warning: explicit content. NC-17
Chris was now taking an extra year to finish his Bachelor of English degree at Sydney University. He was 22, working as a full-time lifeguard on Bondi Beach, watching bathers and keeping the peace eight hours every day. After work, Chris liked going to the gym with his friend Roman, playing sports with his acquaintances (who right now, were almost all lifeguards) and going out drinking on Friday night. He was making better money than any “intellectual” at his age, and was more than happy being outdoors all day. He was still sharing a one-bedroom apartment with Roman (their living room had a pretty comfortable couch), but they were planning to move into a larger, more luxurious apartment once Roman finished his degree and started working full-time.
However, Chris was in heaven right now; he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be a Bondi lifeguard. He was taking a part-time course load while spending 12-20 hours a week walking around patrolling the beach, stopping youngsters from roughhousing each other and occasionally yelling commands like: “You in the blue swimsuit! Don’t go past those flags! I won’t tell you again!” And his favourite part: Like all male lifeguards at North Beach, Chris had to wear a speedo all day, and he was hailed as a hero and a sex god by everybody! North Bondi Beach was practically swarmed by gay patrons of all ages, and being a young, extremely handsome and articulate man, he would never, ever have trouble finding a date.
Our story begins about one year following Chris and Roman’s BDSM adventure which is descriptively documented in A Top Fantasy. Bill Johnson was the new men’s swim coach at Sydney University, where Chris remained a member after four years. At first, Coach Bill didn’t seem so different from any previous coach, but very quickly, Chris caught up to his peculiar behaviour: Coach liked to stare at his speedo-clad butt just a little too long and was just a little nicer to him than everybody else on the team. It was weird, because Chris was far from being the best swimmer.
Chris found, just as he suspected, that Coach Johnson was gay. Not only that, he also kept an account on LifeOut, a website Chris occasionally cruised in order to find potential dates, who were almost always into bondage. Bill listed himself as a 'total top', and shows a clear preference for younger, shorter, slim, smooth white guys who enjoy strict bondage and are not afraid to be seriously dominated. Just like Chris. He soon finds himself aroused (more than usual) whenever he was in Coach Johnson's presence.
Coach Bill was 45, about 6'3'' 210 lbs, very muscular and Black. He was also completely bald and has a small goatee. It was impossible to tell whether Bill was naturally bald or just chose to shave his head, as his entire scalp was always perfectly hairless. Chris didn't care either say; Coach Bill was hot!
Chris was 22, 5’7’’ 145 lbs, and had a lean swimmer’s built. He had a deep golden tan from running outside in a speedo all day. His light brown hair now grew a little past his eyes and he has bright green eyes nestled under thick eyebrows. His body was completely smooth. Chris didn’t know it, but he was exactly the type of young male specimen that drove his coach crazy.
One night, after a successful practice, Coach Bill waits for Chris to climb out of the pool. As usual, he catches a nice view of his shiny blue speedo bulge, and smiles. Chris notices, and is secretly flattered. His black goggles were still on, squeezed underneath the tight blue silicone swim cap which Chris wore to protect his wavy hair which was now growing a little longer than usual. 'Good practice, Chris. Come to my office please.' He gave Chris a towel. 'Dry yourself off, but don't bother to put on clothes! Come like that.' He smiled.
'What do you want?' asked Chris.
'This concerns...internet security.' Coach Bill hissed quietly. Chris gulped. Shit! Did Coach know he was checking out his profile? He didn't include his name, or a face picture, how could he know?
'Remain standing' Coach Johnson announced as they reached his office. He closed the door, locked it and sat down. Chris felt extremely vulnerable, standing tall in his exceptionally tight speedo while his fully-dressed coach was sitting down at his office chair, examining him, mostly likely enjoying this situation.
'Chris, I know you've been stalking my LifeOut profile,' said the coach with a sigh, 'you were looking at it practically 10 times a day, without sending me a message. So naturally, I decided to find out who keeps checking me out, and you cannot imagine my reaction when I found out it was you.'
'How did you find out?'
'You have one face pic. It's blurry, but I could tell it was you.'
'Shit...'
'Chris baby, there's nothing wrong with being a homosexual. I am always there to help you, and I want you to be happy and find love. But you really shouldn't give away so much info about yourself. You don't know what sort of people will read it!'
Chris blushed. Coach was absolutely right. He was so embarrassed.
'With that being said...' Coach Johnson softened his tone, 'some of that stuff is REALLY hot. Are you actually into all that?'
Surprised, Chris nodded. To his embarrassment, he felt his cock rising visibly inside his tight Lycra bikini.
'Have you tried EVERYTHING you said on your profile?' The coach asked.
'Yes,' Chris replied quietly, but securely.
'Well shit!' said Coach, smiling widely, 'I was 99% sure you were gay from day one, but I could never tell you'd be a major kinkster, at your age. Well Chris, I have a confession to make. I really like you. I think you're so cute and hot. Do you mind if I talk to you like that?'
