The morning after was rough. Not surprising, I had endured a punishing headscissors for most of the night and my second, in 48 hours.
I could still feel pressure on my neck from Tim's thighs. That feeling, lasted all day.
Tim was gone but his sweat and cum stained my sheets. His body imprint was visible, where he had stretched out on my pillow, while I struggled on his crotch.
I felt beaten, stiff and sore. For all the pain and discomfort, there was excitement and arousal too.
I tried to make sense of his motivation. Tim was, as far as anyone knew, straight. His reputation, that of a college jock. I always suspected he had a rough edge, but never imagined the extent to which, domination, excited him.
That night, I had managed to glimpse him, on a few occasions, as he targeted me. His expression was focused, confident, cocky. From my perspective, he thrived on his position of power.
He was masterful at it too. He understood the power of his legs and the mechanics of his choke hold. He knew exactly where to imprison me on his muscle, to maximize impact.
The rest was about controlling me with pain, to elicit whatever response he wanted.
This was our new, non verbal language. Tim would control me without speaking. I was learning how to yield to his commands and satify him.
It was more than just about dominance, punishment and control for Tim. He relished in his humiliation of me. Sometimes, when he had me on the edge of submission, he would stare at me and whisper into my ear 'your'e pathetic, you know what you have to do'.
He somthered me into his crotch and used his cock to humiliate me too.
Tim never seemed to tire of my ordeal. I was overpowered by his body, for hours at a time.
For me it was extreme. He was genuinely tough, aggressive and strong. I was outmatched by him and escape wasn't an option.
His hard, muscled body, felt so good around me. I was in awe of his strength and of his authority.
My battle, was to to survive his onslaught and control my arousal.
How was I going to move forward now? I had to get him out of my head. I had to regain control of my cock and let it recover.
I hoped, a shower would ease my pain. But then a flashback to the night before. A detail I'd forgotten. I almost thought it was a dream but now it was clear.
As I slept between his legs, I felt Tim shake. It was dark and his balls covered my eyes. But I knew that smell. He was jerking off. It seemed to last all night, the grunts and shudders and smell, or was he jerking repeatedly during the night?
What was clear is that he used my face as his cum rag. I felt him lift me up by my hair and plaster cum into my face.
That explained why my face felt sticky and that was the pungent odour in the shower mist.
My cock stood hard pointed at the ceiling. Jet's of power shower water, rained down on it.
My knees weakened, I buckled in deep orgasm, breathing in Tim's vapour.
I wondered how I would survive living with Tim, being dominated like this every night.
As it turned out, Tim didn't last long in college. He had managed to secure a place because of his athleticism and rugby prowess. By mid term he had lost his place, following a series of fights with other players and students.
I finally had my bed back, but only on week nights. Tim found a job near his parents home and he made my room, his, at weekends, and whenever else, he wanted.
Our friendship was in many respects a normal one. Beer, pool and snooker, gym, parties. Just two friends hanging out .
On a deeper level, Tim dominated me. We never spoke about it, but I was clear on the rules. Never physically challenge him, or it would end in my submission.
In public others probably put this down to messing, but I knew better. It was subtle, one night we were drinking and a dorm fight broke out. There were four of us grappling. The other two had a quick fight and resumed their drinking. Tim targeted me, headlocked me, submitted me, kept me in that choke hold for an hour to amuse the others. To them it looked like fun, but out of their sight, he roughed me up for his own satisfaction.
In private it was full on domination and Tim was relentless. There were times he needed to unload and he was unstoppable.
It was mid week and Tim was visiting. He had a big rugby match near the campus. He arrived at our apartment before the game, to leave his bags. That meant Tim was staying the night. My bed would be his, again, that night.
Around midday, the door buzzed, it was him. He was early, his match was later that afternoon.
On the day of a big match Tim was always psyched up and full of testosterone. That day he was like a bull, ready to charge.
From the moment he entered the house, he wanted to fight me. I can't remember exactly how it started, but one moment I'm answering the door and the next I was in a standing side headlock.
I knew that feeling well, this was one of Tim's favourite attacks, to open a fight. He is smaller than me so I was bent over, my face embedded in his bicep, his forearm under my throat.
It was rock solid, I had no room to manoeuvre, I couldn't reach his head or legs, just his waist. Tim could submit me anytime he wanted with a choke, but this was only the start.
