THESE EVENTS TAKE PLACE TWO YEARS PRIOR TO THOSE OF "HOW I BECAME THE COLLEGE DORM SLAVE"
No sooner had the invitation finished leaving the senior football player's mouth that I was already rushing into the chaotic frenzy and rubbing shoulders with other big dudes of similar size and stature to my own.
The little punk they - or should I say we - were attempting to control may have been squirmy and slippery as fuck, but he was definitely a poor match for the four comparatively bulky blokes crouching atop his frame and keeping his limbs in check. Much to his own credit though, the brown-haired twerp squirmed and valiantly fought like a fish out of water even though he knew he was badly outnumbered and very sorely outgunned.
The harsh dissonance of growling tape coming from the other side of the room only added to the already discordant orchestra of moans, groans and orders being flung about the place. Luckily for us, the conveniently loud music coming from the living room's main stereo set easily drowned out the many protests escaping from the mouths of our four unfortunate captives.
In any case, the twink myself and my fellow bros were holding down was a relatively scrawny fellow. He couldn't have weighed more than 150 pounds, and even that was being quite generous.
Seeing as how the four guys piled on top of him were all endowed with substantially greater size, strength and muscle than he was, I felt like a third wheel and didn't exactly feel as though my assistance was needed in order to keep the lad from escaping. Still, I assertively barged into the meaty throng and forcibly claimed my own spot in the melee by wedging my muscular frame in between two reasonably broad-shouldered college blokes. My hands, which were quite large as far as hands went, scrambled to be of use to my fellow assailants and eventually grabbed onto the squirming prisoner's twig-like upper arms; greatly reducing their usefulness and mobility.
Thick zip ties the likes of which I'd rarely seen were swiftly passed around and secured around the protesting lad's fragile limbs. Long coils of rope were also pulled into the fray, but getting the prisoner bound up proved a lengthy and tedious affair, mostly due to the sheer number of hands that hungrily fought for involvement in the chaotic restraining process.
The second yet-to-be-bound captive endured a similar fate to our own, but judging from the even brawnier and noisier dogpile taking place atop him, he was undoubtedly deemed more troublesome and slippery than the one we were holding.
Anyways, it didn't take long for one of the more verbally aggressive jocks - the only one apparently too busy to help out - to tire of the very desperate-sounding groans coming from the two bound and gagged prisoners writhing on the floor not far from where he was sitting.
I watched as the reasonably buff bloke - who'd spent the last few minutes burping, farting and absentmindedly gaming on the PS5 console - very angrily rose up from the leather recliner chair, and then watched as he made his way over towards the hogtied captives, yanked both of their heads up and aggressively told them to - and I quote - "Shut the FUCK UP!"
I thought he would leave it at that, but the dominant wifebeater-clad dude was apparently so incensed by the admittedly annoying sound of their muffled cries for help that he squatted down next to the blond prisoner's hogtied body, grabbed a leftover roll of sticky black gaffer tape from off the floor, and started angrily wrapping the stuff around the already-gagged twink's lower face and mouth.
Around and around the tape went, and I don't just mean four or five times.
I'm talking a SHIT-TON of orbits!
The overlapping layers of wide adhesive going around the blond twink's head were so numerous and coming in so fast that I very quickly lost count of them. The impulsive jock-bro didn't stop there, however. After swiftly wrapping what must've been well over a dozen orbits around the panicked dweeb's lower face, he moved the tape higher up and angrily spun additional revolutions around the poor prisoner's nose, eyes and forehead; showing absolutely no concern for the captive's now partially obstructed nostrils.
The dark-haired prisoner shook his head 'no' and screamed into his black lint-ridden sockgag upon noticing the hyper-dominant jock moving towards him with that menacing roll of tape in his hands.
He squirmed for freedom and tried calling for help through his gag, but he too fell victim to the aggressive bloke's unending orbits of uber-sticky, callously applied gaffer tape.
His face rapidly disappeared - much like that of his blond counterpart's - only to be replaced with a featureless mask decorated by nothing more than a hairy dome and a pair of flaring nostrils.
"I swear, the next one who pisses me off gets my FUCKIN' SHOE taped to his face!" the belligerent stud barked, allowing a thunderous *BURP* to escape the cavity of his mouth before finally grabbing the pair of morbidly overworked trainers he so proudly called his own, and then forcing both captives to sample the poignant smell no doubt harboured within them.
Judging from the panicked coughs and screams coming from the two heavily sock-and-tape-gagged prisoners, those massive DC shoes must've smelled every bit as strong and as harrowing as they looked. Quite possibly even more so.
Either way, the angry bro-jock's threat had a definite effect.
The room suddenly fell noticeably quieter after that; a tribute to the weight of his spoken words.
Witnessing the heartless spectacle unfolding before my eyes was thrilling, to say the least. But it's only when I was verbally coerced into taking a somewhat more active role in stifling our own prisoner's incessant complaints that I got a real kick out of this whole affair.
"Dude, cover his mouth up." one of my colleagues assertively demanded, all the while brutishly keeping the twink's elbows pressed together while another slightly brawnier fellow struggled to spin a lengthy coil of rope around them.
