Rough Trade

Ted’s head is spi

Larry curls his upper lip and gives him a look as if he had crawled out from under a rock. “Liked it? Shit. You wouldn’t ask if you’d been there. If you’d seen him eating alone down in the dining hall every night. If you’d heard him crying himself to sleep in his room at night. You think he liked being the fraternity fuckhole? Stevie boy hated it. Hated every minute of it.

“Hated me most of all. After all, I was the one that slipped the cattle prod up his ass that night. The one that cracked his cherry, split his ass wide open for all the Gods to fuck. Hated me especially, ’cause I had the biggest dick in the house. You should’ve heard him squeal and carry on every time I’d slip my cunt-buster up his tight little chute. Liked it? Shit, you’d have to be queer to ask a question like that.

“No, Stevie boy wanted out. About a month after Hell Week I was nosing around in his room, found a letter on his desk. Addressed to his daddy back home in Beaumont—begging the old man to let him quit Omega. Nothing too specific, of course. Just a bunch of crap about how we all picked on him, how he didn’t fit in. Stuck that letter in my pocket, and the next morning at breakfast I called him up to the front of the hall. Made him read it out loud in front of everybody. The guys laughed their heads off. Stevie boy started stuttering and crying, saying he was sorry, saying he wouldn’t send it.

“But that’s not what I had in mind. I made him send it. Stood over him while he licked the stamp and stuck it in the mailbox. Then took him back to my room and gave him a taste of what happens to squealers in Omega House. Stevie boy could hardly walk for a couple of days after that.”

“So then—his father let him quit the house?”

Larry shakes his head. “You don’t understand a damn thing, do you? Oh, his old man wrote back all right. Like I knew he would. I got my hands on that letter before Stevie boy had a chance. It was just what I expected.

“I called him up that night at di

“We had quite a laugh out of that one. Had quite a gang-bang with Stevie boy that night, me and Gary and the other Gods. Even brought out the cattle prod again. ‘Daddy says open wide and suck my big dick…Daddy says bend over and spread those cheeks so this upperclassman can screw you like a two-bit whore—Daddy says grab your ankles and brace yourself, cocksucker, ’cause you’re about to get a shock.’”

Larry laughs out loud.

“Stevie boy didn’t give us much trouble after that, no matter how rough we got with him. No matter how miserable we made him—and we worked damned hard to make made his life a living hell. A couple of times he got desperate, even threatened to go to the dean. But of course all we had to do was wave that picture under his nose. That always kept him in line. Kept him in his place—down on his knees, or bent over grabbing his ankles with his naked butt in the air.”

Larry slides down in his chair. He narrows his eyes and squeezes the bulge ru

“But he never did get used to taking my big dick up his ass. Those nights when I’d call him into my room, make him sit and twirl on it till noon the next day. Have to slap his face to make him stop blubbering and begging to get off. Yeah, Stevie boy’s hole was always tight, no matter how many times I cored him out.

“Must’ve hurt like hell. ’Course I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had anything up my ass—well, that’s not quite true. I used to like spending a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon with Stevie boy’s tongue wiggling around up my chute while I beat off. With his nose pressed into my balls and his mouth clamped onto my hole, eating me out. That boy sucked ass even better than he sucked cock.”

Ted’s eyes travel back and forth. From Steve’s face, smiling and i

“So—so what finally happened to him?”

Larry knits his eyebrows and gives him a long, dark stare. “Seems to me you haven’t been doing what I told you to, cocksucker. Seems to me you haven’t been calling me sir. ”

Ted doesn’t resist. Saying the words makes his mouth water, makes his cock throb in his pants and his asshole twitch. “Sir. Please. Tell me what finally happened to him. Tell me what happened to the fraternity fuckhole…”

Larry flashes a thin smile and nods. “Well, about midterm we got a letter from the dean. Seems Stevie boy’s grades were dragging the whole house down. His grade point average was shit. Guess he didn’t have much time to concentrate on his courses. Guess it’s not easy taking notes in class when you’re sitting in a hard wooden chair with a big plug stuffed up your ass, and your ass is already blistered from getting whipped that morning, and sore inside from getting dicked by four or five guys the night before. And you know the same thing is go

“So I made a personal phone call to Steve’s daddy down in Beaumont to explain the situation. Told him I realized that he was one of our biggest sponsors, that all his boys had been Omega—but something just had to be done about Stevie boy. Mr. Big Shot was pretty upset. Pretty damned riled. Gave me his Omega word of honor that he’d see to it himself that the boy was straightened out. Must have given little Stevie a big dose of hell over Christmas vacation; sucker came back for spring term shakier than ever. And from there on it was all downhill. By the end of the year he was pulling straight F’s. Didn’t go out much—no girlfriend, no drinking buddies. Spent all his time in his room. Which was all right. That way we always knew where to find him when we needed a nice tight hole to unload in.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened at the end of term. All I know is that Stevie had some kind of big falling out with his daddy—probably ’cause he refused to come back to Omega in the fall. And how could he ever tell the old man why? His daddy cut him off without a cent.”

“So what happened to him?”

Larry shrugs.

“You mean you never saw him again?”

“Not for a long time. Not until just a couple of months ago. A Saturday night, me and Gary cruising up and down the Drag in Gary’s Jag, about two in the morning—we stopped in at some fast food joint, Taco Hell or Jock in the Crotch, one of those places. And there was Stevie boy, working behind the counter. Only white boy in the place. Dressed up in some silly peon outfit, shirt with big red stripes that didn’t fit him and a little paper hat. Turned white as a fish’s belly when he saw us walk in the door. Started shaking so bad he could hardly take our order. Kept getting flustered and messing it up. Spilled our change all over the counter. Never once looked me in the eye.