Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2006 09:32:12 -0800 (PST)
From: greg_alexander222@yahoo.com
Subject: Frat Boy's Bitch Boy - Part 5

The following is an original work of fiction that
contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between
males.  All characters are portrayed as being over 18
years of age, as you must be to read this.  If you
aren't,or if such material is offensive to you or
illegal to read where you are, then stop reading.

All rights are reserved by the author.  Please
download for personal use only.


Previously, on Frat Boy's Bitch Boy:

Steve, a nice, cute, wirey, closeted, and obviously
meek freshman, got assigned as his college roommate
Trevor, a frat boy who is on both the varsity tennis
and crew teams.  Let's just say that Trevor, as hot as
he is, is not always a very courteous roommate . . .

"Good toilet slave," Trevor finally said.  He looked
at me.  "Well, now since you got practice licking up
that mess, I have a new assignment for your."

"What is it, sir?"

Trevor gestured around at the entire filthy bathroom.
"The whole thing," he said simply.

I stared at him -- or rather, at his shoes.  "Huh?" I
said.

"What part didn't you hear, fuck face?  I want you to
clean up the whole bathroom."

I was stunned.  "With . . . with my tongue?"

"That's right, toilet slave.  Your punishment is that
you are gonna clean this whole filthy fucking
bathroom, using nothing but your cock-sucking mouth.
You are gonna kneel here, chained to the toilet, for
the rest of the night.  Whenever I walk into this
bathroom to use the toilet, you are gonna stop what
you are doing, get down on your back in front of the
toilet, and serve as my doormat while I piss or shit.
Whenever I come in here to take a shower, you are
gonna serve as my shower matt, so that my feet stay
clean.  For the rest of the time, whenever I stick my
head in here, I had better see you on your knees,
lapping up bathroom grime.  And I'll tell you what --
if this bathroom isn't totally clean, and I mean
totally fucking pristine, by the time I walk in here
tomorrow morning, then after you're done in here, I'm
gonna make you lick our dorm room floor clean too.
And then, when you're done with that, we'll continue
with your punishment."

He chuckled one more time.  "I'm gonna go
drinking with my buds.  I imagine I'll see ya later --
beer always makes me piss like a racehorse."  And he
walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind him.


Chapter 5

Trevor walked into Dirty Nick's, sat down at the bar,
and ordered a Guinness.  Dirty Nick's was a favorite
for the boys of Delta Psi -- for one thing because it
was right down the street from the frat house, and for
another because the owner was a former frat boy, which
meant that guys like Trevor never got carded.
Granted, Trevor had a fake, like everyone at Delta
Psi.  And anyway, he was coming up on 21 in a matter
of months -- he was old for his year.  But it was good
not to get carded.

Trevor spotted his group of friends sitting at one of
the tables in the corner.  They were all Delta Psi
brothers, except for one or two dudes on the crew
team.  It wasn't that Trevor had any particular
problem hanging out with guys who weren't in the frat,
or on one of his teams, every now and then, but he
found most of the guys at school to be tools, wusses,
douche bags, or probably a little gay.  The brothers
of Delta Psi were the one exception -- everyone one of
them was a real bro, someone Trevor felt like he could
chill with.

There weren't any good games on, but the bar TV was
playing some reality show, and it was funny, in a
really stupid kind of way.  The boys were all laughing
loudly as they watched and drank.  Trevor went over
and grabbed an empty chair, and one or two guys
slapped him on the back to welcome him.

"Hey ladies," Trevor said, taking a gulp of his
Guinness.

"Go fuck yourself, Trev," one of the guys said, with a
friendly grin.

He realized he was sitting right next to Collin.
Everyone else at the table was soon distracted again
by the TV.  Collin leaned over and smirked at him.
"How's our little friend doing?" he muttered.

"Oh, he's having a gay old time," Trevor murmured
back.

