on," he urged, his grip on Ryan's ankles tightening as he thrust deeper. "Tell me exactly what you're going to do for me."
Ryan swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat like a mouthful of sand. "I'll... I'll sneak into the showers," he began, his voice shaking. "When you come in, I'll be there, on my knees, waiting for you."
Coach Waters' eyes narrowed, his smile a wicked slash across his face. "And what will you say to me?"
Ryan's heart raced as he imagined the scene playing out in his mind's eye. "I'll tell you how much I want it, Coach," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the effort of speaking through his pain and arousal. "How much I need you to fill me up, to use me like the slut I am."
The coach's grin grew wider as he watched Ryan's expression, his eyes dark with lust. "Good boy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Now tell me more. Tell me where else you'll spread those legs for me."
Ryan's breaths were coming in quick, shallow pants as he tried to keep up with the coach's demands. "In... in the gym," he stammered, his voice a mix of fear and excitement. "On the mats, when no one else is around. You can take me any way you want, coach."
The coach's eyes narrowed, his grip on Ryan's ankles tightening. "What about the cheerleaders?" he sneered, driving his cock into the boy's ass with a vicious force that made him scream. "You used to brag about them, didn't you? Which ones did you fuck, tell me their names. Tell me how much better my cock feels than their cunts."
Ryan's mind reeled with images of the girls he had once been with, their names now a blur of humiliation as he recounted his past conquests in excruciating detail. Each word was like a knife twisting in his gut, a reminder of the person he had been before Coach Waters had claimed him. "Jessica," he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on anything other than the pain. "Her pussy was tight, but it's nothing compared to your cock, Coach. Nothing."
The coach's became more aroused with every name, every sordid detail that spilled from Ryan's lips. "Keep going, slut," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "Tell me about all the cunts you used to fill up."
Ryan's eyes watered as he spoke, his mind racing back to the days when he had been the one in control, the one with the power. "There was... there was Rachel," he whispered, his voice strained around the coach's thick shaft. "She had big tits, and I used to love to fuck her from behind while I slapped her ass."
The coach was unrelenting as he listened, his strokes becoming more punishing. "And what about Amanda?" he demanded, his cock pressing hard against Ryan's prostate, making him cry out. "How many times did you stick your cock in her mouth?"
Ryan's face twisted in agony as he was forced to relive his past, now a mere tool for the coach's sadistic pleasure. "I...I don't know, Coach," he choked out. "So many times."
"How many, slut?" Coach Waters' grip grew tighter, his cock pounding into Ryan with a merciless rhythm that made the boy's whole body shake. "How many times did you fuck her mouth?"
Ryan's voice was barely a whimper now, his body trembling uncontrollably beneath the weight of the coach. "Ten, Coach," he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut tight as if to block out the memories that now only brought him pain. "Maybe more. I don't remember."
Without warning, Coach Waters' hand reared back and slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed through the room, leaving a red handprint on Ryan's cheek. "You will remember," he growled, his eyes flashing with anger. "You will remember every single time, and you will thank me for making you see the error of your ways."
Ryan's eyes watered from the pain, his vision blurring. He knew he had to play along, had to give Coach what he wanted. "Thank you, Coach," he murmured, his voice shaky. The taste of his own fear filled his mouth, but he couldn't let it show.
Coach Waters' hand swung again, the slap echoing through the room. The sting of it was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed. "Thank you, sir" Ryan gasped, his eyes searching for any sign of mercy.
The coach leaned in closer, his spit flying onto Ryan's cheek. "Again," he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. "Thank me."
Ryan's eyes filled with tears, but he forced the words out. "Thank you, Coach," he whispered, his voice shaking. Coach Waters slapped him again, the sound echoing in the room like a gunshot. "Thank you, sir" he gasped, his cheek burning.
The coach leaned in, his hot breath mixing with the sweltering hot room. "I didn't ask for a simple 'thank you'. Tell me how much you love my cock. Tell me you can't live without it," he demanded, his voice a low growl.
