My Sweet Bitch

Author's note:

This is a one-shot, irredeemable stroke-fest, dub-con roommate-fucks-roommate fantasy. Good, dirty, clichéd fun.

*****

I muted my game as I heard a noise from the lounge. Christ, my roommate was crying again. It was Friday night, just on midnight, and I assumed he'd just arrived back from his girlfriend's house.

I came out of my room and dropped down next to him on the couch. He just kept sobbing; he'd long since stopped trying to hide his misery from me. As always, there were rope marks on his wrists, a red mark on his neck like the shadow of a tight collar, and he seemed to be in pain.

"Why do you do it?" I asked. "The bitch clearly doesn't care how miserable she makes you."

Carl sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "It's like an addiction."

"What... what does she do to you that's so addictive?" I asked.

"Sometimes it's not too bad. She ties me up, teases me until I'm desperate to cum, and then she mounts me. If I cum before she does, she locks me up until she wants to use me again."

I knew he was talking about the cock cage. He'd told me about it before.

"Why does that make you cry, though?" I asked, confused. I mean, clearly the guy was into this kind of kink, or he wouldn't be doing it.

"That's when she's in a good mood. When she's in a bad mood..." He shuddered.

"Go on," I said. His sex life fascinated me. Mine was vanilla in comparison, just fucking my way through the girls on campus who found my darker looks attractive. There were enough to keep me busy, and as long as I got my nut off, I wasn't too fussed about how.

"I... I don't want to talk about it."

"Go on,"

I said again, making it a command. I'd found early on that Carl responded well to direct instructions, which was probably how he'd gotten himself into this mess in the first place.

My roommate set his gaze on the opposite wall, refusing to make eye contact with me as he spoke. "This time, she had other guys there."

"Oh? Fucking her?"

Carl shook his head.

Oh.

OOOhhhh.

Holy shit. "Did she force...?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. She always asks me, but... I can't say no."

Well, well, well.

"So, tell me what happened. In detail."

Carl sighed, resigning himself to telling the entire story of his degradation.

"When I got there, they blindfolded me, bound my hands behind my back, and caged me. Then the guys—"

Guys plural?

I thought. That was hot.

"—took turns fucking my mouth."

"Where was your girlfriend in all of this?"

"Giving instructions," he said, sounding despondent. "Telling them to fuck me harder or deeper."

"To fuck you?" I said, curious. I was pretty sure we weren't talking about his mouth anymore.

"Yeah." He didn't want to elaborate, but I was hard as iron and wanted more. I placed a hand against my rod and squeezed it through my jeans.

"Did they fuck your ass?"

He nodded.

"Dude, how many guys fucked your ass??"

"Nine."

"NINE?" Oh God, I nearly came in my pants at the thought of Carl on his hands and knees, while nine guys ran a train on his ass.

"And this was all organised by your girlfriend?"

"If you can call her that," he said, with a good dose of bitterness. "They have... a hierarchy," he went on. I guess he figured I'd want to know more about this. "Last on gets fucked by the rest."

"And you're the last one in her harem?"

Carl nodded, his jaw twitching at the use of the word 'harem'.

"Carl, just a quick question. Two questions, actually. Firstly, if you were blindfolded, how do you know you're the last on, and not just the one they all decided to make their bitch? And two, why the fuck did you agree to any of this? What do you get out of it? Doesn't sound as though you got to cum, never mind fuck your girlfriend."

Carl squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know!" His hands balled into fists. "I want to break up with her. But... when she texts me, I get this... this jump in my stomach and I just..."

"You can't disobey," I said sympathetically.

He nodded.

"Carl," I said, squeezing my leaking dick through my jeans. "I think I can help you out of this abusive relationship."

He cast me a sideways glance. "How?"

"Sounds to me like humiliation is an addiction for you. Is that a fair assessment?"

He dropped his gaze but didn't answer.

"And the worst part is, this girl doesn't even care about you. She just brings in all kinds of randoms to fuck you—do they even wear condoms?"

He shrugged. He didn't know. Christ! I made a note to use one when I finally fucked him and was glad I had one in my pocket from the party I'd attended earlier. The night had been a bust in that department I'd thought. Until now.

"But you

need

the humiliation. It feeds something in you. Isn't that right?"

Something in him changed, and he seemed to shrink in on himself. I think in that moment he realised he was in trouble.

"But, if you could get your fix elsewhere, you wouldn't need to risk your health fucking all your dominant's true boyfriends. And face it, Carl, she's not your girlfriend. She's just using you to amuse her harem. She gets off on how miserable it makes you to do everything she forces you to do, and how much you can't resist her. You play into her need for power."

He sighed. In his short life, he must have been through this more than once. No straight man reaches the point of being fucked by nine guys, without having been used and dominated for a number of years. I quietly thanked the world for bringing him to me.

I sat back on the couch and spread my legs. Precum had soaked through my briefs and jeans, leaving a damp spot on the fabric, and I wanted him to see that.

Carl's eyes fixed to my crotch, agony in his eyes as he thought of what this night held for him.

