Serving Alpha Gods

    It had been a couple of weeks since the accident, but life had settled into something fairly routine… or at least as routine as my life would probably get from this moment on. Eric was no longer ghosting me between our interactions… In fact, When we weren’t speaking in person, or on a call, we were texting fairly regularly. When our conversations weren’t full of slurs and derogatory comments directed towards me, they were actually somewhat pleasant, even delightful. I looked forward to waking up every morning to a string of texts from him, slurs and all. 

    We spent every other night together, sometimes even more often than that. Eric was becoming a regular around the house, to the point where my other housemates were asking when he’d start paying rent. Joking of course, but they still had a point. Whatever you would call this twisted relationship, Eric and I were together even if he refused to put a label on it. I’d have to admit, the frequent bruises were hard to excuse. It didn’t take everyone long to connect the dots and realised my frequent injuries started around the same time Eric walked into our lives. 

    Eric was abusive, there was no other way to put it. He would strike me both in private and public, in the middle of heated discussions or common small talk. And of course, he would beat me in the middle of sex. As a result, I was constantly nursing a black eye. My housemates were concerned, however they did little to discourage our relationship, or even to come to my defence when the moment called for it. I soon discovered it was because he came to command the house as easily as he commanded me. No one wanted to piss him off, perhaps they were afraid of him, this was the most likely answer. As a result, Eric has free reign of the house.

    Regardless, my housemates enjoyed his company. They shared the occasional opinions and were able to have civil discussions when they did not. They had common interests ranging from sports, to games, to physical activities. They even started going to the gym together. Truthfully, Eric treated them with more respect than he did me, perhaps that was because he viewed them as how he would say ‘real men’ while I was ‘just a faggot.’ Most of my housemates were straight, and the only one who wasn't, was more masculine than I. I came to realise his idea of a gay man was different from what he considered a faggot. 

    I soon noticed that Eric was starting to rub off on my housemates… Not in a sexual manner of course, rather they were beginning to feel comfortable treating me less as an equal. They would ask me to take away their dirty dishes, vacuum their rooms, wash their clothes, pretty soon I was doing the housework for five people. Things eventually came to a climax over two Sunday nights. 

Sunday nights were always our house hold movie night, where we’d pick a movie or two, usually one most of us had not seen, microwave some popcorn and open a bag of chips. The movie tonight we chose was something from the alien franchise, a few of us had yet to see it though I don’t remember which. No one was particularly enthralled by the movie, so it must have been boring. Most of the time there were random topics of conversations being thrown about the room. 

I was sitting right beside Eric, He was comfortable enough to let me wrap my arms around his bicep, something I was rarely brave enough to attempt, but took the opportunity when it presented itself. A couple of my housemates were talking about something to do with the movie's cinematography, or maybe some trivia on the movie's development. Eric was speaking to one about how attractive one of the women leads looked in her outfit to which my housemate agreed. 

A few moments later, when there was a lull in the conversation, Eric looked down at me, and in front of everyone, pulled out his cock.

“Suck me off, Faggot.” He ordered.

Eyes widened around the room, my housemates were shocked, they looked around at one another and awkwardly avoided making eye contact with Eric or myself. I, of course, obeyed his order without question. I kneeled down between his legs and began worshipping the cock that cored me out every other night. 

Suffice to say, the conversations in the room ground to a halt, and everyone suddenly found themselves more interested in the movie. Unwilling to speak up, or leave, for fear of upsetting Eric. Was this his method of cementing his control over the household? Regardless of what his true intentions were, he had successfully claimed dominance over the room. No one dared challenge him.

“Look up at me.” He commanded.

    At his words, I did as instructed, and my eyes matched his. But I was instantly blinded as a glob of spit struck my face, covering my eyes. I resumed worshipping his manhood, all the while my housemates questioned how and I was comfortable with such treatment. I could feel the occasional eyes on me as my housemate's vision darted around the room. They were equally as uncomfortable with the situation as they were curious. 

    About ten minutes passed, and with both hands, Eric pulled me in. Forcefully pressing my lips to the base of his impressive cock. Burying my nose in his fragrant pubes. He climaxed for all the see and hear. His masculine grunts echoed down the hallway, louder than the sound effects of the movie. When he was done, he placed his foot on my chest and kicked me away. Rewarding me with another spit to the face. 

    I returned to my seat beside him, my whole body was red with shame. He had never humiliated me so publicly before, and never so forcefully in front of people I considered my friends. 

    That night was significant, everyone would be talking about it for years to come. When Eric left for work the next morning, my housemates came into my room to talk. They asked questions like if I planned that, if he was aware they weren’t comfortable with it. They asked if I was comfortable being treated that way, and when I answered yes, they asked how could I let a man abuse me like that. In spite of all their concerned questions, not one of them proposed a solution, not one of them insisted I break up with Eric, and it was clear none of them was willing to risk upsetting him over this. They wanted him to stay in our lives as much as I needed him in mine. 