Ryan's eyes searched for any escape, but tere was none. He took a shaky breath, his voice a trembling whisper. "I'm in love with you, Coach," he forced the words out, feeling his soul shrivel with each syllable. "I can't live without you... without your cock inside me."
The coach's grin grew wider, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Again," he said, his voice a harsh command that sent a shiver down Ryan's spine. "Say it like you mean it."
Ryan's voice was a raw, desperate whisper as he repeated the words, "I'm in love with you, Coach. I can't live without you... without your cock." Each syllable was a lie wrapped in the bitter truth of his submission, a declaration of his newfound servitude.
Coach Waters' grin grew more twisted with each moan that fell from Ryan's lips. "Again," he barked, his hand poised to strike if the jock didn't perform to his satisfaction. "Convince me."
Ryan took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes locked onto the coach's. "I'm in love with you, Coach," he whimpered, the words feeling like acid on his tongue. "I need you so badly... I can't live without you. Without... without your cock filling me up." His voice broke on the last word, his body trembling with the effort of maintaining his act.
With a vicious grin, Coach Waters released his ankles and leaned back, his cock sliding out of Ryan's abused hole with an obscene squelch. "Get on," he ordered, gesturing to his still-erect member. "Ride me like you mean it."
Ryan's legs trembled as he complied, his muscles screaming in protest as he straddled the coach's thick thighs. His eyes searched for any sign of weakness in the man's expression, but found only hunger and malice. Slowly, painfully, he lowered himself onto the coach's cock, feeling it stretch him open once again.
He began to rock his hips, his movements at first tentative, but gradually growing bolder as he found a rhythm that didn't cause too much pain. The coach's hands found his waist, his fingers digging into the flesh as he guided him, pushing him down harder with each stroke. "That's it," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Ride me like you mean it, slut."
Ryan closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of control amidst the chaos of his thoughts. He focused on the sensation of the coach's cock filling him, the feeling of power and dominance that radiated from the man beneath him. He began to moan, his voice a soft, desperate sound that grew louder with each thrust.
"I love you, Coach," he whispered, his eyes fluttering open to meet the coach's gaze. "I want your cum in me, I want to feel it... I want to have your baby."
The words sent a jolt through Coach Waters, his eyes widening in surprise before a wicked smile spread across his face. "Is that right?" he murmured, his hands moving to grip Ryan's hips, pushing him down harder onto his cock. "You want to be my little breeding slut?"
Ryan nodded, his eyes never leaving the coach's. "Yes," he moaned, his voice a desperate plea. "I want to be filled with your cum, Coach. I want you to make me pregnant." He began to move more urgently, his hips swiveling and grinding down onto the coach's cock with a passion that was both genuine and forced.
With a sadistic chuckle, Coach Waters reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone. He flicked it on and held it up, the screen casting a cold blue light over the sweat-soaked bodies of the two men. He began to record, capturing every moment of Ryan's degradation, his camera zooming in on the jock's muscular body rippling with each brutal thrust. The boy's abs were taut with effort, his tits bouncing with every movement, the sweat glistening under the harsh glow.
"Look at you," Coach Waters sneered, watching himself in the recording, his thick cock disappearing into Ryan's stretched hole. "You're such a pretty little slut, aren't you?" His hand came down hard on one of Ryan's flushed cheeks, leaving a white handprint that slowly filled with red. "Say it," he demanded, his voice cold and hard. "Say you love it."
Ryan's eyes were wide with a mix of pain and desperation, his body moving in a silent plea for more. "I love it, Coach," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please, fuck me harder. Make me pregnant."
Coach Waters' smile grew more sinister as he watched Ryan's performance. He knew that he had him right where he wanted, a broken shell of the once-proud jock who had looked down on him. "Is that what you want, slut?" he taunted, his thumb tracing the swollen head of his cock, coated in the boy's slick arousal. "You want me to fill you up with my seed?"
Ryan's eyes widened, and he nodded frantically, his voice a desperate whine. "Yes, Daddy," he moaned, using the degrading term. "Please, make me your girl. Make me carry your baby." The words were like a knife in his own chest, but the rush of power and the knowledge that he was pleasing his coach were intoxicating.
