I walked into the room to find a young, handsome stud, spread out on the couch. His bare torso was tanned and sculpted like a statue, perfectly defined muscles bulging underneath the smoothest skin. Not a single hair adorned his upper body; not on his chest, his chin, or even his armpits. He rocked the physique of a man, but the softness of a girl.
As soon as he heard me come in, the boy jolted to life. His eyes shot open, locked in my direction, and his cheeks flared up until they were hot and rosy.
How adorable. He was clearly a rookie.
I gave him a little smile, and took of my jacket. I undid my tie, my cufflinks, and the top buttons on my shirt. The stud watched me in silence, probably too nervous to make a sound or move an inch.
As requested, there was a bottle of whiskey ready on the kitchen counter. I poured myself a couple inches, and finally sat down next to the boy on the couch. Still, he remained frozen in his spot.
“Here,” I said, gesturing for him to come closer. At last, the hunk seemed to regain control over his body. He awkwardly moved over so I could feel his rippling muscles for myself.
“What is your name, boy?” I asked, letting my hand run over his washboard abs. He was perfect. To feel all that strength, all that virility with my own hands, was the sole purpose of my existence.
This stud was the literal embodiment of a young god, beautiful masculinity from head to toe, an Adonis at his prime. And yet nothing of that divinity was doing him any good; he had been shaved and tamed for the pleasures of other men, an alpha man turned into a mere object of lust and desire. Not only was I holding his ripped body in my hands, I owned that ripped body. Or at least for the night, I did.
“No, no, not the slut name they gave you,” I sighed. “Your real name.”
The boy hesitated for a moment. His instructors had probably made it quite clear he was to be called Slam whenever he worked.
“I-Ivan,” he finally muttered. “My name’s Ivan.”
“My mother was born in Moscow,” he explained.
“I see. How old are you, Ivan?” I asked, while my fingers played with one of his nipples. I felt his hormone-driven body stir at my every touch. Like an instrument, I was playing him as I pleased.
“Just turned 19, sir,” Ivan said.
“Only 19, you say? My, my. You’re looking very good. Played a lot of sports growing up, I assume?”
“Yes, sir. High school quarterback,” he said. I was amused to notice a slight hint of pride in his words, even though I was fondling his tits at the same time.
“I started lifting when I was 15.”
“Impressive,” I grinned, softly squeezing those juicy pecs. “And tell me, dear Ivan… how does a beautiful high school quarterback like you end up shirtless on a couch in a place like this?”
His handsome face was burning bright red. I could feel the embarrassment beaming off him, the utter humiliation of being groped and taunted by an older gay man. Every instinct of his was telling him how wrong this was, but the straight stud knew he had no choice.
“M-money, sir,” Ivan muttered, “I need money. I-I didn’t get a scholarship, so I need to get money for college. That’s the only reason.”
I chuckled. “Of course. Well, with a body like that, who wouldn’t use it to earn a little extra cash? Being a whore can be quite lucrative, if it’s done right.”
A flicker of self-loathing crossed poor Ivan’s face when I called him a whore. Saying it like that made the whole thing even worse, but it was nothing but the cold, hard truth. He was a whore, now. A hooker. A dirty little slut.
I slowly traced the lines of his abs, further and further down until I reached the fly on his jeans. Conveniently, the zipper had already been undone. My hand slipped into his pants, and my grin widened.
“No underwear for you, huh?” I said, “Why don’t you take those jeans off, Ivan. Show me that package.”
The young adonis rose from the couch, and started peeling the jeans off his sculpted body. A big, fat cock dangled between his legs, accompanied by some hefty bull-sized balls. Even numb, Ivan’s tools were a pleasure to behold.
I ordered him to pose, and show me every side of himself.
“Gorgeous,” I remarked, enjoying my whiskey while Ivan flexed and posed before me. His muscles shone in the light of the room. I imagined him a young hero, fallen from grace and trapped in the villain’s lair, forced to humiliate himself in front of his enemies. A young Hercules, without his divine father’s protection. I would gladly be his demise.
When Ivan turned his back to me, I slapped his ass, and dug my nails in those perfectly rounded glutes.
“Get yourself hard, boy. I want to see you in heat.”
Like the obedient slut he was, Ivan grabbed his meaty cock and started tugging at it. I told him to spit on it, to lube himself up a little, and he did. I told him to play with his titties at the same time, and he did. I told him to increase his pace, and he did.
The stud was completely under my control. I watched his virile body work and struggle for an erection, his muscles bulging and stretching underneath silky smooth skin, blood rushing through his veins. The straight boy was probably trying to imagine all sorts of hot girls, in order to get himself hard - but I told him to keep his eyes open, and have them locked on mine.
He wasn’t escaping this reality.
It didn’t take long for his body to cave. Despite the embarrassment and uncomfortableness of the situation, the stimulating movements of his hands were enough to get the hormones flowing. Before long, Ivan was rocking an enormous, beautiful boner.
I told him to stop jerking, and grabbed his tool for myself. His manhood was warm and throbbing slightly in my hand, and I squeezed it a little. I was holding all his pride, all his strength and masculinity, and I couldn’t wait to crush it all.
