Company Cocksucker Pt. 10-14

I think it made Tim pretty hot, too. He wanted sex at least twice every day that week and on two days I sucked him off three times. By the end of the week, he realized that I was cumming every time and he started making me drop my pants the way Murphy had that one time. Only Tim insisted that I cum in one of my hands while I sucked him and pumped him with my other hand. Then, after he had filled my mouth with cum, he made me swallow my own cum and then lick my hand clean. It was all just another domination game to him and I decided not to make a big deal of it because that would only cede more power to him. And besides, when I licked up my cum, I didn't have to worry about smelling like cum in the office. So this worked out better for me, too.

Tim knew, of course, that I was sucking Murphy off, usually just once a day and sometimes not even that often. But sometimes, as I was displaying my "good performance" for Murphy, I wondered what he would think if he knew that the lips that were sliding up and down his slick rod had, sometimes just minutes before, been wrapped around another man's cock. I wasn't going to tell him, of course.

Never content to let things coast, Tim thought of new ways to humiliate me at work and put me in fear that I would be found out. He started making me write notes to him. First he tried to get me to write him e-mails but I refused because these could be seen by the computer people. He could have forced the issue, but I guess he didn't want to be found out either. Once I had to write an essay about how much I loved being a slave to his cock. And, once he made me write a long description of how his cock felt to me when it entered my ass and when it exploded in my mouth--a sort of "compare and contrast" the feelings essay. He made me draw silly cartoons of me on my knees sucking his dick and on my hands and knees getting fucked in the ass. And he returned them to me for revisions because I didn't look happy enough. He gave me an overnight assignment to PhotoShop a series of gay pictures he'd found on the Internet with head shots of him and me, with me always in the subordinate position, of course. I played around with that and made some versions with him sucking my cock and me fucking his ass. These were, of course, only for my pleasure. Funny, though, I realized that I hardly ever looked at those versions. If I wanted to wank off some night, I looked at the versions I made for Tim. I guess those were the ones that created sexual tension in me.

During this period, even though I wasn't cumming now with Murphy--something he might, I realized, have wondered about--I was having more orgasms per day than at any time in my life. I should have been pretty happy. Of course, the price of those orgasms was my self-respect, my sense of my own masculinity. I had to suffer the indignity of taking many mouthfuls of other men's cum.

Part 13: Begging for It

The coming weekend (no pun intended), Tim instructed me, I would be at his house both Friday and Saturday nights. He allowed me to come over late, after my date with Steph. But I couldn't spend the night with her. It was really weird spending the evening with Steph--trying, often unsuccessfully, to fuck her--knowing that later that very night, I would be the one taking a hard cock. If I thought about that while I was trying to fuck Steph, I would always wilt. It occurred to me that this was very strange. When I sucked Tim or Murphy off or, even more so, when Tim fucked me, I always got hard and often shot my load, even if I wasn't stroking my cock. And thinking about these things when I was alone at night would always make me hard and usually drive me to whacking off to the images I was focusing on. But thinking about those things while I was fucking Stephanie just didn't work. I guess it was the incongruity between my two roles.

I think Steph was kind of losing patience with me. I tried to keep her happy by licking her pussy and clitoris often. When she came, it made me feel good--sort of like a man again. I often took her to two or three orgasms every time we were alone together. And, she was always the one to call it off. It seemed as if I was always up for licking her to an orgasm, though I was seldom up for much else, unfortunately.

When I showed up at Tim's around midnight, he was in a robe watching some porno flicks. He wanted me on my knees between his legs slowly sucking his cock as he watched the movie. I wasn't to try to make him cum, he warned, and he slowed me down several times. He just wanted the stimulation while he watched the movie. He was saving himself, I knew, to take my ass when we went to bed.

I couldn't really watch the movie but I could hear it. As before, it had a bisexual theme. The relationship between the two main guys wasn't very egalitarian, though. One of the guys had sex both with the other guy and with several different women. The other guy just serviced the first one. I realized that Tim pretty much thought that captured our relationship. I guess it did except I was the one with a girl friend.

When the movie ended, we went to his bedroom and Tim had me strip naked and then, on my knees, take off his robe. God help me my dick was as hard as his, something that didn't escape his notice.

"You really like this, don't you?"

I couldn't say 'yes'. Jesus, that would be too embarrassing. But I couldn't say 'no', either. My hard cock was gainsaying that. So I just knelt there silently.

"Get on your hands and knees on the bed. Put your little ass up in the air for me."

I didn't resist his demands anymore. I got on my hands and knees on the edge of the bed, offering my ass to him while he was slathering lubricant on his hard cock.

"Now ask me for it." I was mute. Words would not leave my mouth. So Tim went on, "No. Don't just ask. I want you to *beg* me for it."

Okay, I spoke too quickly when I said I didn't resist him. It wasn't a conscious attempt to resist. I just couldn't beg him to fuck my ass. I surprised myself when I said, flatly and strongly, "NO!"

"Oh, come on now," Tim said. "Let's not go through all this again. You know what happens if you don't please me. I'm not demanding any new act. Just words."

I guess I waited longer than he wanted because he prompted me again: "Come on; you can do it."

"P-p-please," I began uncertainly.

"Please, what?"

"Please fuck me."

"Come on, say it like you really mean it."

