The Guest Suite

A barely-legal college student and a wealthy dilf cross paths

I can’t believe it’s come to this. My life has finally fallen apart. I am covered in debt. Like, buried alive. Credit card debt that keeps mounting every month that might throw me in jail. This is the only reason I’m going to my step-uncle for help. He’s an insane guy, even my stepfather says so. But he’s the only one who can get me out of a bind.

Clint walks into his stepfathers office. It smells of sex. Wilson speaks up.
“Boy, what are you doing here. You know the only reason to come to my office is if you’re feeling like degrading your humanity a bit.” He said with an evil smile. He was a big man. Very tall, muscular hands, a small belly, and body hair everywhere. A short beard and large hands.
“I-I need money.” I said plainly. I wasn’t going to play any more games than I needed to with Wilson. That got him to smile.
“Okay. Give me a lap dance and you can grab $500 on your way out.” He said casually, typing on his computer.
“It’s a little more than that, sir.” He rolled his eyes.
“How much?” He asked.
“175,000” I said quietly. Now he looked up. His eyebrows were high on his face.
“How does a 23-year-old boy get himself into that much debt? Is that even possible?” He snorted.
“Well, your only option is a temporary or even permanent slave contract.” I looked up with dread but a tiny bit of hope.
“What would that look like?” He sighed.
“Honestly, with your debt, not pretty. You’re a handsome one, so you should be able to get a contract fairly easy. But be warned, for that amount of money, it would likely have very few limits. You’d likely be subject to the possibility of body modifications like piercings, chastity devices, diet control. Essentially full control on your person and mind.” I nodded. I sort of figured I was losing my soul when I walked in here. Better than jail, probably. Probably?
“Y-yes. I realize. But I’ve got no choice, a loan shark is sitting outside my apartment building every day. So I’ll take whoever you got.” He nodded, pulling up a file.
Daxton Cline. 34. He was shockingly attractive, muscular, hairy body and a height of 6’1”. Would this be that bad.
“You must be thinking it might not be too bad. A young, attractive guy. Amateur climber and hiker. But this guy is dangerous. He will most likely be merciless. Verge of a sociopath, really. But he’s the only one on my docket offering money in that constellation, even.”
“I’ll take it!” I said.

Four days later.

I exit a private elevator, walking into a large, modern-gray apartment. I see the slightly familiar, attractive face. He’s in casual clothes, an expensive yet effortless flannel and jeans. I walk up to him, greeting him like Wilson told me to.
“Hello sir. Thank you for affording me this opportunity.” I said. He nodded.
“I don’t have time for formalities. Pull down your pants.” He said. I nodded, too nervous to ignore an order right now. I pulled down my sweatpants, and he took out an elastic band with a device attached. He looped it around my upper thigh, and the mechanism locked. I felt two prongs on my skin. Then, a click of a button. The next thing I now is extreme pain, my muscles clenched, as I fall to the floor without the ability to move a muscle. I groaned, loud.
“Ignore an order, you get a shock. Disrespect me, shock. A hint of anything but full, enthusiastic cooperation, shock.” I listened as I recovered.
“Now strip. You shall not wear clothes in this apartment unless I tell you otherwise.” Groaning at the full-body pain, I tossed off my pants as I got off the ground. I set my shirt, callously folded, on the ground next to it.
“Good. Follow, toy.” He said. I followed him into a large gym room. He sat me down, switched into gym clothes out of my view, and got on the treadmill.
“Stand next to me. If I tell you, get me water. Under no circumstance do you move. Hands behind your back.” I did as followed, mostly out of fear of a shock to my thigh.
He started running, sweat building on his body. I was bisexual, and definitely getting turned on. Then, he turned to me, and I reached for his bottle, but he wadded a big lob of spit at my face. I went to remove it, but a small but painful warning jolt was sent to my thigh. I left it, and it dripped into my eye. This continued for around twenty minutes. By the end, the front of my hair and face was covered in saliva. It got in my eyes, drying on my forehead and upper lip.

