A butch boy returns to the gym at closing to see their Sir and find out what kind of workout she has in store for them.

CW: Sir kink, language like boy, toy, slut, and whore, public sex (sex in an empty gym with no one around, cameras potentially on or off), unsafe exercise practices, unrealistic gym expectations (devastatingly handsome muscular silver fox butch fucks you at the gym)

 

Gym Rat: Chapter 2

I think about her all week. 

Okay, fine. I masturbate about her all week.

I relive every moment, especially when she called me a ‘good butch’ in that growl and I moaned ‘yes, Sir’ and she whispered in a hoarse, deep, threatening voice: ‘you’re going to be quiet’ before getting to her knees between my legs.

When the next week rolls around, I’m jumping out of my driver’s seat I’m so excited. She said to come at closing on Tuesday night, which is midnight, and I thank the universe that I work the late shift tomorrow. I pull into the gym and park, checking the glowing clock on my dashboard – 11:51pm. I grab my duffel and change into my workout gear in the locker room: a tight sports bra that compresses my chest, loose shorts that hide my hips, and a muscle tank that shows off my biceps.

The gym is close to empty, and I spot the silver fox right away. We lock eyes, and my throat closes. She nods at me and straddles the weightlifting bench, and I take my cue and walk over to spot her. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi, Sir,” I reply, in a quiet tone that the couple of bros still left in the gym won’t hear.

I watch her form as she benches 200 with practiced ease. Her muscles are solid, like she could pick me up and toss me around like a sack of feathers. I try not to spend too long imagining her doing this. I’m already turned on enough.

I count her reps, and she does eleven before grunting and reracking. The grunt sends a shiver through me, which I ignore – I totally, completely ignore it. She sits up and catches her breath, and I take the moment to admire her triceps, her strong back muscles, her fresh cropped haircut. I’m down bad.

She stands and offers to spot me too. I shrug and put down my water bottle, settling onto the bench and feeling her eyes burning into my skin like the hot sun on a summer day. She’s adjusting the weights on the barbell for me, down to 120, and a little part of me flutters because she remembered. 

“Thank you… Sir,” I say, my voice coming out sultry when I was aiming for politeness. 

“Oh, you’re welcome, boytoy,” she says with a wink. 

My heart tries to jump out of my throat and I swallow it down. I lie back on the bench, feeling my heartbeat pulse through every inch of my body. I reach for the cold metal bar and make eye contact with Sir and a smile tugs at the edge of my lips before I can stop it. She meets my smirk with her own. 

I break eye contact and concentrate on a spot on the ceiling, focus on my breathing, do rep after rep, slow and steady, in and out. I remember Sir’s mouth and fingers: slow and steady tongue, fingers in and out of me. Arousal wakes up my muscles with heat and I push through ten reps with perfect form, reracking without Sir’s help, unlike last time.

“Good boy,” she whispers to me. 

I clench my jaw. She’s evil. 

I sit up, check the clock, and realize it’s a few minutes past midnight now. I glance around the gym and don’t spot the bros hanging around anymore. 

Sir quirks her eyebrow at me. 

“We’re alone, kid.”

“…Oh.” 

“So? What do you say when your Sir tells you ‘good boy’?” she says in a loud and clear voice, authoritative… dominant. Her heavy gaze is predatory, wolfish. My skin warms under her scrutiny.

“Thank you, Sir.”

She smirks and tilts her head, crossing her arms. “I’ve had some, uh,” she clears her throat, “ideas since last week.”

“Oh?” 

She leans in and whispers to me. I swallow, mouth dry, and nod. Hot desire grips me by the throat. I can feel how wet I am already, my cunt throbbing at her suggestive ideas.

“I’d like that,” I manage to say, gulping. Fuck. 

“Good,” she says with a smile. “Let’s get to work.”

“Yes, Sir.” My reply is fast, eager. 

She nods to me and walks away, unzipping her duffel bag in the corner and coming back holding toys: a black dildo, lube, and a purple clit vibrator.

