*****

Part 3…

The blonde finally eased off, her ass lifting just enough for me to suck in a ragged breath, but the relief is short-lived. She spun around, her eyes locked on mine with that vicious sparkle, and before I could wipe the mess from my face, the captain’s fist was in my hair again, yanking me toward her.

“Enough ass play for now, tiny. Time to put that tongue to better use on something that actually deserves worship,” the captain said.

She shoved my head between her thighs, her shorts yanked down in one swift motion, exposing her shaved pussy, already glistening from the thrill of my degradation. The scent hit me hard. It was musky, aroused, mixed with the faint tang of sweat/piss from practice, and I froze, my lips inches from her pussy folds, heart pounding in terror and shame.

“Lick it, you worthless little bitch,” she snarled, grinding her hips forward until her wet slit smeared across my mouth.

I whimpered, tears still streaming, but there was no escape. Her thighs clamped around my head like a vice, strong from years of soccer drills, cutting off my air as she forced my tongue out. It touched her clit. The hot, slick, salty taste floods my senses as I lap tentatively at her clit. She moaned mockingly, not from pleasure but triumph, her fingers digging into my scalp.

“That’s it, babydick. Eat my pussy like the desperate loser you are. Your tiny dick’s never made a girl feel this good. Hell, it couldn’t even if it tried,” the captain growled.

The words sliced through me, reopening the wound of my exposure, my small penis twitching uselessly between my legs, soft and shamed. I sobbed against her, the vibration making her laugh as I thrust my tongue deeper, probing her pussy folds, sucking on her swollen labia while she rocked against my face.

Spit and her slick pussy juices mixed on my chin, dripping down my neck, the humiliation burning hotter than the ache in my jaw. Why did this break me so completely? The thought swirled in my mind, drowned by the onslaught. I’m nothing. I’m exposed and used. My freshman shyness twisted into raw submission.

The other girls closed in, their phones angled low, capturing every desperate flick of my tongue, every muffled cry. The redhead reached down first, her fingers wrapping around my soft, tiny dick, and it stirred traitorously from the touch. She pinched the head hard, twisting the sensitive skin until I yelped into the captain’s pussy, the pain shooting up my spine.

“Look at this pathetic nub,” she cackled, squeezing tighter, her nails biting in. “Bet it hurts, huh? Good! Worthless dicks like yours deserve it. Jerk it for us? No, too small to even touch right. Just twitch and cry while we film you breaking,” the redhead said.

I bucked against her grip, but it only made my tongue delve deeper into the captain’s cunt, lapping at her inner walls, tasting her arousal as it coated my mouth. Gags turned to moans, choked and unwilling, my body trembling on the cold floor, knees bruised and raw. The freckled girl joined in, her hand batting at my balls, pinching the loose skin there with cruel precision.

“Pathetic trembling slave,” the freckled girl taunted, her voice dripping venom. “You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re gonna cum just from eating us out? What a joke. Your micro-dick’s leaking already, but it’s so tiny we can barely see it. Lick harder, bitch. Make her cum or we’ll twist this little dick off.”

Their laughter erupted, a storm of mockery that echoed off the lockers, amplifying my isolation. The brunette shoved the redhead aside for her turn on my battered dick, her fingers crueler, pinching the shaft from base to tip in rhythmic squeezes that sent fire through my groin. I cried out, the sound lost in the captain’s folds as she ground faster, her clit swelling against my lips, forcing me to suck and swirl despite the tears blurring my vision. Pain and shame collided in my chest, a heavy weight that crushed my spirit.

I’m helpless. Their plaything. Every pinch pushed me closer to shattering. My submission deepened with each verbal barb.

“Worthless,” the captain gasped, her thighs quivering as she neared her edge, but her eyes stayed cold, triumphant. “You’re nothing but a pussy-licking failure, babydick. All that college hype, and you’re on your knees, slurping like a slut. Cum for us yet? No? Keep trying. Oh, wait, you can’t with that sad excuse between your legs.”

After she said this, the captain orgasmed, hard and sudden. Her juices flooded my mouth, forcing me to swallow or choke. The salty flood mixed with my sobs. I gagged, heaving, but they held me there, phones whirring, recording the way my face glistened, my tiny dick twitching under the relentless pinches.

