Forced to sell underwear

For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Marc, I’m 44 years old, I’m 1.76 tall and weigh 70 kilos. At my age I still have the body that football and swimming left me with when I was young: broad shoulders, hard pecs, hinted abs although no longer as exaggerated as when I was twenty, veiny arms, powerful legs from so much sprinting and thighs that still make girls turn around at the gym. A “fag’s ass,” as Alex says, and an “underwear-ad package”… complete my anatomy. Despite all my experiences in the gay BDSM world (which I’ve recounted on this page in various stories), I’m still as heterosexual as on the first day, and despite my age, I know that a straight submissive with my physique still has an appeal for a lot of people.

When I ended my relationship with G, probably the guy who took me further than anyone in the spiral of humiliation and obedience, I spent a while “quiet,” and I thought that at my age I would never have these kinds of experiences again.

But months later I met Alex. Alex was 21 years old. He’s a normal kid, but with the cheek, ease, way of speaking, and mentality of a kid who is that age today. He dominated me for months. We recently and by mutual agreement broke the commitment that tied me to him and I’m free again, but I wanted to write another story about that stage, specifically about one of the uses Alex made of me in the most creative and humiliating way he could think of: doing business with my underwear.

Warning: this is a story about very elaborate underwear that may offend sensitive people with thin skin.

Alex learned very quickly that he could use me however he wanted. And something that turned him on enormously, for a student kid with a shit job and not a penny, was having an executive with money at his feet. And I, the straight guy who had always prided myself on being the macho one of the group, the one who fucked the hottest girls, the one who made homophobic jokes in locker rooms, came from shame for months every time he forced me to call a brat who could be my son “master.”

It happened from one day to the next, without me realizing it. He told me, not to ask what I thought about it, but to make it clear what was going to happen.

Alex had written the ad that same afternoon. He forced me to put on four different briefs and take photos of my ass and bulge to publish it. The text was humiliating:

“Selling used briefs from my 44-year-old straight slave. Former footballer, gym body, sweats a lot, big bulge. Very used briefs, stained, sweaty. Price depending on filth. Serious buyers only. Contact here.”

He attached four photos of me: two from the front showing my bulge, two from behind with the briefs wedged between my glutes. You could see my muscular ass, strong legs, broad back. I looked like a fucking meat ad.

For weeks, the ad was quite successful. Alex made some money at my expense, for �...