“How many times have you done this before?” I asked, gently working his dick.
“N-none, sir,” Ivan mumbled. “This is my first.”
I knew many whorehouses instructed their boys to say this, to be able to sell their ‘virgin’ asses at a higher price. But something told me Ivan wasn’t lying. The way he spoke, looked at me, doubtful and afraid; everything screamed innocence and purity. I was really going to be the first man to use him like this.
I was going to be the man to ruin all that innocence forever.
I got up, and unbuckled my belt. Ivan went to lie down on the couch, on his stomach as instructed, and I chugged the rest of my drink.
I grabbed the bottle of lube from the coffee table, and turned to the stud.
Ivan gasped softly when I spread his cheeks and squirted some lube onto his perfectly hairless hole. I pushed one finger into the boy, and he groaned as I started loosening him up.
He definitely hadn’t been lying; his ass was as tight as a virgin’s.
“You should get used to this, handsome,” I said, stroking his muscular back. “That butt of yours is gonna have to take a lot more than just a finger.”
I finger-fucked the pretty jock for a while. It was wonderful, watching him struggle and writhe in my hands, clenching his fists and trying to contain his groaning. I could see the humiliation on his face, and I decided it was a look that suited him well.
When his ass could take four fingers without too much trouble, I flipped the boy on his back, and lifted his thick legs on my shoulders. With my boner pressed against his entrance, I stared right into those puppy eyes, full of fear and regret.
But at the same time, I noticed Ivan’s own boner hadn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, it had only grown; little drops of precum now trickled down his shaft.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” I chuckled, and his face got even redder. “If you liked the feeling of my fingers up your pussy, wait until you feel my cock. You’re gonna love it.”
“N-nngghh… f-fuckk…” Ivan groaned, when I started pushing into his bubble butt. Goddamn, he was tight. His young body nearly milked a load out of me within seconds, but I managed to hold myself together. I dug my fingers in his thighs, and started fucking Ivan vigorously.
For a straight boy, he was already making a lot of noise. Gasps, groans, moans; an endless stream of the sluttiest little sounds. His fingernails were burying themselves in the couch, desperately trying to find something to hold on to while my hips slammed into him again and again.
And then I hit that little sweet spot inside of him.
Ivan’s eyes shot open, his face contorted with confusion, and his moaning grew louder. One of his hands instinctively travelled toward his raging boner, but I caught it before it could reach its destination.
“Uh-uh, baby,” I said, “No jerking off for you. Go play with your titties instead.”
Ivan let out something in between a whine and a moan. I drove my rod all the way into him, the furthest it could go, and leaned over to place my lips on his neck. As instructed, the stud started tweaking his own nipples.
This young god was driving me insane. His looks, his scent, his taste… his warm muscles in my hand, his tight ass around my cock… I wanted every last inch of him for myself, and myself alone.
Soon enough, Ivan started bucking his hips into me.
It didn’t matter if he was straight or not; I was battering his prostate, his tits were sending all sorts of wonderful feelings through his body, and his cock was still painfully hard. The slut just needed the blissful release of an orgasm, and it didn’t matter if that was given to him by a man or woman.
“You like that, big boy?” I panted in his ear, “Like having my cock up your ass?”
“Y-yeah… f-fuckk… yeah….” Ivan moaned. “F-fuck me…”
The sound of his desperate, ecstatic voice sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. Everything was too much. I buried myself completely inside of him, grabbed his throat, and squeezed it shut while my body surrendered to the climax. Mere seconds later I felt Ivan shuddering underneath me, arching his back and searching for air. The sensation of something hot and sticky followed.
I had creamed inside his virgin ass, and the boy had shot his own load in perfect harmony with me.
Finally, I released his throat, and the stud inhaled as much air as he could.
I sat upright, and watched him trying to get himself back together. My nails had left marks all over his torso. Strings of semen coated his washboard abs, and my own spunk was leaking out of him, onto the couch.
What a beautiful sight.
“Here, eat this,” I said, scooping up some of the cum on his abs. I brought it to his mouth, and Ivan reluctantly opened his lips. The look on his face when he tasted his own boyjuice was priceless.
“How’s that taste?”
I slapped him in the face, hard. First timer or not, he was gonna have to learn some fucking manners.
“Let’s try that again,” I grinned. “How’s that taste, Ivan?”
His eyes looked back at me with a mixture of anger and fear. Now his orgasm had faded, he realized the horror of the situation. He was a whore, I was his owner for the night, and I had also just fucked a load out of him hands-free.
“Taste’s n-nice, sir,” Ivan said. “Thank you.”
“Better,” I remarked. “That was a great first round, boy. You did wonderfully. Why don’t you show me what else you can do, and start licking my cock clean?”
A flicker of disgust crossed his pretty face, but he suppressed it and obediently got down to the ground on his knees. Sandwiched between my legs, the straight stud brought his mouth to my crotch and used his tongue on my cock.
Almost instantly, my boner sprang back to life. He was just too beautiful.
