The Perfect Life for Davey Ch. 03

When Tyler returned to the room, he looked around and said, "OK. Good job straightening up. I see you made your bed. Looks nice. How 'bout my bed? It's not made."

"Um... I could... make it... if you-"

"Yeah, go ahead and make mine. We already said all those kinds of jobs are yours, so ... I guess on days I get up after you leave, you can just make it whenever you get back to the room. You only leave the room to go to classes. Make sure you ask permission to go anywhere else. You can always text me, 'cause, as you probably figured out, I still have my phone on in class, and can text."

I stood on my bed and tried to make Tyler's bed without getting up onto it. But I soon realized I wouldn't really be able to reach everything. So I pulled myself onto it. Meanwhile, Tyler was in the closet, and when I saw him turn around, he appeared to be holding some yellow rope. He took it into the bathroom.

When I finished making his bed, I climbed down off it, and suddenly Tyler was there beside me. He was dressed, I was naked. He was holding the rope, and the lotion bottle. "Your dick's not hard, huh?"

"Um. No."

"Well, it will be in a minute, probably. Haha. Put your hands behind you, and stand still."

He took the piece of rope (which he said was just one of many he'd brought from home, where he often used it to tie Shelly up), and tied one end around my dick. The other end he tied to the lotion bottle, along the "neck" under the squirt nozzle. Then, dropping the lotion bottle, he let it hang from my dick. At first it hung pretty much straight down. But then I started to get hard, and he watched the lotion bottle rise.

He chuckled, and then made me walk around the room with the lotion bottle swinging from my dick, not allowing me to touch, or try to stop its swinging. It was light enough that my dick could still point straight up when fully erect. But evidently he didn't want that, because he went back into the bathroom to get a much heavier shampoo bottle.

When he replaced the lotion bottle with the shampoo bottle, my dick was pulled down even though it was fully hard. I winced from the discomfort, and the rope slid down to the head of my dick, almost sliding off. Tyler responded by refastening that end of the rope so it was much tighter. He made me walk around again, and the shampoo bottle kept banging against my thighs as it swung all around and tugged on my dick.

Then he made me crawl around on my hands and knees, and the bottle hung low enough to touch the floor, but not fully rest on it. So I dragged the bottle around the floor as I crawled, and the bottle pulled my dick down, and back between my legs.

Finally, Tyler had me position myself on hands and knees facing the futon. He went to the closet and found another length of rope. Kneeling down to tie one end around the bottle, he then stood up, pulled the rope behind and away from me, and tied the other end to the bathroom doorknob. In doing so, he suspended the bottle between my dick and the doorknob, the bottle pulling both of them tightly. Whenever my dick twitched, I winced, since the bottle pulled against it.

Satisfied, he plopped himself in front of me on the futon. "OK," he said. "I promised you a taste of my feet today." Oh, God, I thought. He slipped his shoes off, and placed a socked foot right on my face.

Needless to say, for the next half hour or so, he made me smell and kiss his socked feet, then smell and kiss his bare feet. I had to kiss them, lick them, just hold my tongue out so he could rest his foot on it, and ask me how it tasted. I had to lick his heels, the balls of his feet, between his toes... The whole time I cursed the fact that my dick was not only twitching, it was leaking pre-cum fluid, which was dripping on the floor. And I knew I'd end up having to lick that up.

He put his feet down flat on the floor in front of me, and made me lower my face to kiss and lick the tops of his feet, too. Leaning forward like that pulled the rope even tighter, and I kept wincing every time my dick twitched. When he pulled his feet back up onto the futon, he told me he might have left sweat on the floor, so I needed to lick the floor where his feet had just been. While my face was still down there, he reached for his shoes, and then slid them in front of my face, telling me to put my nose down into one, close my mouth, and breathe in the scent of his shoes.

"Does it smell good?"

"Um. No. Not really. It smells like a shoe."

"Keep your nose in it, then. Eventually it'll smell good to you. I know it will."