She pulled away, panting with laughter, and the blonde took her place, yanking my head to her dripping pussy. “My turn, crybaby. Dive in. Taste what a real woman’s like, since your shrimp dick will never know.”

The blonde’s pussy folds part under my tongue, wet and demanding, as the girls’ hands swarmed my dick again, twisting, pinching, pulling at the skin until it was red and throbbing. Insults poured down:

“Pathetic little worm.”

“Trembling bitch-boy.”

“Break for us, slave. Sob louder for the camera.”

I obeyed blindly, tongue thrusting deep into the blonde’s cunt, then lapping her clit with frantic desperation, my body a quaked of pain and unwanted arousal.

The redhead filmed close-up, zooming in on my dick’s pathetic spasms. Her free hand joined the assault, nails scraping the underside. “Look at it twitch. It’s so small, so useless. You’re ours now, exposed and broken. Keep licking, or we’ll make it hurt worse.”

Tears burned my eyes, sobs wracking me as I worshiped her, the emotional torrent overwhelming. Shame flooded every nerve, and submission rooted deep in my shattered core. They passed me around like this, each pussy a new hell of slick heat and cruel demands, fingers never stopping their torment on my tiny dick, laughter and flashes recording my descent.

The captain circled back, pinching harder, pushing me to the brink, and I wondered, through the haze of agony and humiliation, how much more I could take before I truly snapped, their malice promising no end in sight.

The cycle of degradation dragged on, each girl taking her turn to grind her pussy against my face, forcing my tongue deeper into their slick, demanding pussy folds.

I licked the brunette’s next, her juices thick and tangy on my lips as I swallowed with trembling desperation, my throat burning from the constant flood of their arousal mixed with my tears. Her thighs squeezed my head, muffling my whimpers as I probed her entrance, lapping at the sensitive walls that clenched around my tongue. The taste overwhelmed me. It was salty, tangy, pissy, and musky.

A humiliating reminder of my place beneath them. Exposed and used on the cold locker room floor.

The girls never let up on my tiny dick, their fingers twisting and pinching the sensitive skin with vicious glee. The redhead’s nails dug into the shaft, pulling it taut before releasing with a snap that made it spasm painfully, a jolt of fire shooting through my groin.

“Fuck, look at this little thing jump,” she laughed, her voice echoing off the metal lockers. “It’s like a sad worm trying to escape. Pinch it harder, girls. Make the pathetic bitch feel it.”

The freckled one joined in. Her thumb and forefinger clamping down on the head, rolling it cruelly until pre-cum beaded at the tip, only for her to smear it back with a mocking swipe. My body jerked involuntarily, the pain blending with the unwanted throb of arousal, my three-inch boner twitching helplessly under their assault. Shame burned in my chest, hot and unrelenting; I was nothing but their toy, my small size a punchline that fueled their cruelty.

The captain watched it all with that predatory grin. Her hand suddenly fisted in my hair again as the brunette finally pulled away, her pussy glistening from my efforts. She yanked my head toward the next girl in line. The blonde, whose folds were already swollen and dripping.

“Suck harder, you worthless fuck,” the captain snarled, shoving my mouth flush against the blonde’s clit. “Deeper, babydick. Tongue-fuck her like your life’s on the line, because it is. If you don’t make her cum, we’ll rip that micro-dick right off.”

I sobbed silently into the wet heat, my lips parting to suck on the hard clit, my tongue thrusting frantically inside her cunt, swirling against the ridged walls that pulsed with her building pleasure. The emotional weight crushed me. Every lap, every swallow deepened the humiliation. My shyness shattered into raw, exposed submission.

Why did their dominance break me like this?

The question swirled in my mind, drowned by the slick sounds of my mouth working her over.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the juices that coated my chin and neck, but I couldn’t stop. The captain’s grip was iron, her other hand reaching down to twist my nipple viciously, adding fresh pain to the torment. The girls’ verbal attacks rained down like blows:

“Pathetic pussy-licker,” the redhead jeered, her phone zooming in on my flushed face buried between thighs. ‘You’re crying already? What a weak little slut. I bet your tiny dick’s never even been inside a real pussy. Just lick and leak, that’s all you’re good for.”