“Alright, boy… Do you want to work on shoulders or legs first?” she asks.

I contemplate, glancing at the toys in her hands, and answer in a clear voice: “Legs. Sir.”

“Good choice, boy. Come with me.”

Sir leads me to the adductor machine, holding the purple vibe and her phone, and she motions for me to sit down. The overhead fluorescent lights flicker, and I catch my reflection in the large mirror across from us when I sit in the machine’s leather seat, thighs spread apart. My eyes are wide and my cheeks are flushed, my mouth open. Do I always look this flustered?

“Oh, prettyboy… You’re so handsome like this. Blushing with your thighs spread.”

I blush even harder at that, feeling my face grow hot and my pulse throb in the warm tips of my ears. 

“Thank you, Sir…” I answer shyly, eyeing the vibrator in her hand. She catches my gaze and grins.

“Are you wondering what I have in store for you, prettyboy?” she asks, dangling the purple clit toy on her finger. I nod. “Just some workouts, handsome. I want to make you sweat.” 

I gulp. 

“And I want to hear you say, ‘Thank you, Sir,’ when we’re done.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

“But first…” she growls in a deep voice, tapping on her phone. The toy buzzes to life in her hand. I twitch in anticipation. She leans in and whispers in my ear: “I’m going to make you wet.”

I’m already wet, I think, feeling desperate and slutty. What comes out of my mouth is a whimper, and then a small, “Please.” 

“Good fuckin’ boy,” Sir praises, taking the tip of the toy and trailing it up my trembling thighs. 

I gasp and try to hold still, failing, as the toy inches closer and closer to my aching, hard clit. When she finally rubs it against me, through the layers of my underwear and basketball shorts, I whine and my hips twitch. 

“Oh, prettyboy,” she says reverently. “God, you’re so desperate for it.” She presses the vibe harder into me and I gasp and grind my hips into it. “God, you filthy little toy. You like it? I want you to take it while you do three sets of 10 for me, babe.” 

(Babe makes my brain go fuzzy, but I focus quickly.)

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good toy. May I?” she asks, nodding to my shorts. 

I agree and let her slip the buzzing toy inside my boxer briefs, feeling it slide inside me easily and press firmly against my clit. I buck my hips while she greedily grinds it into me, eager for my pleasure. 

“You’re being such a good boy for me.”

I make a helpless noise and my hands grip the handles of the adductor machine. My thighs squeeze together involuntarily, coming up against the resistance of the weights on the machine. 

“Eager to get started, huh?” she says with a smirk. She pulls her hand away and steps back, grin widening across her face, and instructs me: “Ten reps. Count them and thank. Your. Sir.” 

“Yes, Sir,” I answer, aiming for a clear voice but landing on a whimper. 

Squeezing my thighs together, they tremble from the strain of the weights and the sensation of the toy. My knees touch and I spread my legs apart, gasping, “One. Thank you, Sir.” 

She winks at me and presses her phone screen, increasing the vibe’s intensity by a degree. 

“Oh my God.” My hands flex and grip the handles again as I focus on my second rep. “Two. Thank you, Sir.” 

“Good boy, hottie.” 

She increases the intensity of the vibe by a degree each time, until I’m panting through my reps.

“Ten! Thank you, Sir!” I gasp, trying to control my volume in the large, open gym.

She turns the vibe off. I’m half frustrated and half grateful for it. I was getting close and part of me wanted to chase the feeling, and the other part of me wants to wait. I want her to edge and torture me through a workout. Use and abuse my body until I’m aching and begging for release. 

She tells me to breathe and start again for her when I’m ready.

I do another ten reps for her, my legs wobbling through the vibration pattern she draws for me on her phone screen. This time it’s a sine wave, up and down, from low to medium to low, peaking to medium as I squeeze my legs together and falling to low vibration as I spread them apart.

