Brandon's Boots Ch. 06

When you work in a school long enough, or just around kids in general, you learn a lot about bullies. Most people think they understand bullies. They think all bullies come from abusive homes, are cowards, and will immediately back down when you stand up to them. A lot of times, those things are true. But as I've said previously, some bullies act that way, not out of rage at their home life, or because their parents don't love them, or any other reason except this: they are mean as hell and enjoy tormenting other people.

Brandon was that sort of bully. He just enjoyed it.

Another key thing you learn about bullies, especially if, like me, you used to be an assistant principal: they never act alone. Bullies find each other, and quickly. A bully always has friends, hangers-on, a posse, a crew; like remoras attached to a shark, they go everywhere their leader goes, acting as his assistants, backup, cheering section, and audience. No matter how cruel a bully's behavior towards his victim, it's always amplified by an order of magnitude when there is an audience.

And they make sure there is always an audience.

I was kneeling on the floor of my apartment, naked, licking the sweat off Brandon's feet. He was sitting on what I guess used to be my couch (since he'd just taken over my apartment and made it his) making phone calls.

"Yo, dude! Yeah, you get that vid I sent you? Yeah, I know right! Yeah for real, man. No, I'm not shitting you at all. What you don't believe me? Hold on a minute."

Brandon pushed his toes deeper into my mouth. "Look at me faggot," he ordered. I looked up at him, my mouth bulging as he forced his sweaty toes into my mouth. He clicked a picture of me sucking on his foot. "Fucking perfect," he grinned, then started texting.

"Check your messages, dude. You get it?" Brandon let out a guffaw. "Yeah, I'm telling you dude. Seriously. Sure, bring some beer with you. OK I'll text you the address. Later."

I heard Brandon texting again, and a minute or two later, his phone rang.

"Sup man? Yeah, you like that, huh? Figured you would. You always hated that fucker. Totally, man, all you want. Yeah, man, let's do it! I'll text you the address. See ya!"

Brandon hung up, and looked down at me, where I was licking the soles of his feet. "Getting to be about dinner time, fuckboy. Get your ass in the kitchen and make me something to eat." He picked up the remote and started flipping through the TV channels while I went into the kitchen to prepare him some food.

There wasn't much in the house to cook, so I made Brandon a sandwich and brought it to him. He ordered me back to the floor, this time massaging his big feet while he watched TV. About an hour later, Brandon got a text on his phone. After reading it, he unzipped his pants and hauled out his big cock.

"Get my dick in your mouth, cocksucker. Nurse on it for a while," he ordered.

I moved up to his lap. I took his soft cock in my mouth and began to gently suck it. It quickly started growing in my mouth, the big cockhead filling my mouth. In less than a minute, Brandon was fully hard, filling my mouth completely.

Brandon put his hand on my head, not forcing his cock down my throat, but holding me on his cock so I couldn't pull off if it. As if I would dare try. I didn't want him rattling my teeth with another backhand slap for taking his cock out of my mouth without permission, like he had the first time I sucked him.

Then I heard the front door open.

"Holy shit! You weren't fucking joking man!" I heard a voice say.

I think I squealed from shock. I couldn't believe someone was seeing me like this, completely naked, with Brandon's huge cock in my mouth. I jerked back, trying to remove his club-like dick from my throat where he had it securely buried, in a vain attempt to preserve what little dignity I had left. Brandon anticipated this, though, which was why he had a secure grip on my head, his fingers intertwined with my hair to prevent me from getting away. I struggled and continued to make noise, so Brandon shoved my face down further on his cock and flexed it in my throat. Meanwhile, he was casually talking to the person behind me.

"Dude, I told you so! You think I was lying? Shit, we're gonna have some fun tonight! Put that beer in the fridge and make yourself at home, " Brandon said.

Not only was he exposing me as his personal cocksucker, but he was inviting other people into what was once my home. He really did think he owned the place...and me.

I heard the stranger moving around behind me in the kitchen, then coming back into the living room. He apparently handed Brandon a beer, because I heard him open it with one hand while his other hand was moving my head up and down on his cock. Brandon took a swig on the beer, then pulled my head up so that just the tip of his cock was inside my mouth. He turned my head to the side a bit, so I could finally see who else was in the apartment.

