Work Text:
Benj had taken the job as a fraternity sub under the assumption he'd be doing the housework and shit, for spoiled guys who never learned to cook for themselves or do laundry. The pay was shit, but pay was shit everywhere else, and at least as a house sub, any abuse he got for it would be the fun kind. He hadn't really looked over the contract too closely, and he's beginning to realize that was on him, but he hadn't thought any of the guys would be into him, sexually. He'd thought getting paddled or forced to kneel might be a nice little on the job perk, he hadn't been remotely prepared for this.
The frat's president had announced they had their sub and called everyone in, forced him roughly to his knees-- so far so good, kneeling beat laundry by a long shot, and a hand fisted in his hair and the promise of a little humiliation only sweetened the deal. Four guys circled him immediately, the pres, a set of twins, some blond guy... It's a surprise when his face is pressed to a clothed crotch, directed by that hand in his hair, and had this really been in his contract? He can feel the dick on the other side of those basketball shorts firming up and he feels a stab of fear... and a hot rush of want. When he's given the space to breathe, someone taps his cheek, not quite a slap. The twins are the first to whip it out, working themselves hard, but he's not directed to either. The frat pres is the one who makes contact first, thick cock slapping Benj across the face, and there's laughter overhead.
"Open. Be a good boy." He goes all Dom voice, and Benj opens before he can protest. His cock is heavy on his tongue as he slides in, easy until he's adjusted and then rough, fucking his mouth, his throat, all while the others jeer and cheer him on. This can't possibly be in his contract, but he doesn't have the chance to say no, and once he's gagging on it, he can't think.
"I want next," someone says.
Another voice, "I've got something for him, too."
"We've got to get the rest of the house in on this."
This isn't the whole house? How many are there? Is he even going to have time to do anything else?
Benj's pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of doing nothing else. Staying down on his knees, taking cock after cock. Under desks, under the dinner table moving from place to place. Getting passed around at parties. Guys from other frats. Sorority girls-- it's less his thing, regardless of parts, but if the frat president got hold of his hair and pushed him down between a girl's legs, and told him to be a good boy like that, would he have a choice? And it's not like he minds, in theory. She might be disappointed if they ordered him to fuck her, but going down he can do. As long as the voice ordering him is a man's voice, he guesses he could do anything.
He holds Benj tight when he comes down his throat, and Benj has to swallow around him, gasps for breath when he's pulled off. There's a shifting around him, the head of a cock slaps against his cheek again, this time leaving a smear of precome, the one that takes his mouth is more manageable in size, and less rough, but the grip in his hair is still iron. He's pushed down on it from behind and then another hand grabs his hair from the front and pulls him back again.
"Stick out your tongue." Not the pres, the voice of whoever he'd just been sucking-- not doing his best job, admittedly, too dazed, but he's an available mouth, he doesn't think they care if it's sloppy. Still, it's a Dom voice, and he sticks his tongue out obediently, hoping for a 'good boy'. It doesn't come, but the guy does, hot and not entirely pleasant on his tongue.
By the end of this semester, how many guys will he know by taste?
When he's allowed to swallow, there's barely a moment's respite before he's being push-pulled onto a cock again-- and then off, another taking its place before the first could get more than a moment's pleasure. The twins. They pass him back and forth like they're used to sharing everything, the thought of being spitroasted between them comes unbidden and has him going like a fucking faucet. He can't... he can't...
They both come on his face, and there's a fifth-- Benj misses everything said, between the boys who own him now, but they urge him forward into the circle, and Benj's mind blanks at the sight of him. Just the outline of that monster cock still inside his shorts, not even erect. It must take him forever to get there. The mix of fear and want is stronger than ever-- forget being passed around, forget being spitroasted, forget the commanding tones of the frat's president, whoever this guy is, he's hung like a horse and he could make a claim on Benj beyond any flimsy contract.