    They pretended to be mad, upset that I had brought this man into our house, into our lives. But in truth, it was to save face. Eric was unlocking something in them he had in me, and it would become clearer as the days went on.

    Eric, who was practically living with us at that point, returned to our house directly from the base where he was stationed. I loved when he did this… He reeked of masculinity, still in his military fatigues drenched with sweat, I wanted nothing more than to worship him. I couldn’t help but press my nose up to his body, in the guise of a hug, and suck in the scent oozing from his body. He tolerated it for only so long before he pushed me away.

    “Fuck off, faggot” He cursed before throwing his bag down to one side in the hallway. He stomped past and into the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. A commonality for the past few weeks. To which my housemates now decided to give me looks of frustration and confusion, and making gestures as to ask ‘Why are you letting him treat you like that’ without actually saying the words. I would just reply with a satisfied grin and follow Eric into the kitchen to ask what he wanted for dinner.

    Situations like this continued to escalate all week, Eric was more and more comfortable vocalising his opinion of me and happy to demonstrate how he preferred to treat me. At one point I was washing dishes, to my surprise he snuck up behind me, shoved a hand down my pants and a finger up my anus. His towering presence prevented my escape, not that I minded. I had no intention of making him stop, or willingly distance myself from him. Over time, my housemates became comfortable with the arrangement and stopped giving me these questioning looks. 

    Another week passed, and once again, it was movie night. This time I think we were watching something Disney. One of the older 2D animated movies, although, once again the movie in question was hardly relevant. 

    We were sitting around the room, munching on popcorn and various other snacks as we enjoyed the movie. Suddenly one of my roommates turned to face me.

    “Faggot, come suck on this dick.” He demanded, to everyone's surprise. 

    Something then happened no one was expecting. Eric turned his gaze away from the TV, he looked the housemate who made the demand dead in the eye. We could all feel the rage that built up in the aggressive primal alpha male. An aura of anger and power fell over the room.

    “The fuck you just say?” Eric’s powerful voice boomed.

    “Well I just thought…” My housemate went to speak in his defence.

    “He’s not your fucking faggot, he’s my fucking faggot. You don’t give him orders.” Eric wasn’t loud, but the emotion, the power, and the tone were so forceful, everyone felt as if they were children being dressed down by a kindergarten teacher.

    “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

    “No you don’t just anything, You fucking ask me for permission to use my fag, you don’t presume your privledge over something you don’t own.” 

    A shroud of discomfort fell over the room as the emotional misunderstanding was replaced with an awkward silence. The housemate in question was now as I once was… He looked around for support but found everyone averted their eyes wherever he looked. Not even a moment passed, and Eric grabbed my arm. He dragged me out of the common room, down the hall and into my bedroom. Locking the door behind us, I expected he’d fuck me, but He had something else in mind. A statement.

    He turned to me slowly, the arrogant, cocky pile of chiselled muscle tilted his head back and forth as he unbuckled his belt, and slowly pulled it from his trousers.

    “Take off your pants.” He commanded gently. 

    I obeyed.

    He forced me down onto the bed, had me prop myself up so my ass was high in the air, and ordered me not to move. For the next hour, I endured a pain I could not describe, no words were sufficient. Strike after powerful strike as the thick leather belt lashed against my bare ass. Eric made me sit with my head to one side, so my mouth was free to speak. I screamed, I shouted, I cried. Each strike was more painful than the last. This was his message to the house. I was to endure any punishment he deemed necessary. The empathy of my housemates would ensure obedience. And of course, it worked. 

    When he was done, my ass was bleeding, not from the hole this time but from the damaged skin on my cheeks. He silently removed the remainder of his clothing, and climbed into bed. He gestured for me to lay beside him. Eric, the man who had punished me, held my head to his chest, remaining silent as I cried.

    The next morning, I found it difficult to sit. But that was the least of my worries. I ran into my housemate, who awkwardly attempted to apologise. I simply smiled, asked him not to worry and offered to make him breakfast. It wasn’t long before I noticed things returned to normal, Eric and all my housemates were the best of friends. I’m sure they feared him as the vengeful god he is, just as I do. Though they’d never say it. We never spoke of that night again.

    Eric moved in by the next weekend. Bringing an impressive set of weights, training and exercise equipment we fit in the basement. We managed to fit his clothes into my wardrobe, and even fit his gun safe into my-our room… With his salary, Eric offered to pay the entirety of my share of the rent. He insisted I quit my job so I could focus on my creative projects, when I wasn’t playing his housewife. My life decision to let this man have total control of my life was difficult to understand, even for myself, but nothing had felt more right before nor since.