An Obedient Jock

All characters are 18+ 

Part 1 of 2 

BDSM

I had to forgive people for thinking that I had it all. I mean, from the outside, I guess that it certainly looked that way. My mom was a CEO and my dad owned a ton of properties, so money was never an issue for us.

Because they worked so much, they started enrolling me in as many clubs and sports teams as they possibly could when I was a kid. Anything that would keep me out of the house long enough for them to have their careers was fair game, so I'd played football, basketball, soccer, swimming, wrestling, you name it.

By the time I'd reached eighteen, I'd narrowed it all down to swimming because I didn't have the time anymore, but all of that sport had afforded me a pretty hot body if I do say so myself.

I was relatively handsome, too. Everyone in my family was, which usually added to the jealousy that some people in school had. I wasn't a bad person, but after years of trying to defend a life that I didn't choose, I guess I became a bit cold.

I wasn't a bully, but I wasn't the kindest guy on the planet either. I found myself trying to uphold some sort of tough guy attitude that seemed to go hand in hand with my lifestyle. The hot, rich high school jock couldn't ever been seen to actually be nice to people, so I just kinda' went with it.

Melissa was my girlfriend. Naturally, she was very attractive and one of those snobby assholes that nobody liked but everyone pretended to. I don't think either of us actually liked each other, but once again, it felt like we were somehow forced into a relationship by everybody around us.

So yeah, on the outside my life looked pretty sweet. I had the looks, the body, the money and the trophy girlfriend. I drove a nice car, lived in a nice house, and my folks were about to pay out of pocket for my entire college tuition as well as a sleek little apartment in the city. What nobody knew however, was that I had a secret.

Now, people might think that my big secret was that I was gay, but honestly, if I was gay I would have come right out and said it. Being gay wasn't a big deal. In fact, being gay would have been a lot more enjoyable than being in a relationship with Melissa! But I wasn't gay, not completely, anyway.

I don't know when the feelings started but what I do know, is that they felt so painfully wrong that I spent a long time trying to deny their existence. It wasn't a simple case of being turned on by the guys in the changing rooms or searching up gay porn in the dead of night, it was so much more than that.

Hell, I'd probably seen a thousand naked guys throughout my years on sports team, and I don't ever remember doing anything but comparing sizes. I had no sexual attraction towards men, what I had was much deeper than that.

I was a powerful guy in almost every sense of the word. Physically, I was bigger and more muscular than almost every guy in school. Financially, I had more money than all of them combined. I don't say that to brag, I say it because my secret desire was a stark contradiction to that.

Something happened just a few weeks ago, and since then, my life has been transformed.

Some guy from school threw a party. There was nothing unusual about it, and of course I, along with most of the other popular people were invited. It was a pretty standard house party, and nothing exciting happened apart from a whole bunch of teens getting fucked up on cheap beer and god knows what else.

I didn't live far, so eventually I left and began the walk of shame back home. It was dark, cold and miserable, and about halfway there, I stopped to relieve myself. I thought nothing of it and pissed contently before getting home and crawling into bed.

The next morning, as I lay there in an alcohol induced coma, my dad pounded at my door and I woke feeling like death warmed up.

To cut a surprisingly long story short, I'd been caught on some dude's Ring doorbell pissing on his lawn. To me, it wasn't that big of a deal. Hell, even my dad was rolling his eyes, but whoever this stuck up asshole was, he had demanded an apology from me or he was going to the cops.

Hungover, tired and perhaps still a little drunk, I showered, dressed and made my journey toward the crime scene. I had to admit that I was pretty pissed about the whole thing. The fact that I was being forced to apologise to some stranger for taking a leak was infuriating, but eventually I reached his picturesque little house and wrapped on the door.

I expected some nerdy old man to appear. Someone who had been bullied through high school and was now seeking revenge before he kicked the bucket. I even stood extra puffed up to intimidate him, and then the door opened, and I deflated like a balloon.

The guy must have been six foot five at least. He was so bald that his head was shiny. His face was sharp, his jawline was rugged, and his large, muscular body seemed to stretch his clothes to breaking point. I gawped.

"You the kid who pissed in my lawn?" He asked, with a voice so hard it almost hurt.

"Y... Yes sir" I replied instinctively, confused at the sudden switch in my brain.

The man stared at me with a look of complete authority. He was surely a cop, because I'd never met anybody who could make me tremble with nothing more than his presence.

"Well, have you got something to say?" He pressed, crossing his bulging arms.

"I... I um... I'm sorry" I gulped, "I was drunk and I wasn't thinking, it um... It won't happen again".

"You bet your ass it won't happen again" he growled, "would you piss in your own front lawn?"

I wanted to get angry. I'd apologised and there was nothing else I could do, and now this dude was reading me my rights. I wanted to be pissed, but I clung onto every word and shocked even myself.

"No sir".

"So why do you think it's acceptable to do it on someone else's property?"

"I uh... I um..."

"Uh um uh" he mimicked, and I lowered my eyes.

I'd never been spoken to like that by anyone in my life. Who did this guy think he was? Did he have any idea who I was?!

"Sorry" I eventually managed again, and for a split second, I saw his demeanour change.

"How old are you?" He asked, and I told him. "So old enough to know better" he added, and I nodded.