The brunette laughed, slapping my ass hard enough to leave a red print. “Trembling like a bitch in heat. Sob louder for the camera, slave. Show everyone how broken you are.”

Their words sliced deep, reopening the wound of my public exposure, my body a quivering mess of pain and forced obedience. I felt so small, so utterly degraded, my freshman innocence stripped away in this circle of athletic tormentors.

They filmed every degrading moment, phones held high and low, capturing the way my tongue delved into the blonde’s pussy, the desperate swallows as her arousal flooded my mouth. The freckled girl angled her camera at my dick, now red and swollen from their pinches, the tiny shaft spasming under another cruel twist from the captain’s free hand.

“Smile for the vid, babydick,” the captain mocked, squeezing until I gasped into the blonde’s pussy folds.

The vibration made the blonde moan triumphantly. “Look at that broken body. Shaking, leaking, and worthless,” the blonde said. “Your small penis is the star here. We’ll post this everywhere, let the whole campus see what a humiliated little beta bitch you are.”

Laughter erupted again, a cacophony that amplified my isolation, the flashes of their screens searing into my vision like brands of shame.

The blonde orgasmed with a shudder, grinding hard against my face, her juices squirting in hot spurts that I choked down, gagging on the intensity. She pulled away laughing, wiping herself on my hair before the next girl—the redhead—shoved in.

Her pussy was rougher, demanding as she rode my tongue with urgent bucks. “Deeper, shrimp dick,” she demanded, her hands joining the fray on my dick, pinching the base while the others twisted the tip.

Pain lanced through me, my sobs turning to muffled pleas, but they only mocked louder.

“Begging already? Pathetic. Your tiny dick’s twitching like it wants more. You freak, the captain said and yanked my hair rhythmically, forcing my mouth to suck harder.

My jaw ached as I obeyed, tongue aching from the relentless pussy worship.

Overwhelmed by the humiliation, the cruel pinches that made my dick throb in agony, I felt myself teetering on the edge of complete breakdown. Their dominance was absolute, my submission a deep, emotional chasm that swallowed me whole. The phones kept recording, voices taunting my shattered form, promising endless exposure.

The redhead’s thighs clamped tighter. Her climax was building as my tongue worked desperately, but through the haze of tears and pain, I knew this was far from over. Their malice lingered, hungry for more ways to break me.

The redhead’s pussy ground down harder on my face, her slick folds smothering my nose and mouth as I thrust my tongue deeper, desperate to appease her. Her juices coated my lips, thick and salty, dripping into my throat with every frantic lap. I gagged softly, the musky taste overwhelming, but her thighs locked around my head like a vice, forcing me to keep going.

Through the haze of her scent—sweaty from practice, sharp and feminine—my mind reeled with shame. Why was my body responding? My tiny dick throbbed despite the pain, three inches of pathetic flesh exposed to their mercy.

Suddenly, her hand shot down, fingers wrapping around my shaft with a cruel grip. “Time to wake this little nub up,” the redhead snarled, her voice muffled against her own grinding but laced with sadistic glee.

She slapped my cock hard, the sharp sting radiating through my groin like fire. The impact made it bounce uselessly, red welts blooming on the sensitive skin. I yelped into her pussy, the vibration drawing a moan from her, but she only laughed, low and vicious.

“Pathetic. Look at it bounce like a dying fish. Pinch it, girls. Make the crybaby squirm.”

Her nails dug in next, twisting the head viciously, pulling the foreskin taut until pre-cum oozed out in a humiliating dribble. Pain exploded, sharp and unrelenting, blending with the unwanted heat building in my balls. Tears welled up, hot and stinging, as I realized how broken I was—reduced to this—my small size their endless joke.

The captain’s voice cut through the laughter. “Harder, red. Make that micro-dick regret existing.”

The Captain reached over, her iron grip joining the redhead’s, squeezing the base while the redhead pinched the tip. I bucked involuntarily, my tongue faltering inside the redhead’s clenching walls, but she slammed her hips down, smothering my cry.