He smiled to himself.  It was absolutely amazing -- he
had never thought all that much about Steve before
this week, except to write him off as a pathetic
weakling who couldn't stand up for himself.  But
Trevor hadn't ever really asked how far he would be
able to go, how far Steve could be pushed.  Until now.
 And now, the sudden feeling of absolute, total
control was intoxicating -- way more so than the beer
he was gulping at.  Trevor couldn't get the image of
Stevie's tied up naked body, wiggling desperately
around on the bathroom floor, out of his head.  His
thoughts kept coming back over and over again -- with
a lurch of intense excitement in the pit of his
stomach every time he stopped to think about it -- to
what he would do next to his roommate.  What would he
tell him to do?  What new torments would he subject
him to?  The possibilities seemed endless, and
fascinating.  His dick was getting hard again just
thinking about it.

"You really did all that shit you were talking about?"

Trevor sipped coolly on the Guinness.  "Some of it.
Still haven't done the stuff with the weights -- I was
thinking that'd be fun to do with someone else."  He
eyed Collin.  "Ya wanna come down and meet me in my
room early tomorrow afternoon?"

Collin grinned broadly now.  "Sure.  Shit, yeah.  We
can set him up, make sure he's nice and comfortable
first, and then do it later while we watch the Colts
game.  Ya know, do to your little roommate that the
Colts are gonna do to Arizona.  I'll bring down my
work out equpment.  Better yet, I'll bring some of
those 10 pound disks I got."

"Sounds cool," Trevor said.  He and Collin clinked
their bottles together, and drank.

Reid, one of the frat's members, overheard them
chatting.  "Whatya ladies whispering about?"

"Nothin'," Trevor grunted in reply, nonchalantly.  He
was going to tell the rest of the frat all about his
roommate, of course, just like Collin and he had
agreed.  They were gonna have a lot of fun with Steve,
eventually. But Trevor was in no hurry.

Reid persisted.  "Hey, have ya seen this yet, Trev?"
He was grinning like an idiot.

Trevor turned his attention to the object Reid was
holding in his hand.  It was a small, tubular, metal
object, with a motor connected to it -- it was shaped
vaguely like a cock.  "What the fuck is that?" Trevor
said.

"It's my girl friend's vibrator, dude.  Found it on
her nightstand this morning.  Isn't that just sick?"

There were hoots all around the table.  "Get that
bitch's nasty sex toy off the table!" one of the
brothers shouted.

Trevor looked at Reid thoughtfully.  "Hey . . . ya
mind if I borrow it for a few days?"

Reid was surprised.  "Why, man?"  He grinned.  "Ya got
an itch in your vag?"

Trevor shook his head.  "I'll explain later.  Long
story.  It's hilarious, I fucking promise.  Just let
me borrow it."

Reid, and the other guys, all seemed to find the whole
idea terribly funny.  But Reid finally shrugged and
handed it over.  "Whatever, dude.  Just don't bust it
-- my girlfriend's gonna be pissed if she find's out."

"Just tell her ya think you're gonna be able to fill
in for it for a few days," someone shouted from across
the table.

There were more hoots, and Reid threw his empty beer
can across the table in response.

Trevor smiled, pocketing the vibrator.   He saw Collin
eying him.  He leaned over.  "Just come over tomorrow,
I'll explain then."

He had already downed his Guinness. He stood up and
went over to the bar, and ordered another beer.  He
decided it was not going to be his last, by any
stretch.  He thought about how much he would have to
piss when got back to the dorm, and he smiled.



As soon as Trevor left the room, I knew what I had to
do.

I put my face to the bathroom tiles and started to
lick.  With my knees tied, ankles tied, and hands
still tied behind my back, connected to my dog collar,
it was so hard to move around -- once I put my face
down onto the floor, since I couldn't push myself back
up all of a sudden, it took all of the strength in my
ab muscles to heft myself back up.  Crawling around at
the base of the toilet was difficult -- very rough on
my bare knees.  It would have been somewhat more
tolerable had Trevor so much as provided me with a
bath mat.  But of course he hadn't.  I was the bath
mat.

