Conquered Ch 02

This story is a sequel. Please read Part 1 before reading this one. All characters are 18 or older. This story is about gay male sex, including acts that are somewhat nonconsensual. Reader discretion is advised.

My heart was pounding as Craig walked into the room where Grayson, my boss, and the subject of my fantasies, had just finished giving me the fuck of a lifetime. Craig looked dumbfounded by the scene he'd walked in. I was sitting naked on Grayson's lap, my legs straddling him, with his naked, muscular, manly body beneath me. The air was thick with the smell of sex. It was obvious to Craig that Grayson and I had just fucked.

What wasn't obvious to Craig was that I'd set Grayson up. The fact that Grayson and I were tied to each other and to a chair suggested that there was something deeper than just sex going on, as it would have been impossible for us to have put ourselves into that position. I wondered if Craig realized that, or if he was too gobsmacked by the (sexy as hell) image of me impaled on Grayson.

Unfortunately, Grayson had me figured out. I'd unwittingly said something to tip Grayson off that I'd been in on the plan all along. I'd set out to make Grayson my latest conquest and hired a hobo named Buddy to pull a gun on us. To my surprise, over the course of the night, I'd realized that my feelings for Grayson ran deeper than simple lust; just moments before Craig walked into the room, I had confessed my love to Grayson and sworn I'd never try to manipulate a straight man into my bed ever again.

From that moment on, I knew I belonged to Grayson. My body, my heart, my desire were all fully his; I'd been conquered. Part and parcel to being the conquered instead of the conqueror, I resolved that I'd let him decide for himself whether or not he wanted to be with me.

The tension in the room was thick, and I knew it was up to me to break the silence. "Craig - boy are you a sight for sore eyes. Come untie us, big guy."

"It's not what it looks like," Grayson mumbled weakly in a daze. I looked over at him. He didn't seem to be angry. He looked withdrawn, defeated, and scared -- a man coming to grips with what he'd just done, and wondering if there was any way to go back to his life and pretend that it had never happened. A new player joining the mix certainly didn't help. That was one more witness to Grayson's infidelity and homosexual conduct, and, as the dumbfounded expression on Craig's face made clear, he wasn't my co-conspirator as Buddy had been; he was a mere accidental observer. In other words, Craig could talk about the scene he'd come upon without fear of going to jail, and Grayson knew it.

Grayson wasn't making eye contact with me. I rubbed his chest reassuringly. He looked up, but I don't think he actually saw me. It felt like his gaze was going right through me. He clenched his jaw stoically. He'd been almost fatherly to me in the moments leading up to Craig's arrival, but that had been replaced by the chill of indifference. It hurt, but I tried not to take it personally. For all he knew, he'd go to church Sunday and be greeted by whispers of everyone discussing his dalliance, where he'd been caught tied up with the gay naked office twink. Considering what could happen, he was actually handling this remarkably well.

There was something that turned me on about Grayson's ability to go in such quick succession from my respected boss, to my intimate lover, to my father figure, to a cold stranger. It was utterly impossible for me to pin down the true Grayson. This fascinated me and made me even more enamored of him.

"Yeah, it's really not what it looks like," I said to Craig, trying to keep the mood light while also subtly indicating to Grayson that I was going to try my best to keep this all under wraps for his sake. "Now come untie us, you big lug."

It took Craig a few minutes to work the knots, and I relished the attention. I'm an exhibitionist, so being seen by another man after I'd been freshly fucked - with Grayson's creamy load still seeping out of my ass, mind you - was a huge turn on. It was especially hot because I knew that Craig had been wanting to fuck me for a while, and there I was, naked, with my beautiful twink form pressed against the ultimate DILF hunk Grayson. I wondered if Craig was getting turned on by seeing me like that, and if he was jealous. I also wondered if, perhaps somewhere deep down, Grayson was proud that he'd been the one to fuck me and Craig hadn't. There was something primal about the way Grayson had just mated with me and claimed me as his property with his hot daddy sperm.

While working the ropes, Craig brushed up against my skin a couple of times. I barely suppressed a moan when Craig's strong hand rubbed against my soft, squeezable butt. I was sure Grayson was humiliated beyond belief and counting every second that his nightmare continued, but if I'd had my druthers, it would have taken Craig

hours

to untie our naked bodies.

