Gym Slave

Title: Gym Slave

Author: Andy Robson

Link: https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newStory/show/3509

CHAPTER ONE - INTRODUCTION

Second year student Adam Lomas was a regular at the college gym where I worked. I was "senior sports and exercise leader" (that's "coach" outside the world of academic personnel departments) and he was the hottest guy in the room. He had one of those fatless, perfectly toned bodies. Every muscle was exquisitely outlined under his flawless skin.

Trouble was, he was a self-obsessed, narcissistic, alpha-male prick.

He didn't have any friends exactly, but his animal magnetism kept a cadre of hangers on fawning after him, casting envious eyes over his body and practically begging for his approval or commendation. It was pathetic. Perhaps worse still were the wide-eyed girls lusting after him. They tended not to last too long because he had a reputation for fucking and dumping them. They were just scores on a bed post to him.

The real reason I didn't like him was that he would pick on other guys in the gym. Not everyone has a physique like his. Not everyone wants a physique like his. OK, I lied about that last bit. Not everyone wants it enough to give up everything else to get it, which is what he did. He was in every night and if he got bored he would start poking fun at other people. Any stomach not showing a perfect six pack was laughed off as a beer gut. Every arm without perfectly defined biceps and triceps was derided as a flimsy twig.

This sort of thing isn't good for membership and it makes me personally angry. One of the hurdles I work hard to overcome is to convince people that you don't have to be already fit to come to the gym. "I'm too fat to go to a gym" is one of the lead excuses for not attending. I work my butt off to get people coming in (so the college keeps paying me) and people like him are an affront to all the good work I do.

Worse still, perhaps, was the attitude of his "court". Go to a gym for your self-image, your self-respect, for yourself. If you push more weight than you did last time, feel good because you did it, not because Pretty Boy Lomas said you did well.

If I'm honest with myself, however, the real reason he ticked me off so badly was that it compromised my position in the gym as the tough guy. Persuading young, hormonal jocks to give their all is as much about position in the pack as it is about logical explanation. I felt threatened by Adam Lomas.

I'd tried to get him to change his ways but he didn't break any rules so I couldn't do much to him. He would just listen inattentively, mumble "uh-huh" when I was finished and then carry on as if I'd never spoken to him.

Let's just say he wasn't high on my list of people I like and if he ever slipped up I would enjoy coming down on him hard.

This is the story of how he slipped up and how he came down. Hard.

It started, believe it or not, with an ultra-feminist on the college council. She started by complaining that some of the guys, and Adam was certainly one of them, were working out without any vest on. This was upsetting the girls, apparently.

I have to say none of them had ever seemed upset. Not by his chest, any way.

Flush with her minor victory in this matter she moved on to her real objective: ladies-only nights. There was a stormy meeting of the college council where I made the sarcastic comment that if she wanted Tuesday and Thursday evenings to be women only I'd have Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the guys and we could be rid of the stupid dress code.

Unfortunately this got taken seriously and the decision was made!

To announce the new policy, and in a desperate attempt to stop attendance plummeting like a rock, I prepared some posters declaring "no shirts required" for the mens' nights.

The posters raised a few smiles and a dozen of the better built guys took the opportunity to come in without their shirts. Of course, only Adam made a show out of it. He came in wearing a really tight white vest that looked like it had been sprayed on and stopped at the poster to read it carefully.

"Yeah, I'd feel better without this on," he said to himself but loudly enough for other people to hear, of course. He ran the palms of his hands over his abs and chest, lingering a moment as his fingertips rubbed his clearly outlined nipples through the cloth. Then he slowly peeled his vest up and off his body, taking the opportunity to stretch when his arms were over his head and showing off his perfect figure for all to see. Truth be told, there were quite a few people watching the show, myself included. To complete the scene he balled up the vest and tossed it in a lazy, overarm motion into the waste bin! "Won't be needing that again," he announced.

It was pure theatre and that was the point when I realised just what a slut Lomas was. He was reveling in having so many envious eyes wandering over his body. He wore the smallest possible shorts in the gym and he started at the far end of the gym so he could walk past everybody showing himself off. This was also how he got his self-esteem refueled. As he walked his sycophants all chimed in with their greetings.

"Hey, Adam. Good to see you."

"Hey man, you not gonna want that vest?"

"Lookin' good, man."