I don't think I can quite explain to you how difficult
it is to lick dirt off of a bathroom floor that has
been caked on for months.  You should try it sometime.
 It's absolutely insufferable -- you lick and lick and
lick at some fetid spot, and nothing seems to happen.
If only you had a scrub brush, or a sponge or even a
paper towel, you might be able to wipe the floor clean
with a few efficient swoops.  But if all you have is
your tongue, all you can do is kneel there for hours.
And lick.  And lick.  And lick.

I wasn't making much progress, but I didn't dare stop
-- Trevor might pop in at any moment to see if I'd
taken any "unauthorized" breaks.  I tried a new
technique, licking and then rubbing my head furiously
against the moistened spot, using my hair as a towel
to wipe.  This seemed to work marginally better.
Unfortunately, it soon also made my scalp ache with
pain.

It didn't take me long before I realized I had to
drink something to keep using my tongue, or I was
going to pass out.  I briefly entertained the notion
of maybe trying to turn on the facet of the shower,
but it was no good -- the shower was pretty much the
only part of the bathroom my tether wouldn't allow me
to reach.  I strained, but to no avail.  Even if I had
been able to get in the shower stall, I thought
grimly, I wouldn't be able to turn on the facet.

That left three options.  I could keep licking without
drinking, have my tongue dry out completely, and pass
out.  I could just give up, kneel there, and wait for
Trevor to come back.  I was pretty sure both of these
options would lead to Trevor cooking up still further
punishments for me.  Possibly even cause him to tell
Collin to turn in the form -- Trevor had said he would
do that if I ever disobeyed him.  I didn't dare test
him.

That left the third option.  I crawled over to the
toilet, heaved my head up over the rim, and began to
lap up the piss soaked water.  When I had drunk
enough, I got back down on my knees and kept licking.




Trevor got back that night late.  I was still on my
knees licking the floor when he walked in.

"What's up, toilet slave?" he asked.  "How's my little
toilet slave?"  I could definitely tell he'd had a few
drinks.  "Guess what time it is, toilet slave?  Time
for me to piss!  That's what!  You know what that
means!"

Silently cursing, I dragged myself back, so I was
crouching in front of the toilet, and lay down on my
back.  Once again, Trevor loomed over me, and stepped
on top of my chest, still wearing his big, heavy
sneakers.  This time though, he did something
different.  As I lay there, helpless, staring at his
shoes, Trevor suddenly took a half step forward and
dug in against my side with his heel, using my body to
kick off his shoe.  He did the same thing with the
other sneaker, so they were both lying on the floor
next to me.

Trevor suddenly planted his sweaty, socked foot on my
face, mashing down on my nose and mouth.  I could
barely breath.

"Take off my sock, boy," he rumbled.  "Take off my
sock with your teeth."

I bit into his dirty sweat soaked sock, my saliva
mixing with his athletic expiration.  I pulled as hard
as I could with my teeth, until the sock popped off
and I was staring at the underside of his tanned foot.

"Good," Trevor said.  He switched the positions of his
two feet.  "Now the other."

I obeyed.  Now Trevor was standing on my chest, his
bare moist feet pressing down on my body.  My cock
was, once again, hard as a rock, and drooling precrum.
 I was so turned on, I gasped.  But of course, as I
became erect, my cock only struggled in vain to break
free of it's dismal confinement -- it pressed futilely
against the steel cage in which it was imprisoned.

"Look at that," Trevor said mockingly.  "My little
foot slave likes it when I stand on top of him with my
big, sweaty feet.  My bitch boy knows I've been
running around all day in dirty socks and big tennis
shoes, hitting forehands and lifting weights, working
up a real sweat.  Bitch boy wants to cum."  He
smirked.  "Don't you bitch boy?"

"Yes sir!" I moaned.

"Well, my toilet slave doesn't get to cum," he said.
Without warning, he planted his foot down, hard, on
the cock cage, crushing my balls under his strong,
masculine heel.  I cried out.

"Shut the fuck up, faggot."  He turned back around,
facing my head, planting both his feet firmly again on
my chest.  I could practically feel him kneeding my
nipples as he wiggled his long athletic toes.  "I
gotta piss, man.  Open your fucking mouth.  And you
better catch all of it."