I thought to myself, So... if I had said it smelled good, he would probably "treat" me to more of it. But if it smells bad to me, then I just need to smell it more.

After making me breathe one shoe, and then the other, for a while, he told me to bring my head back up, and he proceeded to press his socks against my nostrils. He then laid the socks on the futon, as he got up from it, and told me to move my head forward to rest my nose on the socks, and breathe them some more. He went to his dresser, and got a clean pair of socks. Leaving the dresser drawer open, he put the clean socks on, then came and took the dirty socks. "I'm gonna put these in your backpack. When you get out of your 11:30 class, the first thing I want you to do is go to the nearest bathroom, go into a stall and close it, and take these socks out of your bag. Hold 'em both against your face, and close your mouth, and breathe the socks for two minutes. Count to 120 in your mind. I know it's gonna make you get hard, but remember, you don't get to cum 'til Thursday. So no touching. After two minutes, put the socks away, and call me. We'll meet for lunch, and I'll tell you where to go."

Of course after he untied my dick, he did indeed make me lick my pre-cum off the floor.

For the next few days, apart from the hours I could concentrate on studying, my mind was constantly on Tyler, as he was controlling my every move. I had to ask permission for every little thing I did, and though there were many hours where he was in class, or working out in the weight room, or playing basketball, or somewhere socializing, he still texted me every few minutes, or I would have to text him to ask him if I could do something. (I wasn't even allowed to go in the bathroom and pee without texting him first and waiting for his answer!) I stayed in the room pretty much all the time, because even if I got thirsty and wanted to go to the vending machines for a drink, it was just easier to do without. I would just go in the bathroom, run water in the sink, and scoop up some water for a drink from my hand.

When I had to poop, I waited until Tyler was out of the room, since I wasn't allowed to close the door, and I didn't like the idea of someone being able to see me while I was taking a dump. Plus it seemed quite rude to me to poop in front of someone, especially if the smell would obviously waft out to them. But of course, Tyler had no compunctions about pooping when I was there. He would ask me how it smelled, and if I could tell what he'd eaten. Also, whether he pooped or peed, he never flushed the toilet. Whenever he was done, he would tell me to go flush it, and put the seat and lid down. If he peed, he wanted me to wipe the rim with a single square of toilet paper, to wipe up any pee that he happened to splash on it. To prove to him that I did a good, careful job with the one square of toilet paper, he wouldn't let me wash my hand, and would make me lick it, and my fingers, in front of him.

About the third time he subjected me to one of his open-door dumps, he called to me from the toilet and told me to crawl into the bathroom. I was sitting at my desk naked, as Tyler seemed to always prefer me nude when he was in the room with me. Sighing, I slid down off my desk chair, and crawled to the bathroom. When I got there, he made me stay on hands and knees, with my face right between his knees, while he pooped. He made me close my mouth and only breathe through my nose. When he was finished, he got an idea. He told me to crawl to the closet and get him a piece of rope, and the roll of duct tape. "Since you're crawling, bring them to me in your mouth."

I crawled back with the rope and duct tape in my mouth, and he took them. He then leaned forward and tied one end of the rope around my neck. Then he tore off a piece of duct tape and put it over my mouth. The rest of the rope he used as a kind of leash, and pulled me forward, between his legs. He made me put my face up to his balls. I grimaced as I smelled mostly poop, but a little of his sweaty balls as well. His dick was getting fully hard. Holding the rope in one hand, he started stroking his dick with the other. After a couple minutes, he maneuvered the rope to get the knot around to the back of my neck. Then he held it, but also pressed against the back of my head, to keep my face against his balls. The front of my neck rested against the front of the bowl, down in the opening of the seat front.