'No,' said Chris truthfully. He avoided the temptation to rub his bulge.
As the excitement began to build up, Coach asked the big question. 'It's my birthday next Saturday, and I would like to have a BDSM theme party. It'll be just me and my best bud Hermes, who’s openly gay just like me. We want to rent a *ahem* (Chris couldn't tell if that was a genuine cough) slave; a cute boy, preferably a swimmer, who's done bondage before so he can handle whatever we throw at him. You would be perfect as a slaveboy. You've got until next Saturday to decide. We will pay you, if you accept. Do you think you'll be interested?'
Chris had to sit down by this point in order to hide his erection. He thought a minute and finally answered: ‘sure, as long as you don't tell the whole world about it.'
Coach Johnson was about to make a comment about Chris's profile containing more than anybody would want to know, but decided not to. 'That's totally fine. And this is between you and me - I don't want people finding out I'm fooling around with my swimmers, even if yall are of age and consenting. You know what I mean?'
Chris smiled awkwardly.
'Alright, here's my private number, call me if you want to make any changes. Otherwise, I'll meet you next Saturday, that's in 9 days, at 8pm behind the storage area. You know where all the trucks are?'
Chris nodded. 'What should I bring?'
'I want you to wear regular clothes, anything that's not too fancy, but bring your backpack with the swim gear you're wearing now,” he couldn’t ask but smile. Chris became so horny reminiscing on what happened that he had to sit down.
“Is that cool?” Coach asked again.
“Ssssure, it’s your birthday, Coach.” Chris said quietly. Coach Bill looked down at the swimmer’s bulge, which now appeared to be very well filled, and smiled mischievously. “I’ll text you the details. You can go now.” He got off the chair, gave the boy a soft shoulder pat and left.
Later that evening, Chris received a text where Coach Bill basically outlined how he’d like to abuse him. Just as Chris suspected (and as was typical for so-called “total tops”), Coach Bill enjoyed both oral and anal penetration, but he was not keen on reciprocating either one. Ideally, his partner will play an entirely submissive role, and may not even cum unless Coach deemed it appropriate. Although he preferred to have a gentle partner whose main priority was to please him, the sex would most likely be on the rough side, with the Coach himself setting limits based on what the bottom could handle. As for bondage, Coach Bill was always open to new, exciting suggestions, but as a general rule – the stricter the better. Needless to say, Coach Bill would be dominant the entire time, yet he gladly respected whatever limits Chris set in advance. However, ‘no safeword’ was his preferable mode of play.
While Chris had to wonder who in their right mind would willingly give up SO MUCH POWER, he couldn’t help but get extremely horny simply imagining himself as Coach Bill’s sex toy. From his experience, “considerate” tops were boring! His hottest (yet never long lasting) encounters occurred when his top was being rough, selfish and domineering, and where Chris was thoroughly humiliated, degraded and effeminized. He always thought was something wrong with him, although he couldn’t recall ever being abused unless it was consensual (he had no sexual relations until age 19 because he couldn’t find any gay men who shared his fetishes, but were still socially functional individuals). Yet like any sane person, Chris was having doubts about this. The fact that Coach offered to PAY him was a bonus, but he knew there was a word for this type of transaction. As dirty as it made him feel, the thought of prostituting himself made Chris horny as hell.
He assumed Bill would want anal sex, so he sent the coach another text asking him about condom use. Immediately, Coach Bill replied by saying that ideally, he would not use condoms when fucking a guy. HOWEVER, he tested himself regularly and offered to send Chris a copy of his results right before Saturday to prove he was disease-free. Since Chris wouldn’t be fucking him back, there was no need for him to get tested. Once again, he asked Chris if his terms were acceptable.
This proved to be a very difficult choice. Chris was very picky about his partners; at this point, he only had two anal experiences (the more memorable one involving Mitt and Gerard) and both times he used protection. Being a “total bottom”, Chris knew all about the dangers involved in anal play. Coach Bill was a single gay man and it was no secret that he’s had his fair share of partners (Chris couldn’t stop thinking whether Bill EVER bottomed for anybody.) However, they all seem to come from the same pool of men (no pun intended): The Sydney men’s swimming and diving team. They were mostly young and educated like him. What were the chances that they had something?
Chris’s fears were relieved when he received Bill’s tests results well in advance. He was completely clean. “So, what do you say, boy?” Coach sent him another text. “Also, one last request; I have a new Orca wetsuit, it’s just about your size, and I want you to wear it on Saturday night, when I kidnap you. Wear your speedo underneath. How does that sound?”
Immediately, Chris felt his tool rise to attention in his loose cotton sweatpants, creating an unfortunate tent. Wearing a wetsuit was the next sexiest thing to wearing a speedo. He never surfed professionally, but the thought of him wearing surfing attire while being manhandled by Coach, gagged, blindfolded and trussed tightly in rope…it was just a little too much to bear. He then texted Bill back.
