Bully Me

A rugby captain bullies her math tutor in the locker room.

CW: Daddy kink; faux bullying in the locker room; language like dyke and heavily gay men-coded language like faggot, referring to a cunt as fucking an ass, referring to cunnilingus as sucking a cock, etc.; public sex; hand over mouth to muffle sounds

 

The rugby captain Sarah offered to pay me for private math tutoring, off the books of the university’s tutoring center.

She could use the help getting her GPA up for the rugby team, and I could really use the money.

The thing about Sarah is that she is… insanely fucking hot.

Thick, strong body. Handsome grin. Deep brown eyes. A mullet that makes me think about tugging on a tuft of hair at the base of her neck while sliding our tongues along each other’s lips.

Fuck.

I don’t even like mullets.

 

She jokes in our tutoring sessions about being a himbo, but the truth is that she’s smart. She’s catching on quickly to the tutoring in math, and she’s great at writing and art. She’s also funny. I’m constantly giggling at her, half out of nervous attraction and half because she’s a brilliant storyteller.

And of course, as rugby captain, she’s athletic and a leader, in a way that is deeply, deeply attractive. The kind of attractive that has me fantasizing about locker rooms and showers. About library desks and dark corners at the end of the stacks.

About strap-ons, which she undoubtedly wears, and which I’ve never tried but desperately want to.

About rewarding her for acing a math test by getting to my knees and sucking her strap.

 

“AJ?” Sarah asks.

Fuck. It’s not the right time to be thinking about this. Not when she’s right in front of me, depending on my higher brain function to teach her pre-calculus.

“Are you okay?” she follows up.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer. “Just — distracted today. Sorry.”

“Can I help?”

You can stop being so hot, I think.

“Um, actually,” I say, feeling a lightbulb go off above my head. “Would you be interested in training me at the gym, in exchange for tutoring?” I mean, yeah, I could use the money for tutoring, but I could also use the motivation to go to the gym. No ulterior motives here, like seeing Sarah hot and sweaty and grunting and panting, or spending double the time with her. Not at all.

She shrugs. “Sure.”

The sets she has me doing at the gym are grueling, but I feel myself getting stronger, even if I’m too sore to move the next day. Sarah takes it as a time to get a workout in too, and she’s not shy about hitting the showers in front of me in the locker room. The first time she stripped in front of me and stepped under the water, my eyes widened and I blushed furiously, looking away and fiddling with my duffel bag on the bench.

The second and third times, my cheeks got pink but I quickly found the private shower stalls and had private thoughts about her hot, strong, naked body a short distance away from mine.

We meet weekly, and my private showers are cold.

 

My friend Sara (no H) knows about my little crush on Sarah. She’s on the edge of her seat about the gossip, and she squealed with glee when I told her about our first visit to the locker room shower, and how hot Sarah looks naked. Sara is pushing me to ask Sarah out at the end of the semester. I’m undecided about it. (Okay, I’m terrified.)

A late night after our weekly gym sesh, I text Sara in sexual frustration.

“Fuuuuck dude these gym visits with Sarah are killing me. She’s so hot. She’s sooooo hot, dude. I can’t stop thinking about her bullying me out of my clothes in the locker room and fucking me in the shower after a workout. And dude, did I tell you? My fucking vibrator died. 💀 So I can’t even fuck myself about it!! Kill me!! Help me!! Do something!!”

I toss my phone aside and pull open my laptop, searching for the best vibrator for $30 or less. I realize that I could get a rabbit vibe delivered from CVS for $40, and I hem and haw, considering. I check my phone, and my heart drops into my stomach.

Sarah: “I thought you’d been eyeing me up all semester, cute boy. I can help you, if you want… But first I have to ask you, baby butch, how long have you been a dyke? You ever taken a strap before? Do you like calling a big mean butch dyke ‘Daddy’?”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I typed out the text and then in my absent-minded horny haze, I selected Sarah instead of Sara. My worst nightmare.