At the same time he handed out his largesse. Favoured individuals, all topless I noticed, got a reply or compliment as he walked past. The really unfavoured, typically the least cool, got snide comments about needing to wear vests to keep their guts tucked in.

I was starting to seriously dislike Adam Lomas.

Over the next two weeks more and more people started turning up topless and we stabilised at a position with about half the folks wearing tops and the others not. The vest wearers were typically the less fit guys, of course, and Adam was starting to give them some serious grief. One evening I made the move myself and took my top off. Now I'm fit, but I'm also 47 years old so I'm no underwear model like Lomas. The next time Lomas made a sarcastic comment about someone's gut I asked him to comment on my stomach.

That shut him up for a bit.

This in turn gave a few more of them the confidence to lose their tops and by the end of the first month of this new dress code nobody was wearing tops. This revealed all the imperfect stomachs there and gave some other people who thought their own abs were too flabby the confidence to come along. While their bellies would be exposed so were everyone else's. Once they realised they weren't the only person without perfect muscles even more people started to attend.

In a college facility like a gym, attendance is your life blood. So long as I could stop Adam Lomas from driving people away again, the gym might attract better support from the college.

Now, I had to work hard to stop Adam from making life hell for the newly revealed guts, but I also noticed that, over the weeks, Adam's constant attempts at humiliating people without perfect figures was making him more and more enemies and a masculine camaraderie was building up among the other people who had dared to bare their bellies to one another.

CHAPTER TWO - THE DESCENT INTO HELL

Adam Lomas' world changed forever, and his descent into hell began, on a cold, damp, dreary Friday evening when he came in with a couple of his hangers on in a cheeky frame of mind. As they passed one of my posters he used the notice board pen hanging on a piece of string to slightly edit it.

"No shorts required!"

Laughing, they moved on towards the equipment.

Now I had already had a bad day. I'm one of those people influenced by the weather and it was getting me down. I had just finished the inch-thick annual health and safety assessment paperwork for the gym. ("Yes it CAN hurt you if you ignore what I say.") I had fought off the barbarian hordes of the finance department asking why the delivery charges for gym equipment were so much more than kit elsewhere in the college. ("Gym WEIGHTS. The clue is in the name!") Right now, Adam Lomas being a smart arse was the last thing I needed.

I grabbed the whistle around my neck and blew hard. One long whistle, the signal for all activity to stop immediately.

Everyone froze. Weights were lowered, conversations stopped and heads turned. I had the undivided attention of the entire gym.

"Mr Lomas has proposed a change to the dress code," I said, my voice carrying well in the unusual silence. I pointed to the poster and the nearer people started chortling.

"'No shorts required.' Perhaps he would like to be the first to try it out?" I held out my hand expectantly, indicating that he should hand over his shorts.

He blushed and looked down at his feet. Like most bullies, he was a helpless coward when confronted with someone who wasn't scared of him.

"Are you going to hand them over and work out in a jock?" I asked, fully expecting him not to. Just this once, I thought, I would be able to throw him out of the gym for the evening and have some peace.

"Erm, coach, I'm wearing, erm, you know, it's an, um, all-in-one thing. I'd be, you know, um, naked."

I was about to tell him that he should leave the premises for the night when something strange happened. A chant started up and was soon taken up by everyone else in the gym except for me and the young jock standing in front of me.

"Strip! Strip! Strip!"

Hands were clapped in time to the chant and a couple of guys moved round between Adam and the door out. I don't know if they would have physically stopped him leaving but they certainly added to his sense of being surrounded and overwhelmed.

"Strip! Strip! Strip!"

There's a saying "I must find out where my people are going so I may lead them." Well, it was clear where my people were going that night. All the latent hostility to his bullying had just found an outlet. There was no way I could let him off now with just a ban for one night. I waved for the chant to stop.

"Rule 6(b)," I quoted, looking up at the current set of gym conduct rules pinned to the wall. "Anybody found damaging or defacing gym equipment may be barred temporarily or permanently at the discretion of the senior sports and exercise leader."

I looked back at him. "So, Mr Lomas, banned from the gym for life or spending an evening naked?"

He looked up at me shocked by the severity of my proposed sanction. "For life! Come on, coach, it was only a fucking poster!"

"Zero tolerance," I replied. "Shorts or out."

There was a cheer of support from the people surrounding us. Everyone had left their exercise stations and had moved over to surround the pair of us like a fight in the playground.