“Good boy,” she praises after I call out my tenth rep again. The vibrations turn off. “Take a breath. Drink some water,” she instructs, handing me my water bottle with the ‘Butch’ sticker in pink Barbie font. The ice clinks in the bottle and cold water rushes down my hot throat. I swallow. 

“Thank you, Sir,” I pant, handing her the water bottle back.

Sir takes it from me and sets it down, waiting for me to start when I’m ready. 

The third round, the vibration pattern she chooses is more intense: the toy is off when my legs are spread and at max vibration when they’re squeezing the weights together, a plateau and then a steep drop to nothing. I’m crying out my counts, going as slow as my muscles can take it. 

“Oh fuck – I’m close –” I cry as I announce my ninth rep, growing closer as the vibe maxes out. 

“Then you’d better keep going if you want to cum, prettyboy. You only get this vibe when you work hard and earn it.” 

“Oh, God! Ten. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, thank you, thank you – ” I gasp as I hold my tenth rep for as long as my aching, trembling thighs can take the powerful vibrations. The sparks of pleasure explode into fireworks behind my eyes, between my burning legs. I cry out, “Ohhh!” and Sir generously gives me stimulation for as long as I can hold the rep, as long as I’m cumming. When I hit muscle failure and the pulses of pleasure start to abate in my clit, I shakily spread and relax my legs. Sir lets the vibrations drop down to nothing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, boytoy,” she curses. She clicks her phone screen off and slips it into her pocket, approaching me and gripping my burning, aching thighs, my cunt swollen and throbbing between them. She leans into my face. “Did you like that?” she whispers, forehead leaning against mine, her lips nearly brushing against my panting mouth. 

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, breathless. “Thank you, Sir. God, I’m so wet now. Fuck.” 

“Well, you just came in your gym shorts for a big, burly butch dyke, so,” she says with a laugh, making me blush hard. “Guess that means you can take my fingers real easy now too, huh?” she asks nonchalantly.  

I feel my cunt clench instantly. “Oh God.”

“Well, prettyboy? I’m only gonna fingerfuck you with an invitation, so I guess you’d better beg for it,” she says, gripping my chin with one hand and my still-burning thigh with another. 

“Please” drops from my mouth so easily, like a toy from the mouth of an obedient dog. 

“Please what?” she challenges, looking at my mouth hungrily as she grips my chin. 

“Please kiss me. And finger me. Sir.”

She seems pleased with this, guiding my mouth to hers and licking my lips with her tongue before meeting her mouth to mine in a hard kiss. She pulls the toy out of me and makes me lick it clean before she slips it back in her duffel bag. The taste, the degradation, the way she ordered me to do it, the setting of the public gym, with its definitely public cameras (shut off after midnight by Sir’s friend who works here? I don’t know) makes me feel like my skin is glowing with hot embers. 

She stands over me again, my legs spread in the adductor machine, and she squeezes my sore thighs. 

“You want my fingers inside you, prettyboy?”

I whimper, “Yes, Sir.” 

“God, you’re so wet,” she whispers in my ear as she slips two thick fingers inside me with ease. I want so badly to squeeze my legs together but between the weights and my muscle fatigue, it’s impossible. I might as well be strapped into a spreader bar in her bed right now. I start to imagine being in her bed, going home with her, when her deep, husky voice in my ear distracts me from my reverie.

“God, your slutty butch pussy feels so good around my fingers, boytoy.” 

I tighten around her and can’t contain my moan, gripping the handles of the machine, wishing that my hands were buried in her salt and pepper hair. 

“Can I – ” I start to ask. “Can I touch you?”

She groans against my neck, curling her fingers inside me and making me cry out. 

“Yeah, prettyboy,” she mumbles against my warm skin. 

I whisper, “Thank you.” I pause and add, “Sir.” 

I release my death grip on the handles and slide my hands up her strong forearms, her biceps, gripping her shoulders and gasping as she continually hits the spot of pleasure inside me. 

“Sir –” 

“Yeah, boy?” 

“Please – oh – oh, please, please that feels so good. Please, I love it. Please, Sir –”

“Please what, boytoy?” 