“Don’t you dare stop licking, babydick,’ she hissed, grinding faster, her clit rubbing against my nose.

The freckled girl zoomed her phone in close, capturing the way my dick twitched under their assault, the red marks from slaps glowing under the locker room lights. “Smile for the fans, dinky dick,” she taunted, her free hand smearing the pre-cum across my shaft like lubricant for more torment.

Shame flooded me, deeper than the physical ache, knowing this video would spread and expose my inadequacy to the whole world.

The redhead climaxed with a shuddering cry, her pussy flooding my mouth with hot, sticky release. I choked it down, gagging on the volume, tears streaming freely now as she pulled away, wiping herself on my cheek.

‘Your turn, Sara. Ride his worthless face till he drowns in pussy.”

The blonde named Sara straddled me immediately, her swollen pussy dripping onto my lips before she even settled. She was soaked, her arousal slick and warm, the scent heady and overpowering as she lowered herself. “Open wide, beta bitch,” she mocked, grabbing my hair to guide my mouth.

I parted my lips, tongue darting out to lap at her entrance, probing the tight, velvety heat. She ground down ruthlessly, her hips bucking in short, demanding thrusts that forced my tongue deeper into her cunt.

As I worshipped her desperately, swirling around the inner ridged walls and sucking on her clit, the redhead didn’t let up on my dick. She slapped it again, harder this time, the wet smack echoing off the tiles.

“Fuck, it’s so small. It’s barely worth the effort,” Red laughed, her fingers pinching the underside, rolling the tender skin until I whimpered into the blonde’s folds.

The blonde Sara joined the mockery, her hands reaching back to twist my balls lightly, adding a dull throb to the sharp slaps. “Taste that? That’s what a real woman’s pussy is like, tiny. Your dick will never feel a pussy wrapped around it. It’s too pathetic. It’s too small.”

Her words sliced into me, reopening the wound of my humiliation, my chest tightening with sobs I couldn’t voice. I gagged harder as she flooded me with more slimy pussy juices, my throat working overtime to swallow, tears carving paths down my temples into my hair.

The other girls circled closer, their laughter a relentless chorus. The brunette slapped my thigh, her hand brushing my cock to deliver a stinging pinch.

“’Look at him gag. He’s crying like a baby while he eats pussy. What a degraded little freshman.”

The captain orchestrated it all, her phone steady as she filmed the close-up of my face buried in the blonde’s dripping cunt, my tongue visible, thrusting in and out. “Deeper, slave… Tongue-fuck her good, or we’ll twist this nub till it snaps.”

They took turns now, the redhead and blonde alternating their torment on my dick while the blonde rode my face. The redhead would slap and pinch, her nails leaving crescent marks, then the blonde would reach back, her softer but no less cruel fingers squeezing the head until it purpled. Pain layered upon pain, my tiny shaft a swollen, throbbing mess, yet it leaked steadily, betraying me with every humiliating twitch.

I felt so overwhelmed, the emotional crush as heavy as the physical assault. Shame burned through me like acid. My small penis was the center of their universe, mocked and abused, as I submitted on my knees.

“Please,” I tried to whisper during a brief lift of the blonde’s hips, but she slammed back down, muffling me.

“No begging, loser. Just lick my pussy like you mean it,” the blonde Sara growled.

The freckled girl laughed, her camera catching a tear-streaked close-up. “He’s breaking, girls. Look at those eyes. Keep filming. This is gold,” she said.

They twisted my dick in unison now, the redhead’s slap followed by the blonde’s pinch. The rhythm syncs with the blonde’s grinds. My body shook, gagging on her tight cunt as she neared her peak, the vaginal walls fluttering around my tongue.

Verbal barbs flew:

“Tiny dick loser.”

“Pussy-licking bandit.”

“Cum for us again, freak. Show us how little it spurts.”

Deeper into submission I sank, the humiliation wrapping around my soul like chains. The blonde’s moans grew louder, her pussy clenching as she chased release, but through the tears blurring my vision, I saw the captain’s grin promising this cycle wouldn’t end soon. Their hands never stopped on my dick. Slaps and pinches pushed me toward another unwanted climax, the pain and shame twisting into a dark, inescapable pleasure that only deepened my degradation.