"Let's try something," I said. "Let's see if I can feed your need, without you having to put up with that bitch getting off on using you."

Quietly, I knew what got him hot was

exactly

the fact his girl got off on using him; and it remained to be seen if without a woman present, I could convince him to submit to me.

It seemed I had what it took, as he sighed heavily. He'd given in without the slightest struggle.

"Get on the floor," I said to him.

Without questioning the command, he got off the couch and faced me on his knees. His hands rested on his thighs, and I could see his life up to now had him well trained.

"Get your shirt off." As he pulled it over his head, a thought occurred to me. "Are you locked up now?"

He nodded as he dropped his shirt at his side, his bare chest pale in the dim light from the bedroom behind us. His nipples looked painful and swollen, and I was guessing they'd been clamped during his earlier fuck session.

"Then get your pants off too. I want to see it."

He got to his feet and stripped off his jeans and briefs, revealing his cock trapped in a cheap plastic cage.

I'd looked online at these things out of curiosity and knew enough to tell that even the quality of this thing was another sign of this girl's contempt for him. If he were mine—and

holy fuck,

that made a surge of precum flow out of my dick—I'd wrap that little thing of his in stainless steel, so he could feel the weight of his submission every hour of the day.

I was fair salivating at the thought of taking full ownership of him, but first, I needed to know what he had to offer.

"Come here."

Carl stepped into the vee of my legs, and I hefted his cock in its cage. There wasn't much weight there, and it wasn't just the plastic. The guy wasn't even slightly turned on. Not yet. I stroked the underside of his balls and he shuddered, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"You like that?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not gay."

I laughed. "Neither am I, my friend, but I'm hard as fuck just looking at you."

Something filled his eyes, made him focus on me, instead of just doing what I said on auto-pilot.

"Yeah, Carl, you heard me. Hard. As. Fuck. Leaking like a fucking hose. I got a whole lot of precum for you to lap up. How does that sound?"

His eyes searched mine, and I could tell he was afraid I was teasing him. That I wasn't about to make him suck my dick at all.

Oh, Carl, Carl.

Still so naïve.

"On your knees, boy."

Carl obediently dropped to his knees.

"Good boy." I stroked a hand through his hair. "Now, best you get my pants off, so you can get your tasty reward."

His resignation was replaced with a certain measure of eagerness as he pulled open my fly. He paused there, his warm fingers sitting against the solid pole of my cock. I was guessing the size of it was causing him to reconsider if he really wanted to do this.

"How long is it?" he asked in a weak voice.

"Just under eight inches," I said. "But if guys have been shoving their dicks down your throat for years, I'm sure you've had bigger."

He swallowed hard and said nothing. I waited, and eventually my eyes boring into the top of his skull got it through to him that he had work to do.

I lifted my hips, and he pulled my jeans and briefs down to my ankles and off, leaving my hard cock bobbing in front of his face.

"Don't you dare let a drop of that man-juice hit the carpet," I warned him, as a strand of pre-cum stretched down from the tip of my cock.

He took my dick in his hand but didn't make a move to suck it, and I cuffed the back of his head.

"Put it in your mouth!"

He leaned forward, and his tongue wet the underside of my cockhead. The strand of precum wrapped itself around his tongue and he lapped at the piss slit, then swallowed his wet mouthful.

"That's it," I crooned, "taste your master's cum."

His eyes widened and he looked up at me. But he knew there was no point in arguing. He was anyone's meat. Whether or not it was his choice, his nature, or someone's careful conditioning, whoever wanted Carl, could have Carl.

I put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him back onto my cock, and he put his plush lips around the head and slid his tongue around it in a wet caress.

I let him do this for a bit, filling his mouth with bountiful surges of precum, so that he had to swallow every ten seconds or so, until I was ready to take him to the next level.

"Okay Carl, this is great and all, but I really need to try out your throat."

Again, his eyes met mine, and this time there was terror on his face.

"What, don't tell me no one's fucked your throat?"

He tried to say something around my cock, but it was impossible to make out words.

"What are you on about?" I gripped a fistful of the longer hair at the back of his head and pulled him off my cock with a wet 'pop' so he could answer.

"Not this big," he said, breathing through his mouth, obligingly keeping it open so that I could shove myself back into him whenever I wanted. I had no doubt he'd been face fucked dozens of times, if not hundreds. I wouldn't have been surprised if his face was all over the internet, whether he was aware of it or not.

"Well, consider it a teachable moment," I said cheerfully, and pulled him back onto my dick.

His eyes widened as I kept up the pressure on the back of his head and forced him to fuck my pole with his mouth. I drove my dick deeper and deeper, feeling resistance as I nudged the entrance to his throat.

"Come on Carl, you're a crap sex slave if this is the best you can do. No wonder your girl has other men fuck you. You're not good for anything else!"

His eyes shone in the dim light, and I could tell my words had upset him. But it did the trick, and each time my dick hit the back of his mouth, I felt him doing his best to open up so he could take me further.

It wasn't enough. I got to my feet and gripped his hair painfully, forcing him to look up at me.