“Please! Fuck me harder. Give me another finger. Oh, God, please, I want more. More, please, more, more…”

“Greedy little toy, aren’t you?” 

“Ohhh.” 

“Well? Aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, Sir. I’m a greedy little whore for it. I want it. I want more. I want you. I want your fingers. More. Please. All of you. Please.” 

“Fuck,” she curses to herself, curling her fingers and then pulling them out, only to slip three back inside me. 

“Fuck!” I echo, screaming it, now with no regard for the noise I’m making in this very public space. “Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Thank you, Sir, thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you…” 

I ache and throb around her, dripping down her hand. 

“You’re so god damn wet, you slutty toy. Look at you. Taking it, trapped in this workout machine with your Sir fucking you open for her.” 

“Sir, I’m – I – oh my God, I – fuck!” I cry, desperate for words, for air, for her fingers inside me, for more, for her to reach deeper, fuck me harder, fuck me more. 

She laughs at me, never stopping her movements. “What’s a matter, slut? Can’t talk? Speechless? That’s cute.” 

“Oh – oh – oh –” 

I’m absolutely dumbstruck and dazed with pleasure. 

“Oh, prettyboy… You look so handsome taking my fingers like this. So fucking slutty. Such a good boy.” 

I know she feels me clenching around her at every compliment. I tangle my hand in her hair, the other hand gripping the back of her neck and scratching up her freshly buzzed hair. 

“Sirrr…” 

“Mmm, yes, handsome thing?” 

“I want your cock, please… I want to cum on your cock… Oh, fuck me open for your cock, just like that, please…” 

“Jesus H Christ,” she curses to herself under her breath. “You want another finger, handsome?”

“Yes!” I gasp, throwing my head back and hitting the padded headrest of the thigh machine. “Yes, Sir! Please!” 

She curls three fingers and pulls out of me, pressing back into me bit by bit with four. 

She bites my bottom lip teasingly for a moment, pulling back and winking at me. God. 

“Kiss me, please?” I ask (beg). 

She smiles and indulges me, kissing me slowly and sensually, slipping her tongue out to graze my lips. I moan into her mouth, and she continues kissing me while she fucks my eager cunt open for her. 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God –” I say desperately. 

She slides in and out of me, biting my lip and pulling away to growl in my ear: “You’re a filthy, greedy slut and I’m going to destroy you tonight.” 

The sound that escapes my mouth is somewhere between a cry and a scream. I feel myself pulsing hard around her thick fingers.

“Please!” I gasp. “I want that. I want you.” 

She laughs. “Look at my hand right now. I think you have me.” 

I groan in frustration. “Please! I want… I want your cock. Please. Bend me over a bench and fuck me ‘til I’m cumming on your butch cock.” 

“Mmm, boytoy…” she says, sounding intrigued. “I can do that for you… But you have to earn it first. Can you do that for me?” 

I nod furiously. “Yes. Yes, Sir. I can do that.” 

“Good boy.”

She kisses me gently as she slowly slips out of me, toweling off her hand before helping me up from the adductor machine with my wobbly legs and dazed eyes.

“This one won’t be as fun for you, boytoy,” she warns. 

I gulp, wondering what she means. 

She grabs the duffel and my water bottle and starts walking to another part of the gym. I follow with a slow, shaky stride as fast as I can. She stops at a shoulder press machine and pulls out the black dildo and bottle of lube. 

She smiles at me, tilting her head, eyes traveling up and down my body. I feel hot under her gaze. 

“I want you naked for this one, boytoy.” 

The thrill and lust that rush through me almost knocks me on my ass. 

“…Yes, Sir,” I say, looking her in the eye. 

Her smile widens.

She steps toward me, taking my jaw in her hand, maintaining our eye contact.

“I like what a good boy you are. Good boys get rewarded… when they work hard.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Strip.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

I pull my tank top over my head, and struggle out of my tight sports bra. It’s not a sexy moment, but I laugh and she laughs and she helps me, and then she looks down at my tits and her face turns to lust, and it’s worth it. 