The blonde’s moans peaked, her pussy clenching around my tongue in rhythmic spasms as she rode my face harder, her juices flooding my mouth in hot, salty, and fishy waves. I gagged, swallowing desperately, my throat raw from the onslaught. The redhead’s nails dug deeper into my tiny dick, twisting the swollen head until pre-cum leaked in pathetic strings, her slaps landing with wet smacks that made my balls ache.

“Cum, you little freak. Spurt that worthless load while we film it,” the redhead taunted, her voice dripping with malice.

The captain’s grip on my hair tightened, forcing my tongue deeper into the blonde’s dripping cunt, the walls fluttering as she chased her climax. Shame burned through me, my body trembling on the edge of another humiliating release, tears soaking my cheeks amid the chorus of their cruel laughter.

Suddenly, the changeroom door slammed open with a bang that echoed off the lockers like a gunshot. All motion froze. The blonde’s hips stilled mid-grind, the redhead’s hand pausing on my throbbing shaft. I gasped for air, the blonde’s slick pussy lifting just enough to let me breathe, her arousal dripping down my chin.

Through blurred vision, I saw her. The coach. A stern 45-year-old woman with short-cropped graying hair, broad shoulders from years of training athletes, and a face etched with lines of authority. She stood there in her tracksuit, eyes widening in fury as she took in the scene. I was sprawled naked on the bench, dick exposed and abused, surrounded by the girls with phones still recording.

“What the hell is going on here?” the coach bellowed, her voice booming like thunder, veins bulging in her neck.

The girls scrambled back, the blonde sliding off my face with a wet pop, her pussy leaving a glistening trail on my lips. The captain dropped her phone, her predatory grin vanishing into shock.

“Coach Matthews… We were just…” she stammered, but the coach cut her off with a sharp gesture.

“Not another word! All of you, to the showers. Now! Get cleaned up and out of my sight before I suspend the whole damn team for this outrage. What are you all? A bunch of sick perverts?!”

The coach’s command was ironclad, her eyes flashing with rage as she pointed to the exit. The girls exchanged panicked glances, the redhead releasing my dick with a final mocking squeeze that made me wince. They grabbed their towels and phones, hurrying toward the showers in a flurry of whispers and stifled giggles, but the coach’s glare silenced any lingering taunts.

“Move!” Coach Matthews snapped again, and the girls obeyed, disappearing behind the tiled wall, the sound of rushing water soon muffling their retreat.

*****

Silence fell, heavy and thick, broken only by my ragged breaths and the drip of the blonde’s juices from my chin onto the bench. I lay there, exposed and broken, my tiny three-inch boner twitching uselessly in the cool air, red and marked from their abuse. Shame flooded me anew. Not just from the girls, but from being seen like this by her, the authority figure who’d just saved me. Or had she? Her eyes locked on me, cold and assessing, no pity in them, only a commanding intensity that made my stomach twist.

She strode over, her sneakers squeaking on the floor, and knelt beside the bench. Her hands were strong and calloused from handling equipment. The coach gripped my arms, pulling me up with surprising gentleness but unyielding force.

“Up, boy. On your feet,” she ordered, her voice low now, laced with authority that brooked no argument.

I stumbled upright, legs shaky, my small penis bobbing shamefully between my thighs, still leaking from the torment. Her gaze flicked down, lingering on it for a beat, and I saw a flicker of disdain. Or was it amusement?

“Can’t leave you here like this. Follow me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, her hand clamping around my wrist like a vice as she dragged me across the changeroom, past the lockers and benches slick with sweat and fluids. My bare feet slapped against the cold tiles, every step a reminder of my nakedness, the air chilling my abused skin.

We burst through a side door into the dimly lit corridor, her office just down the hall. A small, cluttered space with a desk piled high with clipboards and a worn leather couch. She shoved the door open and pulled me inside, locking it with a decisive click that echoed in my chest.