I actually caught Craig sneaking a few peeks at both Grayson's dick and mine. I had no reason at that point to believe that Craig was anything but straight, so I figured it was simple curiosity -- not quite rubbernecking a car crash, but something like it. While Grayson's dick wasn't hard as it had been earlier when he'd fucked me silly, it also hadn't gone fully soft.

I hadn't yet fully processed what I'd done, so I wasn't thinking about the guilt or anything like that. All I knew was that I was on cloud nine, with Grayson's freshly deposited sperm inside of my beautiful twink body. I felt no shame; the other shoe hadn't dropped yet.

As for Grayson, I had no idea what to think. His dick sure as hell wasn't flaccid. Sporting a semi in front of Craig and me, however, didn't necessarily mean he was having a good time. I didn't want to think too deeply about what he was feeling, because I wasn't ready to process the guilt yet. I can see now that he was probably suffering through extreme humiliation, but all I cared about in that moment was that two straight jocks were so focused on my naked body.

"Got it!" Craig exclaimed, finally untying the big knot that would make untying the rest easier. The end was in sight. I looked at Grayson, hoping he'd meet my glance and make eye contact with me just one more time before we parted ways, but he wouldn't. Whatever special moment had passed between us had clearly ended for Grayson the second Craig walked into the room.

After Craig untied us, Grayson quickly got dressed; he was fully dressed while I was still pulling up my underwear.

"Thanks for your help, Craig," Grayson said plainly. "I'll see you on Monday." Then he left the building out the same door that Buddy had used to gain entry.

He didn't say goodbye to me.

After all we'd endured together, it felt shitty. Grayson had said right before Craig had arrived that he'd forgiven me, but now it seemed like Grayson wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. I kinda couldn't blame him for that. After all, I'd hired a man to force him at gunpoint to fuck me. It was starting to occur to me a little more that he had every reason in the world not to trust me or ever want to see me again.

Craig suddenly seemed to remember something, and spoke up. "Do you mind if I just step outside for a minute? I'll be right back to make sure you're OK."

Craig left for a few minutes to say goodnight to Tiffany and to call her an Uber; I knew that he'd planned on taking her back to his place to fuck, and I appreciated that he was willing to change his plans for me.

When Craig left the room, I grabbed the mug that was still utterly replete with that most precious of natural resources: Grayson's cum. Luckily, Buddy had forced me to spit Grayson's cum into a mug after I fellated Grayson to completion earlier that evening. He'd then let Grayson use his own cum to lube up my eager asshole, but there was still plenty of cum left over, and I'd been hungrily eyeing it all night.

I put a lid on it and put it in the freezer; I planned to come back for it the next day when it was frozen. That way I'd have my own freezer pop of Grayson's cum so I could take a lick and taste him any time I wanted to. I mean, I arrogantly "knew" deep down that someday I'd have a taste of Grayson's fresh cum again, but I didn't know how long that would take. I told myself I needed something to hold me over in the meantime.

I shut the freezer and cleaned up some of the evidence Grayson and I had left behind. When I was satisfied that the office was reasonably back in order, I sat down at my desk and reflected on the events of the evening.

I'd felt like my entire life had been building up to tonight. I'd been feeling the euphoria that comes from being fucked by the man of my dreams. But with Grayson gone, my happy feeling was starting to fade, and an extremely dark void was coming upon me.

I was a thousand miles away, searching deep inside my mind, trying to get back to that feeling of pure joy when Craig re-entered the room.

"I'm sorry that I ruined your date," I said.

"Date?" he stammered. I could tell he was embarrassed that I'd heard his conversation with Tiffany, and that I knew that he was sexually and/or romantically involved with the office fat chick. "I was just giving her a ride home. She likes me, but I'm not interested."

Uh-huh. Straight guys and their egos. Still, he was helping me out of a jam, so I played along. "Ah, OK. Would you mind giving

me

a ride home? I'm in no condition to drive."

"Sure!" Craig said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

In his car on the way home, we didn't talk much, which I was thankful for as I had a lot to think about. I wondered about what Grayson was doing just then.

Did he run straight home and fuck his wife, hoping that would wipe away the incredible night of sex he just had with another man?