After, he took me to the kitchen, to eat.

“Okay. It’s time to eat. We need you on a serious bulk diet, gain some muscle mass.” He said. He took out four burgers from a takeaway bag.
“Every time you refuse a bite, it’s three seconds of electric shock tomorrow, just so you don’t throw it up now.” He said.
He cuffed my hands to the back of the chair, and brought the first burger to my lips. It was delicious, and I’d devoured it. I was fairly tall, so I always had a pretty big appetite. I slowed down on the second burger, though. He had to force me to swallow it down. Then, his hand rested on my belly. Suddenly, he pushed at my abs that turned into a small bulge. I felt gas coming up, and let out a large burp. My entire face turned red.
“Good, my little piggy. No need to be embarrassed, I’m just clearing some room for your food.” He was right, I regained some appetite after he forced another burp out of me. But when the third burger came, I was almost going to explode, and closed my lips.
“Okay, that’s three seconds electrocuted tomorrow.” He said. I opened my mouth hesitantly, and kept chewing. I was so full, but his big, hawk-like brown eyes held my gaze to make sure I was swallowing. After I’d finally finished the third burger, he let me to a bathroom. There was a stool by the toilet. He sat me down, cuffed my hands to the pipe behind the toilet, and stared.
“Get it out so we can eat some more, okay teacup pig?” He said. I shook my head, embarrassed.
“You don’t get embarrassed in front of me. I know you don’t know me that long, but I’m your master. That means, if you don’t follow directions, I’ll castrate you. Or fully remove your dick. I can do any of it. So, how about you start pushing?” He said. Then, he laid a powerful hand on my belly. It was a flat set of abs, now bulging, he pressed down hard with a powerful arm, and it all came out. I was burping, farting, and everything in between. By the end of it, I was sweating.
“Good boy. Now clean yourself out, so we can get to your psychological training.” He said.

This was a computer setup, with my hands and legs chained down. He connected electrodes all over my body. Then, he left the room. The computer turned on, and a question popped up.
“Who is your master?” It prompted. I looked around, then whispered.
“Daxton Cline.” It moved on. It kept asking mundane questions, before reaching something peculiar.
“If your master told you to eat your own scat, would you?” It said. I looked into the camera.
“Uhh- what? That’s dangero-“ the electrode on his abs (they shrunk back to normal) throbbed, and he bent over as much as he could in the restraints from pain.

The session went on the entire night. It would jolt me awake, asking me questions. I now automatically answered.
“Master Cline is my master. I’ll do anything he says. I won’t protest.

He kept me around the house, just following him, and extended hours on the machine.

By the end of the week, he paused me as I automatically went in.

“Bend down, bite off a piece of my big toe’s toenail, and swallow it.

After a week of mental exhaustion and psychological abuse and training, I didn’t even hesitate. I bowed down, giving his toe a kiss like I should, and bit down on the toenail. I got a piece released. I stood back up, showing it to him, then swallowing.

“We can take a break from the machine.” I only wanted what master wanted. I complied, following him into the bedroom.
“Let’s see what else 13 hour shifts in the hole trained you.” He said.
“Slap yourself across the face. Hard.” He said. I instantly complied, ringing my ear with a slap across my face.
“Good. Keep doing it. Don’t stop until I tell you.” I raised my hand, and delivered another blow to my face. And another. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was sobbing, and steadied myself against the wall. But master hasn’t told me to stop. I raised another hand, and delivered another hit to my aching jaw.
“Stop.” He said, and I breathed in relief.
“Good, good piggy.” My dick grew hard. The machine had trained me to be aroused when I heard an association of “pig” when referred to me. It also trained me on the scent of my master’s sweat, body odor, and physical features.

A month later.

I had six hour shifts in the machine each day.