Before I could process, she turned on me, her hands moving fast. I was already naked, but she stripped away what little dignity remained. Wiping the girls’ juices from my face with a rough towel from her desk, her touch was clinical yet invasive.

“Disgusting,” she muttered, her breath hot against my ear as she pushed me toward the couch. “Those girls think they run this team? I’ll deal with them later. But you… You’re not going anywhere until I say.”

Her eyes bored into mine, cold command turning to something hungrier, her authority wrapping around me like chains. She backed me onto the couch, her hands on my shoulders, forcing me down until I knelt before her. With quick, merciless motions, she unzipped her tracksuit pants, shoving them down along with her plain cotton panties. They pooled at her ankles, revealing a thick bush of dark hair framing her pussy lips, swollen and already glistening with arousal. The scent was musky and mature, heavy with the day’s sweat.

“You think you can just wander in here and cause chaos?” Coach Matthews growled, her voice dropping to a husky demand. “Earn your way out. Eat my pussy, boy. Make it good, or I’ll drag you back to those girls myself.”

Her hand tangled in my hair, yanking my face forward until my nose pressed into her damp pussy folds. The taste hit me first. Her pussy was salty, tangy, fishy, with an earthy depth that made my head spin. I parted my lips, tongue darting out to lap at her vaginal entrance, probing the slick heat as she ground against me. She was wetter than the girls, her juices coating my tongue in thick waves, dripping down my chin as I sucked on her clit, swollen and demanding.

“Deeper,” she commanded, her thighs parting wider, her iron grip holding me in place.

Pain from the earlier abuse throbbed in my dick, but her control stirred something dark. The humiliation twisted into forced submission, my tiny dick hardening against my will. She moaned low, hips bucking to fuck my mouth, her free hand reaching down to pinch my ear sharply.

“That’s it, lick it deep. Taste a real woman, not a bunch of teen girls.”

Tears pricked my eyes again, not just from shame but from the overwhelming pressure, her pussy smothering me as I swirled my tongue inside her clenching cuntal walls. The office smelled of her arousal now, mixed with the faint leather of the couch, and I wondered if this was rescue or just another layer of degradation. Her authority promised more, even as she neared her peak with grinding urgency.

My tongue delved deeper into her cuntal folds, the coarse hair of her bush scraping against my lips as I lapped at the thick, salty fishy discharge seeping from her core. Sweat and musk filled my mouth, a pungent tang that coated my throat with every desperate swallow. Her pussy clenched around my probing tongue, hot and insistent, demanding more as she ground her hips forward.

I felt the submission sink into my bones, heavier than the girls’ laughter had been. This wasn’t playful cruelty. It was the weight of her authority crushing me, turning my accidental intrusion into total surrender. Part of me recoiled, shame twisting in my gut at how easily I obeyed, my tiny dick betraying me by twitching harder against the cool air of her office. But another part, broken and raw, craved the structure of her command, even if it meant more pain.

Her thighs quivered around my head, muscles taut from years of coaching, trapping me in place as I sucked on her swollen clit, the nub pulsing under my lips like a heartbeat. ‘Fuck, yes… Suck it harder, you pathetic babydick boy,” she growled, her voice rough and unfiltered, echoing off the cluttered walls lined with team photos and trophies.

I whimpered into her wetness, the vibration making her buck sharper, her juices smearing across my cheeks. The scent was overwhelming, mature and unapologetic, mixing with the faint musty odor of the leather couch beneath my knees. My mind raced. Why was I doing this? She was supposed to help, not humiliate. Yet here I was, face buried in her dripping cunt, tongue fucking her depths while my body trembled with conflicted heat.

Suddenly, her free hand shot down, fingers wrapping around my three-inch boner with a grip like steel. I gasped against her pussy, the sound muffled as her sharp nails dug into the sensitive skin of my shaft, twisting the tender flesh until fire bloomed along my length. Pain shot through me, sharp and unrelenting, making my balls draw up tight.

“Look at this sad excuse for a dick,” she sneered, her nails scraping deeper, drawing thin lines of red that stung with every scrape.

