Wellington Napoleon Dowd - 7. Chapter 7 - College - Love's Plaything

I contacted the family alma mater, in compliance with my father’s expectation. Other than his moldering diploma on of the wall of the study, I had had no connection with the college. The materials the college provided were similar, if not indistinguishable, from any of the thousands of small private liberal arts colleges emphasizing critical thinking, small class sizes, dedicated faculty and what appeared to be hide-bound traditions. My application was quickly returned with an acceptance with a note from the president of the college honoring my family’s many previous alumni and a not well guised pitch for a donation to the alumni fund.

Another note from the dean of housing ensured me that I would be housed in Dowd Hall, named in honor of some long dead relative’s grand contribution to the school. In fact, I would have my father’s former rooms. Yes, rooms, plural. My father shared, wistfully, that he had a suite composed of a sitting room, separate bedroom and private bath on the top floor of one of the towers of Dowd Hall. I quickly leafed through the college brochure to see if Dowd Hall was pictured. And yes it was, to my consternation. There it was, no doubt another work from the distorted mind that had built the Dowd Mansion, dark, heavy, fortress-like – it would feel like home.

Still, this would be a new adventure. My one regret was that Clark Gable would not be able to attend with me, at least for the first two years due to the prohibition on underclassmen having cars on campus. I would travel back and forth by train for the two hour journey.

***

College orientation was scheduled for early in September. I was packed off to the train by Mrs. Cooke and Gardener with too many suitcases and a large trunk. It must have looked like I was going on safari for all the luggage they had assembled. I’m sure my mother’s instructions must have been behind the excess. While she never left her rooms, much more traveled, she would have an opinion as to the appropriate image I should present. I would be well prepared for all eventualities, particularly those of the preceding century.

My goodbye from my mother carried her usual disinterest in me, unlike my luggage. My father managed to wave me off from the top of the stair, bidding me to do the family proud.

The college, no doubt again fishing for a contribution from an assumed to be wealthy family, arranged for a car to meet me at the station. The poor driver, overwhelmed by the pile of luggage, promised to have a truck retrieve it later.

I was met by the usual college welcoming committee of upper classmen. I was shown around the campus and invited to a casual assembly for refreshments. On entering, I noticed a clutch of students gathered in front of a display of some kind. On the wall were many multicolored cards, each with a name of incoming freshmen and an invitation to guess who was who. Among the expected names were joke names, “Frank Furter,” “Ella Vator,” and so on. From among the crowd, one voice called out with mirth, “Hey here’s a good one, who is ‘Well N. Dowd’?”

“That’s me.”

All heads turned toward me.

“I’m Well Dowd,” I said as brightly as I could manage.

“So are you?” asked a voice in the crowd?

“Am I what?”

“Well endowed?”

I could feel my ears burning crimson. “Um, well, um.” My mind raced for a clever response. “Perhaps some lucky person will find out,” I tried with feigned confidence.

“Sure, whatever,” came the response, discarding the earlier comments to my eternal gratitude. I would learn some time later that the conversation had been overheard.

The remainder of the orientation sessions were followed by the beginning of classes. The campus began to fill up as upper classmen returned.

It was easy to see that Dowd Hall was the dorm of last resort, the more modern buildings of only 80 years vintage being preferable. Freshmen and those who had placed poorly in the annual room lottery were my housemates. I felt a certain proprietorship of the hall, though could do nothing to improve its comforts. My suite of rooms was as advertised, a circular sitting room wrapped with windows on the highest floor, a nicely sized bedroom and a private bath. I would learn to regret the five flights of stairs when returning from beer-soaked carousels. I was envied by few, but did appreciate the privacy few if anyone else on campus had. For once part of my name benefited me.

“Well N. Dowd?” He asked emphasizing my middle initial.

“Uh huh.”

“So are you?”

“Jeez, not that again.”

“Easy boy, I’m just kidding you. I’m Josh Baker.”

“Uh, okay,” I replied, not sure of why this startlingly handsome man sat down with me. “Ummm, did you want something?”

The smile he returned both froze me and melted my heart. There in a single expression were spoken devilment and lust. He kept his eyes glued to mine as he ate. “Got a class across campus, so gotta run. Your place, tonight at 10.”

“I’m in Dowd Hall.”

“Oh, I know where you are and all about you. At 10.”

He strolled across the room, glancing back to give me a wink as he exited the door.

My friends descended on me. “Yo, Dowd, since when do you sit with seniors?”

“He sat with me. I don’t know why?”

“Sounded to me like you have a date or something,” a bud responded, his voice full of suggestion.

“Nah,” I responded, not wanting to disclose my sexuality. Or more realistically, not to confirm the obvious. A moment later the issue was forgotten among the usual conversations about classes, bad food and coming weekend activities.

***

I was in my sitting room at my desk, lost in a paper the topic of which was proving difficult for me. I hadn’t noticed time passing until the door to hall way burst open. There he was, Josh. The flutter of desire and admiration I hadn’t felt since my disaster with Hunter came back multi-fold. Here he was, specifically to see me. Images of romantic embraces, tender kisses and conversations long into the night filled my being.

