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Not that I care if he thinks of me. Because I don’t.
The hour before the other players arrive is too quiet, too tense. Every time I think he's about to leave the room to go to his office, my stomach clenches, but it's not until the team is filing out into the field that he separates from the group. Chatting and laughing with the guys as we get stretched out, I am all but holding my breath, watching the tunnel. I want to see the look on his face, the stiffness in his shoulders, when he returns. I want to know how he's going to punish me, and the thought of it has extra saliva filling my mouth. Every swallow stings and reminds me of my last punishment.
We're already jogging around the field by the time Coach joins us. His countenance is definitely stiffer than usual, his mouth set in a determined grimace, but that's pretty normal for Coach. It's not until I feel his eyes on me that I know he’s seen my little gift for him, and it's impossible not to break out in a grin, laughing at my own joke that no one around me is in on. When everyone finally stops looking at me, like I might need special help, I blow Nicks a kiss. The angry, throbbing vein on the side of his head mimics the angry, throbbing vein that runs up the underside of his massive cock.
Fuck. My already half hard cock continues to inflate, making it harder to run. I have to deal with it, though, trying to force away any thoughts that will make it worse. I focus on the workout, pushing myself harder than ever.
All day, I keep pushing, every dark look from Nicks encouraging me to work harder, faster. I beat my forty-yard sprint record and run circles around the opposing team during our scrimmage.
By the time the training day is over, the tension radiating off Coach is palpable. He's been quietly seething all day, and I know I'm in for it. As excited as I've been all day, nearly euphoric with the little trick I played on him, I'm feeling anxious about what he'll do.
Will he fuck my mouth harder? Will he fuck my ass? Do I want that? Am I ready for that?
I'm honestly not sure. The prospect of letting someone put their dick in my ass was never something I'd considered before. The prospect of Bryant Nicks doing it is both terrifying and exciting. My trepidation definitely outweighs my curiosity. I have zero doubts it'll hurt, and only a tiny part of me considers the possibility of pleasure.
Again, there's definitely something wrong with me, because the idea of him hurting me, tearing me open with his huge cock, makes me tremble with anticipation. The half-chub I've been fighting all day is winning, and I walk into the gym for my one-on-one training with a massive boner.
Finally, Nicks joins me, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him, which sends a shiver of fear and excitement down my spine. I sit up on the bench, watching him warily as he stalks menacingly towards me. He doesn't say a word, only gestures for me to lie back and grab the bar. I'm vaguely aware of more weight being added to both sides of the bar before he helps me lift it off the rack. The weight he's added is significant, and I can barely get through three reps before my arms are shaking.
I manage two more before nodding to him that I'm done, but he doesn't reach for the bar. Instead, he pushes it down on my chest, locking me beneath the heavy weights.
Kneeling down near my head, he lowers his mouth to the shell of my ear. When he speaks, his voice is low and gravely. Fear pools in my belly, and my cock weeps.
"I guess I was too gentle with you yesterday. I held back, worried that you got yourself in too deep. I won't make that mistake again."
The bar is bruising my chest, and it distracts me from what else is happening in the room. Before I know it, Coach has pulled down his pants and is pushing his cock in my mouth. He leans over my body, his hands on either side of the bench, and thrusts into my face. I quickly realize just how gentle he was yesterday, how much time he'd given me to get accommodated. This time he is merciless, fucking my face with hard, quick thrusts that push the air and odd sounds out of me as I gag around his thick cock.
I resist at first, trying to push up against the bar and thrashing my head for a reprieve, but eventually I relax and lie there, mouth open wide as he uses me. The angle he's at makes it a little easier to take him without gagging, despite feeling him farther back in my throat. My lips are stretched to capacity, my jaw aching. I take short breaths of air through my nose and will my eyes to stop watering. I don't want him to think I'm crying, but I can't stop the tears trailing down my temples whenever I blink my eyes open. Not that I can open them for long, as his balls are hitting against my forehead as he thrusts into me.
I feel like I'm floating a little when I give myself over to be used, and I like it more than I'll ever confess out loud. I'm so deep in my head that I startle when I feel his hand push beneath the waistband of my shorts. My cock jerks as he takes it in his hand, pumping it forcefully in time with his thrusts. My orgasm builds quickly, and I moan around his cock, my hips thrusting into his hand. I'm just about to come, teetering on the edge, more ready for release than I've ever been in my life.
I'm coming… and then it stops.
Nicks squeezes hard around the head of my cock, painfully and effectively stopping my orgasm as he pumps his down my throat. He keeps his hand tight around the head of my cock as he pulls out of my throat. Once again, I'm sputtering and coughing, but this time I'm trying to yell through my raspy, abused throat.
"What the fuck!?"
"I told you, if you want to cum, you have to earn it. You'll learn to obey or I'll be the only one getting off around here."
With one last hard squeeze, Nicks stands up and re-racks the bench press. He walks past me, my body still laid out on the bench, coughing and rubbing my sternum.
"Next time you disrespect me, I'll fuck your ass so hard you'll bleed. Do you understand me, Perry?"
Everything fucking hurts. But nothing hurts more than my balls, straining from lack of release. I’ll play it his way this round, see what kind of reward it gets me, and hopefully avoid escalating this to a point where it really hurts me… even if I am a little curious.
"Yes, Coach," I rasp out.
CHAPTER 12
BRYANT
This is working.
It's beyond fucked up, I know that. I'm a terrible human being that is most definitely going to burn in hell. I'm teetering on the edge of my control, and I'm probably one wrong step from losing my job or worse. But this is working.
Jack showed up to practice early, looking a little more tired than usual, but he's playing better than ever. He's running faster, jumping higher, and working well with the whole team. When it's time for lunch, I pass him a container of pureed corn chowder, which he accepts thankfully and sips it gingerly.
"Dude, what's up with you?" I overhear one of his teammates ask him.
