I slowly blinked awake, grumbling. I'd gone to bed late last night, and my bleary eyes weren't happy about the sunlight streaming into my room. My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up to check the time: almost noon. Ah well, not like I had anywhere to be.
I slipped out of bed and into the shower, letting the warm water wash the lingering sleepiness away. My hole was still a little sore from the businessman I'd ridden last night, another in a long string of fun but forgettable hookups. Ever since leaving college last year, I'd mostly ignored my dad's gentle pushes to find a job and a direction in favor of dick and weed. I kept telling myself I'd get it together starting Monday, but week after week came and went without my brain magically getting its act together.
I sighed. I knew Dad was right, I needed to get back on track sooner or later, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Everything used to come to me so easily, but college was so hard and I just couldn't take it. He'd been sympathetic at first, but I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He'd barely even talk to me when he got home from work anymore, and I knew he could tell I was lying when I told him about jobs I'd applied for that day.
At least the hookups were fun. If one good thing had come out of my brief, unsuccessful collegiate career, it was the blossoming of my sex drive. I'd downloaded Grindr my first night in the dorms and threw myself into it with aplomb. I'd never had much interest in sticking my dick in things, so I advertised myself as a bottom. In a big city like mine with a litany of thriving businesses, there was no shortage of older guys looking for a pretty young thing to use.
Some of them liked to give me brief little entrees into the world of kink. A pair of handcuffs here, a blindfold there, the occasional spanking. One of them, a tattooed guy built like a mountain, liked to choke me and blow cigar smoke in my face while he pounded me. That was a particularly fun night.
I stepped out of the shower, towelling my hair dry. The only thing I really put much effort into anymore was my appearance; it was just about all I could take pride in. I looked like a stereotypical twink: big baby blue eyes, pouty lips, a slim frame and a mop of blond hair that always seemed to fall across my eyes. I still hadn't grown a follicle of body hair, much to my embarrassment. Standing at 5'4", I'd been asked for ID at more than one hookup. Most of my partners didn't seem to mind, some of them seemed to really like it.
I slipped into a pair of pajama pants and padded down the stairs to fix myself some breakfast, stopping in my tracks when I saw Dad waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Shit, I thought to myself when I saw his expression. I told him I'd come to his office today! Dad was a high-powered corporate lawyer, with a client list to rival the average Senator. "I skipped a meeting with Tim Cook for this," he said, his low voice tinged with anger.
My blood ran cold. Dad didn't get angry much, and he had a long fuse. But when it burned out, you didn't want to be anywhere nearby. "Da-" I tried to offer an excuse, but he just held up a hand. "Don't even bother Cody," he said, his gaze ice-cold. "Don't bother with another bullshit excuse." He took a step toward me, his muscular, 6'3" frame towering over me. "I know you don't mean it." He hadn't raised his voice at all, but I could feel his fury. "I've spent a whole year giving you chance after chance to step up and be an adult, but you just want to coast and get high and get fucked." I sputtered indignantly, but he just held his hand up again, taking another step toward me.
"You think I don't know what you're doing every night?" he snapped as I took a step back. "How stupid do you think I am, Cody? You come back at god-knows-what time every night, giggling like a moron and smelling like a skunk's asshole. What the fuck am I supposed to think you're up to?" My face burned bright red as I searched through my mind for another explanation, coming up empty. He was right, after all. He stepped toward me again, leaning down so his deep brown eyes were staring directly into mine.
"You're a faggot," he said, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide. He didn't say it with malice, or intent to insult; he was merely stating the obvious. "You go out night after night and take cock after cock because you're a dirty little faggot. Aren't you?" I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, but no words came out. I could only stand silently as he wrapped one of his huge hands around my neck, squeezing lightly. "I asked you a question, faggot."
There was no cruelty in his tone, and the anger in his voice had faded. He simply spoke in a calm, commanding tone that burrowed deep into some primal corner of my brain. My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip. I detected the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Can you even speak right now, faggot?" I bit down on my lip harder, afraid of what I'd say if I allowed myself to open my mouth. I curled my toes and balled my fists, trying to suppress the feelings welling up inside me that I knew were wrong. Wrong. Right?