“Hi Coach, yes I’d love to try it on! And thank you for your test results. I guess you get to go all the way.

“Great! I will see you on Saturday at 8 pm. Leave all your stuff in your car and meet me in your wetsuit. Bring your toys with you. I have a feeling you’re going to be an amazing whore!

That night, Chris had to cum four times before he could relax enough to fall asleep. Then he sunk into his pillow, and dreamed about a naked, masculine Coach lying on top of his slender swimmer’s body and making love to him in ways he’s never imagined before. In the morning, a large package arrived at his apartment. It contained the Orca wetsuit.
At 7:30, Chris left his apartment in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla and drove towards the athletic centre’s storage area, as discussed. He arrived with plenty of to change into his wetsuit. Thankfully, the area was deserted at night so there was no need to worry about Peeping Toms. Either way, Chris didn’t mind taking off all his clothes outside on the pavement. The cold night breeze sent shivers down his spine and nipples. His soft cock rest calmly over his large testicles. Chris rubbed himself down there, returning circulation to his vital parts. He also rubbed his naked buttocks, as he knew that Coach would use them for his pleasure later. Before putting on his swimwear, Chris slid a cock ring over his now semi-hard genitals. The cock ring would make Coach happy: It would keep him hard even if he was getting tired, and making ejaculation more difficult, therefore allowing him to be blue-balled all night which again, would impress his Coach very much.
Once the cock ring was pulled into place, Chris put on his tight red speedo and swim cap. Immediately he felt himself growing very horny, but it was still too cold. He was glad to have his wetsuit.
The wetsuit took at least five minutes to put on. It was so tight that it perfectly contoured his body, yet it was thick enough to keep him warm. However, it wasn’t thick enough to hide his rising cock. His ass was also nicely contoured. Now he understood why he found wetsuits so hot. Anybody could look good in one, especially a hot young bottom like him…his Coach was about to put him to good use! But where was he?
At around 8:05, a large black Ford van parked inches away from his Corolla. ‘Oh please, for real?’ He now realized that if anybody was watching, Coach’s vehicle of choice looked too appropriate. He really wanted to make this kidnapping look authentic, thought Chris. He came out the backdoors, wearing a black tracksuit, sunglasses and a cap. As ridiculous as wearing sunglasses at night was, Coach was actually pulling off the thug look very well! He smiled widely, pearls of white showing.
“Well well well, look what we got here,” he said in his best Barry White impersonation. “Hey there Boy, whacha you doing at this hour?”
Chris stood there, waves of dread and excitement rushing through his veins. As Coach walked closer, Chris backed away. Eventually he had nowhere to go to, and Coach grabbed him (firmly, but not too aggressively; more passionately than anything.)
“Damn Boy, don’t you look great in that wetsuit,” he cooed softly and ran his hands over his youthful catch. Chris gulped. “You got all your stuff in that backpack?” He asked. Chris nodded. His mouth froze; Coach seemed taller, bigger than usual. His voice, although merely a soft purr, felt so deep that his insides shook on every syllable. One of his vital organs could not be concealed underneath the thick layer of rubber.
“I see you’re happy to see me, aren’t you, Sweet Boy?” Coach rubbed Chris’s cock gently, eliciting a high-pitched restrained whimper from his lips. Compared to Coach’s booming bass, Chris’s voice sounded like a little sissy boy, too frightened for a fight or flight response.
“You like feeling helpless, don’t you, Chrissy?” Coach asked him. He now moved his hand up and down his length.
“Yes…Siiiir,” Chris responded thinly, catching his breath as he was being pleasured. Coach laughed heartily.
“Sir? Haha! You’re gonna make the best slave ever, you know that, Sexy?” He ceased rubbing Chris’s genitals and now had him locked in a hug. He breathed heavily into his ear. “I’m going to be your Daddy tonight. You’re going to obey every word I say. Obey, and you’ll be rewarded. Disobey…” Coach laid his hand on Chris’s smooth bum and squeezed it gently, “and you’ll be punished. Do you understand, Sweet Cheeks?”
“Yes Sir, I understand. Sir, I would like to add that it’s an honour to be your bitch tonight. Sir, should I call you Sir or Daddy?”
Coach Bill had to think about that for a second. “Either one will do, Boy. It doesn’t matter though. We gotta get going soon.” Coach Bill looked at Chris like a wolf eyeing his prey.
“You mean…kidnap me?”
“Exactly!”
With deliberate haste, Coach pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his tracksuit pants and slammed them down on Chris’s hands. Chris tried to resist. If he really wanted to, he could probably undo these handcuffs fairly easily. However, the string his coach tied between his thumbs would’ve made it impossible.
“Ha! Did you really think I’m going to make this easy?” teased Bill. He tied some thick rope around Chris’s shins and his chest and torso and then continued to his thighs, ankles and shins, wrapping several rounds at each point. It was a strong nylon rope that made lots of friction against the rubber wetsuit.