“How’s that feel, huh? Tasting your own ass on another man’s dick?” I grinned, ruffling his hair. “Bet you never thought this day would come, did you, high school quarterback?”
“N-no, sir,” Ivan mumbled, continuing his task. “Feels humiliating, sir.”
“I’m sure it does. That’s just what you were made for, Ivan. You were made to be humiliated and used like the little fag bitch you truly are. You were made to be a whore. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir. I-I was made to be a whore.”
I laughed at his words of defeat. Damn, this boy knew how to turn me on.
I grabbed his hair, and forced my entire manhood down his throat. His eyes sprang open in shock, and Ivan did his best not to gag too violently as I started fucking his pretty face.
I didn’t even have to use my hips; I just yanked his head up and down my cock, using the naked hunk as my personal fucktoy for a second round. I didn’t give a shit if he could breathe or not. He was here for my pleasure, and he would serve me however I saw fit.
When I felt my orgasm nearing, I pulled him all the way down, burying his nose in my pubes and completely blocking his throat.
“Oohhh… that’s right… drink it all in, slutboy,” I moaned. “Don’t waste a drop.”
Ivan shuddered and sputtered pathetically, once again unable to breathe. After coating his throat with my tadpoles, I wiped my cock clean on his face, then tossed him to the side. The muscled jock crashed into the floor gagging and panting heavily.
I got up, and pressed my shoe down on his big, emptied rod until he yelped in pain. There was nothing better in the world than to have a young, handsome, muscular jock naked at your feet, left completely to your mercy.
The adonis had fallen so far from grace, it made my cock hard once again. He looked so helpless, so perfectly submissive, I simply couldn’t contain myself.
“Get back up here, boy. I want to feel your ass again.”
“A-again?” Ivan stammered. The poor jock had probably expected to be let off the hook, by now, after already having brought me to a climax twice. But I wasn’t even close to being done.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” I scoffed, slowly crushing his fat balls under my shoe. “No, I paid for the whole night, baby. We’re going to have so much more fun.”
And we did.
Or I did, at least.
After breeding the boy’s bubble butt for a second and a third time, my cock needed to rest a little, so I used my fist instead. Poor Ivan screamed and begged for mercy as I forced my entire forearm up his pussy, completely ruining his hole. At some point, his dick started shooting handsfree again, which only encouraged me to fist him even harder.
“P-please - t-take out… it h-hurts…” Ivan begged, sobbing like a little girl.
But I didn’t stop, not until he could take it all the way up to my elbow. I was wearing his sculpted body like a fucking glove, and I loved it.
The sight and sound of the stud in tears was enough to make my boner jump up again. I threw him onto the ground, and forced him to crawl on all fours to the bedroom, kicking him a couple times.
Once we got there, I finally stripped naked myself, and lay down on the bed.
“Come, come, Ivan,” I said. “Time for you to make an effort. Let me see how well you ride that dick on your own.”
The crying whore knew he had no choice. He got onto the bed, positioned himself above me, and impaled his wrecked ass upon my cock. He had already become such a good little slut. In tears, he fucked himself into another orgasm, no matter how exhausted and hurt his body felt.
For the rest of the night, I ravished Ivan like a starving predator. I fucked his every hole, again and again and again; I made him crawl and beg like a fucking worm, humiliating him in every way I could think of. Ivan’s first night as a whore would be the worst night of his entire, pathetic life.
Cum, sweat, and tears soaked the bed and our bodies alike. His asshole was stretched and ruined and filled over and over again, and both our cocks were pumped dry throughout the hours.
When dawn finally came, I left the room.
Ivan was lying somewhere on the floor, completely broken and fucked out. Drenched in sweat and semen, with my seed seeping out of his mouth, ears, and the gaping hole that had once been his tight virgin ass.
A perfect, ruined slut.
I immediately contacted the owner of the whorehouse, and struck a deal.
After a night like this, I knew the straight stud was never going to want to work as a whore again. Even though the whorehouses were usually not particularly lenient with unwilling boys, and some big thugs would probably come after him, he was gonna try to escape. That couldn’t happen.
No, there was only one way to make sure the young god wouldn’t slip through my hands.
Buying him for myself.
“The boy’s all ready, sir,” the man said. “Transport’s waiting.”
Ivan was on his knees, naked and gleaming with sweat. His hands were tied behind his back and attached to his ankles, forcing his body into a very uncomfortable triangle position, and both hands and feet were secured in a kind of leather ball.
He was blindfolded, ball-gagged, and wore a leather collar around his thick neck. His dick was so hard it looked painful, with a big metal plug in his urethra, and several small needles had been stuck into his balls.
I touched his beautiful, distressed face, and Ivan whimpered in pain and fear.
“Sshh, baby, it’s okay,” I whispered, cradling my bound beauty. “I’m getting you out of here. You’re coming home with me. No more whoring yourself out. From now on, you belong to me, and me alone.”
Tears started trickling down his cheeks, and the straight stud cried for mercy.
“You’re gonna be my favorite slut, baby, I can already tell. Oh, I can’t wait to show you your new cage, your collar, all your new toys… We’re going to have so much fun together, Ivan! You’re gonna stay with me forever!”
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