She steps back with a great deal of self-control and nods to me to continue. 

My shorts fall to the floor, followed by my very damp boxer briefs. I step out of them, feeling a little silly in just my tennis shoes, so I awkwardly shuffle out of them ‘til I’m wearing nothing. Sir motions to the bench for me to sit and spread my legs.

When I do, I watch her drizzle lube on the toy as she explains what’s happening.

“You’re going to cockwarm this dildo and do three sets of 10 shoulder reps.”

Okay, easy enough.

“And I’m going to hold this vibe to your clit while I lick your nipples, and you’re not going to cum.” 

Oh. 

Oh God. 

The way my clit is engorged and throbbing from being fingered is almost painful in pleasure. I’m going to be so close the moment the vibe touches me. 

“Yes, Sir,” I promise anyway, maybe lying.

Sir strokes the lube up and down the toy, getting it wet. I lean back and spread my legs wider for her. 

“Good boy.” 

She slips the dick inside me easily, fucking me a couple times with it. Pleasure sparks in me and I cry out. Then she shoves it firmly inside me and says: “Cockwarm it. 10 reps, now.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

I scoot back on the bench and reach for the two handles above my shoulders. Sir has set the weight to 30 pounds and it’s just at the edge of my limit. She searches for something to sit on and finds a folding chair near the management office, opening it and sitting with spread legs in front of me, flicking the vibe back on with her phone. She rests the phone between her legs on the chair, fiddling with the vibration settings, and then presses it to my clit.

I grunt and huff as I count my third shoulder rep. Her mouth is soon on my nipple, softly sucking. 

“Oh,” I gasp. “Four. Thank you, Sir.” 

“Hmm,” she hums against my nipple. 

I count to five, to seven, to ten. I rest and she praises me, giving me a break from the stimulation. 

We go through this routine for my second round of reps, except this time, I find myself starting to fight off an orgasm. When I count my tenth rep and the vibe turns off, I breathe heavily in relief. 

By the third round of ten, I’m so close it’s all I can do to stop myself from cumming. The way my body is clenching through the exercise – my shoulders and arms and back, my core, my legs – has me tense with pleasure too. 

“EightthankyouSir,” I say quickly, finding myself rushing through the reps, hurrying to finish before I break my promise. Before I disappoint Sir, or find out what the punishment is. 

“Why the rush, prettyboy? Slow down,” she tells me in a relaxed drawl. 

“Please I’m so close – I can’t – I’m gonna – ” I stammer.

“What? You’re gonna cum? Better finish your workout properly, then. You don’t have permission ‘til ten reps.” 

She’s still holding the vibe to my clit, and if I’m not just hypersensitive or imagining things, she’s pressing it harder into me now. 

I press hard with my shoulders. “Nine, thank you, SIr.” My legs are shaking and Sir’s mouth is back on my nipple, tongue sliding over the nub with soft precision. I lower my weights, feeling the electricity and pleasure build in my clit. I’m so close. I’m so close. I’m so fucking desperate for it, desperate to stop it. I press my shoulders again, trying to say, “Ten,” but I can’t – I cry out – pressing my rep all the way, pleasure exploding inside me as my vision goes white while I find the strength to finish my shoulder press. I never manage to say, ’Ten. Thank you, Sir,’ but she tells me I’m a good boy anyway. 

She turns the toy off. My shoulders and arms ache, flopping to my sides. 

“God…” I laugh. 

“That ain’t my name, prettyboy,” she says with a tilt of her head. 

“Sir,” I correct. “Thank you, Sir.” 

“Mmm, that’s it. That’s a good boy. Do you want me to fuck you with this cock, boy?” 

“God, I want that more than anything,” I answer. 

“‘God’ ain’t my fuckin’ name, boy,” she says again, slowly, emphasizing her words.

“Sirrrr.” I blush, embarrassed. “Sir. Please.” 