Without further warning, as I yanked my jaw open,
Trevor let loose with a powerful stream of piss, this
time aiming straight for my mouth.  He looked
satisfied he stood there, looming over me, pressing
down on me with his sweat soaked feet, making me drink
his piss as it streamed into my mouth.

Trevor hadn't been kidding about beer making him piss
like a racehorse.  It seemed like he would never stop
pissing.  Finally, it slowed to a trickle, the last
few drops collecting on my chest.  But Trevor wasn't
finished.

"Stay there," he snapped.  "Don't move a fucking
muscle."

He walked out of the bathroom for a moment -- I could
see his big tanned feet walking away, making a
slapping sound as they padded against the bathroom
tiling.  Then, after a minute, he was back, carrying a
copy of Sports Illustrated.

"I have to take a shit," Trevor announced.  "A big
smelly shit."  He dropped his trousers and climbed
onto the toilet.  "Now you just lie there with my feet
on top of you while I take my shit."

He sat on the john for a good ten minutes, flipping
the pages of his magazine as he rubbed his feet all
over my naked torso.  Finally, he stood up -- placing
all his weight once again on top of me.  This time, I
was relieved that he decided to flush -- I had been
worried he would again refuse to flush, and order me
not to flush either, further contaminating my only
source of water.  Now I would have a new, clean bowel
of toilet water.  It ranked as a major victory.

However, my relief was short-lived.

"Fuck," Trevor said.  He seemed genuinely annoyed.
"No toilet paper.  I threw it out."  He looked at me,
and the corners of his mouth twitched.  "C'mere,
toilet slave," he said, beckoning.

I hobbled over on my knees, dreading what was to come.


Trevor picked up one of his discarded socks, now lying
on the floor next to me, and suddenly wadded it up and
used to to wipe his ass.  He strode over to the
window, opened it, and hurled the sock out.  Maybe he
was drunker than I realized, I thought anxiously.  But
I was relieved -- better the sock than me.

He picked up his second ankle sock and did the same
thing, running it up along his ass crack, then hurling
it out the open window. But then . . .

"Toilet slave, I think my ass-crack could definitely
use some more extensive cleaning," Trevor smirked.  "I
think you better get to it."  He turned around, so
that I was staring straight at his muscular ass.  It
was tanned, smooth and perfectly curved.  But it also
smelled like shit -- the smell was overpowering.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded.  "Lick
my ass crack clean, toilet slave."

"Yes sir."  I buried my tongue in his ass crack and
begin to swish it around, darting it in and out,
licking desperately at the pink, smelly flesh around
his asshole.  My nose was pressed right up against his
butt -- he was sweaty and moist, and smelled
powerfully.  I suppressed a gag reaction.

Trevor yawned.  "Hang on, butt wad," he said.  "I
think I feel a big fucking stink bomb of a fart coming
on.  I want you to smell my fart.  Press your nose up
against my asshole -- I want you to inhale deeply as I
fart.  I wanna hear you breathe in."

I got into position, bracing myself.  A second later,
an explosive, long, drawn out fart exploded from
Trevor's behind, and I sucked my breath in all the
way.  It was the most revolting thing I had ever
smelled.  This time I really did think I would be
sick.

"Alright, toilet slave," Trevor said.  "I'm gonna go
to bed now.  But I had a lot of beer, so I'm sure I'll
be back in to visit you several times tonight.
Meanwhile, you better get back to cleaning up the
floor.  Remember, the whole bathroom has got to be
spotless by the morning.  Collin is coming over in the
afternoon.  If the bathroom is clean, maybe we'll be
nice."  He paused, and thought for a second.  "Then
again, maybe we won't be."  With that, he walked out.



I spent the entire night on my knees, continuing to
lick up the bathroom floor.  I was exhausted -- tired
right down to my bones -- but I didn't dare to stop,
even for a minute.  True to his word, Trevor came in
at least twice to piss -- once directly on me, once on
the floor (which I then of course had to lick up.)
Both times, he stood directly on top of me with his
bare feet.  And then, when he was done pissing, he
made me lick his feet clean.

"I'm going back to my nice big bed," he said drunkenly
both times.  "You stay here and keep on licking the
floor clean, bitch."



