Pledges: Gay Erotic Stories (13 page)

day One

Max was on the floor, on his knees. The angry young upperclassman towered over his slave.
“If I didn’t know better,” Jody the Giant growled, the thickness in the front of his jeans obvious, his big feet crossed at the ankles, “well,
fuck
, I’d swear you were actually into this.”
Max’s lack of an answer in the tense seconds that followed was answer enough and made the crooked smirk on Jody’s face widen.
“You dirty fucker,” he chuckled. And then Jody raised his right foot, freed of its sneaker, and pressed the sweaty cotton sock and sweatier toes on top of Max Rittenour’s forehead, pushing the pledge’s head down into the carpet.
Jody’s toes massaged Max’s scalp. Max sucked in a whiff of his master’s foot odor and grinned; sweat from the toes of a baseball player, the star shortstop come spring; the football team’s quarterback here and now in the thick of autumn. King of the frat house. Max’s owner.
“You’re not supposed to like this shit,” Jody said and squeezed his package.
“Yes, Sir,” Max said, a simple surrender. Jody’s foot moved out of Max’s buzz cut and over his face. The buttery aroma of a real man’s feet infused the pledge’s next breath.
“Fuck, dawg…this isn’t fun, not when you don’t make a face, wrinkle your nose. Not when you’re smiling and shit, eating it up.”
“What can I do to make it more fun for you, Sir?”
Jody’s eyes wandered to the wall of his room opposite the unmade bed, above the discarded sneakers, the pile of dirty laundry—black boxer-briefs and a soiled jockstrap visible among the sweat socks and T-shirts. Jody’s foot caressed the underclassman’s face. In the absence of direction, Max took over, and the master briefly became the mastered.
“Let me help you out,” Max said.
Jody’s butt plunked onto the mattress. Max removed socks, caressed hairy ankles, rubbed toes.
“How’s that feel?”
“Sort of funny.”
“But good?”
Heat rushed up Jody’s throat, rose red on his cheeks. “I don’t know, fool. Yeah, I suppose.
Yes
, it feels pretty fucking great.”
“I can make it feel even better.”
Jody’s throat knotted under the influence of a dry swallow. “Huh?”
And then Max did the deed. Jody froze. A sensation too ridiculously wonderful to be believed raced up from his sole, unleashed by Max’s tongue. A reverse shiver, brisk at the leading edge, curiously hot in its wake, wracked his body.
“Dude,” Jody sighed. “You’re licking my
feet
.”
“Should I stop, Sir?”
“Of course you should fucking stop,” Jody said, exhaling the words. “You aren’t supposed to lick another dude’s feet. My feet…man, that’s just fucking wrong.” Jody squeezed his dick, shook his head.
“I guess the question I should ask is…do you want me to stop, Sir?”
The smirk on Jody’s face leveled into a harsh scowl, more theatrical than threatening. He shook his head, fixed Max through narrowed eyes. “Hells, no. You’re gonna keep licking my toes like the dirty dawg that you are. Lick the stink off my feet, fucker. Yeah, just like that.”
Max attempted to hide his smile. Jody withdrew his sweaty size twelve.
“Stop enjoying this so much, or I’ll put my fucking sneakers back on.”
“Yes, Sir,” Max said.
The pledge resumed sucking on Jody’s big toe. Closing his eyes fully, Jody leaned back, worried that he might levitate up from the bed and float away while something so unthinkably perverse unleashed divine sensations up his legs.
Elsewhere on campus, upperclassmen in dark cassocks harassed and terrorized their underclassmen. In the same frat house, frosh were drinking beer out of hoses and through dirty jockstraps, being yelled at and pissing their pants.
But not Max, who would spend the next week of his life as Jody’s property.
Licking his fucking feet—and loving it.
A note of worry rippled through Jody’s arousal. He loved it, too, and that confused him more than the fact that his property was happy to comply with this humiliation…and fuck knew what else.
He sensed the days ahead would be interesting.

Day Two

Jody woke an hour before the alarm was scheduled to go off, a loud thump on the floor overhead rousing him from the state of half sleep he’d drifted in and out of all night. Deep laughter followed, audible through the ceiling above his bed.

The gentle cadence of the slave’s breaths added to Jody’s discomfort. He’d rubbed one out in the darkness following that curiously magical performance on his toes, the air fragrant from sweat and the dregs of his climax, which he’d mopped up using his discarded socks. He felt too warm, even after tossing the extra blanket on the floor, creating a makeshift bed for his property. Dressed only in the pair of black boxer-briefs that hugged his ass and junk to perfection, Jody rolled over to discover that the underwear now fit awkwardly. His cock pulsed. Jody gave it a shake and winced. He was so erect that his meat ached.