She jerked me roughly, her calloused palm grinding against the head, smearing the pre-cum that leaked in helpless spurts. My hips jerked involuntarily, a mix of agony and unwanted arousal flooding my veins. I wanted to pull away, to beg her to stop, but her other hand in my hair held me firm, forcing my mouth back to her clit as she rode my face harder.

Tears welled up again, hot and stinging, mixing with the slick mess on my face as her nails dragged down my shaft relentlessly, from the base to the tip, over and over. Each pass left my skin raw, throbbing, the humiliation burning deeper than the physical hurt.

“Three inches? That’s all you’ve got? No wonder those girls laughed their asses off. You’re nothing but a tiny-dick joke, boy. Fit for nothing but tonguing pussy like the bitch you are.”

Her words sliced into me, verbal barbs that echoed the girls’ taunts but hit harder, laced with her mature disdain. I sobbed softly into her folds, tasting the fresh gush of her arousal as it dripped onto my tongue, my body shaking with the emotional wreckage. Why did her mockery make me harder? The conflict tore at me. Shame for my weakness, a twisted relief in her control, the fear that this office, this private hell, would break me beyond repair.

She laughed low, a cruel rumble in her chest, as her iron grip shifted to my wrists, yanking them up from where they’d braced against her thighs. Her fingers crushed around them, bones grinding under the pressure, pinning my hands behind my back like restraints. The pain radiated up my arms, making me arch against her, my tiny dick slapping uselessly against her leg with each involuntary twitch.

“Stay there, don’t you dare move. Worship it proper, or I’ll make sure every coach on campus knows what a worthless slut you are.”

Her cunt clenched tighter around my tongue, walls fluttering as I plunged deeper, desperate now, lapping at her vaginal entrance with frantic strokes. The fishy musk intensified, her sweat beading on her skin and trickling down to mix with her juices, forcing me to swallow the bitter flood.

Broken and trembling, I pushed my tongue harder, swirling inside her heat, sucking her clit until it swelled even more under my lips. My knees ached on the rough carpet of her office floor, the air thick with her scent and the distant hum of the showers from the changeroom. Emotions warred inside me. Revulsion at my degradation, a shameful ache to please her, to earn some scrap of mercy from this fierce woman who held my ruin in her hands.

Her nails released my cock only to slap it hard, the wet smack echoing as pain exploded anew, my shaft bouncing pathetically.

“That’s right, cry for me while you eat my cunt. You’re mine now, babydick. I’m gonna break you until you beg for more.”

She ground down, smothering me completely, her climax building in the way her thighs tensed, promising no end to this torment.

Her breaths came ragged, hips rolling with urgent need, but her eyes were cold and commanding. They locked on mine when I dared glance up, daring me to falter. The door was locked, the world outside oblivious, but I knew this was just the start. Her dominance wrapped around me tighter, pulling me into the depths of submission I couldn’t escape.

Her thighs clamped down like a vice, smothering me in the humid heat of her pussy as I redoubled my efforts, tongue lashing her clit with desperate, swirling strokes. The swollen clit throbbed under my lips, slick with her juices that poured out in thick waves, flooding my mouth with the sharp, fishy musk of her arousal.

I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, feeling her body tense above me. The coach’s 45-year-old muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. Shame burned in my chest, hot and unrelenting, mixing with the twisted pull of submission that kept me locked in place. Why did her dominance feel like the only anchor in this storm of humiliation? My tiny dick ached, three inches of pathetic hardness bobbing in the air, leaking pre-cum in shameful drips onto the carpet.

“That’s it, you worthless little shit. Make me cum on that tongue,” she snarled, her voice cracking with raw need, fingers twisting in my hair to yank me closer.

Her hips bucked wildly, grinding her dripping folds against my face, smearing her wetness from my chin to my forehead. The scent was overpowering. A mature, sweaty, fishy tang invaded my senses, making my head spin. I whimpered into her core, the vibration sending her over the edge. Her pussy clenched hard, vaginal walls pulsing as a guttural moan ripped from her throat.

Hot fluid gushed out, squirting against my tongue in forceful spurts, forcing me to swallow the bitter fishy flood while she rode out her orgasm, thighs quaking around my ears. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with her pussy slime, the emotional weight crashing down. Degraded beyond words, yet my body betrayed me with a surge of unwanted heat.