The next morning, Trevor slept in late again -- this
time until close to noon.  I could tell because the
daylight coming in through the bathroom window had
been strong for several hours now -- though I spent the
entire time on the floor, licking.  I finally felt
like the floor was respectably spotless, and I allowed
myself a brief reprieve.  But it didn't last long.


About an hour before noon, Trevor strode brusquely
into the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his
waist.  He announced that it was time for his shower.

"Just lie down on the floor, cum slave," he said,
throwing his towel off to the side and looming over me
with his hard naked body.  "You're gonna be my bath
mat."

True to his word, he made me lie down on the floor,
next to the bathtub, flat on my back, my head still
propped up in an enforced, uncomfortable position
thanks to the chain connecting my dog collar to the
cuffs behind my back.  He planted his feet on my chest
as he climbed into the bathtub, then ordered me to
remain there, motionless, as he ran the water and
soaped up.  Dripping, he planted his slippery wet feet
on me as he climbed back out, scuffing his feet
against my chest as he would any other bathmat.

Trevor grabbed another towel -- I noticed it was my
towel, but seeing as everything I once owned now
belonged to him, it wasn't really anymore -- and dried
himself off, still standing on top of me.  I winced.

Trevor surveyed the bathroom critically.  I silently
prayed.

"Not bad," he grunted, grudgingly.  He bent over and
unconnected the chain from my dog collar -- I was still
teathered to the toilet by the leash, but I could
suddenly raise my head and stretch my neck.  It was an
unbelievable relief, and I was suddenly pathetically
grateful for it.

"Thank you, sir," I stammered.

Next, Tevor filled a nalgene bottle with fresh water,
then retreated into the bedroom, and brought back a
snack of several granola bars and a banana.  I
suddenly realized how hungry I was.  I gulped the food
and water down, my eyes almost filled with tears.

"Thank you," I gasped again.

"Anytime, roommate.  I'm here for you, bro."  Trevor
snickered, and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me
wondering what would happen next.  I had the distinct
feeling Trevor was just toying with me -- and it was
working.  I felt perversely grateful to him for
allowing me this small luxury.

I knelt there, waiting patiently.  But I was so
exhausted, having stayed up the whole night licking
the bathroom clean, that in spite of all my bondage,
and the cold hardness of the bathroom tiles on my bare
flesh, I soon fell fast asleep.



I woke up, and found myself staring at a large set of
tanned feet in flip flops.

I jolted awake, and looked up.

Collin loomed over me, with Trevor smirking off to the
side.  "Wakee wakee," he said to me, with a wicked
smirk.

"Holy shit," Collin gasped, with poorly concealed
glee.  "You actually kept him here all night?

Trevor was leaning up against the bathroom wall.
"Look around.  See how clean the floor is?"

"Compared with what it's usually like?  Fuck yes."
Collin sounded excited.  "I can't believe he's
actually been licking the floor of the bathroom clean
all night.  He must be pretty fucking scared of you."

"Oh, he's petrified.  I think he's finally getting
used to the idea that if he doesn't do exactly what I
tell him to, he gets punished.

Collin hesitated.  "So . . . does that mean you're
going easy on him, after all?"

"Oh, shit no!  Don't forget he tried to run away and
tell on me yesterday.  And he tried to whack off on
your frat shirt.  I promised him a week of punishment,
and that's what I'm going to give him."  He glanced at
his watch.  "The Colts game is gonna be on later.  We
should set this shit up now." He glanced directly at
me, for the first time.  "Are you ready for your next
punishment, bitch boy?"

I swallowed.  "Yes sir," I said.

He cupped his hand behind his ear.  "What's that?"

"YES SIR!  I'M READY FOR MY NEXT PUNISHMENT, SIR!"

Trevor smiled.  "That's better."



I was, at long last, unteathered from the toilet seat,
and led back out into the main room, crawling of
course on my hands and knees.  Given everything I had
been through already, it was bizarre that I should
feel ashamed of being naked, but with Collin and
Trevor fully clothed, I somehow did.

