Chris Donaldson

"What the fuck was that for," Chris gasped, his dick shrinking in his humiliation.

"Don't make me slap you again, cunt," Justin said, grinning as he had when they had first met. "This is to make sure you don't fuck with me. I know how gay guys are. You're gonna service my dick whenever, wherever, and however I want. These pics stay with me, and maybe with a few of the brothers. But if you argue with me or fail to satisfy me, they're goin' out on Twitter. And Facebook. And to your parents. And friends."

Chris weighed the implications of this. Even assuming Justin hadn't planned this in advance, and didn't have all the information he suggested he did, it would be a matter of a few minutes to find it online. Chris had to concede defeat, at least for now. He nodded.

"Look at me, faggot."

Chris looked up.

"We can do this easy, or we can do this hard. Hard means I beat the shit out of you until you have no will left. Easy means you follow my orders with a smile, and I give you some fringe benefits, like access to my shit."

Chris cringed. Justin smiled.

"Yeah, I mean my booze. And other stuff you might enjoy down the road." Justin's face became serious again.

"Easy or hard, cunt? I need a verbal commitment."

Chris hung his head. "Easy," he whispered.

"What? I didn't hear you."

Chris raised his head to look his roommate in the eye.

"Easy," he said, quietly but firmly.

Justin gazed at his new fag's cum-spattered, humiliated face for a full minute before he broke into an easy grin. "Ok, fag, go clean yourself up."

Chris, confused, stood up and reached for the hand towel he had tucked away in his bed earlier, but remembered it was soiled. He went to his closet for a washcloth. Before he could wipe his face, Justin grabbed his arm and opened the door.

"Grab a bar of soap, too, fag, you need to use water."

His heart plunging into his stomach, Chris grabbed the soap box from his toiletries, and ran down the hall to the bathroom, as Justin laughed behind him. He burst open the door of the suite's lavatory, and nearly sobbed in relief that no one else was there. He washed his face thoroughly, but could not quite remove the smell of Justin's nuts and pube sweat from his nostrils. He ran back to room 119 again. Justin was lounging on the now made-up lower bunk, hands behind his head, forested armpits in view, boxers back up, looking amused.

"Did you like that, fag?"

Chris looked down. "Yeah," he muttered.

Justin laughed.

"Bet you're horny now, faggot."

Chris decided to go for broke, and knelt.

"Yes Sir, Justin, I'm really horny. I'm going to jack off now, please, Sir."

Justin laughed again.

"You were jerkin' off when I walked in, douche-brain. Weren't ya?" He smiled cockily.

"No I wasn't."

"Oh really? In bed sleeping, huh? What was this for, faggot?" Justin reached behind his head and drew out Chris' little tub of Vaseline. "Isn't this yours?"

Chris wanted to die.

"Who uses Vaseline to jack off with except a fag with a little boy dick," Justin teased. He put the tub back behind his head and sat up, serious again. "You don't get to shoot your little pee-pee again without my permission, faggot. And I'm not giving it tonight. You get into your little jammies and get your ass up into your bunk, pussy. You can ask me for permission again tomorrow."

Chris reached for his dick in desperation. "But I didn't actually . . ."

Justin leaned forward and grabbed his arm, his right hand raised menacingly.

"Your face is already red enough, pussy. Do you really want me to mark it?"

Defeated, Chris shook his head.

"Use your words, sweetie."

"No."

"No, you won't use your words, faggot?" Justin's arm rose again.

"NO! I don't want you to mark my face, Sir!" Chris yelled hastily.

"Good cunt. Get into bed."

Chris put on the sweatpants and t-shirt that served as pajamas for him, and crawled into the upper bunk. Justin turned off the iPod, and the main lights. He left his own reading lamp on.

"I'm going to stay up for a few, pussyboy. See you in the morning. Don't talk to me unless I address you, ok?" Justin picked up his ipad and became instantly absorbed. Chris rolled over on his stomach and gently ground his hard dick into the mattress before he realized Justin would notice it. He whimpered and gave up.

May as well sleep, he thought.

As Chris drifted off, he had an awful thought. Despite his sore face, raw throat, utter humiliation and regret that his first gay sexual experience had not been as he had hoped, he was devastated by a far greater problem. He was in love.