All at once, Tyler pulled back on the rope, bringing my head out away from him a little, and to my horror, I saw that he was pointing his dick right at my face as he vigorously stroked it. Before I even had time to fear that he might cum in my face, a jet of his jizz sprayed out, and splatted right on my nose. I flinched, and shut my eyes tightly, groaning through the duct tape, as he continued squirting his cum onto my mouth, my cheeks, my forehead, and my eyes.

When he was done, he got up off the toilet and lifted the seat, and pushed me forward, telling me to hold my face over the bowl and let his cum drip off. He pushed my neck so that my face was below the rim, and though I couldn't see it (because I kept my eyes closed to avoid getting cum in them), I could smell his poop still sitting there. He still hadn't flushed. In fact, he hadn't even wiped yet, and as I held my head over the toilet, on hands and knees, I heard the toilet paper roll spin, and then could hear him wiping his ass. I heard pieces of poopy toilet paper fall into the water, along with the dripping cum.

Pretty soon, he pulled my hair in the back, to bring my face up so he could take a look. I still had my eyes closed, but he said, "OK, I think that's probably all that's gonna drip off." After flushing the toilet, he said, "OK, I'm gonna take the duct tape off, but it's got cum on the outside here, so as soon as I take it off, I'm gonna hand it to you, and you're gonna lick it clean. Then I want you to use your fingers to wipe the rest of the cum off your face, and suck it off your fingers. Shelly loves eating my cum off of her face. Next time I think I'll just have you eat all of it."

Tyler liked to cum two or three times a day if possible, so about three hours later, when he got horny again, he put a towel down on the futon, and made me lie down with my head on the towel. He tied my dick with rope, which was then strung over to the door of the room, and attached to the doorknob, so once again my dick was pulled down toward my legs, and every twitch caused discomfort. He still wasn't going to let me cum for another day - IF I remembered to follow all his rules and didn't complain about anything, of course.

This time I had to lie still and kind of purse my lips, almost like I was kissing, and he proceeded to rub his dick along my lips. He said it was almost like sliding his dick along the outside of Shelly's pussy. His balls kept hitting my ear, and he held my chin in one hand, and the top of my head in the other, as he slid his dick back and forth. I assumed that when he came, he would squirt his jizz past my face and onto the towel. After all, that was supposedly the purpose of the towel, to catch his cum and keep it off the futon cover. But in fact, as he came, he splattered some on my mouth, and then rubbed his dick in it as he continued thrusting. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt it spreading all over my mouth and cheeks, some of it running onto my neck.

When he was done, he made me lick my lips, and get as much cum as I could with my tongue. Then I had to use my fingers to scrape the rest of the cum on my face to my mouth, so I could eat it. Since he had smeared cum all over his dick, he made me stick my tongue out, and I sniveled as he rubbed his dick on my tongue, wiping it off. Finally, he pulled the towel out from under me, and wouldn't let me get up until I sucked the remaining cum out of the towel.

That night, at bedtime, he "tucked me in" himself. I was required to sleep naked, and using four pieces of rope, he tied me to the bed, spread-eagle on my back. Each ankle, and each wrist, was tied to a post, and with a fifth rope, he tied my dick so that, once again, it was pulled downward, and tied above, to the support frame for his bed. (The rope formed about a 45 degree angle to my legs and the bed.) He covered the upper half of my body with my sheet, then pulled it down past my crotch on both sides as far as it would go. The rope tied to my dick prevented it from coming down all the way. Finally, he put a strip of duct tape over my mouth, and pulled a pair of his jockey shorts over my head, so that the back of them were over my face. I had to try and go to sleep, breathing his butt and not being able to move much, while rope pulled against my dick every time it tried to get hard.

Once I was allowed to cum again (though, to me, it felt like being *required* to cum, since I never got to decide when or how), some of the ways he "helped me get off" were as follows:

1. Standing in the shower with my palms and elbows up against the shower wall, Tyler made me hump the wall until I came on it. Then I had to lick all my cum off the shower wall.