The coil still had about 50 feet left when Bill finished tying up Chris’s shins, so instead of cutting it off, he made another round between his shoulder blades – pinning them tighter together, pulled it down to his waist, thus creating a rope belt. That wasn’t all, as more rope was pulled between his legs, over his genitals and right on top of the butt.
“Please Coach, I don’t want a crotch rope,” begged Chris.
“Why not, Boy? Doesn’t it feel nice?” He played around with the pelvic ropes, making Chris moan loudly from being stimulated in such a way. “Besides, YOU don’t get to make any decisions around here! It doesn’t matter though, because I’m gonna shut you up regardless!” With that being said, Coach pulled a role of black electric tape over Chris’s mouth, wrapping it 10 times around his head. It was a very tight gag.
“Beautiful!” Coach Bill snarled and kissed Chris on his gagged lips. Repeatedly. He licked his neck, making Chris scream. His cock was now rock hard. He felt Coach’s own dick rubbing against him, and although he was wearing loose pants, it felt pretty huge.
“You don’t want to play? Fine!” in a totally different, aggressive manner, Coach ripped another piece of black tape and blindfolded Chris with it. He then covered his head with a black hangman's sack. “Now it’s time to put you in my van,” he whispered.
Chris moaned in protest into his gag.
“You don’t have a phone, do you?”
“Mm-hmm,” Chris nodded his hooded head.
Coach looked through his backpack and found Chris’s iPhone. “Well, you won’t need it anymore. I’m taking it.”
This was really happening. He was getting kidnapped by his swim coach!
“Alright, let me take you home now,” Coach mumbled as he picked up the trussed boy and carried him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Gently, but firmly, he laid Chris face-down on the cold metal floor and patted his butt. “You see Chris, sweet pretty ponies like you…get raped in prison.” He waited for Chris to moan, and continued. “This is why you need protection, to make sure all those bad guys don’t rape you. I know this isn’t prison. I doubt a good boy like you would ever go to prison. But let’s face it: With your…fetishes, it’s better to make sure you get taken care of by me, who are going to treat you like a whore with class, rather than some sicko who is really gonna hurt you, am I right?” Chris moaned again.
“Exactly, boy; but my protection comes with a price. You’re gonna be my bitch tonight. And I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you! Ha!” And on that note, Hermes drove away the black van, with Coach Bill sitting on top of his prized boy, who now was lying on the cold floor, tied up, gagged, blindfolded and hooded like a prisoner.
“Let’s go!” Bill shouted to the driver. And that everything Chris remembered before he drifted into slumber.
“Hey hey, wake up boy! We’re home!” Bill lifted the dazed boy to his feet. The hangman's sack was off, but Chris was still tightly gagged, blindfolded and tied up. He couldn’t walk without his Coach’s help. ‘Brilliant’, he thought, that way he couldn’t run away even if he wanted. It made the kidnapping feel more genuine. “Watch your step, Badongakonk!” he warned Chris and gave his backside a light spank. Immediately, Chris clenched his butt muscles, but followed the instructions. The crotch rope rubbed against his body. It was utterly unnecessary, but a nice bonus.
He heard a door open and being gently pushed inside a small space. It smelled of old rugs and faint air freshener, so Chris assumed he was in a house. Coach squeezed his shoulders, signaling him to stand still, while he and Hermes untied the rope and undid the handcuffs. Chris remained perfectly still; he even minimized his breathing.
“You got yourself a perfect slave, brother!” said Hermes. “Very obedient, and cute as hell.”
“I know, eh! We’re not sharing him, you know that. You just here to watch and take vids, man,” replied Coach.
Hermes sighed. That was the deal, after all. Coach did promise that he would get paid, although not nearly as nicely as Chris, who was getting ready for some deep sexual suffering.
Once his hands were free, Chris was instructed to remove the tape from his eyes and mouth.
At first, he remained still, uncertain. “Well boy? I’m not going to ask you again,” said Coach.
Slowly, Chris peeled all the tape off. He was glad he wore a swim cap, as it meant that no hair got in the way. He also had a close shave that morning (mostly at his Dom’s request, who liked his Boys to be clean-shaved), which made things easier.
“Take off your wetsuit,” Coach instructed coldly, without emotion. With Hermes’s help, Chris unzipped the back and slid his wetsuit off. He was about to take off his tight blue speedo when coach stopped him.
“Uh-uh, leave that on for now,” he said, smiling. “Hermes, get the phone.”
Bill grabbed Chris’s phone and put on some sensual, poppish R&B music. Chris immediately recognized that song as “Naughty Girl”.
“Boy? Tonight you’re going to be my Beyonce. I want you to dance like her,” said Coach, again with no expression. “I want you to move that sexy ass of yours and show off that bulge in your tightass panties. What’s the matter, your panties are too tight, boy?”