“Bedroom,” Josh commanded.

I stumbled from behind the desk, eager to obey.

Once in the bedroom, Josh closed and locked the bedroom door. He smiled as he had done earlier, devilment and lust.

“Strip.”

Confusion must have been displayed on my face.

“Take off your clothes.” This time said with some impatience. He maneuvered an arm chair to face the bed. “Come on, take ‘em off.”

I complied, tossing my clothes into a heap. Josh walked around me, clearly observing me from every angle.

“Not bad,” came the appraisal. “Now, get hard. Stroke yourself,” he encouraged.

My hands shook, even as I grasped my cock.

“Hey, look at me,” came the next command.

I looked up to meet his eyes, his soft blue eyes, alight with desire. My cock hardened in an instant.

“Nice, I’d say you are well endowed.” He rose from the chair and crossed to me, kneeling down, tilting his head close to my balls. I could feel his breath. “Nice hangers, too.” He returned to lounging on the chair. “Grab those balls. Yeah, give them a yank.” I could hear his short breaths from across the room. “Now beat off, I mean pound that meat.” My eyes never left his, even as I stroked myself faster and faster. “Yeah, baby, cum for me. Shoot that load.” I answered his command, spurting across the room. I fell back onto the bed, overcome with the orgasm. “Alright, Dowd. See you tomorrow.” He left the room, door wide open.

As I lay on the bed, cooling down from the heated moment, I was overcome with the absurdity of what had just transpired. I had been completely in his thrall, naked, masturbating to his command and he, he had remained clothed, never touching himself, the only indication of excitement his shallow breaths. And he hadn’t touched me. I had some of the exhilaration of performance and complying with Josh’s very sexual demands. It lacked the sweet exchange of my imagination. Well, next time. He said he’d be back tomorrow.

I mopped up my orgasm, then climbed into bed, feeling both physical satisfaction and emotional want.

***

The next day passed slowly. At dinner, I spotted Josh across the dining hall sitting with his friends. He granted me a wink. I felt a jab in the ribs from my own friend. “So did he come over?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Not much, talked some,” I lied.

“Maybe he’ll buy us some beer. It would be good to have a senior around.”

I nodded agreement, with some apprehension.

***

The next night was much the same, as were nearly every night for several weeks. Sometimes Josh would order me to lie down, or kneel in front of him, or assume any variety of positions as I stroked myself to orgasm. He remained in the chair, fully dressed, watching me, holding my gaze, but never touching. The one time I reached out to touch him, he scolded, “No Well, no touching. No one ever touches me.” I drew my hand back scalded by his words. He demanded my orgasm, then left as usual, if anything about this meeting could be called usual.

He didn’t arrive the next few nights. I was in desperation over having offended him. I spotted him at the far end of a hallway of a classroom building. He stopped, leaned against the wall casually, then flashed his smile. At 10, he was back in my room and I complied with his orders.

***

The following night, scuffling sounds preceded Josh’s entry to my room. The door swung wide with a bang. Josh shoved another man into the room in front of him. I began to protest, lying naked and up to that point appealingly on the bed.

“Shut up, Well. This is Jerry. Now suck him,” pushing Jerry toward me.

“Josh,” Jerry whined. “I don’t want to.”

“Shut up, Jerry. Suck my man, Well, you worthless shit. Suck him till he cums.”

Jerry walked on his knees to the edge of the bed. He reached up, carefully taking my balls into his hand, my cock limp. I felt no desire.

“Look at me,” Josh again demanded. My eyes met his and my cock sprang to obey. “Suck that big cock. Suck him.”

Jerry struggled to obey Josh’s increasingly frenzied rant. I admit to the pleasure of Jerry’s attentions, but it was Josh’s steady, lust-filled gaze that captured me.

“Take it. Take it all the way,” Josh shouted. “Throat him.”

Jerry gulped, gasped and gagged, eyes streaming. My balls pulled up, I grasped the bed clothes, releasing deep into Jerry’s throat.

“Yes, cum for me, Well. Beautiful.”

Jerry choked on my cock, accepting the last of my ejaculation. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping.

“Good job, Jerry. You took that cock like a pro.” Josh handed out this meager compliment as he left the room. Jerry scrambled up from the floor following Josh. I was left alone, with a dwindling orgasm and little satisfaction.

***

Josh returned alone the following night. He relived the suck session, interrupting his telling with instructions for me on this occasion’s masturbation. He even shared his delight in exploiting Jerry, another under Josh’s spell. I understood only too well Jerry’s plight. Yet if to be humiliated and controlled by Josh was required for his attention, then so be it.

Jerry became a regular feature of Josh’s evenings with me. Jerry and I subtly worked out how to be kinder to each other while meeting Josh’s commands. I know in my mind, Jerry may have been the one sucking my cock, but only Josh was in the room with me.

Josh’s scenarios escalated, as these things do. One evening, Jerry kneeled in front of me, this time naked.