I flush red, panicked and embarrassed and so fucking hot and bothered. My hands tremble holding my phone, and I have to focus on taking deep breaths and stopping the world from spinning.

Okay. Shit. Okay. So I texted her by mistake. Fuck. But she’s interested? Fuck. What do I say now? Oh my god.

Me: “Okay, fuck, sorry for texting the wrong person. But also, maybe not sorry? To answer your questions, my whole life but also been out for 3 years, and no, not yet, and oh my god yes I do.” I send the text before I can overthink it. And then I overthink it anyway, and follow up to add: “But I really want to. Take a strap.”

Sarah: “Good.”

She’s typing more. I stare at my phone, captivated by the bouncing three dots, feeling myself throb in my jeans.

Sarah: “Same time next week at the gym, prettyboy. I want you to text me your fantasy in great detail tonight and then I want you to finger yourself about it all week so you get ready to take Daddy’s strap like a good toy. Buy yourself a new vibe. And bring it.”

Me: “Fuck.”

Me: “Yes, Daddy.”

 

We haven’t seen each other all week — she canceled our library math tutoring session on Monday — but we’ve sexted every single night since my accidental text.

We meet at the gym later than usual, and the sleazy grin on her face fills me with lust. She looks me up and down and says, “Hey, AJ,” in a slow, flirty voice.

“Hey,” I say, voice tight with nerves. My heart is hammering in my chest right now, and I can feel the blood pumping through my limbs. My hands feel warm and sweaty.

“Let’s get to work,” she says, grin widening.

She doesn’t let me get out of this one easy. Every weight lift is slow and methodical, bringing me to muscle failure. We work on my adductors, quads, biceps, and shoulders. She makes me do sumo squats with shoulder presses and bicep curls, until my arms are shaking and my legs are goo.

When we get to the cool down, I’m not even thinking about sex. I’m just relieved to be done.

So when I finish my stretches and she holds out her hand and winks at me, I almost forget why. But she leads me to the locker room and presses me against my locker, and I remember.

“You filthy, pretty little dyke faggot,” she growls in my ear.

“Fuck,” I squeak in a quiet voice.

“You’ve been drooling over my dick all week, haven’t you? Thinking about the big mean butch Daddy in the locker room, towering over you, telling you to take your clothes off…”

I look up at her with big, wide eyes.

“Well? Take your clothes off, prettyboy. I want to see you naked and embarrassed, see how hard it makes you to strip for Daddy, you faggot.”

I swallow involuntarily, my throat clenching tight as I feel myself ache and throb.

“Yes, Daddy,” I manage to say.

I pull the tank top over my head, followed by my workout binder. Her eyes glaze over in hunger when she sees my bare chest.

But it’s nothing compared to the lust in her face when I pull down my gym shorts to reveal my jockstrap.

“Fuck. You filthy little dyke. Wearing a jock like a fag. Shaking your ass at me in the locker room, trying to get Daddy’s attention, Daddy’s cock. Well? Aren’t you?”

I whimper. “Yes, Daddy. I am. I wanted to see how hard it would make you if I wore it.”

“It made Daddy this hard,” she growls, and grabs my hand to grope her hard packer in her baggy shorts. I groan.

Almost on instinct, I sink to my knees (thighs trembling), asking, “Do you want me to suck you off, Daddy?”

“Fuck yes, you dirty fucking faggot. Suck off Daddy’s cock.”

I pull her out of her shorts and look up at her face, her eyelids heavy with desire as she looks down at me. She reaches for my mouth, slipping a pointer and middle finger inside, making me suck and whimper.

“God, you pretty little cocksucker. I want to see your mouth on my dick, handsome,” she says, pulling her fingers out of my mouth with a trail of spit.

“Yes, Daddy,” I promise, opening my mouth and licking from the base to the tip of her strap. She groans and tenses and hisses like it’s real. Encouraged, I lick up and down, take her tip into my mouth, hold the base of it against her, and moan.