Embarrassed, Chris nodded. Coach knew that the team speedos were ridiculously tight and they left very little to the imagination. He rotated his pelvis and let Coach grind against him, feeling his strong hard dick placed right between his buttocks. The thin Lycra speedo offered very little protection, making Chris feel very vulnerable as Coach’s dick grew enormous. Eventually, he grabbed Chris and cupped his speedo bulge, whispering: “Alright panty boy, that’s enough. Now let’s see how much of a man you are.”
Chris was allowed a quick drink of water before he got handcuffed again and had his own ball gag strapped into his mouth. He also had two laundry clips pinned to his nipples.
“Ou!! I hurssss!” Chris yelled into his gag. His erection betrayed his true feeling; a tiny spot of pre-cum began to form right where the Lycra hugged his dick.
“That’s the least of my worries, speedo slave,” snarled the Coach. “You’re going to cum, aren’t you?”
Chris immediately shook his head. “Nooooo, nooooo…”
“Exactly, no cumming. Don’t you dare cum, or else there’ll be hell to pay.” Chris had to relax his muscles (as much as he could, under the current situation) before Coach proceeded with the “punishment”, which was actually a test of his pain tolerance. Coach started by bouncing the laundry pins with his hand, causing Chris’s already enlarged nipples to swell to a rich red. Although Chris was able to withstand what Coach considered an impressive amount of pain (despite his screaming), he kept giving warning signs of cumming, forcing the Coach to move onto different areas.
“You’ve got really sensitive nipples, don’t you boy?” he asked. Chris nodded.
“That’s because you’re a born bottom. Every guy I’ve met who was a “born bottom” had sensitive nipples, as well as a beautiful face and a delicious ass, like a real bitch should. Are you a real bitch?”
Chris thought about it, and then nodded again. Coach smiled. “Good boy. Now bend over.”
Chris’s eyes opened wide. “DO IT!” Coach yelled, angry.
What followed next was a series of open handed spanks which, while not excruciatingly painful, were certainly humiliating. When Coach realized that Chris was unaffected by the force of his open hand, he moved on to his instrument of choice: A leather-covered paddle.
A few flings of the paddle across Chris’s speedo butt proved enough for him, but Coach wasn’t satisfied. He gave him three extra spanks, “accidentally” hitting his bulge in the process. He demanded that Chris stayed at the bent position while Hermes to take a few pictures of his backside, and then decided to move on to the next stage of his “initiation ceremony”.
Chris was told to stand up straight again so Coach could grab his cock through the tight Lycra and massage it. Even though he wore a speedo (or perhaps, because of it), Chris welcomed the hand job with moans of extreme pleasure. As suspected, Coach stopped right before it became clear that Chris was about to cum, and then continued. He did that several times when finally Chris grunted extremely loud.
“Oh, you don’t like it? Fine, I won’t play nice,” responded Coach. His soft rubs turned to cruel squeezes, which elicited groans of pain (although Chris was still clearly enjoying himself, as evident by the erect state of his penis, balls and nipples). He then patted the speedo vigorously, forcing more moaning sounds from the captive, followed by light jabs to the dick.
“Mmm! Behhhhh!” Chris was extremely turned on by this display of dominance and contorted his body just to avoid cumming. With each blow, his engorged cock felt closer and closer to blowing a huge load. He knew it would hurt – both the ejaculation and what Coach would do next. Cumming would have to wait…if he would be allowed to cum at all that night.
“Alright, my hand is getting tired,” said Coach. He removed the ball gag and laundry clips (Chris yelped as a result) and un-cuffed his hands. He then unzipped his black jeans and revealed his thick, semi-hard black cock. “You’ve had your fun, bitch boy. Now it’s my turn.”
“Well? Get on your knees and start playing with it, speedo slut!” Coach commanded.
“Yes, Sir…” Reluctantly, Chris did as told, starting with the testicles and gently massaging the penis shaft.
“Hmm, yes, keep going,” Coach grumbled softly. His penis grew straight when erect, about 7.5’’ long and thick. Chris started salivating at the beautiful black cock, and Coach noticed. He smiled expectantly. Chris told him all about his expert cock-sucking abilities, which really seemed to excite his big, burly coach. Right now, Chris knew exactly where this would go.
“Beg for my cock, boy,” he rumbled.
“Yes, Sir, please let me suck your big cock,” Chris replied, obediently. Coach slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. “Then you won’t need these anymore! Now, open wide!”
Chris started sucking Coach Johnson’s cock, which was fully erect by now. Chris’s own cock was also throbbing hard in his supertight speedo. He was handcuffed, so he couldn’t touch himself. Coach seemed to notice, as he painfully squeezed Chris’s balls, making him moan.
“You like it, don’t you? You like sucking a big black dick, you little fag bitch?” Chris kept sucking.
“Answer me!” Coach spanked his speedo-clad butt while still squeezing his balls. Hard.
Chris had to stop for a few moments to answer Coach’s question. “Yes Sir, I love sucking your dick very much Sir.” His voice sounded strained as his balls were still squeezed in Coach’s tight grip. “I also love it when you squeeze my balls and my ass.” He reluctantly added a second “Sir”.