“Better,” she growls. She reaches into her duffel for a harness and I watch her strip her shirt and drop her basketball shorts, slipping the harness on over a pair of black boxers. She orders me to stand and bend over and she presses the toy into me a few times with her hand before pulling it out and slipping it into her O-ring. She takes me to the benches in front of the free weights and floor to ceiling mirrors. 

“You want to get fucked, boytoy? Bend over and look at me in the mirror, then. Show me you mean it. Let’s see that prettyboy ass up in the air for me.” 

“Yes, Sir,” I say with enthusiasm, bending over the bench with my hips up in the air for her. “Please fuck me, Sir. I’m so ready for it. Please use my cunt, for your pleasure. Please cum inside me, Sir.” 

With a snarl, Sir slips inside me easily, groaning as she hits the hilt. 

“Well, if you fuckin’ say so, boytoy, don’t mind if I do.” 

Her strokes are modest at first, not torturously slow but not generous either. Until I moan: “Oh my God, Sir, please use me. Please ruin me.” 

“Oh,” she groans. “Fuck yeah.” Her pace picks up and so do my cries, and I don’t break eye contact with her except when it feels too good to keep my eyes open. 

“Look at me,” she orders. My tight, wet pussy clenches around her and my eyes flash open. “That’s right, boytoy. Prettyboy fucktoy. Obeying my orders like a good fucking boy. God, you feel so good with your tight little pussy around my cock, taking it like an eager cockslut. Fuck – fuck –” 

Her face strains in concentration, hips finding a smooth rhythm and thrusting harder than ever. 

She’s gonna – 

“Please cum inside me, Sir. Please use my cunt. Please breed this slutty pussy. Please. I want you. I want you to use me. As much as you want. Whatever you want. Just use me for your pleasure…” 

The way Sir is slamming her hips into me has my body shaking with each thrust. 

“Fuck, prettyboy – fuck – fuck –” 

She’s still watching me, making eye contact as she cums inside me with a yell. 

“God, yes… Thank you, Sir.” My grip on the bench is strong, my hands and wrists and forearms aching. 

“Get on the mat, on your back,” she pants. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

I do, lying on the cushioned but firm gym mat and feeling wetness between my thighs. My legs spread apart easily, relaxing comfortably. Sir darts back to her basketball shorts for her phone and the clit vibe, turning it back on and speed walking back to me, settling between my legs with the buzzing toy in her hand.

“You can cum as many times as you want, handsome. This is all for you now.” 

She slides back inside me, and I look up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling before my eyes roll back as the buzzing toy meets my swollen, aching clit. 

“Such a filthy little toy… Following this old dyke to the showers to get fucked in public… So fucking eager to get used… Abused… Teased… Overstimulated… Just so greedy for pleasure, huh, prettyboy? You just want to cum, don’t you? On a butch dyke’s dick? Well cum, then, you butch dyke slut.” She fumbles for her phone, maxing out the toy’s vibrations, growling in my ear: “You little fagdyke freak. Taking it on the floor of a gym for me like a desperate, eager – exhibitionist – whore.”

I cum again with a scream when she calls me a whore, my toes curling and knees bending to wrap tighter around her back. My nails – clipped a week ago – dig small half-moons into her shoulders. 

She’s murmuring more dirty things as my scream quiets, but they don’t register at first in my empty, blissed out, mindless head. Out of the fog of pleasure, I hear: “… handsome little cumslut… You feel so good on my dick. Such a good butch.” 

“Ohhh. Thank you, Sir…” 

“You’re fucking welcome, prettyboy. God, this was the best workout of my fucking week,” she pants, turning off the vibe and collapsing her weight on me. She’s heavy, and it’s a little hard to breathe, and I do not care.

“You can work out with me whenever you want,” I say with a pleased, distant laugh, flat on my back on the navy padded gym mat. 

“I don’t mind a gym bro…” she says, trailing off, distracted by gazing at my body. She meets my eyes again. “Want to clean up in the showers?”