My heart sank. It was Jesse Reese. Another former student of mine, and one of Brandon's "crew". Jesse was the same age as Brandon, but about six inches taller, standing about 6'3". He was built thick -- not fat, not overly muscular, just big. He developed early, as I recall, which had made it easy for him to intimidate the other kids with sheer size alone. He had brown hair buzzed nearly to his scalp, and a beard running along his jawline. He looked like he'd just gotten off work, as he was wearing a work shirt with his name on it, stained blue work pants, and black, steel-toed work boots.

Brandon was always mean, but with Jesse standing behind him, he was bold, too, since between the two of them they were pretty much able to handle anyone who tried to stand up to their harassment. Jesse was always more of a follower, but still managed to get into plenty of trouble, both due to Brandon's influence and his own quick temper.

My life had just gotten so much worse. In that moment, not only was I exposed physically, but Brandon was showing me off to his buddy, a young man I used to teach and discipline, as the cocksucker he had turned me into against my will. My weakness as a man was on display, and I felt part of me die inside.

"Yo, faggot!" Brandon said, wiggling my head a bit while forcing me to look at Jesse and keep his cock in my mouth at the same time. "You remember my buddy, Jesse, don't ya? Yeah, I'm sure you do, bitch. More important, he remembers you!" Brandon laughed.

"Oh yeah," Jesse said, grinning. "Mr. Anderson and me know each other, don't we? Should have known he was a cock smoker way back then." Jesse opened his beer and sat down on the other end of the couch.

Just then, I heard the door open again, and Brandon and Jesse greeted another guest. Brandon shoved my head down on his cock as soon as he felt me trying to flee again. This was getting awful! How many people were going to see me like this? What were they going to do to me?

Once again, Brandon pulled my head up and turned it sideways, with just the knob of his cock filling my mouth. If I thought the arrival of Jesse was bad, this new person was even worse.

Travis Echols was standing in front of me, smirking at me as I knelt with my mouth stretched around Brandon's thick cock. Even worse, he was taking a picture of me!

I had forgotten the Brandon used to run around with Travis. Brandon was a bully, while Jesse was a hothead that helped Brandon bully people. Travis, however, was a real menace. He was almost constantly in trouble for something, and oftentimes in trouble with the law as well. Like Brandon, he was just plain mean, and seemed to get real joy out of bullying and hurting other kids. From the looks of him, I doubted that had changed much as he got older. He never graduated. He left school in his senior year right before we expelled him for selling dope on school grounds. I heard he'd been in and out jail, the result of his numerous run-ins with the law.

Unlike Brandon and Jesse, Travis looked mean. There was something about him that always reminded me of a snake, even when he was a teenager. He was smaller than Brandon and Jesse. He only stood about 5'8", and had a thin, wiry build, with lean, defined muscles and very little body fat. He looked like he'd grown up poor and never got enough to eat. His arms were decorated with tattoos, some of which looked like he may have gotten then in jail. His brown hair was shaggy and slightly curly, like he hadn't had a haircut in a while, and he was wearing a baseball cap backwards to keep it out of his eyes. His shirt and jeans were old with rips, not in a fashionable way, but more in a "poor and this is all I have" kind of way. Ever the skater punk, he was wearing an old, ragged, and very dirty pair of black and white Vans.

Travis stood there, glaring at me with an evil look in his green eyes. I was scared of Brandon and Jesse, since I knew they liked violence. But Travis absolutely terrified me. There was no telling what he would do at any given time under the best of circumstances. Naked, on my knees with a cock in my throat, confronted by former students that hated me -- these were clearly not the 'best of circumstances.' As I saw Travis staring at me with that evil look, I thought I was going to piss myself with fear. How had it ever gotten this far? How had I fallen to this low point?

Brandon shoved my head back down on his cock, giving me no choice but to swallow him. He relaxed a bit, allowing me to suck him without having my face fucked, but keeping his hand on my head the whole time so I couldn't escape. At that point, I would have run into the street naked if I had the chance.