“Master, I really need to cum. Your smell, body, I need to cum. Please, sir.” I said. It’s been two weeks since I came. He nodded.
“But you know pleasure isn’t allowed to slaves?” He said, knowing the answer.
“Yes, sir.” I said. He tapped his lap, and I sat in it. My hands were covered in mitts, which I uselessly swung around. He got me one of my drinks, the only liquid I was allowed. It was a mixture of his sweat from the sauna, spit, and piss. I drank it as he jerked me off. I moaned, loud.
“Who’s a beefy little piggy. Look at your arms. They’re twice the size of mine at this point. Bulging muscle, pure power.” He murmured, it’s true. I’ve been eating solely protein enhancers, and a strict gym routine.
“Flex your muscles.” He said. I did so, my entire body clenching. He admired the muscles. He had me wax my entire body, because he said only real men have body hair. My body was full of piercings I once begged not to get. Large pins through my nipples. Multiple cock piercings. My cock was a huge one, and he kept it that way. He explained that usually slaves were reduced to have cucklings, but he liked my cock I was eternally grateful. He had removed my shock collar a week ago. He controlled me solely by voice, now. He kept expertly jerking my cock. Then, I breathed hard, about to cum. A bit of come came out, and his hand moved back. Then, he slapped my cock, hard. My hands were locked at my sides. Not physically, but he told me not to move them. So they wouldn’t move, not if he stuck a knife in my abdomen.
“Master, master please. Please, enough. It hurts. Please master enough.” I said as I came, extreme pain from the continued hits on my dick.
“Master, please, I can’t handle it. It hurts!” I howled as he continued. This was the thing about master, he could be cruel. He stopped, but continued jerking my sensitive, spent cock. We had learned the hard way that I couldn’t come twice. But he kept jerking, making me scream begs. He stimulated me cock for another agonizing ten minutes as I begged for mercy. Then, he stopped.
“Thank you, master.” I breathed, falling unconscious from the pain.
For most of the day, I would hold his soft cock in my mouth. He sat in his office, socks out, and I would simply keep my mouth on his cock. Every half an hour or so, it would get hard. But it was mostly soft. I liked this part. Inhaling thick sweat in between black pubes. His feet resting in my lap. Sometimes, if I was really, good, he would pet my hair. That was better than an orgasm. I continued suckling. Sometimes, his leg would bend back and kick me. I don’t think there was a reason, but he did it anyway.

Today, master had a new idea.

“From now on, you’re milked every day in the morning. To make sure you don’t enjoy the day.” I nodded.
“Of course, master. I will do whatever you say. If you tell me to take my own life, I will. Because it’s yours.”
He smiled, and gave my dick a tug. But my dick wasn’t hard.
“What do you need to get you started, little piggy?” He asked, grinning.
“Master, thank you for allowing me to cum. I will be on my best behavior today. To get me hard, I need the smell of your groin.” I said. It’s true. Through three weeks of intensive electro-shock therapy, I’d been trained to only get hard to the smell of his underwear.

Three weeks later.

I accidentally moved my arm, holding his hand to stop the torment on my nipple. He was about to twist it 360 degrees. He kicked me out. Set me on the curb and walked away. I didn’t move for 24 hour hours. An elderly woman came by, appalled by my lack of clothing in the twenty degree weather and the clear fact I hadn’t eaten or drunk since he told me to. I can’t.
“Sorry ma’am. I can’t do anything until my master tells me to. After two days, he passed by me outside.
“Muscle piggy did well. Come inside.” I followed him gratefully, freezing.
“I need to see you sorry. Really sorry.”

“Go get some ice torture yourself for me to watch.” He said, sitting down. I did as he asked.
“If you don’t come sniff my hairy chest right, now, I’m removing your cock surgically.” He ten said. I wasn’t sure what to do, since master had given me two orders. I had to torture myself quick. I squeezed my balls, hard, as I licked his sweaty, hairy chest.
“You think that was torture? Go tie yourself to the cross.” I wasn’t sure never to be tied physically, so I stood eagle spread on the cross. He slapped my face, a lot.
“Thank you master.”
“You know how fucked up that is? I’m hurting you, causing you pain. And you thank me?” He said, slapping more. Then, he let me be hard. He pulled off his underwear. The only thing in the world that could make me hard.