I knew that there was no way Adam Lomas would ever surrender his access to the gym. This was the focus of his entire power structure and I was threatening to take it away with a single word. With a look of sheer bloody murder in his eyes, he slipped down his shorts and tugged them over his ankles. As the crowd burst into wild cheering he handed them over to me, covering his groin with his free hand.

I took them off him, noting that the key to his locker was pinned to the side of them, and put them behind my desk. I took my time, dragging out the time he spent being surrounded by the people who had come to hate him so thoroughly. There was no move to make way for him to pass through. For once he didn't look at all happy about people casting their eyes over his body. He stood there, frozen to the spot with his hands covering his cock and balls, leaving half the crowd to stare at his bare arse and its oh-so-muscular glutes.

Turning back from my desk I looked at the crowd's faces. The people he had bullied were obviously enjoying the experience of having the tables turned. But I was surprised by the angry looks I saw in the faces of his former courtiers as well. The great leader had fallen and there's nobody that likes to put the boot in more than his former followers.

"Right, Mr Lomas, I want a full work out from you this evening. No sloping off early." I gestured in the direction of the benches where he would normally start and waited to see what happened next.

He made a valiant effort to laugh the whole thing off but I think he hadn't realised that it was way too late for that. He was vulnerable and surrounded by sharks smelling blood in the water. He raised his hands up wide at shoulder height to reveal the whole length of his gorgeous body and turned once in front of them all. I noticed that he had no tan lines around his waist or upper thighs. That must have taken effort, I thought. I also noticed that he was the proud owner of a cock that ran to five inches when soft. I would swear it was shriveling in shame even as I looked at it.

"Feast your eyes, guys, this is what the gym can do for you."

Nobody laughed. Nobody cheered. That's when I think it hit him that he had no friends to help him out of this one, just enemies looking for a chance to take him down still further.

He gulped and moved towards the equipment. The crowd didn't part for him and he had to push his way through.

"Nice glutes, man," said one guy with heavy sarcasm in his voice. Then he slapped Adam hard on the buttocks as he pushed past.

"Not an inch of fat," added another, pinching him hard on the reddening skin.

"Come on, guys, get off me!" he protested and tried to push through.

"Firm abs, too," somebody said, slapping him hard across his stomach, "and no fat there either."

"Good pecs," said one of the more bullied people as he viciously squeezed and twisted one of Adam's nipples.

Adam was slapped and pinched all the way to one of the benches next to the racks of free weights.

"Dumb bell flies, Mr Lomas," I told him. "Let's stretch out those chest muscles."

This was a good exercise to show off his body but also to increase his sense of exposure. The exerciser lies back on a bench, the arms are spread widely and the legs are typically spread a little to get stability.

I made him do the exercises very, very slowly with minute attention to form. Truth be told, his form didn't need any correction; the guy knew what he was doing and did it very well. But I also wanted the crowd around the bench to get a good look at his full frontal nudity.

I moved round to the end of the bench away from his head and stood between his legs. His cock and balls were just in front of me, dangling over the edge of the bench, crying out to be played with. In my hands I had a gym towel, one of those small ones you use to lie on and wipe down with. Apparently idly, I let it swing to and fro very slightly. The trouble for Adam Lomas was that the lowest corner of the towel was rubbing against the end of his cock.

By the end of his first set he wasn't hard, but his cock was starting to react to the continual on and off sensation.

During the sixty second break between sets I commented how lucky the spectators were to see the specific muscles groups being worked so clearly. There was chuckling and Adam was about to say something when I interrupted and started talking about isolating muscle groups in exercises. He had lost his self-confidence and didn't feel able to interrupt me in turn.

During the second set I think he realised what was happening. I saw his eyes suddenly widen as realisation hit him, but he couldn't tip his head up to look without breaking form. The crowd realised what happened near the end of the set as his cock swelled enough to "tip" from hanging down between his legs to resting just above his right thigh.

Between the second and third sets I gave my usual pep talk about the importance of good form in exercise. They'd all heard it before and most of the crowd's attention was on Adam's cock rather than my face, but it gave me an excuse to keep him from talking while my towel carried on its evil work. Its pendulum swing was stroking the length of Adam's shaft and slowly but surely his cock was growing.

