All characters in this story are over the age of 18. Chapters 1 and 2 dealt with Chris and Justin, roommates in their sophomore year in college. Justin is seeking to turn Chris into his compliant live-in sub for the year; Chris is very attracted to Justin, but has mixed feelings about sexual submission. Confused and inexperienced, he has tried to set some parameters. This chapter is long, and there is some violence in it.
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"I'm going out for a smoke." Justin left his bourbon on the bar. Knob Creek, one ice cube. "Don't let anyone touch my drink, Jayson." He winked at the bartender. It was an obvious joke - there was only one other patron at Ted's that night. A bit slow for a Wednesday, but not unheard of.
Jayson grunted. Justin was a good regular, never caused trouble. And you certainly didn't see his type here, ever. College boys didn't come into Ted's. Frat boys didn't come into Ted's. Just hard-drinking men with crappy jobs. Justin's connection here was personal, and Jayson always let him in without making a fuss about his age. Money is money, and Jayson knew a little of the guy's history. Live and let live was his motto, as long as they don't pick fights. Plus, any customer was valuable on a weeknight in this out-of-the-way, seedy watering hole. And Justin stopped in as often as three or four nights a week.
Justin sauntered into the alley behind the dive bar, lit his cigarette, and crossed his arms for warmth. The late October air was chilly, and he hadn't worn a jacket. He had his own special spot to park his conspicuous Audi that was only a block from Ted's, and a nice homeless guy who for $50 would make sure no one vandalized it. Just a two-minute walk from heated car to heated bar . . . not worth the effort to wrap up. He was buzzed from his third drink. The crisp air and the cig made for the perfect sensation, the perfect mood. For the moment, he was protected, isolated from his cares. His thoughts wandered to his roommate, Chris.
Now there was the perfect bitch boy, he smirked. Yeah, it had been an awkward start. Maybe he had come on too strong, but sure as shit the fag knew what his place was after that first night. There may have been protests, there may have been attempts at negotiation, but the upshot was head whenever he wanted it, a hot tongue on his hole whenever he felt like it, and ongoing maid service, as long as he manipulated the boy right. Carrot and stick. Fist and dick.
Justin inhaled, momentarily content. There hadn't been much fist necessary the last six weeks. Unfortunate, in a way . . . Justin had a lot of anger to unleash these days. Ever since . . . don't think about it man.
He could always be a bully if he had to be. Right now it seemed ok to be more chill. What was it his grandmother had said about honey, vinegar and flies? Whatever. He was now getting most of his sexual needs met at home without having to resort to violence, or having to look anywhere else. Lately, in fact, he had been getting his feet worshipped as well. Justin smiled slyly. That had been funny. He could have planned it, almost.
Not one to be attentive to his own mess, Justin had left clothes lying around the small dorm room from the get go. Dirty, clean, they were all the same to him. He figured with the right kind of pressure and incentives, Chris would take care of it. And of course the boy did. Cleaning up the carpet after being allowed to shoot his wad on it had become one of Chris' regular duties. That had quickly and readily spread to other cleaning and tidying - and soon, Chris was doing all the laundry. Except Justin's underwear and socks had come in for special treatment.
He had had his suspicions, and figured he would catch the fag one of these days. Sure enough, one afternoon he had walked in after class to find Chris with his pants down, jerking his 4-and-a-half-inch cock, his nose in one of Justin's socks. Justin was not always clear as to what clothes were clean in the dorm room, so he often wound up wearing his underwear and socks multiple times. Chris was taking advantage of a particularly ripe gym sock.
Justin's round face had lit up at the sight, his dark brown eyes glazing over with lust. This was a fucking sub to keep.
"What's up, Chrissy?" he had smirked. Chris had turned bright red, of course. He had stammered some reply. Justin didn't usually listen to the bitch when he was talking.
"So you like my foot stink?" he had asked.
It was only a matter of minutes before he had Chris on his knees massaging, then licking his tired feet. Heaven. That became one more activity to add to the mix. Their regular routine began in the morning. Almost every day, Chris would suck Justin off before they both hit the shower, taking care of his roommate's morning wood. It had started with that first morning together, and after only about a week of being asked, Chris would now get up at 6:50, a few minutes before Justin, and climb out of the top bunk to kneel by the side of Justin's bed and wait patiently for Justin to open his eyes or grunt. If Justin lifted the side of his dark blue comforter, Chris would stick his head under it and find Justin's pulsing, uncut, eight-inch dick, lying on top of his musty pubes. Chris moved quickly or took his time, responding to Justin's verbal direction and hands on his head.
Justin took it as his natural due, enjoying a morning blowjob from his sub. He was never mean or insulting in the morning, just sleepy and half amused that his roommate was so into his pre-shower smell, which to be honest was pretty fuckin' ripe. After a few minutes, or as long as half an hour, depending on Justin's mood, Chris would swallow every drop of Justin's hot, creamy spunk. No complaints, just a pleased smile on the sub's face at receiving such a nice gift in the morning.
Right after he swallowed Justin's load, Chris would always beg, very, very softly, to be allowed to jerk himself off; and every morning, Justin patted him on the head and said no.
"Maybe tonight," was always the answer, and so Chris had to wait patiently for another twelve hours or more. His lube had long ago been confiscated, and he was smitten enough by his hot, muscular roommate not to tempt fate (or a slap) by cumming on his own. He was terrified he would get caught - Justin had an uncanny sense of when Chris was horny, and had texted, called, or even worse, walked in, *right* as Chris was pulling his pants down to fap. So many times, in fact, that Chris had simply given up trying. Justin was pleased by his roommate's resignation and obedience, and had subsequently allowed Chris to shoot a few times a week in the evenings. After all, Justin reasoned, he's a horny fucker too, and as long as I'm getting served and serviced, he can have some rewards.
Evenings were a different routine. Justin was usually at the fraternity or the dive bar until 10 or 11, but when he got home, he had Chris service his feet, ass, nuts, and dick in whatever combination suited him. Chris would swallow his second load of the day, or sometimes just spend an hour licking Justin's crack and tonguing his hole. What a fuckin' champ. Justin smiled. The boy was still squirrely, but he sure had a taste for all of Justin's smelly parts. And Justin was happy to oblige him. Eventually Justin would cum or get bored. Then he would either instruct Chris to get ready for bed, or slowly and teasingly take Chris' jar of lube out of his locked filing cabinet and lift the lid. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, Chris would sit up on his knees, his boner would get even stiffer, and he would start to whine softly like a little puppy. That was hot.
Justin would let him jack off, but always with some extra obstacle meant to tease, humiliate, or frustrate Chris. Giving him a limited time to stroke and shoot. Making him jerk for ten seconds and a time and then stop, over and over again, until he was ready to explode. Making him repeat out loud what a lowly cumslut he was as he yanked his dick. Making him shove his ass in the air and his face in one of Justin's rank sneakers while he jacked. One thing had changed - sniffing and rimming Justin's hole had become so addictive to Chris that it was a reward now, not a punishment. If Justin was feeling extremely benevolent, even a little tender toward his roommate, he would let Chris lie on his back on his own bed, squat with one meaty thigh on either side of Chris' head, and lower his hot, funky ass gently onto Chris' face, and let him take his own time enjoying it and jerking himself off.
Justin had done that a few times now, and the look of lust, worship, and gratitude on Chris' face afterwards had been piercing. So much that the dominant jock had had to look away, and fast. Don't go there, man.
