“Lucky 77, eh, boyo?”
Cian clawed either side of the unconscious Ryan’s shredded abdomen, sinking his nails in deep and slowly peeling off his jersey-themed briefs—marked with his team number. Cian was slow, deliberate, making sure to look up at the camera and into the eyes of Ryan’s girlfriend, no doubt watching with a mix of horror and titillation, from her seat back home.
“Let’s see what you’re comin’ home to every night, lass,” Cian said. Ryan’s stubby cock and surprisingly small nuts flopped out of his gear. He was flaccid. Pathetic. Defeated.
“Always the dudes with the puny junk who bark the loudest,” Cian said, getting another good seat, with his thick thighs trapped around Ryan’s drooling head. By now, Cian was sufficiently sweaty, but coming down from his blood frenzy—for Ryan’s benefit. Any further, and Cian might have gone too far, cracking the pussy football player’s neck, and sending him to his ancestors for certain. Cian took the time to wipe his hands across his porcelain pecs, gather up a wad of sweat, and then fleck it down on Ryan’s parted lips.
“That’s what a Celtic god tastes like,” Cian said, striking a double bicep on top of his victim. He had to admire himself, how his recent gym progress had really started to fill out his peaks. He wasn’t even afraid to admit getting a bit turned on himself. The frenzy had already made him throb, with every successive dirty move he subjected the bully football player to.
Heh. It’s funny to bully the bullies. Now it was time to test the limits of Cian’s power. He stood and stripped off his singlet, making sure to give the camera a show, especially when he got to the good bit.
In any other circumstance, Cian would be too shy. But with his body pumped full of testosterone, and domination on the brain, Cian felt like a real alpha as he pulled off his singlet and revealed his throbbing, hard white cock, nestled in ginger stubble. But it was bull balls he was especially proud of, and he grabbed these towards the camera to show them off.
“This is what a man looks like,” Cian said, flexing again—his engorged head leaking a stream of victor’s pre-cum onto his knocked-out opponent. The Irish stud-bull pointed down to Ryan, weak and useless on the ground. “Not whatever this pathetic excuse is here, lass. You watchin’? Look what I’m about to do to your man.”
Cian leaned down and slapped the side of Ryan’s head with his meat. “Like chopping wood,” Cian laughed.
Expectedly, Ryan came to, his eyes rolling around and trying to make sense of what was happening to him. “Wh-what!? N-no-no.” The realization hit him just as hard as Cian’s cock against his face. “Quit it, you qu—”
Before he could even finish that sentence, he found either side of his head compressed against Cian’s thighs again. The Celtic warrior straddled him, using his own balls to suffocate the asshole’s puffed-out face.
“What was that again, boyo?” Cian said, cupping his hand to his ear. “Couldn’t hear you. Have the kettle on.” He dangled himself. “No more talking shit now. You’re gonna have your mouth full.”
He released his legs. Ryan gasped for breath—a fatal move. Cian took the opportunity to slip one of his balls into Ryan’s mouth.
“Now, suck.”
“Nnnnn.” Ryan glared.
Cian sighed. “Back to this again?” He crushed harder. “Ryan, Ryan. You know I have the power to crush your head don’t you? Why don’t you be a good boy and pleasure me with that gabby mouth of yours.”
Ryan relented, wincing as he started to suckle Cian’s left nut.
“Fuck yeah,” Cian whispered. “Now, the other one. Yeah, that’s a good boy.” He patted Ryan’s head. “Damn.”
He ungagged Ryan, and then forced his head up into a submissive position, the now docile football player kneeling before his new god.
Cian tugged on his cock and slapped Ryan’s lips with it. “Do it.”
“No, bro.”
Cian leaned and forced his head into his pelvis. “That’s no way to talk to the man who could grind your head into paste now is it? Suck. On. My. Cock.” He punctuated each word with a slap of his meat against Ryan’s mouth.
“Fine.”
Cian gripped Ryan’s chin and made him lock eyes. “Fine, what?”
“…Fine, sir.”
“Good boy,” Cian said, as he rammed himself into Ryan’s mouth. He ignored the football player's gag reflex and started jackhammering. “Bet you haven’t been mouth fucked before, have ya boyo? That’s right, keep sucking.”
His face red, tears streaming down, Ryan nodded. Eventually, however, his hesitance and hesitancy shifted. He became sure. Excited. Eager.
Cian turned on his glyph, letting his energy flow freely into Ryan. A little mind control never hurt anybody. That’s right, each drop of my hot pre inside your mouth will drive you closer to total submission. Total mindlessness. Then, when I make you swallow my load, you’ll be mine completely.
Cian jackhammered away, stopping whenever Ryan had to gag. He leaned in and spat on his face. “You had your breather, boyo. Suck that fucking cock again.”
“Y-yes sir,” Ryan said, his eyes lighting up. “Oh wow, yes sir.”
“You like it, boyo?”