2. He made me lie face-down in the middle of the tile floor in the room, with my dick pointing down between my legs. He stood behind me, between my legs, and with the toes of one foot, manipulated my dick until I came. Then I had to get up, turn around, and lick my cum off the floor and off his foot.

3. He made me lie on my back on the bed, and tied my wrists to posts, and then tied my ankles and knees to the same posts, behind me, in such a way as to bring my legs way over my head. Basically only my shoulders were supporting me. My dick pointed right at my face, and Tyler pinched my nose shut and stroked my dick so that I came directly into my own mouth. I hated that, because licking up cum that had been the air for a little while was one thing - it tended to thin out a bit, and become more syrupy - but cum directly from the dick was all globby and sticky. I hated the consistency.

Once I had caught my own cum in my mouth, Tyler decided it should be no big deal for me to catch HIS cum in my open mouth, too. So he started jacking himself right into my mouth. But once he'd done that a few times, he figured I might as well suck his dick to catch his cum. So I started spending a lot of time on my knees in front of the futon, blowing him while he tugged on ropes attached to my neck, and dick.

When school work began to pick up, and we had assignments to complete, tests to take, and papers to write, Tyler would make me help him study for tests by quizzing him for an hour or more, the night before. But to do that I would have to read all his notes, and his book chapters and study guides, so I knew what was being tested. (I might as well have taken all his classes as well as my own, because I was learning all of it anyway.) For his math class, I'd have to check all his work and let him know which problems he did wrong. For his English and Anthropology papers, he would write the first draft, and then as far as he was concerned, he was done. He said Shelly used to fix up his papers for him after he wrote one draft, and that system worked out well. Sure, I thought. Worked out well for you. So I would sit (naked) at his desk, on his laptop, and fix his spelling and grammatical errors, reorganize his topics, add stuff, take stuff out... whatever the professor's guidelines warranted. He got As on almost all of those papers. (Fortunately, he didn't *demand* As. He didn't care enough about grades for that. As long as the work was better than what he would have turned in, he was satisfied.)

I spent HOURS and HOURS each week smelling and licking Tyler's body. He was constantly thrusting his crotch, his butt, and his feet into my face. First they would be clothed and I'd have to breathe his scent. Eventually he'd be naked and I'd have to smell, lick, and suck. He loved to have me smell and lick him after he worked out with weights, or played basketball. I'd have to lick sweat off his feet, his legs, his balls... suck sweat out of his pubic hair, lick his ass all over, lick his ass crack, even lick his armpits sometimes. Usually this would end up with me having to suck his dick, too, and bring him to an orgasm and swallow his cum.

But where it all really became too much for me was when he started to require my help with his toilet business. I had to kneel beside him on the bathroom floor when he took a piss, and hold his dick. If any piss ended up on the rim of the bowl (which it usually did), he would make me lick it off. "That will teach you better aim," he said. He started making me get on my hands and knees and put my face between his thighs when he took a shit, so he could ask me how it smelled. Then he'd make me wipe his ass. To prove to him I'd done a good job, I had to lick his butt crack afterward, and then insert my tongue into his anus! Ack! So disgusting.

But once he'd made me do that, he discovered he liked the feel of a tongue in his ass. He said Shelly licked his ass all the time, but she'd never stuck her tongue in it. He was going to have to make her do that, he said. In the meantime, he made me do it every day.

I decided having to stick my tongue in my roommate's butthole was the last straw. I mean, of course, I hated everything he made me do (which was virtually everything), I hated having NO freedom and having him controlling every aspect of my life, I hated eating cum, and sucking his dick... He spoke of us "helping each other" to get off, but he didn't suck MY dick (not that I wanted him to), stick his tongue in MY ass, or eat MY cum. Everything was what HE wanted to do, which he justified with the notion that when you put any two people together, one has to be the leader. Apparently I was too much of a dumbass to make any decisions myself, or to make myself cum on my own without his "help". He talked of us being "great roommates" and "getting along well", but of course achieving that was a matter of him being in total control.

I had to do something.