"Carl? You're just not trying hard enough, and I'm getting bored. If you want to be my slave, you need to do this

properly

.

Even though Carl had not, at any stage, indicated he wanted to be my slave, he now took a deep breath and made space, as I slid my cock as far into his throat as I could.

Choking, his eyes streaming, he didn't lift a hand to stop me as I slowly fucked the tightest place he had to offer. Well. Maybe the tightest. That remained to be seen.

"That's it," I murmured, as strands of thick drool formed at the corners of his mouth. "You're making the effort now."

I knew my eyes were full of a dark light. I don't know what comes over me, but when I find a submissive ripe for the picking, it's as if I become a predator hunting a gazelle on the veldt.

Not every submissive man fits the 'type', but the ones I love best are soft-spoken, skinny guys who've been pummelled into their place by the world. I wasn't a massively large guy myself, but there was some kind of sociopathic entity inside me that stirred to life when I met a guy like Carl.

Fuck knows, there was no way I'd let anyone use me like that. No way. No one can make you their bitch without their consent. Not a gun to your head, not a kick to the balls. No. Carl's surrender was as much the animal part of him quivering in fear and awe, as the hungry predator who preyed on his kind was part of me.

I smiled down at Carl and was in heaven watching him struggle with himself; hating the humiliation he craved, hating how much he loved me using him like this. His cock strained inside its cheap little cage, and I could see a glistening wetness at the end of it that suggested his own cock was leaking as copiously as mine.

I pulled him off me and left my pole bouncing in front of his face, wet with his saliva.

"You know what happens next, don't you, Carl?" I said calmly. "You going to make this easy for me, or do you need

instructions

?" I said this last with a good dose of contempt, letting him know if I had to tell him what to do, I'd think even less of him.

He got onto all fours and slowly turned around, presenting his ass to me.

I slapped his rump and smeared my precum across his pale cheeks, then kicked his legs apart and slapped him again. He jumped, his nuts swinging between his open legs, and I reached under him and squeezed his balls.

"This is great, but I'm not getting down on the carpet. This flat's a hole."

I nudged his thigh with my foot. "Get up and bend over the couch."

He did as I said and bent at the waist to grip the back of the couch, leaning forward to give me access to his hole.

I put a hand in the middle of his back and pushed him further forward, then slapped the inside of his thigh to make him move his legs further apart.

"You taken one this size before up your ass?" I asked.

"No, master," he said, and I got a thrill in the pit of my stomach.

"Well, aren't you a lucky boy, then?"

"Yes, master," he said softly. "Very lucky."

He almost sounded as if he meant it.

Well, I knew he wasn't in this for the sex, but the humiliation, so I wasn't about to spend half an hour prepping him. I didn't have lube to hand, but frankly his hole looked sticky, and I suspected he'd been injected with a tonne of lube already. So I wrapped up, and pressed the tip of my cock against his entrance.

His ass cheeks tensed and released, his puffy hole caressing the tip of my dick as he spasmed with anticipation.

"Boy, I hope you're ready." I pushed into him and found it surprisingly easy to slip inside. He'd been nicely opened up by the other nine guys who'd fucked him earlier. He was greased enough that I kept going, slowly slipping inch by inch into his passage until I was lodged all the way inside him.

I leaned forward, laying my chest against his back, and put my hands to his tits, pinching his puffy nipples.

He let out a little moan of pain and his hole clenched around me. It was so much fun, I did it harder, and he let out a yelp. But after squeezing his nipples for a good half minute, his noises of pain turned to breathless moans of desperation, and he started to push back on my dick.

"You want to get fucked now, slave?" I asked him.

He nodded, and I gripped a fistful of his hair and used it to shake his head.

"Wish granted."

I slid out halfway and then slammed back into him, driving him into the couch. He grunted but didn't protest, and I took that as a green light to start porn-fucking him as hard as I wanted.

I hadn't fucked a guy like this since my high school senior year, and that guy had been some dumb jock who was gagging for it. Carl was different. Carl hated that he wanted this, but he'd do whatever I told him to do anyway, and that was the

sweeeetest

thing.

He let out moans that could have come out of any girl as I fucked him hard and deep, and when I slapped his ass to make his hole tighten around me, he yelped like a kicked puppy.

"You're a fucking cockslut, you know that?" I said as I long-dicked him, driving the breath out of him as I drove him into the couch. "Making guys like me fuck you, going around gagging for our cocks all the time. Guys like you are so, fucking, needy."

I punctuated the words with brutal thrusts, then gripped his waist and slammed home with a howl, injecting him full of hot cum.

As I finished shooting my load, I ruffled his hair and then pulled out. His hole gaped open, allowing a trickle of cum to make its way down the back of his ballsack, and I scooped it up and pulled him upright, so I could feed it to him.

He didn't protest, just licked and sucked my finger clean.

I collected my pants from the floor, and then patted him on the shoulder. "How about you clean this place up while I'm in the shower? Make my bed while you're at it, too."

"Yes, master."

I left him to it, humming to myself in the shower as I heard himself busy himself to the tasks I'd set him. The next two years of college were going to be a hell of a lot of fun.