A flash of confusion. Ryan shook his head, looking back at the camera, the humiliating truth dawning on him. “N-no-no, what are you doing to me in front of my chick!?”
“Showing her her man is mine,” Cian said, jamming his cock back in. “Did you forget?”
“Mmmmfff. No. No, sir.”
“Didn’t think so.” Cian leaned his head back. “Can’t spellbreak. Can’t play football. But you can suck cock like a champ, Ry-guy. Fuck. Feels good.”
Ryan moved his head back and forward, fiendishly, hungrily. Each drop of pre sliding out from Cian’s shaft was like an intoxicating potion, a drug, changing his mental state. He slurped greedily, obsessed, licking the tip of Cian’s shaft with his tongue, trying out new positions.
“Fucking hell, Ryan, that’s good! You love being a slut for my cock, don’t you?” He slapped it against his head now, like a club.
“Oh yes, sir,”: Ryan said innocently. “I…I can’t stop myself.”
“Got you hard, doesn’t it, boyo? Look at that stubbing thing. You’re leaking all over that mat.”
“Mmmmmhmmmm!” Ryan said dutifully as he deep throated his new master.
“Go ahead, play with yourself. That’s it. Good boy.” Cian closed his eyes. “Oh damn, I’m close.”
This only drove Ryan harder. He even looked back at the camera, making sure his girlfriend knew her boy was no longer her’s—he served a new master now.
Cian couldn’t hold it back any longer. He pumped all of his energy into his orgasm, making sure to weave his trickster magick into his load. “Fuck, Ryan, your mouth is mine. I’m going to fill it. Gonna fill it so fucking HARD.”
Cian grunted and fired ropes into Ryan’s mouth. The football player-turned-cumslut sucked it down, drank deeply, like Cian’s load was an oasis in a desert, and he could drink forever. As he did, his physiology changed, his eyes rolled back into his head and his irises went white as Cian’s mental control took over in full.
“Fuck!” Cian said, pulling his cock out from Ryan’s mouth. Cian shivered from the waves of pleasure–the ‘after shocks’--and ran his hand through his own sweat soaked hair. He made eye contact with the camera again. “Heh. See what I did to your man?”
Squatting, kneeling naked on the ground and practically leaking preum like a faucet onto the mat, the zombified Ryan couldn’t even move. He could only grunt, completely gone, under Cian’s thrall. The Irish stud grabbed him by the hair and turned him around to the camera, getting on his level behind him, and wrapping his thick legs around his side again.
“Yep,” Cian started. “There we go. Good boy.” He leaned into Ryan, mounting him from a sitting position, patting the side of his face. “Complete mindwipe. Oh, won’t last forever, lass. I’m bad, but I’m not evil.” He laughed, pulling Ryan’s hair, pushing his little puppet back and forth. “What, oh what, should I make my servant do, I wonder? Hmm. On all fours, now. Like a dog. Like a bitch. Hands and feet, yeah, just like that.”
Ryan groaned and did as he was told, taking the position, arching his back, presenting his big ass for his master.
Cian whistled. “Damn. Too bad I fucking shot my whole load into you, or else I might just fuck you in front of your girl.”
Ryan couldn’t even respond. He just drooled onto the mat, a mix of saliva and cum.
“Hahaha! Oh wow, he’s really gone!” Cian sighed, kicking Ryan over to the mat. He collapsed without resistance. “Well, this is boring. Might as well emasculate you by robbing you of your load.”
Cian cradled stunned Ryan, almost tenderly, before he repositioned himself with his upper thighs and calves around his throat again.
“Jack off. Now.”
Ryan did as he was told, grunting like a starved, mindless animal as he pumped his cock. It didn’t take long before his chest began to heave up and down, and his toes began to twitch. Cian watched as he fired off a spurt, and a fountain of cum, drenching the already fluid covered mat. He grunted and moaned the whole time, like a crazed, rabid beast.
A beast about to be put down again. Cian wouldn’t allow his rival to enjoy the orgasm for long. “Yeah,” Cian said, cold and distant. “This is what happens when you disrespect me and my friends.” He squeezed down, just enough to blood choke Ryan back into oblivion with his legs. He was already far gone anyway. He slipped out of consciousness again.
Cian picked up his hand and let it drop. All the while, he kept his eyes on the camera. “I’m your man now,” Cian said, getting up off the ground and posing over his dominated servant. A bicep flex, and then, a flex of the legs. “Give you something to pleasure yourself with, lass.”
Cian looked down at the defeated and utterly emasculated bully, lying in a puddle of his own bodily fluids. “What a mess,” Cian whispered, walking to the edge of the mat to collect his gear and clothing. He was all too happy to leave Ryan here when he came to. He would be fine, of course, just left with a wounded pride.
“Better watch out, Ol’ Spike,” Cian thought happily as he pulled his briefs on. “Gonna do the same to you next!”
The End
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