He leans forward, no direction required-- once that dick is out, his mouth is on it, licking, kissing, worshiping every inch-- nine and a half easy, and he's barely standing out from his thigh! Moaning like a whore for the privilege of getting his mouth on it, shame and lust blazing through him. He has to use his hands-- they had been folded obediently behind his back from the moment he was put on his knees, but he isn't told not to use them now. Whatever the others say washes over him, meaningless-- the soft grunts from the boy with the big dick, that's all that matters, the little wisps of praise as he's told he's good.
He still feels hazy, when he's pulled off at last, when he's swallowed down that last load, but the world outside of that dick does swim back into existence.
"Damn. He went after your dick so hard you'd think he was into it." The pres laughs, something halfway nasty in it. "The moaning is a nice touch. But he's not even hard..."
If he only knew. Benj has been rock hard, but the fold of his joggers as he kneels is more than enough to conceal what he's packing. He's so soaking wet he's surprised they haven't seen that, if they're looking.
He's yanked up to his feet before he can register a protest, isn't yet back to earth enough to stop him, when the pres goes to yank his joggers and boxers down in one move. Instead of displaying a soft dick for ridicule-- was it part of the attraction, the idea that he might be straight and forced to suck dick?-- they've got nearly two inches standing proud, not to mention what's below. He trims, because when you're working with just under two inches, you want everything to look as visible and impressive as possible.
"Oh. Even better..." Pres purrs. His thumb presses down on Benj's dick, pulls away to watch it flick back up to standing, and then he's sliding two fingers down between his thighs, along the thick outer lips to the place where they're open and wanting. Slides right into his wet, waiting hole and hooks forward. "He's got a pussy. Looks like there's gonna be a round two, boys."
"Andy'll tear him apart," someone snickers.
"We'll work up." As if the pres himself wasn't big enough... but Benj clenches around those fingers reflexively at the idea just the same. "Oh, you like that? You like that, boy? You want us to stuff you 'til you can't walk straight?"
Benj no longer has being cock-drunk to blame it on, when he says "I don't do anything straight, Sir."
"Mouthy." He withdraws his fingers, and crosses to sit on the couch. "Come here, boy. Just for that, if you want to get off, I'm not doing it for you. You can hump my thigh like the dog you are. And apologize nice and sweet. Then maybe you'll get used-- once you show you deserve it."
"No, I deserve it! I'll be good!" He promises, scrambles to obey, trips over himself shedding his joggers and boxers. The frat president's thighs are massive, muscular, hairy. He's just sucked five guys off in a row, there's come drying across his face, and yet nothing in his life has ever felt quite so obscene as this, straddling that thigh, naked from the waist down, leaving a hot wet smear behind as he rocks against him, trying to get some friction on his own neglected cock, too.
"Open your mouth." The pres grabs the hem of Benj's shirt, lifting it. He still has tits, they're just small enough that a reasonably loose and not-too-lightweight tee shirt is all he really needs, he's masculine enough at first glance that no one's looking for him to have them. But with his shirt pulled up, they're there. The hem of his shirt is shoved into his mouth, and he bites down around it, face flaming. "You like having your titties played with, puppy?"
Benj nods. Puppy. He's puppy, now.
Big, rough hands grasp at his chest, slap and squeeze and jiggle them for a jeering audience. Someone else says "I want to play,", and other hands join in, nimble fingers roll over his nipples. A hand comes down sharp on his ass, and his rhythm stutters, the shirt in his mouth muffling his whine. And then they all take turns, delivering the best slap each boy can, until he's coming. His legs nearly give out when he's forced back to his feet immediately after-- the pres had been growing hard again, the whole time he'd been riding his thigh, and now he slaps his own cock down against Benj's, making him whine again, oversensitive. At least two others hold him up, his arms pinned behind his back, his shirt soggy in his mouth, as the frat president fucks him standing. Like the face-fucking, like the fingering, like everything else, he teases him a little and takes him rough. Doesn't take him quite to a second orgasm of his own, but it's not Benj's place to ask for one.
