CHAPTER 202 - THE OLD MYSTERY SOCK
Thursday, May 21 (2:40 AM)
Master Shawn gave me a few seconds to eye up the old sock before standing up and reaching for the roll of heavy duty duct tape he'd previously placed on his computer desk. He was about to squat back down next to my face again, but then mumbled something about the duct tape probably being too noisy to use at this tardy hour.
And so, instead of using his older cousin's super sticky construction-grade tape, the burly, underwear-clad basketball player rummaged inside his gym bag and extracted a small roll of white athletic tape; the same tape Zack had fished out of his own gym bag a few weeks earlier.
By the time my beastly captor crouched back down over my face, my engorged, yet very much unreachable boner stood at full attention and leaked pre-cum like sap coming out of a main vein.
The mystery surrounding the origin of the sock remained, but was lifted up a bit when Shawn revealed that it had been snatched from behind the washroom's main laundry hamper; a hamper he and Mike were not in the habit of using.
I don't know why, but the whole thing about no knowing whether it belonged to Chris or Joey really excited me a lot.
So you can probably understand the level of ecstasy that washed over me when Master Shawn picked the back of my head up with his great, big hand and brought the smelly piece of cloth down over my defenseless face.
"Here, get your little nose in there." he ordered, 'causing me to put on a little show and resist a bit.
A lesser Dom might've been angered by my sudden display of defiance.
But Shawn had some of Nick's blood running through his veins, and even in his inexperience, his senses were sharp enough to know that this was all just an act and that I genuinely enjoyed the process of being forced into compliance.
Twisting my face left and right to avoid the sock was kind of impossible with the blond man's big bear paw holding the back of my head up. But my brutish captor played his part by crumpling the old mystery sock up into a ball and slowly clamping it down over my disgruntled face.
Getting into my role, I immediately crinkled my nose into a grimace and locked my lips together.
But instead of inhaling a lungful of air before the smelly thing made it over my nose, I purposefully expelled all the air from my lungs, knowing full well that it would leave me with no other option than to flare my nostrils open once the sock was in place.
The crumpled up wad of moldy fabric finally came down over my face, swallowing my nose and covering my diminutive mouth in the process.
I fought to try and get away, but with the escape-proof sleepsack keeping me in place and the the super fat sleeping bags zipped all the way up to my neck, it was a hopeless cause.
Shawn's massive arms and biceps bulged as he held my head up with one hand and used the other to bury my face up under the sock.
His hands were as big as my face and his biceps were absolutely huge and meaty, so it's not as though my feeble attempts to get away were giving him any trouble.
The hunk could've crushed my face to a pulp if he'd wanted to, but luckily he was careful and simply used his massive paws to smother my face with his roommate's funky sock; whichever roommate that was.
"Where d'you think you're goin', bitch? Sniff." he ordered, a discreet smirk pulling at the right corner of his otherwise straight lips.
I did sniff, and as soon as my nostrils flared open, a strong tingling sensation hit my groin and nearly caused me to cream myself on the spot.
"Mhhhhgggg." I moaned, obeying my super muscular Alpha-Dom captor and taking a deep whiff of the old, moldy-smelling mystery sock.
Shawn licked his lips and watched as I sampled the foul thing.
He held the bundle over my nose and forced me to smell it a second time, and a third time after that.
Funnily enough, the oversized bulge inside his big black Diesel briefs was getting noticeably larger and harder at the sight of me sniffing the funky old ankle sock.
Now as far as the sock itself, it would've been considered ripe and smelly by anyone's standards.
But keeping in mind that the blond construction worker who'd taken me on as his personal houseboy and claimed me as his own property had something next to the WORST smelling feet on the planet, the old sock Shawn had found lying next to the washroom's laundry hamper wasn't so bad.
It could've been worse.
A LOT worse.
Don't get me wrong though, the smell coming out of that crumpled up fucker was a definite test of endurance and pushed at the very boundaries of what I considered acceptable.