“Fuck,” he growled and almost gagged on the dry state of his mouth, tongue to throat.
He heard the slave stir. Electricity raced through Jody’s flesh in concentric ripples, tickling him behind the balls, unleashing pleasant stings at both nipples. His toes curled. The urge to force Max to worship his feet again went past simple desire to somewhere in the territory of craving. Through the course of the disturbed night, he had wondered more than once if Max had ruined him. Changed him, at least.
Jody’s cock threw itself at his boxer-briefs, demanding release. Basting his bone was a regular morning ritual, one he loved that was now in jeopardy of changing, too, due to the pledge’s presence. He reached down, grabbed hold of the slave’s wrist, and drew it toward his crotch. A voice in Jody’s head bellowed,
Dude, don’t!
But he overruled it.
“Sir?” Max asked.
Jody grunted a streak of expletives, guided Max’s hand onto his thickness. Max soon took over without needing instruction or encouragement.
Still, Jody directed. He was, after all, the man in charge. “Fuck yeah; play with my big ole bone…”
Max smiled. Again, part of Jody wanted to smack the joy off his face—
this wasn’t supposed to be fun!
Maybe for the upperclassmen, the studs, the
dudes
, but not for the frosh, the nobodies, the slaves.
The nobody tugged down Jody’s boxer-briefs and tucked the waistband under his sac. Jody’s thickness jumped, its curved shaft with helmeted head standing up from his thatch of pubic hair under its own power.
Max seized hold of his balls in one hand, gripped him from the root to the neck in upward strokes with the other. The heat in the room doubled; fireworks erupted, ones whose booming echoes only Jody felt.
“Oh, fuck yeah—just like that!”
Up and down, fingers yanking on his nuts, the slave jerked him.
“Sir?” Max asked, breaking Jody’s buzz.
“What?” he barked.
“Want me to suck it?”
Suck it? Suck his cock?
The very thought of it stoked Jody’s anger. And his curiosity. The two extremes collided, opposing storm fronts that knocked him past the edge. Until the first blast of skeet shot out of his dick, he wasn’t aware that he was fucking Max’s fingers.
Suck his dick? Through the haze of rage and happiness and sweat, Jody heard the wet suckling sound and realized Max was licking the load off his fingers.

Day Three

Elsewhere on campus, underclassmen carried the books and laptops and sweaty cleats of their masters. Young men groveled and grimaced, answering shouts with whimpers and respectful addresses of, “
Yes, Sir!
”

In Jody’s room, Max sniffed and licked around his toes, funky after the morning’s football practice. The room was fragrant with fresh male sweat, a real man’s scent. Jody reminded himself that he was a real man,
the
man, captain of the baseball team, the football team’s Number One stud and quarterback. He didn’t have a girlfriend; he had several. He drank beer, scratched without apology, played sports and watched sports with his buddies. He was a deity on campus, king of the frat house, the dude.

His pledge licked higher, past Jody’s hairy shin, over his knee. Higher still.
Anticipation ignited in Jody’s blood, his
balls
, which liquefied from solid flesh to warm slag that spilled down his inner thighs, seemingly all the way to his feet.
Max licked his leg. Soon, his mouth would be there, the boundary crossed; the one line Jody never imagined approaching let alone willingly stepping past. The next second tolled with the weight of an hour.
Never
, despite all his time in locker rooms, breathing in the musky stink of his fellow jocks and, yes, liking it, pumping wood in the showers as a result. Ditto on all the times he and the guys beat their dicks together watching porn. Not even when he and one of his fellow frat brothers tag-teamed the same choice piece of female ass, nuts touching.
Max’s tongue, so warm and wonderful, brushed Jody’s sac, and whatever came before no longer mattered. There was only now and
now
put a wide grin above his chin.
Jody’s slave licked at his balls, soaking them in spit. Lifting them up, Max sniffed at the patch of rank skin at their back and moaned a breathy, “
Yes
,” into his loose bag. Sucked them one at a time and then somehow managed to fit both into his mouth.
The space before Jody’s eyes erupted in a blinding display of light and energy as stars went supernova and the universe seethed in a repeat performance of the Big Bang. He started shooting his nut without a hand on his dick—his or Max’s. The next round of waves pounded him seconds later when, still busting, Max swallowed him almost to the stones.
Jody blasted. Max gulped. In the sweaty calm that followed, Max drew back.
“No,” Jody ordered. “Keep it in your mouth, dude.”
Max nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said around Jody’s bone, his words washing heat over Jody’s tightening nuts.
Max held Jody’s dick between his lips, stroked his master’s balls, moaned. The vibrations made Jody’s toes curl.
“Fuck, keep sucking my dick,” Jody said. “I’ve got another load in my nuts for you, you fucking cocksucker…”
It turned out that, by the end of the afternoon, he had
three
.