I noticed that the room had been slightly
reconfigured.  There was a second big overstuffed
chair, sitting next to the first one -- I thought I
recognized it as Collin's.  Collin must have brought
it here, I realized.  Both were set up right in front
of the TV.

In front of the two chairs, two stools had been set
up, side by side.  They were of equal height, and had
wide flat surfaces on the top -- both stood about two
feet high.

"Alright.  Help me pick him up," Trevor instructed.

Without warning, I felt strong hands hoist me into the
air.  My hands, at long last, were uncuffed from
behind my back, but the reprieve was a short one.
Trevor and Collin carried me over to the two stools,
and positioned my body carefully, so that I was
stretched out directly over both stools, with my belly
facing toward the ground and my arms stretched out in
front of me, superman style.  I was lowered down onto
the stools, so that my arms were resting on top of
one, and my ankles on the other, with my midsection
hanging awkwardly in midair.  Now, I felt the
handcuffs being snapped back around my wrists, with my
wrists cuffed together directly in front of my face.
My ankles had remained cuffed together for the whole
time.

As my two captors giggled, I felt one of them hold my
body in place, while the other one took a big roll of
duct tape and looped it first around and around and
around my ankles and the underside of the stool top,
bolting my bare feet in place on the stool top.  Then
they did the same thing to my wrists and forearms with
the other stool.  Now my two ends were connected
firmly to the two stools.  But they weren't finished:
with my midsection dipping down, there was a danger
that my body would drag both stools down.  So Trevor
took the chain that he had wedged into my butt crack
for the last day, and used it to connect the bases of
the stools tightly together.

Meanwhile, Collin fished into the big white bag in
which Trevor seemed to store all of his "goodies," and
pulled out a second metal chain.  He came over, stood
in front of me, and snapped one end of the chain open,
and connected it to one of the taut chain links that
separated the two rings of my handcuffs. With an evil
little smirk, he pulled down, hard, on the chain, so
that my arms were being pulled forward.

"Help me brace him," Collin grunted.

As Trevor placed his big hands on my torso and held my
naked body in place, Collin then threaded the chain
down below the stool, back down toward the second
stool at my feet, stringing the chain parallel to my
belly, just an inch below it.  It passed right along
side my throbbing cock, still sheathed in its cock
cage -- my raging hard-on had dissipated ever so
slightly over the night, as I had licked the bathroom
floor clean (though I had never stopped feeling
desperately horny) but now it was back in full force.
Being tied down by these hot frat boy studs was
definitely a major turn on, scared as I was about what
would happen next.

Collin had pulled the chain down to the edge of the
second stool, and now was stringing it up over the far
edge of the stool and preparing to connect it to the
handcuffs binding my ankles, just as he had with the
set of handcuffs on the other end of my body.  First
though, as Trevor continued to brace my torso, Collin
pulled the chain again, very very very hard, so that
it was completely taut, and then pulled it again, for
good measure.  This time I actually cried out in pain.
 Because of the way Collin had connected the chain, it
acted as almost a kind a of rack -- as he pulled on it,
holding down my ankles so they couldn't go anywhere,
my arms were stretched forward as far as they could
possibly go, and then some.  My prostrate body was now
splayed out helplessly in midair, my arms painfully
extended, my torso stretched as taut as the chain
beneath me.  Now, finally satisfied, Collin connected
the chain to my ankle cuffs.  Both he and Trevor
stepped back to survey their work with satisfaction,
leaving me suspended there, wincing, totally helpless.

"Not bad," Trevor said finally.

"I'll say.  He makes a pretty fucking sight to see,
don't he?"

"He does."  Trevor knelt down, so his eyes were level
with mine.  "You comfortable, boy?"

I swallowed, and sighed.  "Yes sir," I croaked. "Thank
you sir, I'm comfortable."

"That's right you are."  Both of them snickered.
Trevor stood up, and checked his watch.  "We got a few
hours until the game starts.  You wanna go out, get a
late lunch, and bring back some beer?"

Collin shrugged.  "Sounds good."  He stopped.  "But
hang on, dude.  You never told me what you wanted
Reid's girlfriend's vibrator for last night."