Adam wriggled to try to get his cock free from its torment, presumably thinking it was just bad luck that my towel was teasing him and not wanting to add to his humiliation by drawing attention to it.

I gave him a fifteen seconds break until he started his third set. Then I started giving a commentary on how fatigue showed through in the third set and my towel went back to work.

Soon his cock started twitching, taking on that mind of its own that all 19 year old penises have. My attention was split 50-50 between watching his form, and his upper chest and shoulder muscles, and aiming my towel.

The crowd's attention wasn't split at all, though. Their eyes were on his ever-swelling cock.

As soon as he had finished his third set I told him not to move and grabbed some heavier weights. Then I walked to the head of the bench and swapped them in.

"Chest presses," I told him.

By now his cock was most of the way to full erection. This made it an even easier target for my towel's brushing and by the end of his first set of presses there was no doubt that Adam Lomas was publicly throwing a boner in front of everyone whose respect he had depended on.

"Excellent form!" I congratulated him after he finished the set. "I can see you're really getting into this."

The crowd chuckled. Clearly their sympathies were with me and not the naked stud laid out before them with a seven inch rigid cock lying flat on his taut lower belly.

Adam, meanwhile, was blushing a deeper and deeper shade of red.

As he started his second set I made up a flaw in his faultless form. "There's the beginning of a slight wobble," I observed. Squatting down, I rested my hands on his thighs to give feedback on any movement. Of course this also gave me the opportunity to feel his wonderful thigh muscles. They weren't tensing with the exercise but were still solid under my touch. The presence of a pair of hands so close to his groin was only encouraging his erection to grow even firmer. I started to very slowly slide my palms up until my thumbs were just by his balls by the end of the set. "One last set, Mr. Lomas," I demanded. As he paused I moved my hands slightly further and was now massaging the base of his cock. I had to be careful still not to be too obvious, but I was guaranteed a firm erection by the end of the exercise.

By the end he was, indeed, fully erect and as he sat up from his prone position he noticed for the first time just how hard he was.

"Careful as you stand, Mr. Lomas, I cautioned him. "Looks like you've suffered a major blood flow from the brain." There was cruel laughter from the crowd and I saw a look of increasing horror on Lomas' face.

Looking around, it took me a few moments to work out what the look was in the faces of the crowd. It wasn't hatred for Adam Lomas any more. It wasn't even quite lust for his body in any sexual sense. It was hunger I was seeing. They wanted him, physically and aggressively. They were sizing him up like a side of meat.

"Standing shoulder presses, Mr. Lomas," I directed, handing him another pair of dumbbells. "Let's really work those shoulders."

Of course this was also an exercise that stopped him covering his body, or even his hard cock. With each press of the weights over his head it pulled the abdominal wall tight, lifting his hard cock slightly. Adam could now see the faces of his enemies and he looked scared. Their eyes and mine were moving up and down his taut body as he reluctantly displayed it for us. It was a canvas of physical perfection. And it was ours.

This was when I realised that my presence, while responsible for creating this situation, was probably also holding back the crowd's hostility.

"I'll let you all get on now," I told them. "I'm sure you can all make sure that Mr. Lomas doesn't skimp on any exercise."

As I backed off the crowd split up. Some went back to their own exercises while others kept their attention on Lomas. As he started his next set he was "encouraged" by hands touching almost every part of his body to check or admire his form.

Of course, while not part of any real muscle group, his cock and balls were also getting attention. For the next two hours, Adam Lomas displayed his magnificent seven inches to the whole gym and for the whole gym's amusement. For the entire time he was kept rock hard.

He got no let up from the pain, either. As he moved from one exercise to the next he moved from one set of tormentors to the next. The compliments "nice whatevers, man" were accompanied by increasingly loud slaps and grew increasingly personal.

"Nice dick, man," was followed by a particularly loud squeak from Adam second only to the shriek following "hey man, great pair of low hangers!"

If any independent observer had entered the gym that evening I would have been out of a job instantly. But they didn't and Adam Lomas suffered alone and friendless.

Two hours later he sought me out to reclaim his shorts as I was advising a couple of new guys on the "plank", an exercise for the core muscles, involving resting on your toes and your elbows with your body held straight for thirty-plus seconds.

He was in a dreadful state. There were slap marks all over his once-proud body. He was trembling from head to foot and there were tears welling in his eyes from his ordeal. But my eyes were drawn to his erection, which was dripping pre-cum after two hours of on and off stimulation.