He saw the confusion in my eyes and the smile on his lips grew. "Oh, I get it," he said, his grip growing tighter around my neck. Suddenly, his other hand shot forward and firmly grabbed my package. I gasped, trying to jump back in shock but I was unable to pull away from Dad's firm grasp. "My Cody, the little faggot," he said, no longer needing words to confirm what my body made obvious. "No wonder you've fucked every businessman in town. You never knew how to ask for what you wanted the whole time."
A barrage of conflicting emotions washed over my mind. Was he right? The fact that I was starting to hump against his hand without even thinking about it certainly seemed to indicate that he was. I looked into his eyes to see his gaze, still hard and assured and deeply intimidating. Without warning, he spun me around and pulled me tight against his chest, forcing his hand down my pants and roughly playing with my cock. "Don't worry about telling me I'm right, little faggot," he hissed in my ear as I gasped with a powerful mix of pain and pleasure. "I'm not even sure if you can anymore."
My cock had swollen to its full 4", and Dad chuckled. "I really should've figured this out sooner Cody," he said as he stroked over my precum-soaked head. "With a little nub like this, you were never suited to become a man." My brain was screaming at me to protest, to fight him, but I could only sink into his grip and let out a shaky, breathy moan. I'd never felt anything like this before. Sure, I'd been submissive to guys before, but none of them had ever been so sure of themselves, so confident and so strident with effortless degradation. "I hope you're enjoying the gentle treatment, faggot," he said as he took me right up to the edge of orgasm. "Your future won't be quite so comfortable." I whimpered, but it wasn't fear that filled my mind. It was anticipation, even impatience. Dad had unlocked something in me.
"Y-yes S-Sir," I managed to stammer out, taken by surprise with how high and weak my voice sounded. Dad chuckled again, the gravelly sound like angel's music to my ears. "Not Sir," he said as he squeezed tight around my cock. "Daddy." I moaned, much louder than before. "Yes Daddy!"
With that, he bit down hard at the base of my neck, making me cry out. He clamped a hand roughy over my mouth, turning my pained squeal into a muffled moan. "My faggot ought to be marked as such," he growled, his mouth still full of my skin. I squirmed in his grip, but he took his sweet time, making sure that the mark stuck. Once he was confident the hickey would be obvious to anyone so much as glancing at me, he repeated the process on the other side of my neck, squeezing his hand tighter around my mouth to keep me quiet.
"I'll be sure to keep those marks fresh every morning," he said as he took his free hand and pulled my arms behind my back, effortlessly pinning both my hands with one of his. "But for now, daddy needs to get his faggot dressed for his new life." Taking his hand off my mouth and instead gripping me by the throat, he effortlessly hefted me up and threw me over his shoulder. "Make a single sound and I'll beat your ass until you can't sit right for a month, faggot," he said, a primal growl in his voice. I'd never heard him sound like that, and it made my cock twitch. He was an animal, and I was his prey.
He took me out to the garage, popping the trunk on his Mercedes. He laid me down, picking up a roll of duct tape and securing my wrists and ankles. I pulled on the bonds, but I clearly wasn't going anywhere. Daddy looked down at me, that faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth once again. "Just needs a few finishing touches," he said as he grabbed my thin pajama pants and easily ripped them off. I gasped, now fully exposed, and he took the opportunity to force a sweaty gym sock in my mouth. I gagged at the musky flavor, but before I could spit it out he wrapped the roll of tape around my head over and over again.
I moaned in protest, but I could do nothing to stop him as the rancid sock was now tightly secured in my mouth. "I've been wearing that sock to the gym every day for the last two months," Daddy said as he grabbed my feet and slowly started pulling them up toward the back of my head. "All for you, little faggot." "Mmmppphhhh?!" I shouted into my gag, alarmed. "Oh do you think I did this out of the blue, Cody?" he asked, laughing. "I've been planning this for months! Ever since the first time I found cum stains on your jeans." I blushed fiercely as he pressed the soles of my feet against the back of my head. "You were always so bendy, faggot. That's going to come in handy."