“Did you prepare yourself, Jerry?”

Jerry gurgled a response around my cock.

“Good. Well, fuck him.”

I must have paused too long.

“Didn’t you hear me? Fuck him.”

“Josh, I can’t do that to Jerry. It’s rape.”

“Well, it’s okay. I want you to. Please fuck me,” Jerry pleaded. He leaned over the bed, presenting his ass.

This was new for me, I hesitated. Jerry reached back, positioning my cock against his hole. I pushed in slightly. Jerry gasped.

“Fuck him, I tell you.”

Jerry pushed back against me, working my cock in. “Josh, this isn’t going to work. I can’t do this.” Real tears fell.

Josh leapt from the chair in a rage and stormed from the room.

“I’m sorry, Jerry.” I tried to comfort him as I withdrew.

“It’s alright, Well. I’d do anything for Josh, but this, I can’t do this.”

He quietly dressed and left.

***

I avoided Josh the next several days, being sure to be away from my room at the appointed time, sometimes waiting in the shadows until Josh left the dorm building. A week or so later, Josh cornered me in the library.

“My man, Well. Where’ve you been? I’m needing you.” Again that smile. How could anyone resist that smile. “Don’t worry, Jerry’s cool. He even asked if he could suck you off again. I think he likes it more than I do. And I’ve got another idea for fucking. What do you say, my man? Are we still friends? Nah, more than friends, don’t you think?”

I hated myself even then, but Josh knew he had me. Those images of being in Josh’s arms still burned in my heart, the hope still with me.

“Alright, 10, tonight. I’ll bet you’ve got a load all saved up for me since last time. Cool.”

***

“Well, do you know Lee?” Josh asked by way of introduction. I had seen Lee at a student recital. He had played both violin and piano, brilliantly. He was a slight man, much shorter than me. He allowed Josh to bully him, reminding me of how Josh bullied Jerry and I guess myself. But Lee had his own way about him. He made all the same noises of compliance but was there for his own purposes. He even winked at me when out of Josh’s line of sight.

When Josh demanded that I fuck Lee, Lee cried out his fear, making much of my cock. But he pulled me to him. My cock sank easily into his ass. Our faces were inches apart and I could see his pleasure and eagerness, even as he complained bitterly about being abused. The charade continued, on the surface following Josh’s orders, but with Lee and I connecting physically. Fun and pleasure turned to passion.
We were going for it. Josh was delighted.

“Fuck him, fuck him with that big cock. Make him take it. Pull out and shoot on his face. Yeah.”

Lee played this scene with all the brilliance he showed in the recital, his own orgasm adding to mine.

Josh was nearly breathless, though only a witness to our exertions. He left, showing us with compliments and ordering us to be ready for the next night.

***

My dorm friends never mentioned if they knew what occupied many of my nights. There was an underlying consciousness around campus about Josh. Like most bullies, he was feared, but little in life felt better than the warmth of his attention. I think many on campus were happy that someone was keeping him occupied and a few knew it was mostly me. I saw envy and relief on the faces of many.

It was not the relationship I wanted. I consoled myself that it was the relationship I could get. For the most of the remainder of the year, about five nights a week, Josh arrived alone, with either Jerry or Lee and on a few occasions, both. I was always the physical center of attention, but it was all about Josh. He orchestrated our every move. The one constant was that I stare into his eyes. It was as if he received the sensations of my body through the meeting of our eyes. No one would willingly submit to Josh, but I guess that is the aspect of seduction that is Josh. Looking back, I am humiliated and distraught for the others in our ménage. I’m aroused, too. Damn you, Josh.

***

The end of the term approached. Josh would graduate. On a night when it was just he and I, I begged him to come to me.

“Please, Josh, please make love with me this one time.”

“Stroke that cock.”

“Let me suck you, fuck me, just let me make you happy.”

“Stroke it fucker. Pull on your balls.”

Frustration for being denied brought tears along with my orgasm. Josh crossed the room. He placed his mouth next to my ear. “You’ve been a good little fucker, Well. This year couldn’t have been better, thanks to you.” Then he left.

***

I only saw Josh again one time. It was the following fall term. Many alumni come back for a special weekend. There are a host of scheduled activities: plays, athletic events, concerts and parties. I was waiting for some friends. We had agreed to meet up to go to a party. I was standing on a balcony overlooking a reception area to be certain to see my friends. It was Josh, who I saw come into the room. Josh, the one who couldn’t be touched, now hanging all over another man. They made out flagrantly in the center of that public space.

At first I was crushed. Josh, whom I thought I loved, was with someone as I wanted to be with him. Several drinks later, I came to realize that I no longer envied Josh’s lover. He had enthralled Josh just as Josh had done me. The tables were turned at last.

***

I didn’t seek out any close relationships for the duration of my college life. I concentrated on the work, got good grades, had fun with friends, but kept my heart to myself. Lee and sometimes Jerry would stop by for sex until they graduated. That was fun, but Josh’s presence was still felt in the room.