If he had, I didn't think it would work. I'm not big and muscular like Grayson, but I am a strong and athletic twink. I imagined him trying to fuck his matronly wife the way he'd just fucked me.

No way. She'd never be able to handle it, and there's no going back for him.

And yet... there was still the issue of his damn morality. It had taken a gun pointed at him to get him to fuck me the first time. In other words, I hadn't

morally

corrupted him. I knew that even if Grayson acknowledged how much he'd enjoyed fucking me, it could be very difficult to get him to do it again.

It began to dawn on me that I might be in for a very long wait. For years, I'd had no problem going out and being able to get a straight guy whenever I wanted one. Even right then, in Craig's car, I was fairly confident I could lean over and give him road head, and that he'd be happy as a clam. The idea of being alone was new, and I couldn't deal with it.

I was already missing Grayson, so I started looking for some social media, just so I could have some part of me with him that night. But there was nothing.

"Craig, would you mind if I spent the night at your place? I really don't want to be alone tonight."

"Sure!" Craig said energetically.

Oh, God,

I thought to myself.

Poor guy thinks he's gonna fuck me tonight.

That wasn't the plan, honestly. I was just scared of going back to my place.

My fear wasn't just about confronting what it would mean to be alone. I was also having regrets about the way things had gone down. I wished I could have found a way to get what I'd wanted without involving Buddy. It bothered me that Buddy knew where I lived. He had clearly demonstrated his mental illness over the course of the evening. He had simply been too convincing for his performance to have just been acting. There was definitely something there, perhaps a case of extreme substance abuse. I was quite sure I never wanted to see him again, but I had no idea where he was or how long he would stay gone... or when he might rear his head again. I had a sinking feeling that, as much as I wanted to be done with him, he wasn't done with me.

What if he shows up at my apartment? What if he wants more money? What if he tries to rape me?

There had been a couple of times that night I'd felt lucky that Buddy hadn't done exactly that. He'd seemed unhinged, like he had been fueled by testosterone and rage instead of merely incentivized by money. At times, it had seemed like he'd really wanted to violate my fragile, beautiful asshole. Perversely enough, I'd been lucky that Grayson had been there to protect me -- or, rather, that Grayson had stepped up. In a strange twist of fate, I'd learned that Grayson was turned on by the idea of being the hero to a dainty damsel in distress. I believed that Grayson getting so horny about being my protector was part of what had made our lovemaking so intense and cathartic.

The knowledge that Grayson was sexually aroused by the idea of defending me was something that let me put my guard down with him. And it had been life changing for me to see how beautiful and intimate sex could be when it wasn't not some kind of contest or competition. I had finally experienced complete submission to someone I loved, and I knew that was the way sex was meant to be.

"We're here!" Craig said, pulling up to his building and expertly parallel parking his car. Even from the outside, I had the sense that I was about to walk into a tragic straight-guy bachelor pad, but I was too tired to care. I was sure Craig would ask me to sleep in his bed with him, and that he was planning on his dick accidentally falling into my ass, but I had no interest whatsoever in that. My plan was to actually get some rest, even if that meant sleeping on some cheap, beer-stained Walmart futon (a piece of furniture that, from my experience and expertise, seems to be standard issue for a certain type of straight guy.)

As we walked from the car to Craig's apartment, my thoughts returned to Buddy. I wondered how the events of the evening had affected him.

Is he getting gay-curious now? Will he look for a twink of his very own? Wait a second, why do I even care? Well, there is a certain simian quality to him that's just dripping with blue-collar masculinity.

Just as I was about to imagine what a sexual encounter with Buddy would look like, I returned to sanity and remembered the video. Buddy had recorded my liaison with Grayson on his phone. For all I knew, Buddy was watching it and jerking off to Grayson fucking me -- or even posting it to a porn site. The idea that I could walk into the office Monday and every single coworker and client could be watching a video of me getting fucked by Grayson, and that there was nothing I could do to stop the whole world from seeing it, was such a huge turn on. Buddy was like a stick of dynamite in this entire situation, and there was no telling when he'd go off. There was something simultaneously terrifying and thrilling about that.