"Adam, could I use you as a model?" I asked. I indicated that he should take position. As he moved past me I turned to the two students and let my towel "snag" on his cock. I let go of it and for a second it hung there draped over it to the general laughter of everyone watching.

My intent was rather more malicious, though. I pulled my towel back along the length of his shaft, running it all over his cock's sensitive head. I wanted to keep him on the very edge.

He took position. As he began to hold the position I dutifully demonstrated how all the core muscles were held tense. This let my hands wander over his lower body and accidentally - oh yeah - brush his cock a few times. I could also get all three of us looking under his rigid body, in principle to look at his abs, but also to observe the tight angle his cock made with his belly and just how close he was to orgasm.

Because this was a demonstration Adam held the pose for nearly a minute. As soon as he was done he collapsed onto the mat. I slapped him on the arse and told him he could hit the showers.

As he got up I noticed he had left a patch of his pre-cum on the mat. "Good grief, Lomas. Does your cock have to dribble everywhere?" I asked, making sure everyone could hear. "Wait here a moment."

Leaving him standing there ashamed with his hands over his cock and surrounded by prying eyes and laughter I walked over to the paper towel dispenser and pulled out a length. I returned and wiped clean the mat. Then I turned to my victim and held out the paper as if offering it to him to wipe his cock himself. He fell for my lure and reached forwards with his right hand, dropping his left hand to his side. I reached forwards and wiped his undefended cock myself. The paper was rough and I used its texture to stimulate his cock head as much as possible.

I had been hoping just to add to his discomfort but I hit the jackpot. With a cry of total despair he came in my hand. His legs trembled as he shot three powerful jets of cum into the towel. He staggered back with a look of horror on his face and started to stammer an apology over the jeers and laughter of his peers.

"That's one muscle we don't exercise in this gym, Mr Lomas," I interrupted angrily. "Get down to the showers right now. I'll send someone down with your key as soon as I've cleaned up here.

"Go!"

He sprinted for the door, his hands over his messy cock, without stopping to argue.

"If the next person down could take his locker key I would be grateful," I said to the crowd still wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. "And I'm sure Mr. Lomas would be too. He must be feeling very vulnerable in the changing room without a stitch of clothing or even a towel."

I dumped the cum-laden paper in the bin and returned to help the two students with their core strength exercises. Over the next 15 minutes the gym emptied as people moved to the showers to continue with the humiliation of Adam Lomas.

I wondered just how far they would go.

I saw that his shorts and key had not been taken, but I'm not allowed to leave the gym until locking up time so it wasn't until 10:35 that I arrived at the locker room ready to shut it down and lock it at 11:00.

As I walked in there was the sudden hush of boys caught in a guilty moment. Certainly the tableau that greeted me as I entered was frozen in the shock of discovery. The scene lasted for barely a second before they regained their composure but it has lodged itself in my memory perfectly.

Four of the long velcro straps we use to hold rolled up gym mats had been used to tie his wrists and ankles to the ends of the two frames of benches and clothes hooks. A jock strap had been stuffed in his mouth and tied there with a neck tie. He was completely naked, having removed his shoes for the shower.

Behind him, two guys standing between the frames were taking turns towel-snapping his arse, giving it no respite at all.

In front of him was a queue of people taking turns snapping his cock and balls with their twisted towels. From his chest down to his thighs his body was bright red with the signs of his torture. Those people in the queue not whipping him were typically taking stills or movies with camera phones.

Once again I was in the position where I had been the one holding them back. I was determined not to let that happen again.

"People, people, what are you doing?" I asked, feigning horror. "Mr. Lomas is a tough guy." I started running my hand up his abs towards his pecs. "And isn't going to react to pain." I pinched and twisted a nipple. "If you want to really get to Mr. Lomas" - I let my hand drift down his torso again - "you go for the emotional attack." My fingers started to stroke his flaccid cock. "You humiliate him." His cock jumped back to stiffness.

He looked at me with fear in his eyes and I was sure I had identified his weakness correctly.

I glanced at his key in my other hand to get the number and left him for a few moments to unlock his locker. I pulled out his boxer shorts and put them on his head with the elastic as a head band. There was laughter and jeers as we looked on the crushed jock wearing a fool's crown.