Trevor grinned broadly.  "Oh yeah, that.  Shit, I
almost forgot.  He walked over to his closet, opened a
drawer, and pulled out a long, metallic, penis-shaped
vibrator. "Ya know, Col," he was saying, "the more I
think about, the more pissed I've gotten that the
goddam fag tried to use your fucking Delta Psi shirt --
the symbol of the fucking frat itself -- as nothing but
a fucking cum rag.  In fact, the more I think about
it, the more steamed I get about it."

Collin was egging him on. "So what are you gonna do
about it?"

By way of response, Trevor switched the vibrator on.
It made a loud whirring noise.

 "Well, see," he said, "With the little cum slut all
trussed up and horny again, I'd hate to let him go
soft at any point for the rest of the afternoon."

He switched it off.  Then he stooped over, sinking
down to the floor again so that he was level with me.
Like a farmer milking his cow, he reached down between
the stools with his hands, and took a hold of my cock
cage.  Even through the metal restraints, I gasped at
the sensation -- my poor cock had been so deprived of
stimulation that it was a shock.

I felt Trevor adjust my trussed up cock and balls.  He
picked up the roll of duct tape he had abandoned on
the floor, and tore off a long strip, which he used to
latch the tubular vibrator snugly against the
underside of my caged equipment.  The device was small
and light -- I could feel it weighing my ball sack down
a bit, but that was it.  It wasn't really touching my
cock, which was securely enclosed in its metallic
sheath, but it was pressed up against my ballsack
hard.  I didn't notice it too much . . . at first.

And then Trevor switched it back on.

The sudden sensation was unbelievable.  The vibrations
pulsed down my cock cage, and rocked my ball sack.  I
was already hard as a rock, but the vibrator
immediately began to make me even more desperately
horny.

Yet I could tell right away it wouldn't be enough by
itself to get me off.  It wasn't direct stimulation to
my cock, which is what I so desperately needed.
Instead, it was the worse torture imaginable -- a
vibrator positioned mere inches from my dick, while I
remained tied up, confined in a chastity device,
completely unable to even stroke my dick, much less
actually cum.

Already, the vibrations were driving me insane -- I was
possessed with an almost animal need to grab my cock
and pump it dry.

"C'mon," Trevor was saying.  "Let's go grab lunch."

"Wait!"  I cried out desperately.  I knew I was
forbidden to speak unless directly asked a question,
but I couldn't take it anymore.  "Please.  Please,
sir.  I have not complained once about anything for
the entire night, and I haven't complained about being
tied up here.  But I swear I think if you leave that
vibrator on and you don't let me cum, I'm gonna go
crazy."

Trevor stared at me with his cold blue eyes.  "Did I
just hear you speak, maggot?" he asked.

I swallowed and looked down.

"That's what I thought.  But just in case, for good
measure, I'm gonna gag you while your gone."  Trevor
picked up one of his discarded flip flops, which was
lying on the floor next to him.  "Here faggot, open up
wide."  He was still glaring at me.  I complied,
opening my mouth as wide as it would go.  He promptly
jammed his sandle, toe first, into my mouth, toward
the back of my throat.  From the salty taste of the
leather strap and the smell, I could tell Trevor had
worn the flip-flops recently.  If it was possible,
having the sandle in my mouth turned me on still more.


"Bite down on it,"  Trevor instructed.  I did, so that
I was holding the flip-flop in between my teeth, like
a dog.

"That's what you get for talking, faggot," Trevor
declared with satisfaction.  "Now, just stay there.
My fucking flip flop better still be right there in
your mouth when you get back.  If I see it on the
floor, I'm gonna punish you again with the paddle."

And with that, grinning broadly, Trevor and Colin left
the dorm, leaving me trussed up, stretched out,
suspended in midair, a vibrator purring next to my
ballsack and rattling my cock cage, a smelly flip-flop
wedged into my mouth.


Sorry it's taken so long to update the story,
hopefully there's more to come soon.  Drop me a line
at greg_alexander222@yahoo.com if you like the story,
have ideas about where to go with it, etc.