——————

It is a lovely day. By ‘lovely,’ I mean a honeyed spherical fire dancing around a cerulean ocean, bone-white cotton balls breaking the blue. I walk into my bathroom and brush my teeth, waking me up for the day. My father works in person while my mom works remote most of the day, so I have it mostly free. The guest, Bill, usually lounges around in his guest room. My parents sometimes ask me about a girlfriend. Sometimes the key words, the liberating words to free myself from the chains I placed come right to the very tip of my tongue, bouncing with chaotic truth. I was into men, but it was more than that. I wasn’t even out, and I was into some more intense kinks—according to my online porn collection, at least. But enough of that, I have to get to class. I’m a graduate student at a local college. I’m studying to be a nurse—I like to help people.

After a first day filled with awkward exchanges, questionably intelligent professors, and about twenty new Instagram followers, I sat down for a quiet dinner with my parents and Bill. He talked about the renovation he was doing at his house, estimating it would take around a month or two. I vaguely recalled the day to their satisfaction. As we each headed up to our individual foxhole in the house, I watched Bill with jealousy. He was an older man, maybe early-to-mid 40s, with a thick, whitening beard and a head that had been buzz cut a few weeks ago. He was a big man, probably 6’3” or 6’4”. He had a stomach slightly protruding but large muscular hands thighs. Anyway, a big guy. He was also successful, renovating a new, larger house. He had struck it rich by building a company from the ground up, and collecting a tidy profit from its IPO. He looked back at me a little weirdly—he had these looks—and went back into his room. I followed suit into my room, opening up my porn collection on my laptop. I scrolled through, finding a a video of a guy spitting at another guy. Then, a knock on my door. I slammed my laptop shut.
“Yes?” I said as I tried to cover my half-hard dick.
“Hey, so I need help with the printer. Does it have like a password or something?” He asked. I sighed in relief and told him to wait there as I speed-walked to the printer. After a few minutes, I set it up for him and returned. He had another weird look, more profound then ever, but he changed it once I got back.
“All fixed. The printer is a little glitchy sometimes.” He look towards me, a told-you-so look on his face. Then he leaned forward, and took a big goop of spit and spit it at my face. It landed to the left of my mouth. I stood there in shock as his handsome, large, masculine face smirked. I licked it up at once, using my hand to slide it all into my mouth. Then, he walked away. Blood screamed through my veins. What the actual fuck was that? Did I just come out? To my mom’s friend? Panic and desire squeezed my lungs as I watched him walk away. I breathed deeply during my shower, my dick at full hardness for the first time in a while. I yanked at it, my brain going back to Bill’s handsome face, that beard with white spots, the sheer size of him. I came, and I quickly washed it away.

I woke up in the morning with morning wood, something I haven’t got in a few weeks. I ignored it, getting ready for the day in a quiet house. I had today (Wednesday) off, so I lingered in bed. Then in a flash, as if I could have forgotten it, last night hit me. Bill had spit on me. Had he seen my porn? He must have. And I… liked it? A lot. I marched down to his room, not really sure what I was gonna do. He looked handsome, and a little surprised. I took my hand and wiped it all over his face. His wet lips, the tips of his nostrils, his eyes, everything. I wanted to have him in my hand. I licked up and down my hand. His eyes burned with desire and a small amount of surprise or confusion, I couldn’t really tell. He took my hand, standing over it for a few long seconds, before unloading a large clump of spit into my palm. I cupped it and walked back to my room, all without saying a word, squeezing hard so no drop escaped. I locked myself in the bathroom and licked at the spit. It tasted weird, sort of like nothing, with a hint of sweetness. I licked at it until it was just sticky residue of my own spit on my fingers, and washed my hands. My dick was rock-hard, pre-cum guzzling out faster than I ever thought was possible. It looked like a mini-orgasm. I jerked it while smelling my hand, smelling of Bill and spit, and came a little violently, shaking.