Coach Waters chuckled, his grip on Ryan's hips tightening. "That's right," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to be my little cumdumpster. You're going to take every single drop of my load."
Ryan's body responded to the coach's words, his cock growing harder despite the pain. He bounced faster, his hands moving from the coach's stomach to his own chest, squeezing his tits and pinching his nipples. He could feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his gut like a serpent but the cock ring would make cumming impossible.
"Please," he whispered, looking directly into the camera. "Daddy, please fill me up with your cum. I'll be such a good girl for you, I promise." His voice was high-pitched and desperate, his eyes wide and pleading. Hw knew he had to be perfect.
For two weeks, he had been denied the sweet release of orgasm, the coach’s cruel order hanging over him like a dark cloud. His body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. But he knew better than to disobey. So, he continued to ride the coach’s cock, his eyes never leaving the camera lens, his voice a shaky chant of need and submission.
“Suck my tits, slut,” Coach Waters ordered, his voice a low, guttural growl that made Ryan’s stomach clench. The coach’s chest was a landscape of hair and flesh, his nipples dark and erect, surrounded by aureoles that looked like twin moons in the harsh light of the room. The jock leaned forward, his movements mechanical, and took one of the coach’s tits into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he tried to ignore the bitter taste of the man’s sweat and the furry texture of his chest.
Ryan’s eyes remained locked on the camera, his pupils dilated with a mix of fear and arousal. The coach’s chest hairs tickled his cheeks and nose as he suckled, the smell of male musk overpowering in the small space. He knew what was expected of him, and he performed with a desperation that was both genuine and feigned, his teeth lightly grazing the tender skin as he worked to elicit the desired response.
Coach Waters watched him with a critical eye, his breathing growing heavier as he felt the beginnings of his climax. His hand found the back of Ryan's head, pushing him down harder onto his chest, the boy's tongue lapping at the sweat-slicked flesh. The coach’s nipples were rock hard now, standing at attention, as he reveled in the power he held over his athlete.
"That's it," he said, his voice a gruff command. "Now suck my ass, slut. Prove to me that you'll do anything for my cum."
Ryan's eyes never left the camera as he leaned back and slithered down the coach's body, his face a mask of forced desire. His nose pressed against the coach's hairy, sweaty crack, and he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the task ahead. His tongue darted out, tentative at first, but then grew more eager as he tasted the salty musk of his master's body.
With a guttural groan, Coach Waters pushed his legs further apart, giving Ryan full access to his asshole. The jock's tongue delved into the tight, puckered hole, the coach’s grunts of pleasure spurring him on. He knew he had to be thorough, had to leave no doubt in the coach's mind that he was worthy of his cum.
Ryan's tongue danced around the coach's anus, probing and teasing, his nose buried in the thick patch of hair. The scent of the coach's musk filled his nostrils, a potent reminder of his submission. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. The coach’s ass was tight, the muscles clenching around his tongue in time with his breaths.
"Good boy," Coach Waters rumbled, his hand coming down to pat the back of Ryan's head. "Now stick that pretty little ass of yours out and shake it for me."
Ryan's cheeks flushed a darker shade of red as he complied, his body moving on autopilot. He leaned back on his hands, sticking his ass out in the air like a bitch in heat. The muscles in his cheeks clenched and released in a slow, exaggerated rhythm, his face never leaving coach sweaty ass. The room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, and the only sounds were Ryan slurping coach ass and the harsh breaths and groans of coach.
Coach Waters' eyes were glued to the boy's ass, his cock standing tall and proud as he watched the show. "Spit on it," he ordered, his voice thick with lust. "Make it wet for me."
Ryan's cheeks burned with shame, but he did as he was told. He leaned forward, his saliva pooling in his mouth before he let it dribble out, coating the coach's asshole in a warm, sticky mess. He could feel the coach's eyes on him, watching every move, and the camera's unblinking gaze added another layer of humiliation. He took a deep breath and leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick the spit-covered hole.