While I was sucking him, Brandon was regaling his buddies with the story of my downfall, telling them about how he'd forced me to lick his boots, and how events progressed from there. They laughed when he told them about raping my ass over the desk and guffawed even louder when he described how I'd cum from him flicking my dick. I could hear him telling them to go check out the bedroom, and describing how he had taken my keys, made a copy for himself, then just moved in. They asked him about his wife, Amber, and he told them the story of his breakup, referring to her as "that cunt" over and over. Apparently, it was an unhappy marriage and had been for a while. She'd finally had enough of Brandon and demanded he move out, which was fine by him. That's how he ended up in my apartment.

Lucky me.

The whole time this conversation was going on, Brandon was holding my head on his massive cock, talking with his buds like it was the most natural thing in the world. As the conversation began to wind down, Brandon pulled my head off his rigid cock.

"Get up, bitch. Let my buddies see you for what you are, fag."

I stood up, and immediately covered my genitals with my hands. I couldn't even look at the three of them: my humiliation was too deep. It went beyond body shame or embarrassment at being seen sucking Brandon's cock; it was also because I had been an authority figure to these young men for a number of years. I'd been in charge of them, and now I was reduced to this, a cocksucker groveling in front of his younger, bully boss.

"Move those hands, asswipe," Brandon ordered. "Let the guys see that little nub between your legs."

Slowly, I moved my hands to my side, exposing myself fully to my tormentors. Being seen nude like this was degrading enough; to make it worse, though, my dick was fully erect and dripping precum, the result, apparently, of having Brandon's cock in my mouth. It seemed he was truly transforming me from a respectable straight man into his personal fag, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"That's fucking hilarious!" Jesse laughed, looking at my dick. "Hey, fuckhead, you're dripping shit on the floor. Better lick that up."

I sighed, then got down on the floor and licked up the spots of my precum that had dripped off my dick.

"There's better uses for the fag's tongue," Travis drawled. "Crawl over here, bitch, and clean my shoes off."

I didn't want to. I was terrified of Travis. I was utterly vulnerable right now, and I knew he was exactly the type who would exploit that in ways I would regret. I hesitated in place, trying to decide what to do.

"Don't make me tell you again, cocksucker," Travis said coldly.

I was in some sort of brain lock. My entire body was paralyzed from a combination of fear, humiliation, and confusion. I couldn't fight back, and I couldn't comply.

"I know what this fucker needs," Travis said, getting up from his chair and walking to the bedroom. I glanced over at Brandon and Jesse, both of whom were grinning these evil grins, like they knew things were about to completely go to shit for me and couldn't wait for it to happen.

Travis came back from the bedroom holding an old wire hanger he'd found in the closet. He bent it out into a long oval as he walked behind me towards the kitchen. Suddenly, he turned, and I heard the hanger whistling through the air a spit second before it bit into the flesh of my ass, sending pain radiating through the lower half of my body. I'd never felt anything like it. The pain was concentrated into such a small area, it felt as if he'd cut into my flesh. I let out a scream, which only seemed to excite Travis, as he hit me four more times in quick succession with the hanger. Jesse and Brandon were hooting and laughing at me screaming and trying desperately to get away from Travis' blows, or at least block them. Travis was too quick, however, and landed a number of blows on my ass, thighs and sides as I frantically tried to avoid them. Every time I'd turn or try to crawl away, Travis was there before me, whacking me with the hanger. I tried to stand up, but he reached out with his foot and shoved me back down on the floor.

The only way I could think to avoid being hit any further was to advance on Travis and do what he wanted. I quickly crawled to his feet and began frantically licking his dirty Vans, hoping and praying he would stop beating me. My skin was on fire, and I was sure he'd raised huge welts on my ass. As soon as I started licking his shoes, Travis stopped hitting me. He allowed me to lick his shoes for a moment, then slowly started walking back towards his chair. As soon as he stepped away and I stopped licking, he whipped me with the coat hanger again, so I started crawling as he walked, doing my best to keep my tongue in constant contact with his shoes.

Travis sat back down, and I dared to risk a glance at him. He had a very self-satisfied grin on his face as he watched me cleaning his very dirty shoes. They were old, and even had a few holes in the sides. I don't think they'd ever been cleaned, because they smelled of grime and old foot odor. They were nasty, far nastier than Brandon's boots. I loathed the thought of where they had been, and what type of nastiness I was being forced to clean with my tongue. Travis lifted his foot, placing the sole of his shoe right against my tongue. I knew I had no choice but to clean the tread and eat the dirt from the bottom of his skater shoes.