"Here's the deal, Mr. Lomas," I told him. "You belong to us. Any resistance and all this video footage ends up on YouTube. All the photos and videos get posted to a selection of Yahoo groups. Both places will have your full name and contact details. Any Google search for your name by a potential employer or family member will show you like this."

I paused to let the full hopelessness of his situation sink in.

"I'm going to ungag you now. If you say anything except 'yes, sir' we'll assume you are rejecting this and we should post our pictures."

I stood in front of him poised to remove his gag.

"Do you accept my terms?"

I removed his gag. He looked into my eyes searching for any sign of pity or mercy. He found none. There was a long pause. The room was absolutely silent.

"Yes, sir."

There was a cheer; we had ourselves a slave.

"Here is your first order, slave." I watched his face carefully to see how he reacted to being called a slave. Tears welled in his eyes but he didn't say anything.

"You have until next Monday's gym session to offer every single person in this room a blow job."

He gasped in horror at what he had been told to do.

"You can't be serious! No fucking way."

I rubbed an ear with a finger as if I was squeezing water from it.

"I think my ears must be deceiving me. I could have sworn you just said 'please humiliate me on-line' instead of 'yes, master'."

The thought of getting a blow job from the helpless stud was turning me on something rotten. I couldn't wait.

"If you don't know where to start I suggest you get me out of the way."

He looked at me refusing to believe what he had been asked to do.

"Well?" I prompted.

He choked back a sob. "Please, sir, may I give you a blow job?"

"Of course you may," I replied politely. As I undid the straps holding him in place he knelt before me as the room took on the unnatural quiet again. I heard a collective inhalation of breath as I dropped my shorts and jockstrap and stepped out of them. As Adam Lomas wrapped his lips around my cock I pulled off my t-shirt and the room exhaled again. I heard the beeps and whistles of the camera phones as people recorded the slave's first blow job.

I was slightly worried about the hush, so as my cock started to stiffen I started to add to his humiliation by egging on my fellow tormentors.

"That's a good slave boy. Use the whole tongue. Vary the depth. It should feel like I'm fucking your mouth."

The audience chipped in at last.

"Yeah, suck that cock, slave."

"Suck your master's cock!"

"Do a good job or you'll get a beating, slave."

After five minutes I came. I gripped his head tightly and forced the full load of my cum into his mouth. He swallowed once but then gagged on the novel taste and texture and spat out the rest. Secretly I was delighted but I wouldn't let that show.

"Did I say you could spit it out?" I demanded. I dropped my cock from his mouth, trailing a ribbon of cum which dripped onto his thigh.

"No, sir," he whispered.

"Start calling us 'master'," I instructed, "since you're obviously having trouble with the idea of being our slave.

Looking at him I saw he had turned pale and fresh tears were forming in his eyes. It was time to turn it up another notch.

"Lick it up," I ordered, pointing down at the cum on the ground. "On all fours, slave."

I stepped back and pulled his head forwards and down. He lowered his head to the changing room floor but stopped a couple of inches short of where he needed to be, his revulsion turning into physical, almost magnetic repulsion. I put my foot on the back of his head and pushed it down. After my students' attacks on Adam Lomas I saw an opportunity to reestablish my position as the meanest bastard in the pack.

There was a cheer from the students. Looking down I saw our slave licking my cum from the floor. The end of his nose was pushed into the slime, adding to his sense of shame.

"Good slave," I told him when he was finished. "As a reward you will not be flogged."

There was a moan of disappointment from the crowd. I was in danger of blowing it again.

"But there are some rules you must obey.

"First and foremost you are now the gym's official slave. Any time any of us addresses you as 'slave' you will obey without hesitation and address us as 'master'."

This got a cheer but I wasn't out of the woods yet. I needed something to make his torment last all day, even when he wasn't being commanded by one of his new masters.

"Second, you will never wear underwear again. We will perform inspections whenever we feel like it."

This didn't get a cheer so much as laughter and side debates on where the best places to inspect him would be. I had dealt with their sadism but I still needed to satisfy their lust.

"Third, you will continue to come to the gym on men's nights and you will continue to work out naked. Each evening I will nominate a particular exercise in the gym."

I paused for effect. What would be special about that exercise? Thirty-plus pairs of eyes bored into me. One pair, of course, looked worried.

"At the end of the evening you will be available for gang-rape in the showers by everyone who beats you on that exercise."