Tim wasn't wasting any time, he dragged me upstairs. He was one step up from me. With each step he climbed his headlock tightened, until I reached his level and then tightened again as he took the next step.
There were three flights of stairs and two landings. On the second landing there was a mirror on the wall. Tim stopped in front of it. He forced me to witness, him, headlocking me.
Tim said nothing, but in the mirror he looked proud and powerful. It felt like we were in front of that mirror for twenty minutes or more. The entire time he worked his choke hold on me.
I know his goal was to reinforce his dominance over me but it was also to admire his own prowess. The mirror offered the perfect picture to feed his ego. He was strong, muscular dominant and in control of me.
I was drawn to his physical perfection too. Tim stretched every inch of his blue jeans to breaking point. It looked like his cock and legs were ready to rip his jeans asunder. On top, his white t shirt struggled to contain his abs, pecs and shoulders. To the side his steely, sinewed arms ad bicep peaked into my face.
The pressure was intense and the heat too from his body. I was stuck, trapped and turned on by him. He was in no hurry, this was pleasure for him.
When he was done, he forced me up the final flight of stairs and into my room. I landed on the floor with him on top of me. I was still in his headlock, but now felt the weight of his upper body crush me too.
He wrestled me along the floor into a corner and used his feet to push against the wall to add even more pressure on me. His bicep and forearm, tightened in, on me.
'Submit..Submit'. By the time he demanded submission, I was already defeated.
The next thirty minutes was brutal. Tim working that headlock aggressively, demanding repeated submission.
I was completely drained and we were both covered in sweat.
Tim's phone buzzed. It must have been a reminder, it was time, for his rugby match.
'You better go Tim'. Tim was eager to get to his match on time, but his animal instinct was fixated on me.
Tim grabbed his socks and rugby boots off the floor, threw them in his gym bag and set off down the stairs again.
On the landing, in front of the mirror , he dropped his gym bag and tightened his choke hold on me.
'Open it'. Tim was staring down at his bulge. 'Eh...aaaash'. I couldn't get the words out and he didn't want to know anyway.
Tim had ordered me to unzip his fly and release his cock. There was no negotiation, if I didn't obey, the punishment would be ramped up.
I was only able to use one hand to unzip him. His crotch was almost level with my head and to my right.
Watching myself in the mirror, headlocked by him, struggling to release his cock was intense. Finally I touched it , it thickened, launched forward and stood erect in front of me.
'You know what you have to do'.. Tim's order was clear. He needed pre match relief.
I know the shape and feel of my cock. I'd felt Tim's in my mouth before and my tongue was familiar with every inch of it.
This was different. I had a unique view from the side. If I squinted upwards I could see it was thick, rigid and tall. Just to my side view; his balls, pubic hair and cock base.
Tim's balls were imposing, weighty and virile. Brownish / blackish pubes spiked out of his testicles and over his crotch.
I had to find his shaft and fulfill his demand to service him. Up high to my right I felt it and could make part of it out, in the mirror.
It felt warm, muscular and it throbbed. Tim was cut . I stroked his shaft with my fingers and started to massage him with my fist.
He stood solid, working his headlock, watching me obey. I needed to cum but was trapped.
I touched, felt, kneaded, pushed, pulled, twisted , every inch of his cock to stimulate him.
It took a lot to satisfy Tim. My wrist and arm ached but anytime I tried to take a break, he tightened his headlock again.
I was exhausted and breathing heavily. He was still physically solid and perfect.
I felt his choke hold tighten and found myself flat in the floor, in front of the mirror. He stood above me and before I could speak, he blasted me with his cum.
It was everywhere; in my eyes, hair, all over my face. The smell and taste was familiar to me.
I cleared enough from my eyes, to see him stuff his cock back into his jeans. He caught me glancing at him, spat on me and said 'clean it up'.
I felt him go down the stairs and heard the door close. Tim was gone, I was finally able to touch my own cock. It reacted instantly and showered cum over the mirror.
I lay there recovering, for an hour after Tim left. I couldn't shake the thought of him,the smell of him, the feel of him. I didn't want to either.
That was the first time he had used me to unload before a match.
While I cleaned up his cum, He was probably ploughing through other lads and scoring tries on the pitch.
There appeared to be no limit to his aggression, fitness, or desire to win.