But even though the fetid fabric smelled stale and musty, it was infinitely milder than the pungent socks Shawn had been wearing today, and considerably milder than the putrid athletic sock Zack had used to keep me quiet back when Jeremy made his reappearance a few weeks ago.
Still, the thing stank and could not, in any way, shape or form, be described as clean.
When Master Shawn finally ordered me to open my mouth up and take my gag in, I was immediately reminded of the significant size difference between myself and the two jocks the old sock potentially belonged to.
Chris and Joey were both tall and built up like brick shithouses.
In other words, they were both big and buff and they both had really large feet.
I would've easily been able to handle one of my own ankle socks.
But this one was MUCH bigger than the ankle socks I was accustomed to wearing.
The thing was longer than my face and would
easily take care of packing my cheeks full.
Not that I would have it any other way, mind you.
When the time to surrender my mouth finally came, my dominant captor didn't have to tell me twice.
The second I received the order to open up and allow the sock entry, I parted my lips as wide as I could and flattened my tongue down so that the sock would more fully gag me.
Giant fingers slowly pushed the moldy fabric in, and as soon as it touched my tongue, a foul, cheesy musk began assaulting my senses.
I got no chance to refuse my gag and was given no other option than to accept it into my mouth.
Shawn held the back of my head inside his great, big palm and used his other hand to cram the imposing stinker inside my oral cavity.
I kept my yapper open and remained perfectly still and silent throughout the entire stuffing process.
Having learned from his experience back at Brad's cottage, and having been personally mentored by his older cousin, the buff 21-year-old took his time and took great care in ensuring that my mouth was adequately packed and stuffed.
There would be no mouthing off.
There would be no calling for help.
And there would be absolutely NO talking.
Master Shawn demanded silence and he would get it.
I wasn't quite able to close my mouth around the sock when he told me to, but the beefy, blond brute helped me out by pushing the protruding fabric a little deeper in between my lips, filling my cheeks up a little more, and allowing my lips to close up almost fully.
All things considered, it was a very comfortable, very muffling gag to be dealing with.
The thing stank of moldy cheese and stale corn, but best of all, I still had no idea who's toes I was tasting or who's sweat I was sucking on.
That bit of uncertainty added something truly special to my current predicament, and I couldn't wait for the damnable thing to be taped up inside my mouth.
Unable to stop myself from testing the efficacy of my new gag, I bit down on hefty stuffing and attempted to get a low moan out past my lips.
"Mmmgggpph..." I called out, reveling in the fact that the old mystery sock was not letting me mouth off at all.
My attempt to make some noise was so subdued that Shawn didn't even bother looking at me while using his teeth to unwrap the end of the super sticky athletic tape off the roll.
My head was held up and my right cheek felt the familiar pull of the white adhesive as it latched onto my skin.
Defiant to the last, I purposefully tried pushing the wad out just as the tape was being pulled over the protruding fabric that stuck out from in between my partially closed lips.
The strong athletic tape halted my efforts and pushed the sock back down where it belonged, causing my muscular captor to suppress an amused chuckle and continue wrapping his sticky gym tape all the way around my head.
Shawn's colossal arm muscles bulged as he pulled the adhesive over my mouth a second time, then a third time and a fourth, until finally I lost count.
I just lay there and allowed the hunk to seal his roommate's sock inside my mouth, powerlessly looking on as his huge arms, shoulders and pectorals bulged from all the effort he was putting into making my tape gag nice and tight.
This was, in all honesty, one of the most pleasurable moments I'd had in weeks.
And as much as I wanted to remain angry at Shawn for having blackmailed me and dragged my ass to his apartment, part of me was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I was enjoying myself far more than I actually cared to admit.
The hunk had crossed a line earlier.
But maybe,
just maybe, given time and a proper heartfelt apology, I could bring myself to forgive him and agree to sweep his misguided actions under a rug, so to speak.
He was winning some points with me right now, but the coming days would reveal whether he was truly worthy of my forgiveness or not.
Only time would tell.