"Damn, Brandon, you were right. This fag does respond well with a little discipline. Seems to me like he needs a lot of it," Travis said.

"Hell, yeah, I can do some of that," Jesse replied, standing up. I heard his unbuckling his belt. Next thing I knew, I felt Jesse's belt crash into my ass and I screamed into the bottom of Travis' shoe. "Crawl back over to the couch, cocksucker," Jesse ordered, hitting my ass again.

"Yes, Sir! Please, Sir! Please don't hit me anymore!" I begged, crawling to the couch as fast as I could.

"Sir? Fuck yeah, I like that!" Jesse laughed. "About time someone showed me some fucking respect!" He hit my ass once more with the belt, then stood in front of me and ordered me to lick his boots.

I don't know what he did for a living; something automotive would be my guess. His boots were filthy, covered in work grime and dirt. I could feel it coating my tongue as soon as I started licking his heavy, steel-toed work boots. Jesse was a big man with big feet, so there was a lot of area I had to lick.

"Been a long day, fag. I think you better pull my boots off and lick my feet, too. Show us what a nasty little bitch you are," Jesse ordered, taking a seat on the couch. I untied his boots, then pulled them off, followed by his work socks. I could smell the sweat on his huge feet. As with Brandon, I hated the idea of licking his sweaty feet, but feared his wrath and belt even more, so I stuck out my tongue and started licking them and sucking his toes.

While I was tongue swabbing Jesse's feet, the three men started discussing sports, as if abusing and using another person was the most natural thing in the world for them. After I'd sucked each of Jesse's toes and cleaned between each of them with my tongue, I heard Brandon taking off his belt behind me. I knew what was coming at that point, but I was powerless to stop it.

As I was bent over with my mouth on Jesse's feet, my ass was raised in the air, making an inviting and easy target for Brandon's belt. I don't know if he took aim or if it was just a lucky shot, but when he swung the belt, he hit me right on my taint, the edges of the belt clipping both my asshole and the top of my balls. It felt like a lightning bolt shot through my body. I collapsed, Jesse's toes still in my mouth. The pain was so intense that all I could do was lie there and groan around Jesse's foot while the three of them laughed their asses off. Jesse high-fived Brandon, congratulating him on such a good shot. That's what gave them the idea for what they called the faggot race.

Once I recovered enough to move, Brandon walked to the entrance to the kitchen, and ordered me to crawl to him. I slowly crawled over and began automatically licking his bare feet. Meanwhile Jesse and Travis took up positions in the far corners of the room.

"Crawl over to Jesse, fuckhole," Brandon ordered. When I turned, I realized Jesse had moved. As I was trying to locate him, Brandon brought his belt down on my already welted ass. I yelped and crawled away as fast as I could towards Jesse, with Brandon following me, whipping me with his belt. When I reached Jesse, I started licking his bare feet again. He allowed me to continue for a moment.

"Travis next," he said. I turned to crawl to Travis, as Jesse gleefully brought his belt down on the back of my thighs, eliciting a scream from me as I crawled faster towards Travis, eagerly licking his Vans as soon as I could to avoid any more blows from Jesse's belt. Travis quickly moved his foot away.

"Back to Jesse, cunt," he sneered, then brought the hanger down on my ass crack, hard. He was smaller and less muscular than Jesse or Brandon but seemed to hit just as hard. The hanger was also a whole different level of agony than the belts, which were bad enough. I crawled as fast as I could, but not before Travis got in several more blows.

The game went on for a while. When I was busy licking the feet of one of them, the other two would change positions, making it harder for me to find the one I was ordered to crawl to, allowing them more blows along the way. They even came up with a point system, where any blow that hit my balls or asshole got extra points. It wasn't long before I was literally in tears from the pain, the humiliation, and the exhaustion of having to constantly crawl back and forth across the room. The three men, on the other hand, were apparently having a blast, bragging to one another about especially vicious blows. At one point, it even looked like Travis was recording the whole thing on his phone. I'd lost all sense of self-consciousness at that point, crawling slack jawed and crying from man to man across the room. I was now obeying without thought, mentally trapped in a primitive state of pain avoidance.