There was a gasp from the crowd. I'd impressed them with that little twist. Lomas, on the other hand, just tipped forwards and started weeping openly. It was time to crush him utterly.

"Fourth," I started.

"There's more?" he interrupted with incredulity in his voice.

I slapped him round the face sharply. "Slaves do not interrupt their masters!" I told him. I pushed my cock back into his mouth to act as a gag.

"Fourth, and this is purely for me, each Saturday you will come to my office at 2pm for your weekend duties."

I turned my attention to the eager jocks around me.

"There are a few house rules for us, too.

"First, don't let word of this reach anyone else. If someone chooses to join the gym then they can find out for themselves, but no sharing with friends and the like.

"Second, don't interfere too much with the slave's academic work.

"Third, please forward any photos or videos to me. I will create a password protected section on the gym's web site where we can all share his humiliation."

There was a general murmur of agreement from everyone who didn't have a cock in his mouth.

I looked down to our slave and checked on the progress of his second blowjob. He was unenthusiastically working my cock in his mouth and I was not really getting off this time.

"Slave, every order you are given is to be obeyed with gusto. Every cock you are given to suck must be sucked well. Clearly, some motivation is required.

"Don't move," I told him.

I pulled out my cock and walked over to the condom machine by the toilets and put in a quid. His back was to me but I saw him flinch as he heard the click of the machine dispensing.

I don't think he heard me fill up a paper cup with cold water. He certainly didn't hear me pass the video cameras we use for coaching the sports teams to a couple of the guys.

I walked back directly behind him so he couldn't see a thing of what I was doing. I put the water down where I could reach it but he wasn't going to kick it over and placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Please don't," he whispered. "Please."

He was crying again and I felt his body trembling under my hands. I pushed him forwards onto all fours and kicked his feet apart.

I looked around at my fellow sadists. If there had been any pity in their eyes, any sense that I might be going too far, I would probably have stopped. But there was not a glimmer of mercy to be seen in that room.

I rolled the condom along my cock. It hadn't softened in all this time, the thought of the young jock at my mercy was so powerful.

I knelt behind him and pressed the tip of my cock against his hole. He tensed immediately, his two powerful globes squeezing together to form a barrier. His trembling was becoming more severe. I ran a fingernail down his arse crack and he quivered some more in response. I contemplated a doggy style rape but thought the emotionally destructive approach might pay better dividends and you only get that if they can see you. I started running my hands up

 and down his back and sides, with the length of my cock resting in the valley between his two tensed arse globes. I lent forward and started talking to add to his discomfort.

"Oh, he's going to be so tight he's going to squeal." I started rubbing my cock up and down on his arse, teasing him with what was to come. "Virgin arse is so sweet. Make sure you get his screams in the recording, guys. He can only lose his cherry once." I reached under him and started to fondle his cock. He started whimpering again and tears started to fall to the floor under his face. "Just imagine all his family seeing pictures of his arse and his mouth being fucked all at the same time. Because that's what's going to happen if he doesn't start obeying his masters!" I pulled on his balls sharply and slapped his arse hard with my other hand. 

He flinched and then relaxed. I took the opportunity to grab him by the waist and balls and to flip him over onto his back.

Two guys lent down and grabbed his arms, pulling them down to the ground. I split his legs and pulled them up so I had uninterrupted access to his hole from my kneeling position. The sudden pain at his balls and the surprise of being flipped over had caused him to relax his glutes for a moment. I seized the opportunity and dove in, forcing my cock into his hole and onwards, into his guts.

He screamed. It wasn't a scream of pain, though there was an element of that. Nor was it a scream of terror, though his was clearly scared out of his wits. It was a scream of despair.

I reached forwards and grabbed his jaw firmly with one hand. I turned it so he could see the ring of wild, baying young men all looking down at him.

"Do you see them?" I asked as I pushed in harder. "Do you see their faces? They see yours. They know you've been fucked up the arse. Every time you see one of them you'll know that they saw you get fucked! You'll be so polite and proper in the class rooms and in public but you'll know, every second, that they've seen you naked, on your back getting fucked up the arse like a trashy whore."

I pulled out a few inches before slamming home again. All around me the jocks were jerking off, thirty erect cocks all pointing at the slave on the ground. Those with cameras in their phones were taking snaps as fast as they could. The two video cameras were being moved to get various views as best they could by two jocks with one hand on a camera, another on their cock and their clothes round their ankles. If anybody had bothered to look at them they would have appeared mildly ridiculous, but nobody did. Nobody had eyes for anything except the rape taking place in front of them.