“Good! Then do you think you can deep-throat my package?” Chris has never deep-throated before, and Coach’s package, although not as gigantic as he assumed, was still sizeable by any means. Carefully, he brought his mouth closer, swallowing the balls and letting Coach’s straight, hard dick penetrate right down to his throat. He suppressed a gag reflex, moaning loudly in the process, and formed a tight seal around the shaft with his big lips.
“Hell yeah! Look at that, Hermes!” Coach signaled for Hermes to look. Hermes was now snarling in satisfaction. Chris caught a glimpse of Hermes’s bulging pants while the older man was pleasuring himself to the sight of the young swimmer being mouth-fucked. “He’s a real faggot bitch, isn’t he? I’m gonna fuck your big gay mouth, you hear me?” Coach held Chris’s head in place with both hands while thrusting his pelvis forward, very slow to ensure that Chris wouldn’t cough on it, but with enough force to let Chris know who was in control. Seeing how Chris expertly kept his cock inside his mouth, gently sucking on it like a popsicle, Coach snarled as he increased the intensity of the face-fucking. On several occasions, Coach’s moans hinted he was on the verge of cumming, but he always slowed himself down enough so Chris would have to keep on sucking. “You poor fag, it seemed you never sucked a real man. You think I get off that easy? I’m gonna make you suck for a looong, long time!” laughed Coach Johnson. After about 20 minutes of continuous face-fucking, Coach finally had enough. Chris was grateful because his jaw was getting sore, and the thought of what would happen next excited him to no end.
He whispered: “Good work, Slave. I’m gonna cum in your mouth now,” and pulled Chris’s swim cap over his eyes.
“Mmmm!” Chris, now blindfolded, whimpered pathetically, while Coach snarled in satisfaction. His next move was going to show this swimmer exactly how much power he had over him. Coach tightened his grip on Chris’s head and thrust his cock ever more powerfully inside Chris’s throat, eliciting helpless gagging sounds from him. After a long minute, Coach’s large cock exploded his hot, thick cum deep inside Chris’s mouth. “AHHH!” He yelled. “Now swallow, you dirty little faggot slut boy! Swallow it all!”
Chris swallowed every single drop of Coach’s cum, nearly gagging on it. His dick was super hard and begging for some relief, but slaves weren’t allowed to cum in their speedo panties. His only stimulation came from the cock ring he wore underneath his blue speedo and from the occasional ball squeezing from Coach’s powerful hands. “Good boy,” said Coach. “You’ve got nice juicy lips and a skilled tongue. Damn, you were good.” He only withdrew his huge cock once he was completely finished, allowing Chris to gasp for fresh air. He wiped his cock across Chris’s smooth cheeks for good measure.
As a spectator, Hermes was unsatisfied and claimed that the submission was not complete yet. “Chris has to get fucked. In the ass.” He insisted. Smilingly, Coach Bill nodded. Even Chris himself couldn’t help hide a smile of anticipation knowing what was going to happen next. He bottomed like a porn star and he knew it. Nothing mattered to him more than satisfying his Coach.
Bill untied Chris’s hands, removed his swim cap (allowing him to see), and confirmed the boy’s anticipation with one short sentence: “I’m gonna fuck your ass, boi.” He hugged Chris tightly and kissed him passionately on the lips. He stared deep into Chris’s green eyes when he mouthed the phrase again: “I’m. Gonna. Fuck. Your. Gorgeous. Butt.” He rubbed Chris’s penis, utterly engorged and varying in shades of red and purple, while holding him from behind, letting his own huge cock slide against his butt cheeks. He kissed Chris’s neck passionately and felt him shiver in his arms. It felt divine. Chris breathed heavily and restlessly. He clung onto his coach’s body tightly, who in turn kissed him with even greater intensity.
“Do you wanna be fucked in the ass, boi?” He whispered in his earlobe between various licks.
“Yes, yes!” Chris heaved between each laboured moan, “I want you in my sexy ass!”
“Assume the position, swimmer!” Bill helped Chris into the doggie position and slowly peeled his speedo, revealing his beautifully smooth, round, perky ass. He spread it, stuck a finger in, and made Chris flinch. “Goddamn, you’ve got a tight manpussy.” He lubed Chris generously and tried again. This time, he gently inserted two lubed fingers into Chris’s anus, all the while whispering things like “that’s a beautiful ass,” and “you are so fucking hot, Chris, I only thought about fucking you ever since you’ve joined my team.” He teased Chris by grinding his engorged cock against his buttocks and pulling the boy’s cock, making him moan loudly. Eventually Chris was sufficiently stretched, and his cock erect and rock hard in that rubber cock ring, ready to cum if only he was allowed.
“This is just foreplay, you know,” said Coach Johnson ominously.
“Mhm”
“Are you ready for the real thing?”
“Yes I’m ready. Fuck me, Coach.”