“Fuck,” she groans, reaching for my hair to encourage me up and down her cock. “You filthy cocksucker. Sucking me off like a greedy little faggot. Fuck, I’m gonna come down your slutty throat. Mmm, keep going, prettyboy, Daddy likes it.”

I take her as deep in my mouth as I can, moaning and feeling used and full.

Her body jerks and twitches, her mouth dropping open as she hisses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, fuck.” She groans. “You filthy little cocksucking faggot.”

“Daddy…”

“What? What’s the matter, prettyboy?” she teases. “You want something?”

I struggle to get to my feet, my knees sore from the tile floor and my thighs burning from the workout. She chuckles and offers me a hand. I stumble to standing, catching my balance by clinging to her muscle tank.

I find myself staring at her mouth, watching it transform into a smirk. She says, “Oh, is that what you want?” and brushes her thumb against my bottom lip.

My gaze darts from her mouth to her eyes and back, watching her mouth as she leans in closer to me, stopping just short of kissing me.

“I said, is this what you want? You want me to kiss you?”

I nod slowly, then more eagerly, adding “Y-yeah. Yes. Please.”

Her lips brush against mine as she whispers, “Fucking dyke.”

I whimper into her mouth, feeling her soft lips, her tongue, her teeth. I reach up to grab a tuft of hair, like I spent so much time fantasizing about, and she growls into the kiss and goes harder, shoving me against the lockers and pressing her thigh in between my legs.

I’m aching and I can feel my wetness as I helplessly grind my hips into her thick thigh.

“Daddy,” I whisper.

“What was that?” she demands.

“Daddy,” I moan louder for her.

“That’s a good boy.”

She grins. Her hands wander from my face down my body, gripping and teasing and rubbing wherever she pleases. She squeezes my neck, releases, trails her hand down my chest, gropes my tits and groans into my mouth about how good they feel. She grabs my soft hips, grazes over my belly, and reaches down, feeling me through my jockstrap, an obvious wet spot formed on the scrap of dark green fabric.

“Filthy fucking slut,” she curses at me.

“Uh huh,” I moan with a nod, focused on grinding myself into her touch, feeling her fingers through the fabric and chasing the ache of pleasure that she’s giving me.

“Incorrect,” she admonishes. “The correct answer is ‘Yes, Daddy.'”

“Fuck. Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Now, I’m gonna suck your cock, too. It’s only fair.”

She drops to her knees and pulls my jock aside, puffs of hot breath on my bush as she looks up at me and asks, “Do you want that, prettyboy?”

“Fuck yes, Daddy,” I rasp.

She wastes no time, spreading me open with her other hand, licking a wide, generous stroke up my wet cunt.

“Ffffuck…”

She goes soft with her pressure, like she’s gently, romantically making out with my pussy. I try to be quiet. God, I try. I can’t help the sounds escaping me, so I try to at least control their volume. I grip her hair and grind against her face and whisper:

“Fuck, Daddy. Fuck yes. Fuck yes. You feel so fucking good, Daddy, oh my God. Please. Please. Fuck. I want your fingers, Daddy. Please fuck me. Fuck me open for your butch cock, Daddy. I need it. I need to be fucked and used and — fuck. I want you to come inside me, Daddy. I want you to — fuck, please. I want you not to stop. Don’t stop, Daddy. Don’t stop. Please keep licking me like that. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna — fuck! Daddy! I’m gonna come on your face…”

She slips a thick finger inside me just as my thighs start to shake, fucking into me and licking at my swollen clit with a gentle insistence.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come, Daddy — I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming, OHHH—”

She reaches up to clamp a hand over my mouth as I break into a scream. And God, do I scream. She continues fingerfucking me, sucking at my sensitive clit, making me come long and hard pressed up against the lockers, the vents in the metal digging into my skin deliciously.