Craig opened the door to his apartment, and it was actually a nicer place than I'd thought it would be. There were no cans of Natty Light strewn across the floor, no sink full of dirty dishes, and no empty pizza boxes from months ago. I was impressed. Then I remembered that Craig had been planning to bring a girl back there that night, and everything made a little more sense. Of course, that girl had been Tiffany, so I was surprised Craig hadn't stocked up on Doritos and Twinkies.

Craig didn't waste any time. He stripped down to his boxers right in front of me, as if it was what he always did when he got home. It was obvious to me he was trying to seduce me -- and he looked good. He really was a handsome guy. I wasn't even remotely interested, though, and it was hard not to laugh at his attempts to play mental checkers with me, a mental-chess grandmaster.

"Can I get you a beer?" he asked. I assumed he wanted to get me drunk, thinking I'd lose my inhibitions and at least give him a blow job.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm really exhausted. Would you mind just getting me a comforter and a pillow and I'll sleep right here on the couch? I'm gonna pass right out in a minute or two."

Craig seemed to accept that he wasn't getting any that night, and he was actually being pretty gracious about it. I think he knew that I had a lot on my mind. "Sure, buddy," he said, patting me on my shoulder.

He set me up on the couch, and we said goodnight to each other. He gave me a friendly hug as he headed to his own room with a beer (to my surprise, not a cheap domestic one.)

I thought about Grayson.

Is he asleep right now? If not, is he thinking about me?

He was a married man. I'd promised myself that I would give him space -- that I wouldn't use my usual seduction tactics and trickery on him -- but the man had just given me the best fuck of my life. My asshole yearned for more of him. Grayson had only fucked me one time, and yet I was confident I could accurately describe his dick to a police sketch artist if I had to.

There has to be some way to just see some pictures of him. I need him so much. Maybe his son. He's 18. He has to at least have an Instagram. He has one of those weird white people names. What was it again? Krabby or something? Cress? Oh! His name is Krell! Krell Nash!

I managed to find Krell's Instagram, but it was set to private. I shamelessly added him as a friend. But I'd have to wait for him to confirm me. Considering he'd never met me, I thought the chances were probably low. But damn it, I needed some part of Grayson to get me through the night.

Maybe there's a way I can get Grayson to talk to me.

So now I started typing out pathetic, emotional text messages to him, then deleting them before I could send them. I'd always prided myself on how cool and collected I stayed around the straight men I pursued. It was my secret weapon. With Grayson, I was losing my cool completely. Every text message I typed out sounded more desperate than the last. Grayson's dick had pounded my cute ass, but it had actually also penetrated my soul.

I never would have guessed that Grayson's magic dick would domesticate me, yet there I was. Dickmatized, and badly. My rationality had completely disappeared.

It wasn't just his dick I was into, either. I kept replaying in my mind the moment that Grayson had finally kissed me: the way his blue eyes had twinkled at me for a moment after as he'd paused and looked in my eyes. I thought of how dominant his kiss had been, and how I'd been so perfectly submissive. We had communicated so many unsaid things to each other in that brief embrace. His manliness had assuaged and re-assured me all night long, but with that kiss, he'd provided a healing balm for a lifetime of being a disappointed twink ragefully acting out revenge fantasies by conquering straight jocks. Grayson had made it

safe

for me to submit. I reasoned that maybe what I'd been searching for all those years was a man who deserved my unconditional submission.

He has to love me. He just has to.

It was quite a mindfuck going from the supreme level of intimacy I'd experienced with Grayson that evening to knowing that I wouldn't see him again for two days -- and I hadn't even begun to plan for the reality that when I did see Grayson again, I'd have to pretend the whole experience had never happened. I'd have to deny the whole complicated web of feelings we'd spun during our lovemaking and try to go back to a platonic boss/employee relationship.

How am I even going to get any work done with all the sexual tension between us?

So much was weighing on me; I was physically spent and emotionally exhausted, but my mind was racing and I had no idea how to get it to stop. I was absolutely obsessed with Grayson; I knew it was unhealthy, but I didn't care.

Whereas earlier I'd been thinking about the inevitability of another sexual encounter with Grayson, I was beginning to think the opposite.

What if that was it? What if I spend the rest of my life without being fucked again?

I knew that now that I'd had Grayson, no other man could ever satisfy me. It was Grayson or nothing, and it was unbearable to imagine my life without him in it.