The next few days, I would come into Bill’s room, and he would be doing some random kind-of important task, and he would pause and spit in my palm. Sometimes he held my leg to stop me in my escape, seeing me lick it up, and sometimes I just escaped to the bathroom. His hard face would convulse with pleasure. Today, I did the same, and as I finished licking my hand in front of him, he took my arm.
“Why do you do this? I mean, why do you come here, why with me?” I thought it was pretty obvious. “Well you’re really hot. Muscular arms, beard, hair.” He nodded and smirked a little, maybe blushed. “I like you. A lot.” I said. And then I left, feeling that growing pit every time I left Bill’s room. I wasn’t even sure if what we were doing was sexual. God knows I hadn’t come close to touching his dick, despite imagining it. I have a dream where after Bill spits in my hand and I clean it up, I just rut against that large bulge harnessed down by thick jeans. This recollection of the dream quickly stopped when he stood up from his normal position in his office chair or spread out with files on the bed. He loomed over my 5’10” figure. His voice was soft and fluffy, kind of like his beard. “I want to- I want to kiss you.” He breathed out. I nodded, and just shoved myself against plump lips and a furry beard. He took over quickly, and I stretched back as he pushed against me. He licked at my entire mouth, sucking intensely as I just took greedy morsels of spit from his mouth, trying to swallow but failing. I finally took the opportunity to touch his body. It was harder than I was expecting, rippling back muscles and forearms. His belly was nice and soft against my chest, as he leaned down further to kiss me harder. Just as I was about to pass out from lack of air, he released me, breathing hard. He smiled at me, and I looked down. I had cum in my pants. He realized what I just noticed, and tapped my bulge, large because of my erect cock. I jumped a bit at the suddenly movement on my dick and because of the wetness slammed against my skin. I quickly ran out to my room and changed underwear and pants, throwing them away.

A week had passed, and I was going more and more to Bill’s room. Sometimes he would just spit in my hand like the first day and I would swallow it all, and sometimes he went for a world-jeering kiss. He was a really good kisser, I realized. I hope I sufficed. We also started talking. A bit at first, sometimes as he was cleaning the mess I made in my pants every once in a while. It was a little bit embarrassing to cum in my pants every few days, especially as he cleaned it up, and not in a (very) sexy way.

At dinner, my parents announced they were taking a trip tomorrow to Europe for a few days, though they may extend it. They were leaving tomorrow because they found cheap business-class tickets. Bill nodded into his meal and I did the same.

The next morning, my parents left bright and early, so we did goodbyes in the evening before. I felt a little braver and freer, so right in the morning, after brushing my teeth, I walked up to Bill’s room. He still hadn’t gotten ready. A furry torso came into view. Bright red nipples burned through a forest of sexy body hair, thick and luscious. Muscular pecs rose above a slightly protruding belly. I turned away—this felt like hardcore porn. I heard a chuckle. “Come in.” I walked in and he was standing at full length. Right in my eye line was a ruby-red nipple, and I gave it a kiss. I licked up from the bottom of his torso to the bottom of his chin. Lots of body hair stuck to me, and I swallowed it. Then, suddenly, just as I was about to keep worshipping the greying strips of hair, he pulled me towards him and landed softly on the bed. TV remote in hand, he put on a comfortable sitcom I liked. As I laid down, still on top of him, I turned and inhaled at his bicep, pointed upwards as his arm bent behind his head. It smelled clean, like man. I couldn’t describe this smell even if I tried. It was the inherent smell of a man: it has this innate marinating sweetness contrasted with the threatening bitterness of sweat. It was intoxicating. His big hands felt at my body softly, almost like a grope and massage combination. We sat there and talked for a little while.
“You know, I’m moving back to my house in a week.” He said. My heart sank. I knew this was coming, but talking about it made it real.
“Uh, yeah.” I said, closing my eyes. I felt safe with Bill. We had been in each others company for a month or two now. I didn’t really know if it counted as sex or dating. We had orgasms, but I mostly appreciated his physical power, confidence, manliness, and kindness. I’m not really sure what he saw in me, but I knew I had a good figure and I was fairly smart.
“You can, you know, come with me. Move out of your parent’s place, “rent” a room in my big place. We can keep…doing this.” He interrupted my train of thought. My first reaction was to say no and think he’s crazy. But I gave it some comfortable thought over his cozy chest. Maybe it would be good to get a change of pace, live somewhere else.
“Uhh. You know what. Yes. Yeah, let’s do it.” I talked into the furry chest. His eyes peaked in glee.
“I’ll handle talking to them, don’t worry yourself about it. I’ve got it under control.” I nodded into him, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Sometimes, I just didn’t have the energy to deal with scheming and planning. Okay, maybe more than ‘sometimes.’