“How do you want to get fucked?”
“I wanna get fucked hard like a bitch!” He screamed.
Chris shivered as he felt the low rumble that was Coach’s laugh. He realized how much deeper Coach’s voice was than his. He was, after all, a manly man, not a total-bottom bitch boy like him. “And that’s exactly what you’re gonna get, slave! But first, we gotta dress you up like a bitch!”
Chris was given a red nylon jockstrap and told to wear it. Quietly, he complied. It was a very tight jockstrap; since his dick had a tendency to point skywards whenever it was erect, the jockstrap pinned his genitalia against his lower stomach. Chris was forced to raise the straps over his hipbones to prevent his penis tip from “escaping”. The intense friction against the shiny cloth drove him nuts, which was exactly what Coach Bill wanted, while his ass remained entirely exposed.
“You look fantastic, boy!” Bill clasped his hands gleefully and was rewarded with a knowing nod from Hermes. “Hermes, hold him while I go find my sleepsack, will you?” Hermes was more than willing to obey. Still snarling, he grabbed Chris’s wrists, pinned them against his naked backside and grabbed him in a semi bear-hug. “Ready to get fucked by your master, Chrissy boy?”
Hermes was slightly taller than Chris, but lacking the lean muscle mass that the younger boy had. He probably could’ve fought him off, but that would upset his coach, and Chris didn’t want to do that. “Yes, Sir,” he said quietly. And truly, nothing else was on his mind.
Hermes grabbed Chris’s cock through the tight jockstrap and squeezed it until he elicited a loud moan from him. “Good boy, Chris”. He let go right before the boy had the chance to ejaculate.
Coach Bill returned, still naked, with a shiny neoprene sleepsack, a leather hood with an attached collar, and a ballgag. Chris gulped and felt his erection twitch involuntarily. Coach smiled widely; his most depraved fantasy was about to come true and nothing was going to stop him!
With Hermes’s help, Bill placed the sleepsack on his bed and instructed Chris to lie face down. Then they wrapped the sleepsack over Chris’s bare, smooth body, placed his arms inside the internal sleeves and zipped it up to his neck. There was a small crotch zipper, and one that extended from the lower back, right over the buttocks to the back of the knees.
“How do you like your sleepsack, boy?” asked Bill.
“I love it, Coach! Thank you for using it on me, Sir!” answered Chris obediently.
“Good boy, Chris. I’m assuming you can’t really move around, can you?”
A few seconds of struggling were enough to prove that escape was impossible, and Chris truly was helpless. “No, Sir.”
“Good!” With a swift motion, Bill yanked Chris upwards and kissed him aggressively on the lips. “God, you’re so beautiful…” he pulled the ball gag into Chris’s wide-open mouth and silenced him.
“Hermes, hold him down while I hood him…”
Immediately, Hermes grabbed Chris’s neck in a chokehold to prevent him from bobbing his head up and down. It was a useless move, Chris already accepted his fate, but Bill just wanted to intimidate him.
Slowly, he covered Chris’s face in the leather hood. There were no openings for the mouth or eyes, just two nose holes for breathing. ‘This isn’t too bad,’ thought Chris; then he felt his head getting pulled backed, and realized the hood was being laced very tightly. ‘Never mind!’
Once Coach Bill was satisfied that the hood was pressed tightly enough to the victim’s face, he completed the ordeal by strapping the collar tightly around Chris’s neck and congratulated himself on his work. Chris was totally encased in a world of darkness, unable to see, speak, and barely able to hear. The delicious scent of soft leather violated his nostrils, yet they weren’t they only orifice about to be violated and he knew it…
At this point, Chris realized that his only possible movement was thrusting and grinding his pelvis against the bed, eliciting a cruel-sounding giggle from Bill and Hermes.
“Enjoying yourself, aren’t we?” asked Bill as he slowly unzipped the back, exposing Chris’s round, smooth buttocks, and caressing them softly. “Do you know what’s gonna happen next?”
Chris was now humping the bed furiously. Bill grabbed his hips roughly and started penetrating, slowly at first, though that was enough to cause feel Chris’s body shivering through the smooth sleepsack.
Coach slid deeper and deeper, until he was balls deep. He pressed his weight against Chris, forcing his hooded face down until his face was buried in the pillow.
“Mmm!”
“That’s it! Take it all, slut boy,” he snarled, rubbing Chris’s tightly wrapped body and slapping his ass. Hard. If Chris wasn’t gagged, he’d be screaming like a valley girl, thought Bill gleefully. Overwhelmed by pain, Chris breathed heavily into his gag, knowing full well there was no way out. Being fucked while lying prone was the most vulnerable position he could imagine, and here he was, getting skewered by his black coach who was twice his size, while he was gagged, hooded and tied in a sleepsack! They were both totally ignoring the fact that Hermes, Bill’s assistant in the kidnapping, was in the same room, watching and jerking off himself. It was like being in a hardcore porn flick.