So, I pleaded with him to fuck me in the ass. I told him I needed to feel his big cock deep inside of me. I begged him to fuck me, and he obliged. He held my hips tightly and slid forcefully into me in a single thrust. I gasped because it kind of hurt as he rearranged my innards. He, of course, interpreted my sounds as expressions of pleasure.

"You like it, don't you bitch?" And all I could think is that I really hated it that he called me 'bitch'. But, then, I was on my hands and knees, thrusting my ass back to take his cock deep inside of me. I guess, even if it was uncomfortable to hear, 'bitch' was an accurate word.

He settled in to a strong and ever-quickening rhythm. I could feel my own excitement building. I looked down between my legs and my cock, hard as it was, was flapping wildly as his thrusts bounced my butt back and forth. I was getting close to coming myself. In a way, I would have liked not to have the embarrassment of getting aroused by being fucked or by sucking Tim or Murphy off. On the other hand, that (and masturbating to the thought of that) seemed to be the only way I was getting off reliably these days and I desperately wanted the relief.

As Tim was nearing an orgasm, he reached around and grabbed my cock. That was all I needed to go over the edge. I was spurting all over the sheets, shooting long strings of cum across the bed. As I popped off, my thrusting hips and clenching asshole took Tim over the edge, too. I could feel his cock spasm in my ass and hear him grunting madly as he filled me with his jism.

We collapsed on the bed, puffing like we'd just run a marathon. When our heart rates were down to where you could count individual heartbeats again, Tim told me he was too drained to go the bathroom to clean up. For just a second, I was afraid that he was going to demand that I suck him clean. Instead, he instructed me to go get a warm washcloth and come back and clean him. That seemed doable, though I have to tell you, cleaning off another guy's dick like that was weird. It felt way too intimate. A funny thing to say after I'd sucked him for about twenty minutes and then let him impale me with the cock I'd made so hard, but somehow the cleaning seemed so gentle--almost like I was caressing his cock.

I cleaned off by the sink. When I got back to Tim's bed, he was sound asleep. I curled up under the covers on the opposite side of the bed and was asleep in just a few minutes.

Part 14: A Maid Man

The next morning, Tim woke up with a woody and wanted a blow job right away. I woke up with a woody, too, but given the dynamics of our relationship, he was the one getting, and I was the one giving, the blowjob. After I'd taken care of his needs, he had me beat off onto my stomach and then swipe the cum up with my hands and lick it off my fingers. I really hated this--not the release, I was going to beat off furiously when I went home. But I hated it that I had to beat off in front of Tim--especially right after I'd taken care of him with my mouth. It just underscored the power differential.

When I was finished, Tim told me he was going to spend the day at his parents' house. I figured that I was being dismissed, which was fine by me. But Tim surprised me again.

"Before you go home, or wherever you go, wash the sheets and towels and clean up the kitchen and living room."

"What?" I was shocked. "I'm not going to..." And I didn't have to think about it too long to know that I was going to do what he asked. I realized that as long as he could reveal my secret to everyone at work, not to mention Steph, I was his bitch in every sense that he wanted me to be.

"Okay," I said sheepishly.

It didn't really take that long to do. I was done just a couple of hours after Tim had left. And most of the time, I was just waiting for the laundry to finish. So I used that time to snoop around Tim's house. Most of it was pretty boring. There's the little thrill of getting a glimpse of another person's private life. But there wasn't really anything that interesting to discover. That is, until ... until I came across a drawer in his desk that was ... well, it was about me. Tim had a sort of diary he had kept. Near as I could tell, it mentioned every incident we'd had together. The run-of-the-mill blowjobs at work were just acknowledged. "Jason sucked me off twice at work today," and that sort of thing. But the more significant events were described in detail--excruciating detail.

My ears burned as I read the accounts of what I'd done. Somehow seeing it recounted in words made it seem all that much more vivid and real. When I read him describe how he had "popped my cherry," I felt my ass clench involuntarily. Some of what I read really distressed me. Tim sometimes talked about me in the crudest, most demeaning ways, he repeatedly wrote of me liking to suck his cock and swallow his cum (several times pointing out that I would often bust my nut while taking his), and he referred to me as his "little cocksucker" and his "pussy boy". I wanted to refute it, to scream out that it wasn't true. But I couldn't. I just put the diary back and hoped to forget its words.

Things continued on like this for a couple of weeks. I think Tim was over the initial thrill, both of suddenly being able to get sucked off whenever he wanted and of humiliating and subjugating me. He still used me in all the same ways--frequent blow jobs at work, as a pussy boy, mostly, on the weekends, and as his personal maid. This was all straining my relationship with Steph, but not to the breaking point, yet. Sometimes, when I was cleaning up Tim's house, I would pull out his diary to read it. (Yeah, the idea of forgetting what was in there didn't work. I found myself drawn to it even though it was painful to read.) He wasn't writing in it as frequently as he used to, which was another sign, I guess, that he was not as excited by all of this. But he still wrote in it sometimes. And the last entry really bothered me. He said, "This is fun and all but it's getting kind of predictable. Jason's pretty used to it all now. I might have to push the envelope a bit. Maybe I should share the love."

What the hell did he mean by that? The only thing I could think of scared the shit out of me. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry as I put the diary back in the drawer. As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to have my fears confirmed--eventually, my worst fears.

Continued in Part 15 ...