The blond slides between his thighs from behind, next. Benj is hungry for it now, desperate to just come again after that rough fucking brought him back to the edge, and every little nudge makes him whine for it now-- and makes the frat boys laugh around him.
"He wants it too bad," one of them says, and slaps his hip.
"Yeah, gotta tease him..." the blond chuckles, breath hot on his neck. "Tighter, puppy, make it good for me."
His thighs are slick enough, from how wet he's been, how wet he continues to be, and he squeezes harder around the cock pumping between them, eager for praise, some reward. Or for the blond to finish and let the twins spitroast him like he'd imagined.
"You two together aren't as big around as Andy." The pres puts his hand around one of the twins' cocks, laughing when his arm is slapped at in protest.
"Fuck off."
"Just saying, if he can't take you both at the same time, he'll never take Andy. You should fuck him together. Oh, Shawn, don't even pretend your dicks have never touched. We all know they have."
"Fuck off."
It's a petulant little wounded whine, but it's not a no. When the other twin says he's in, the first agrees. The blond's cock only slips in once, just the tip, so that he can add his come to the president's, dripping sloppy and messy from Benj's hole, and then he's being moved along. One of the twins lies down, the other guys lower Benj onto his cock, push him to lie forward, and he lets the shirt slip out of his mouth-- there's no point holding it up, when his tits are pressed flat to the other boy's chest, and he lets out an unmuffled moan as he feels it, a second cock sliding into his pussy, the other three boys cheering as they stretch him open, as he holds them together. Apparently they've done this before-- if not this, something a hell of a lot kinkier. They move together, he's trapped between them, someone's voice in his ear repeating good, so good and sending him into the stratosphere. If he was moaning like a whore just getting to suck Andy off, the noises he's making now... but he's beyond embarrassment. He's getting his second orgasm, fuller than he's ever been before, shaking in the space caged between two lithe, muscular bodies...
He's flipped onto his back there on the floor, when they finish with him, heaving for breath, still trembling, legs splayed open. It's too much, when Andy sucks at his dick, he can't take it. When he hums around him, uses his tongue to drive him absolutely insane with unexpected pleasure. He can feel his hole twitch, over-used, desperate for either a break, or to be stuffed full again... The voices that jeer and laugh over him are far away. Knowing he's still the center of their attention adds to his pleasure, but he doesn't register what they say, only Andy, only the hot, wet mouth that travels up his belly, that closes around one small breast in its entirety. Only the truly enormous cock that slides against him, hot and needy and dripping with everyone's release-- everyone but Andy, who teases him with slow circles of his hips, frotting against him, before he slides in at last, inch by torturous slow inch until puppy is complete and full.
"Good puppy." Andy pulls away from his tits long enough to brush words of praise along his jaw. Doesn't kiss him on the mouth, but he gets his mouth everywhere else he can reach. Fucks long, slow strokes into him before pulling out.
Pulling out? He whines at the unexpected loss, until strong arms lift him up and drape his side over the arm of the couch. Hands squeeze at his chest again, deliver pinches to his tits, his belly, his thighs. Soft taps to his cheek, tacky with dried come, to his flank, before his legs are spread wide, one thrown up over Andy's shoulder as he fucks into him sideways. Someone delivers a flick to his twitching dick that makes him clench down around the enormous cock inside him. Someone's dick is in his face-- someone new, someone he hasn't 'met' yet, fucking his pliant mouth and feeling each desperate moan Andy generates.
They clean him up after. Soapy hands slide over his skin in the shower, too much, too much. Someone whispers gentle praise in his ear and bears his weight, something he couldn't do for himself when a hand delves between his legs and someone else fingers him to an earth shattering orgasm. He's had so many, his every nerve is a live wire stripped bare to pleasure. He only gets a moment to himself so he can take a piss, but once he's done, someone is wrapping a bathrobe around him and pouring Gatorade into his mouth. It's kind of gross, but he's thirstier than he knew it was possible to be, and he's lying in bed pressed to a strong chest, so he drinks every drop they give him. He falls asleep thinking he could like being the frat house's sub.