Day Four
A warm breeze spirited through the open windows, stirring
the scent of male skin.
Jody stretched, flexed his toes. His cock basked in the
sunlight, stiff and leaking precome, pulsing over the treasure
trail of dark fur that cut him down his six-pack.
Max licked across the T-pattern of dark hair superimposed
over his master’s chest. Banking to the left, he gently brushed
the dime-sized nipple capping that side of Jody’s pectoral
muscles. Electric pins and needles rippled outward in response,
the flickers of pleasure soon engulfing the rest of Jody’s body. Max then nibbled, the gentle scrape of his teeth in perfect counterpoint to the pressure of fingers squeezing hard on his master’s
root. The pledge’s thumb tickled Jody’s balls.
Max dipped lower, buried his face in Jody’s armpit. Jody
flinched.
“Trust me,” the slave whispered.
The balls! The fucking hairy sac of it all—
trust him?
He was
the plebe, the slave, the lowlife, the lackey.
“
Trust—?
” Jody started.
Max licked his armpit, and Jody’s righteous anger evaporated in a wave of intense pleasure.
He swore.
Max kissed the tuft of damp fur, swirled a circle with his
tongue, exhaled a warm breath, that last element almost more
arousing than all that preceded it.
“How—?” he moaned.
Like the previous question, this, too, died somewhere
between Jody’s throat and lips.
—
could something so fucked up, so wrong, feel so fucking
magnificent?
Even better when Max backtracked to his left nipple,
nibbled, and moved on to Jody’s right hard-point. As the slave
worshipped his other armpit, flashing a wide smile, Jody imagined the one reflected on his face as being fairly sunny as well. How the fuck had he lived so long, fucked around so much,
without knowing the secret pleasures hidden about his own
body?
The answer was as simple as it was complex: because it took
another dude to release those forbidden blessings.
The bigger question now was how would he be able to exist
without them again when the wild chaos of Hell Week ended
and life at the frat house returned to being all that was and wasn’t in the days before Max and a dozen other lowly pledges were paraded into the big lounge room downstairs and his slave, nuzzled in the warm safety of his armpit, dared to smile at him,
stoking Jody’s rage. And something more.
“Suck my cock,” Jody ordered.
Max happily obeyed.
Armpits
, Jody thought, his eyes shut, one hand guiding
Max’s head up and down.
Fucking crazy…
Or was it?

Day Five
“No,” Jody said.
He waited for the slave, the lowly fucking
frosh
, to give him

lip. If he did, Jody feared the rugged, big-nutted athlete-warrior cocksman within would slam the fucker onto the mattress, haul out his dick, smack his face with it and then fuck the fucker’s throat until a gallon of ball-juice sprayed his tonsils.

“Yes, Sir,” Max said and bowed his head.

Jody caught the look of disappointment before the slave’s face dropped and his arousal flared, along with his curiosity.
But to actually go there?
“Oh, fuck
no
,” Jody said aloud.
Max remained in his obedient pose at the side of the bed, waiting for instruction while kneeling between his master’s spread legs. The level of power Jody commanded was narcotic. Denying Max the opportunity, the fucking
privilege
, made Jody’s dick pulse inside the prison of his boxer-briefs.
If denying the offer worked this kind of magic on his bone, what glimpse of paradise would granting it result in?
“
No
,” Jody snapped in response to his inner monologue.
Reaching down, he yanked his underwear aside. His left nut spilled out, its weight dragging the right down to the leg cuff. The ripeness of his balls following his morning workout filled his next desperate breath.
“Suck my nuts, fuck-face.”
Max leaned in, inhaled, and rolled his eyes. Nuts, toes, pits…
A few firm sucks later, Jody relented. “Yeah, go ahead and do it.
Now
, dick-breath, before I change my mind.”
And then
he
was on both knees, on the bed, his head resting on the pillow, nuts puddling on the DNA-soaked top sheet, his butt bared to Max’s mouth.
“
Sweet
,” Max whispered.
A warm breath rained down into Jody’s crack. A shiver teased his spine. He fought it, failed. The room phased out of focus around them; a commentary on recent days and events where little was clear. The world had altered.
The wave passed. Max’s tongue offered a tentative flick to Jody’s most sensitive flesh. The master tensed on instinct. The next sweep of the slave’s taste buds was firmer, flesh on flesh. Imaginary ice formed around Jody’s asshole while the rest of his body broke in sweat, the two extremes confusing, exhilarating.
He grunted a breathless, “
Fuck
,” into the pillows.
Max’s tongue circled his hole clockwise. A few full revolutions later, the slave reversed course and that minute hand made the concept of time useless. Space followed as the universe twisted inside out.
A dude was
eating his asshole!
Jody bucked on the bed, the tendrils of tickles igniting all other tender points on his body: ears and toes, throat and nuts, nipples and armpits and that trigger of nerves under the head of his dick. Other places, too—ones unseen and otherwise unreachable, save via Max’s tongue.
Eating his asshole.
Max moaned and the vibrations intensified. The tongue ceased its spins, switched to an up-and-down motion. On each plunge, Max also licked the back of his balls.
Eating him, ever deeper…
This was madness!
Grunting, with Max’s tongue buried inside him, Jody emptied his nuts onto the bedclothes without as much as a single finger anywhere on his dick.