I was somewhat hesitant at first, but I successfully managed to put those feelings aside and answered the call for added involvement by presenting one of my fiercely oversized palms to our mildly combative victim's vehemently protesting face.
The instant my warm skin came into contact with his own, the little dude moved his face away, shook his head out of my somewhat sheepish grasp and glared up at me almost as if appalled by what I was proposing.
His clear unwillingness to accept my large palm's muffling embrace gave me pause and caused a momentary bout of hesitation to overtake me. The concept of forcibly removing someone's ability to speak against his own will left me feeling somewhat weird and uncomfortable...so much so that I found myself taking a figurative step back and temporarily halting my attempts at cupping his face inside my broad hand.
Left to his own devices, the pugnacious dweeb once more struggled against his unrelenting bonds; bonds which, unfortunately for him, were growing more numerous and restrictive by the minute.
My fellow jocks didn't relent though. Their near-unanimous calls for my own intervention eventually forced me into making another, albeit more forceful attempt at stifling our victim's mouthy complaints.
The glaring twink faced off against my meaty palm a second time. The expression on his unquestionably handsome face once again betraying clear signs of anger and dissatisfaction with what it was I was trying to do to him.
He let out a series of curses and immediately tried to move his head out of range, but I simply moved my hand closer towards his retreating face and - after several attempts - successfully clamped my oversized palm atop it.
Suffice it to say, the squirmy runt was seriously pissed off.
"Mfffppgghh phgghh...mmmphh!" he semi-comprehensively lashed out; shooting daggers at me with his hazel-coloured orbs and mouthing off what I immediately recognised as colourful insults and anger-induced complaints.
The sound of his muffled speech and the sensation of his moving lips rubbing against the soft underside of my thick palm ignited a mixture of bizarre feelings within me. I felt dizzyingly powerful, and for reasons as of yet unknown to me, it caused a tingling in my groin and a familiar weakness in my thighs.
His spirited attempt at escaping my handgag ensued; something which temporarily resulted in the seemingly panicked prisoner's face once again freeing itself from my tentative grip. Another string of verbal platitudes began streaming from his mouth, but for the sake of my and everyone else's ears, I very promptly and commandingly intervened.
The troublesome lad's rant was suddenly cut short when my undeniably meaty palm caught up to his flailing head and clamped itself atop the entirety of his lower face. The young man predictably moved to pull out of my speech-preventing grip's fear-inspiringly disabling seal, but my other hand very swiftly moved in to bar his escape route; preventing him from getting away.
And so, the mouthy runt quickly found himself lying there, with everything from his chin right up to the underside of his fearful little eyes trapped inside the very silencing embrace of my exceptionally meaty handgag.
He was going nowhere and his verbal complaints would be heard by no one.
"That's right, bitch. Can't say shit now, can you?" one of the studs who'd walked over from the other dogpile mocked; rubbing his crummy sock-clad foot atop my helpless prisoner's dishevelled brown dome and apparently drawing great satisfaction from the defeated twink's newly imposed state of speechlessness.
I was expecting the little guy to try and fight me or at the very least throw a tantrum inside my hand...but strangely enough, he didn't. He just lay there, looking utterly defeated and understandably worried as to the fate that would later befall him.
The huge boner throbbing in between my beefy thighs caused my shiny silver basketball shorts to tent up a solid seven or eight inches in front of me, but none of the other jocks in the room seemed to care or even notice my shamefully prominent arousal. In fact, judging by the way a few of the other guys were also tenting up their own satin shorts and nylon trackies, I very obviously wasn't the only one dealing with a painfully erect hard-on.
I watched as the newly silenced captive eyed my palm up with a look that betrayed a mixture of fear, awe and newfound respect, and then watched as he tentatively lifted his frightened gaze up towards me, almost as if hoping to garner my favour or approval.
Our eyes met, if only for an instant, and then he averted his gaze back down to my palm; which to him must've seemed absolutely terrifying and immense!
He sniffed...or rather tried to; his flaring nostrils struggling to find whatever slivers of available air remained trapped inside my tremendously smothering grip. His face was well proportioned to his smaller-than-average frame, but even so, my hand dwarfed it by a rather significant margin; rendering any and all attempts to vocalise some sort of call for help out utterly pointless.
But yeah, those next few minutes proved unequivocally arousing.
The strangely compliant captive whose face was firmly wedged in my palm remained quiet and submissive, to the point where I quickly came to realise he'd surrendered to my authority and was in a weird trance of some sort.
The level of power I held over him was undeniably intoxicating, and though it felt a bit strange using my own very broad and beefy hands as a means of preventing another guy from being able to call out or communicate, my body was definitely enjoying it.
My boner bobbed around and throbbed as though possessed of a vengeful sentience, and my nutsack felt numb and quite a bit heavier than usual.
I was into chicks and only chicks...but had this little guy been willing and had we been alone at the time, I would've happily rammed his tight mouth onto my colossal eight-inch shaft and shot my load down his receptive throat. Of that, I had absolutely no doubt.
* A PASSIVE OR INVISIBLE ONLOOKER?
* ONE OF THE HUNKY COLLEGE JOCKS?
* ONE OF THE FOUR (UN)LUCKY PRISONERS?