“Christobal! Are you going to cum, boy?!” thundered Coach Johnson in his locker-room voice.
“Mmmmm!” Chris replied quickly. He couldn’t even touch his cock, yet if he humped the bed too hard (which was inevitable, considering Bill was pushing him around aggressively), he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
“Damn right you’re not! Only I get to cum here! Take it like a bitch!” He spanked him again and increased his pace, causing Chris to moan in ways he didn’t think grown men could.
The penetration took a long time, as Coach Bill had incredible stamina and planned to cause this beautiful, amazing boy in his grasp to suffer as much as possible. Occasionally, when Chris was clearly enjoying humping the silk sheets a little too much, Coach grabbed his hips and yelled at him to “raise that sweet ass”. After about 20 minutes of near-climax, Coach decided to blow another load, this time in Chris’s rear hole, and thus completing Chris’s initiation as his personal slut. Once again, he pressed all the way in, leaned his weight on Chris, and croaked in his ear: “Chris, I’m going to cum now. I’m gonna cum deep inside your ass. I love you, boy. I love you so much.” As if on cue, he began to skewer Chris’s anus mercilessly while moaning ‘fuck yeah’ and the like. The pain was almost unbearable.
“I WON’T LET YOU GO, BOY!”
Chris clenched his buttocks tightly when realized that two things were happening: Coach Bill was spraying his load deep, deep inside his anus, and he was cumming as well! His cum sprayed through the tight jockstrap, soaking it. It was an intense, full-body orgasm that last about 15 seconds. For a moment, Chris thought he was passing out before Coach’s booming voice brought him back to reality.
“Keep your cheeks clenched, swimmer. I don’t want you losing any of that cum!!!”
Chris nodded in understanding and did as he was told. It was his first time getting fucked bareback, and the first time feeling cum in his ass. He felt dirty and abused, but couldn’t help feeling a strange and disturbing sense of satisfaction. Then he was overcome with dread as Coach turned him sideways and undid the crotch zipper.
“So, you came,” said Coach matter-of-factly. He didn’t sound angry, merely amused.
“You know you’re going to be punished for that, right boy? Nod if you understand.”
Chris whimpered softly, but eventually nodded in understanding. He was told repeatedly not to cum, yet he couldn’t control himself. It wasn’t his fault, or was it?
“Hermes!” Coach Bill’s voice thundered again. He made Chris shake a bit.
“Yes Sir?”
“Come over here and lick all the jizz off of Chris’s balls.”
Hermes slightly winced at the idea, but complied with a nod. He got down and his knees and started giving Chris a blowjob.
“Hmm! HMM!” Unlike the average male, Chris was able to maintain an erection even after ejaculating. Hermes was surprisingly skilled at oral sex, so much so that Chris was frightened he might cum a second time.
“That’s enough!” Bill yelled after five minutes, dragged Hermes away and snapped the jockstrap back on Chris’s still-erect cock and balls. The head and shaft of his cock were a bright crimson, yet Bill took no notice of that and left the ring intact. The slave remained gagged, hooded and bound in the black neoprene sleepsack. However, now another contraption was being introduced.
“Have you ever tried anal beads?” asked Bill calmly as he gently shoved the beads into Chris’s anus. Bill initially doubted whether Chris could accommodate all 9 inches while lying face-down, and he was right. After about six, Chris started experiencing extreme discomfort and gave a series of involuntary whimpers.
“Aww poor boy, let me help you with that,” said Bill as he pulled beads out and poured some more lube inside. After a bit of gentle prodding, Coach Bill tried again, this time pushing all the beads in one slow, gradual motion until every single inch was stored deep inside the captive’s anal canal.
Chris gave out a quick scream, and then panted softly into his gag.
“That’s 9 inches, Chris. NINE. You can handle it, right?”
Chris didn’t bother responding. Fact was, he was under excruciating pain, yet was feeling strangely at home. This is where he belonged: On his coach’s bed, gagged and hooded, his body used for his captives’ pleasure and stored away in a sleepsack for later use. Coach Bill confirmed his understanding.
“I’m not gonna get any trouble from you for this, right?
Chris nodded. Bill closed both the crotch and anal zipper and Hermes started tying ropes around the sack.
“You know it’s not rape if you like it, right?” Chris nodded again like a good boy.
“Good. I need to go out for a cigarette, I don’t know how long it will take. But you’re going to stay in there, that’s your punishment. Hermes is going to watch over you, make sure nothing bad happens to my beautiful boy.” He gently caressed Chris’s ass. “Hermes, if you behave well, I might let you fuck him.”
“Thank you Coach!” Hermes responded enthusiastically. Chris twitched in his sleepsack in response. Coach Bill noticed this, grabbed him from the collar and whispered:
“I’ve fucked a lot of cute swimmers, Chris, but nobody ever came close to you. Nobody. Which is why I abducted you and I’m not letting you go. Better get used to living the life of a prison bitch. Honestly I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble adjusting."
THE END