She licks me until I stop twitching against her face and moaning in pleasure about it, and start to shake my head and pull away from her tongue. She pulls her hand off of my mouth and grins up at me, her pupils blown wide and face glazed over in lust. She hasn’t stopped fingering me, and I’m trying very hard to control my volume as she catches her breath and focuses her attention on fucking me.

“You like that, prettyboy?” she asks smugly.

I feel myself clench around her finger, and I can’t lie to her. “Yeah, Daddy. I did. I liked it. Please keep fucking me. Fuck.”

“Mmm, filthy little fag. Getting your cock sucked in the locker room by the rugby captain. Getting your ass fucked open, ready to take Daddy’s cock.”

“Yeah, Daddy,” I’m desperate to agree. We had talked about this earlier over text. Her calling my cunt my ass. Calling me a fag. Talking about sucking my cock. It’s all gender and hotness and dykefaggotry. I don’t actually have any interest in anal, but hearing a masculine butch Daddy talk about fucking my ass in the locker room for being a faggot makes me hot in ways I can’t completely explain.

“Get on the bench,” she orders me. “I want you on your hands and knees, bent over for your Daddy.”

“YesDaddy.”

“Good boy,” she growls, watching me obey her.

Her hands are on me again quickly, groping my hips and ass, reaching to grab my hair while she slips her finger back inside me.

My response is loud, and she tells me to be quiet while she adds another finger to fuck me open. She controls me with her grip on my hair, telling me I’m such a good, eager, pliant slut for her.

“Uh huh,” I whine.

“Shut up,” she says, fucking me harder.

I muffle my noises, ineffectively, helpless to the pleasure she’s skillfully giving me. She’s talented with her fingers, and she has an intuition for just the spot and the pressure and the pace.

She releases her grip on my hair and briefly sticks her fingers in my mouth. I suck and groan, and she brings her now wet fingers to my clit, fucking me and talking dirty: “Yeah prettyboy? You like it when I stroke your cock and fuck your ass in the locker room, huh? When it’s late and no one’s here to watch you be a pathetic little slut for me…”

“Oh God…”

I feel myself tighten around her fingers and she chuckles, low in her throat, and bends down to growl in my ear. “You like that, handsome? You want some dykes to watch me using you in the locker room?”

“Mmm…”

“Answer me, fucktoy.”

“Y-yeah —” I gasp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Get up. Grab your vibrator.”

She withdraws from me and I clench on emptiness. I scramble to obey, standing and following her to the showers as she strips, naked in a boxer harness with a strap-on. She turns the water to warm and beckons me toward her.

I fumble through my bag for my (fortunately waterproof) new vibrator and quickly pull off my jock, now ruined, tossing it aside. Who cares. I’m getting fucked by the hottest butch on campus right now.

Her mouth is on mine and the kiss is slow and hot and wet, water streaming down over us. I take the opportunity to feel her strong and soft body. She’s a prop. If you don’t speak rugby, that means I’m a twink and she’s huge, and it’s fucking hot. Speaking of, well, not huge, but… a decent size that I am hungering for…

I reach for her strap in between us, stroking her butch cock while we kiss. She moans and grabs my wrist — for a moment, I fear, to stop me, but actually to encourage me to go harder and faster.

We both moan this time, our kiss growing heated. My clit throbs.

“Please —” I finally break the kiss to gasp.

“Mmm, please what, handsome?” she grins, groping my body everywhere but where I want.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I groan.

“Don’t mind if I do, prettyboy.”

She hikes my leg over her hip and sinks into me, making me as loud as ever. She clamps a hand over my mouth and looks into my eyes while she fucks me slowly, methodically, in no hurry whatsoever. I’m moaning like crazy under her hand. I’ve fucked myself with a rabbit vibe before, sure, but I’ve never been fucked like this.

Now that I think of it, I’m still holding the vibrator and I’m aching to use it on myself.

“Please, Daddy —” I moan against her hand. She removes it and grins at me.

“Please, what?”

