The summer of John's sophomore year at Stanford was the summer he discovered that his mom owned slaves. Sex slaves.
"We're not really slaves," Rodney explained. "We're contract workers who don't get paid until the end of the contract. The fact that our jobs involve sex is beside the point"
Rodney was hot, was roughly John's age, and was John's mom's houseboy. If that had been a euphemism, John would have been out of there in a shot, but when he sort of asked, Rodney shook his head.
"No no no. I'm here to do the grocery shopping and serve as an after dinner mint for any of her guests who like boys."
Rodney didn't act like a sex slave, or at least he didn't act like any sex slave John had ever read about in porn. He wore jeans and polo shirts and smirked when he thought no one was looking. And, occasionally, he got in trouble because he did it when people were looking.
John had stayed up late and as he came into the kitchen to get a snack, he found Rodney in one corner of the room, his pants dropped around his ankles and his ass bright red. When Rodney turned to look at him, John could feel his eyes getting even bigger; Rodney was gagged with something that looked like a horse's bit.
John felt like his cock went from zero to 60 in under a second as the things Rodney had explained--that as long as he took no damage, anything could be done to him--suddenly hit home.
He and Rodney stared at one another across the big kitchen and then Rodney stepped out of his jeans, turned around and knelt, his knees spread, his palms on his thighs and his head down. He was hard.
"Can I take the gag off you?"
Rodney shook his head and John frowned. He kind of wanted to ask if...to tell Rodney to blow him and now he wasn't sure what to do. Rodney looked up and then ducked his head before turning around again. John wasn't sure how he managed to make it look so easy, but a moment later Rodney was on his knees and elbows, his reddened, welted ass in the air.
"Jesus," John muttered. Walking over, he looked down at Rodney. "No condoms."
One of Rodney's hands came up off the ground and he pointed to his jeans. Kneeling, John dug around and found a condom in one of Rodney's pockets. He was about to dig around for lube, when Rodney reached back and...holy fuck, Rodney was holding himself open and John could see that he wasn't going to need lube, that Rodney was slick.
"Oh fuck," John groaned as he fumbled his sweats down and got the condom on. Lining himself up, he pushed cautiously into Rodney, who rocked back. John could take a hint and he batted Rodney's hands out of the way, grabbed Rodney's hips and slammed in. Rodney was hot and tight and for a moment John was sure he'd gone too far until Rodney groaned. The muffled sound reminded John that Rodney was gagged, that Rodney was...was a slave and that John could do whatever he wanted.
He fucked Rodney hard; it was rough and brutal and unlike any sex John had ever had, and through it all, Rodney moaned and whimpered. When he came, his hands tight on Rodney's hips, he almost passed out, it was that good.
"God," he panted, leaning back to sprawl on his ass. Almost immediately, Rodney moved, reaching for the towel that was hanging off the fridge handle. Never leaving his knees, he dealt with the condom and cleaned John up, and only then did John realize that Rodney hadn't come.
"Jerk off," he said. "I want to see you come." Rodney obeyed, dropping a hand to his cock and jacking it slowly. "Faster," John said. "Harder.
In almost no time at all, Rodney moaned and looked at John pleadingly. It took a moment for John to realize that Rodney was asking for permission to come, and he nodded. "Yeah, do it."
Watching Rodney come was almost as hot as Rodney asking for permission to come and John felt his dick twitch a little.
"Can the gag come off yet?"
Rodney shook his head and looked at the clock before holding up five fingers.
"Okay," John said, standing up and pulling up his sweats. "As soon as you can take it off, come up to my room and we'll go for round two."
Rodney gave him an approving look and John would swear that he was thinking "and it's about time."