The taste was bitter, the smell overwhelming, but he didn't hesitate. He knew that if he wanted to survive, he had to be the best slut he could be. He lapped at the coach's asshole with enthusiasm, his tongue delving deep, exploring the tight space with the same passion he had once reserved for the cheerleaders he had bedded. Each stroke was a silent declaration of his submission, his mouth and tongue worshipping the coach's body without restraint.
The coach's breaths grew more ragged, his hand moving to stroke his own cock as he watched the jock's eager performance. "Fuck," he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "You're such a good little bitch, aren't you?"
Ryan didn't respond, his tongue buried in the coach's ass, his cheeks hollowed out with the effort of pleasing. The coach's hand reached down to grip the back of his neck, pulling him away from his task. "Get back up here," he barked, his cock slapping against his stomach. "I'm ready to cum."
The jock scurried back up, his eyes never leaving the coach's erection. He positioned himself eagerly, his mouth watering despite the bitter taste of sweat and ass clinging to his tongue. Coach Waters guided his cock to Ryan's waiting lips, the boy's eyes wide with a mix of anticipation and dread. He had been trained well, his mouth opening automatically to accept his coach's thick member.
Ryan took him in, his tongue swirling around the shaft as he had been taught. His cheeks hollowed as he took the coach deep into his throat. The coach's eyes rolled back in his head, a grunt of satisfaction escaping his lips as he watched the boy's skilled performance.
Ryan's eyes watered as he choked on the coach's length, but he didn't pull away. He knew his role, knew what was expected of him. He worked his throat muscles, taking the coach's cock in and out with a rhythm that was both practiced and desperate. Each stroke was a silent promise of his submission, a testament to the depth of his newfound servitude.
The coach's hips began to buck, his breaths growing more ragged as he approached his climax. His hand moved to the back of Ryan's head, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth with increasing ferocity. "That's it," he grunted, his eyes never leaving the jock's. "Take it all, slut."
With a final, powerful thrust, Coach Waters came, his seed spurting into the back of Ryan's throat in hot, thick ropes. The boy's eyes watered as he struggled to swallow, his throat tightening around the coach's cock.
The coach groaned in pleasure, his hand tightening in Ryan's hair as he shot his load, the camera capturing every moment of the jock's degradation. "Swallow it," he panted, his voice a harsh command that left no room for disobedience. "Every drop."
Ryan's throat worked convulsively, his eyes watering as he struggled to swallow the thick, salty fluid. His tongue darted out, lapping at the coach's still-twitching cock to make sure not a drop was wasted. The taste was bitter, but the power he had over the coach in this moment was sweet. He had made him cum, made him lose control, and that was all that mattered.
With a final gasp, Coach Waters pulled out, his cock slipping from Ryan's mouth with an obscene pop. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He reached over to his phone, his hand shaking slightly with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He tapped the screen, ending the recording with a smug smile. "That'll be a hit on OnlyFans," he said, his eyes glinting with malicious glee.
Ryan collapsed onto the bed, his body trembling with a mix of relief and exhaustion. He didn't dare look away from the coach, his eyes never leaving the man's face as he awaited his next command. Coach Waters took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving with the effort of his climax. He leaned back against the headboard, his cock already beginning to soften.
With a wicked grin, the coach looked down at the sweat-soaked jock. "You're a mess," he said, his voice a purr. "You need to clean me up, don't you?"
Ryan nodded, his eyes never leaving the coach's. He knew the drill. He had become adept at reading the subtle cues that indicated the coach’s mood, his desires. He slid off the bed and onto the floor, his knees hitting the cold tiles with a thud. He began at the coach’s feet, his tongue tracing the contours of each toe, the taste of sweat and man mingling on his tongue. He licked up the arch, his nose brushing against the coach's hairy legs.
Coach Waters chuckled, watching him with a twisted delight. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're going to make sure I'm completely clean tonight, aren't you?"
For the next hour, Ryan licked every single inch of coachs fat hairy body. Between every fat roll, toe and crotch up to armpits. By the time he was done, Coach was hard and ready to repeat the whole process again. Ryan simply sighed and positioned himself back into breeding position, pleasuring his master deep into the night.