“Mmm, can I please use the vibe on my clit…”

“Such a greedy, filthy little fucktoy. Yes you can, but you may not come.”

My throat clenches and heat rushes to my cheeks.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say eagerly.

The toy jumps to life in my hands, buzzing at the highest level. I adjust it to steady vibration at the lowest level, starting slow, taking it easy while she fucks her cock into me.

“Oh God,” I moan.

“Yeah, prettyboy? What about it?” she says between thrusts.

“You feel so good, Daddy. You feel so, so good. Fuck. Oh my God. Daddy…”

“Yeah? You like that? Prettyboy fucktoy…”

“Yes, Daddy, I do… I like it… Mmm, your cock is so big, Daddy.”

She grins and fucks me harder, groaning, “You take my cock so well, prettyboy. Look at you. Filthy slut. Just taking and taking and moaning for more.”

She presses the vibe harder into my clit and I scream. She covers my mouth again, muffling my cries, whispering dirty, dirty things in my ear.

“You filthy little faggot. Taking it in the locker room from your Daddy. So hard for me that you’re throbbing and aching to come, huh? Poor little fucktoy faggot. God, your ass is so tight on my cock, filthy little toy. You feel so good for Daddy. Fuck —” Her voice hitches and her hip movements become eager. “Fuck, you dirty slut. Fuck. I’m gonna come. Gonna make you my cumslut, you filthy little dyke — fag — whore — fuck! Fuck. Fuuuuck. Ohhhh.”

She groans into my throat, a hand over my mouth covering my whimpers and whines, a hand on my thigh holding me up, hips grinding her cock into me while she comes.

Panting, she pulls her hand off my mouth and kisses me fiercely, all teeth and tongue and desire and urge.

When she pulls away, I ask her.

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you. Please can I — please can I come?”

“Oh, you wanna come for Daddy, handsome?”

“Please, Daddy, yes.”

“Mmm, almost. Not quite.”

She pulls out of me and I’m almost devastated. We disentangle from each other and the shower wall, dripping water on our way to a bench where she lays down a towel.

I’m too eager to kiss her to stop myself from reaching for her wet hair to tug her face to mine. She smiles and kisses me back, guiding me to lay on the bench and spread my legs for her. I do, so easy, so wet for her.

“Daddy.”

She growls, hand on my thighs, other hand guiding her cock back into me.

I throw my head back and moan, “Oh, Daddy… Mmm… Please, Daddy, can I have the vibe on my clit again?”

“Yes, prettyboy. You can come when I say so.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I gasp, fiddling with the buttons and turning it back on, this time a little higher. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Daddy. I’m so close already. Fuck.”

“Mmm, filthy boy. Not yet.”

She fucks into me slowly, teasingly.

“Oh fuck, Daddy, please. More. More. More.”

“Fuck,” she snarls, grinding into me harder and faster, like she can’t help it.

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy…”

The vibe buzzing and the butch cock inside me make me feel frantic. I’m so close.

“PleaseDaddypleaseDaddy, please, please! Please can I come for you? Please, I’ll be so good.”

Sarah is panting and grunting as she fucks me.

“Come for me,” she growls in my ear.

I obey her with a scream and she clamps her hand over my mouth to muffle me. It makes me hotter somehow, screaming louder into her hand, coming for her harder, again and again.

When her strokes slow to a stop and she pulls her hand off my mouth and asks me casually, “How ya doin, hot stuff?”, I laugh. A little nervously, part of me embarrassed after the dirtiest fuck of my life. A little deliriously, much of me too fucked out and exhausted to feel anything but bliss. I laugh and laugh.

She laughs too, quirking her head at me and waiting for my answer.

“I’m good, Sarah. I’m fucking fantastic. How you doing?”

She chuckles and shakes her head at me, leaning in for a kiss. We stay there a while, our skin wet from the shower and from sweat, kissing and kissing.

“This was great, nerd,” she teases me. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Shut up, jock. And yeah. Let’s.”

 

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