The two of us stood there for a moment before the man extended his hand, and rather surprisingly, I shook it.

"The names Mr. Evans" he said, squeezing my hand so hard I almost gasped.

"Troy" I groaned.

"Troy" he sniggered, "let me guess, you're the popular rich kid, huh?"

I forced a half laugh.

"Well, Troy" he smiled, "I have some work that needs doing around here, and I could sure use a strong young man like yourself to help me out, so what do you say?"

I gawped.

"I um... I really can't" I winced, "I have uh... I have stuff to do today".

"Oh really?" He asked with a smirk, "because your dad tells me that you're free all weekend, and I intend to make use of that free time".

So that was that. I didn't argue with him, even though the idea of slaving away for a complete stranger whilst slowly dying from a hangover was less than ideal. Something about him made me feel something I'd never felt before.

With Mr. Evans, I wasn't Troy Deleware, the star sportsman, the rich kid, the hot, popular swimmer. I was some punk eighteen year old, and he was in charge. I shouldn't have liked it, but I did.

"Don't forget the edges" Mr. Evans said, standing behind me with a coffee in his hand whilst I cleaned his windows for him.

"Morning Mrs. Linders" I heard him say, and turned to see an old woman hobbling by.

"Did I tell you to stop?" He asked seriously, and I turned back, cursing under my breath.

By the time the winter sun had dipped behind the houses, I was utterly exhausted. Thankfully, I'd sweated the hangover out of me, but I was still drained. Mr. Evans inspected everything I had done with a fine fucking tooth-comb. He swiped for dust, checked for missing parts and even had me go over some things two or three times!

"Take your shoes off at the door" he told me as he invited me in.

Once again, I should have left, but the man had intrigued me, so I kicked off my sneakers and followed him inside.

His house was neater and more organised than any house I'd ever been in before. We had a damn cleaner, and his place was still insanely tidy in comparison. I walked into the living room and he left me there. There were some photographs around the room, all of which showed some very handsome men wearing army uniforms. One in particular showed one extremely handsome young man holding a badge.

"The day I received the Distinguished Service Cross" he told me, "Afghanistan 2003, I was twenty years old".

I stared at it in awe. Now it made sense.

Mr. Evans handed me a glass of water which I eagerly accepted. When I'd gulped it down, I glanced at him and rather sheepishly, stood in silence.

"I've met a few people like you in my time" he said, his stern eyes holding me in place. "I can see it from a mile off".

I expected him to talk about me being a rude, disrespectful little asshole, but he didn't.

"You crave it, don't you?"

Even though I shouldn't have known what he was talking about, something inside me did know. Our eyes met and I nodded.

"Yes" he nodded, "I expected as much". The man stepped toward me until I could smell his pleasant aroma. "Boys like you, deep down inside, you know that you need it".

My heart began to thunder in my chest. How did he know? How did I know? It didn't make sense, yet everything about it felt right. I stood stoically still as he spoke.

"A firm hand" he continued, in barely more than a harsh whisper, "a guiding light. A stern touch. A master. An owner".

His breath washed over my ear and a shiver ran up my spine. It felt like a movie or a dream, but Mr. Evans was right there.

"Is that what you want Troy?" He breathed, "do you want to be owned?"

I never thought I'd hear those words. I never thought I'd hear any of this, and I certainly never thought that I'd nod my head and nervously utter the words, "yes sir".

"Then take off your clothes and get into position".

I didn't know if it was a sexual pleasure that I felt when I heard it, or something deeper. What I did know, was that something inside of me had changed in the hours that I'd been here, and now it was about to be changed even further.

I undressed. I don't know why I undressed, but I did. I peeled off my sweaty t-shirt, kicked off my sneakers, pulled down my pants and stood in the man's living room wearing only my boxer shorts and socks.

It happened too fast to make sense of it, but when I finally got there, I was both shocked and slightly excited.

Mr. Evans watched me all the way through. He didn't bat an eyelid, he simply stared at me until finally he tugged at the waistband of my underwear and said "lose them".

I swallowed a lump in my throat but shimmied my boxers down my legs.

"Socks too" he added in that stern voice, "when I say undress, I want you naked".

Fuck, this was doing things to me that I'd never felt before. The simple act of undressing had become almost overly arousing. My seven inch cock began to inflate almost instantly, and now I felt really ridiculous as I tried to cover it.

"Your position" the man continued, "will be your foundation for everything".

He grabbed my wrists in his strong hands and pried them away from my boner. I allowed him to place both of my hands behind my head, but truth be told, even if I hadn't allowed him, his strength dwarfed mine.

"Your hands remain behind your head to signify that you are open" he explained, making me interlock my fingers. "Your legs remain spread, shoulder width apart to signify that your openness is both mind and body".

Using his boot, Mr. Evans gently kicked my legs apart.

"Your chin sticks up" he continued, tapping the underside of it until I was staring at the corner of his wall. "And your butt sticks out". He grabbed my waist and pulled it back slightly.

"This is your position" he said, standing back, "you will practice it at home in a mirror until it's perfect, do you understand me, boy?"

"Yes sir" I gasped.

"Good. We have a lot of work to do, and I intent to get started immediately".