The next day at dinner, Bill proposed to my parents that I stay with him and after getting a job, pay him rent for a room in Bill’s house, that way he gets a more well-rounded change of pace for college like a normal college experience. My mom was hesitant, but my dad, very luckily, thought it was a great idea.
“I don’t see why not. Meredith clearly trusts him and he’s been a family friend for a while. Besides, you won’t live with us forever.” My mom hesitantly agreed.

A week had passed, and my surprisingly small amount of boxes sat scattered around a a beautiful, brand-new home around forty minutes from my parent’s house. Bill loaded all the boxes with his huge figure, organizing them as I asked. By the end of it, he sweat through a white tank top and sniffed at his shirt. I wanted show my gratuity and my insane attraction for the older man, so I kneeled down and planted a kiss at his bellybutton. I sucked around his groin. I slowly pulled down his pants, for one of the few times I saw his dick exposed, covered in jet-black hair. Since I was circumcised, I didn’t entirely understand how this uncut dick worked. His foreskin curled up past the dick, and I sucked on it. He moaned and curled it back, revealing a bulbous red tip. I sucked and licked with the most intensity I could muster, and his tree-trunk muscle legs shook a little. I continued going ham on his dick, pulling out everything I know to bring him to the edge. His hands took control, pumping me onto his dick rhythmically. I timed my breaths as his penis choked me, and eventually he came all over my mouth and face.

After my first-ever blowjob, I felt a little proud of myself. I helped Bill reload all his packed stuff into the house from before the construction. The movers had also arrived with the furniture, and soon enough, the house was complete. It was a modern house that had warm, homey tones with a comfortable couch and hardwood floors.

When the long day was completed, we both plopped down on the couch. I automatically took Bill’s feet as he complained about their ache. His eyes grew very wide and his dick shifted under his pants. Huh, I can make that work for sure. I caressed the buttery feet, feeling in between toes and mushing his feet. He thoroughly enjoyed that, and I’d remember it. When it came time to sleep, he showed me my room. I looked to him suddenly. “Is it ok if I slept—slept with you today?” I asked, feeling a little overwhelmed. He nodded softly and led me down. He got into his bedroom and largely ignored me to get ready.

He stripped down to his underwear, magnificent hair and muscles covering his body. I stripped down to my normal sleeping form, naked. It felt good, this power dynamic of clothing. He wore boxers as I was exposed. It must be some kind of daddy kink.

Except I didn’t really want to call him ‘Daddy.’ I kind of wanted to call him something more respectful, like ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ or something. His handsome, older face came into view as he scorched in near me. For a minute, I timed my inhale to breathe in his exhale. I sniffed at his beard as my eyes felt heavy. I moved closer to his body heat. I felt comfortable. Too comfortable. I had never allowed myself to outwardly attract to a man so obviously before.

I woke up squeezed to Bill’s side. I sat up and looked at him. He had this dad-next-door, P.E. coach feel. He had a rounding nose, thick, rippled wrinkled creases in his forehead and a soft snore. His chest chair caught in the glowing yellow light coming from a large window. I put my nose up to his chest, inhaling it a bit. He stirred, waking up. He ran a hand through his short hair and beard.