As her shudders faded, she didn’t release me. Instead, her hand dove back to my dick, fingers encircling the tiny shaft with brutal efficiency. “Now it’s your turn, micro-dick. Cum for me like the joke you are.”

She stroked hard and fast, her calloused palm rasping over the sensitive skin, nails scraping the underside with each upward pull. Pain and pleasure twisted together, my balls tightening as she jerked me without mercy, thumb grinding into the slit to coax out more pre-cum. I gasped against her thigh, hips thrusting helplessly into her grip, the humiliation flooding me anew.

Her eyes bored into mine, cold and triumphant, as she mocked, “Pathetic. Not even a handful. No girl will ever want this sad babydick.”

The words sliced deep, reopening the wounds from the girls’ laughter, but I couldn’t stop the build-up, my body surrendering to her control.

It hit me like a wave, my tiny dick spasming in her fist as jizz erupted in weak spurts, splattering across her knuckles and dripping onto the floor. I cried out, a broken sob muffled against her skin, waves of ecstasy and shame crashing through me. She milked every drop, squeezing until I whimpered from oversensitivity, my shaft twitching pathetically in her grasp.

The mess pooled between us, sticky and warm, a visible testament to my defeat. Emotions choked me. Revulsion at my helplessness. A dark relief in the release. Fear that this cycle of degradation would never end.

She pulled her hand away, holding it up to my face, jizz glistening on her fingers. “Lick it clean, slut. Taste your own worthless load.”

Her command brooked no argument, voice laced with disdain as she smeared the semen across my lips. I hesitated, stomach twisting, but her grip in my hair forced my mouth open. My tongue darted out, lapping at the salty, bitter fluid. My own cum, mixed with the faint tang of her skin.

It coated my tongue, thick and humiliating, as I sucked her fingers clean, gagging on the flavor while tears blurred my vision. She chuckled darkly, watching me debase myself further, the act sinking hooks of submission deeper into my soul.

“Good boy. That’s all you’re good for, you know. Cleaning up after real women use you.”

Finally, she shoved me back, my ass hitting the carpet with a thud. I knelt there, trembling, face slick with her juices and my tears, dick shrinking back to its useless flaccid state. She stood, adjusting her sweat pants with casual indifference, then rummaged in a drawer and tossed an old tracksuit at my feet. It was faded gray sweats that smelled of dust, piss, and old sweat.

“Put this on and piss off. Get out of my sight before I decide to join those girls in sharing your videos.”

Her tone was ice-cold, eyes dismissing me like trash as she turned to her desk, already done with my broken form. I scrambled into the clothes, the fabric rough against my raw skin, hanging loose on my skinny frame. No underwear, just the chill of exposure lingering as I stumbled out of her office, the door clicking shut behind me like a final judgment.

*****

The campus air hit me as I stepped outside, late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the paths. At first, it was quiet, but then whispers turned to stares. Groups of students clustered around phones, eyes widening as they spotted me. Laughter erupted from a cluster of girls near the quad, one pointing with a manicured finger.

“Hey, look… It’s the tiny-dick perv from the video!”

The words carried, slicing through the air, and my face burned as more heads turned.

I hurried forward, head down, but the taunts followed.

A guy from a jock frat bellowed, “Micro-cock freshman! Bet that three-incher couldn’t satisfy a flea!”

Phones lifted, snapping pics, the videos the girls must have posted are already viral. Me naked, humiliated, forced to lick and beg. Shame flooded me, hot and suffocating, as a group of sorority types cackled, one mimicking jerking a tiny air-dick.

“He came so quick in that clip. Total loser!’

My steps faltered, knees weak, the emotional wreckage piling on.

The coach’s dominance echoed in my mind.

The girls’ cruelty was now public, spreading like wildfire across campus.

Where could I hide? My life was ruined. My reputation was destroyed. I was no longer a person. I was the ‘micro-cock freshman.’ An object to be used and discarded. I ran to my dorm room and shut the door, locking it. I lay on my bed and fell asleep in a minute. I was exhausted.

The End.

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