I saw his eyes start to defocus and the shock took over. I let him retreat into mental numbness for a few seconds and then splashed the cold water on his face. As he snapped back I turned up the pace of my fucking. I knew it wouldn't be long before I came for the second time and I'm not a man with great self-control.

I came. Dear god, how I came. My entire body shook and I roared like a wild animal with the heat of the moment. As I convulsed in my orgasm, my cock pounded into the slave's hole and he stare crying again. It was a wonder the slave had any tears left. Certainly, his voice was too hoarse from his screaming to beg for mercy even if his mind wasn't too far out of it to form coherent sentences.

I didn't pull out, but simply slowed my pace down, letting my cock bathe in the warmth of its own cum and his body heat. I looked down into the eyes of the slave and saw complete surrender. Obviously, he thought he couldn't sink any further.

Then the first of the jocks came all over his face.

I squeezed his balls. "Say thank you," I told him.

"Thank you, Jack," he whispered.

"Thank you, master," I corrected, giving his balls another tug.

"Thank you, master," he repeated.

"You're welcome, slave," Jack replied, relishing being able to call him that.

Over the next ten minutes, thirty young men shot their loads on him, aiming at his face and mostly hitting. Each was individually thanked as the slave's master. When they were all done I squeezed the content of my condom onto his face to join the sticky mess already there.

"His arse is magnificent," I told the horny crew surrounding us. "It's also out of bounds to anyone who doesn't win one of the exercise challenges." There were groans. "Consider it motivation."

"Now, I promised the slave he could wear his clothes home. And I am a man of my word."

I pulled the slave to his feet. He was wobbly but was able to stand up on his own. I used the velcro straps to tie his hands behind his back. He opened his mouth to protest so I stuffed his wallet in and he shut it again. I was glad because it was getting late and I didn't want to waste time punishing him again.

I tied his shirt's arms round his waist, letting its body cover his front from the waist to his knees. "Shirt," I announced.

There was laughter. The crowd could see how this was going.

I tied the legs of his jeans round his waist too, so that the top of them provided some cover for his arse. "Jeans!"

I tucked his socks in the pockets of his jeans and laid his shoes on the ground in front of him. I didn't want him to have to walk home barefoot. Gratefully he slipped his feet into them. Then I tied them close and knotted the laces together. He wouldn't be able to go home at any speed, and would lose the manoeuvrability to dodge into cover.

I took his door keys and hung them round his head. Then I pondered his mobile phone. I lifted his shirt up at the front and stroked his cock a couple of times. It sprang into firmness and then I sellotaped his phone to his cock. I let the shirt fall back down, tenting over his cock and phone combination.

Then I told him "OK. You can go home now." He looked at me with horror in his eyes as I said this, realising that his humiliation wouldn't stop outside the gym.

"You may have to get some help getting into your room, but I'm sure your new masters will be waiting for you in the dorms to render assistance." There was cruel laughter.

"Now go," I pointed at the door, "or I will punish you for being slow obeying an order."

He shuffled out to the mocking laughter of his peers and shouted promises from some of them that they would catch up with him back at the dorms.

Once he had left I turned to my fellow sadists.

"Listen, folks. Last little prick made my life hell all last year and all of this year up to now. Well, it's pay back time. Subject to my rules, there's no limit. He thinks he's sunk as low as he can. Our job is to convince him that he can always sink lower. Use your imagination. And remember the three things he's most afraid of: humiliation, humiliation and humiliation."

"Oh, and does anyone know his mobile number?"

CHAPTER THREE - THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE

I'm not usually in on a Saturday, having pulled the night shift on Friday evening, but it's not unheard of if I have a stack of paperwork to get through for me to come in, lock myself in my office and come

out only for coffee and toilet breaks. (The two are intimately related.) So nobody blinked when I showed up at lunchtime. I made a few calls to arrange matters for the evening and then started on my email and the new "gym slave" web site.

Some of the messages were the photos and videos of the previous evening in the gym. I planned the site on a day-by-day basis, with that day's content forming a single (large!) page. It ended up in three stages: before the rape, the rape, and after the rape. The final set's photos were all new to me and I was delighted to see that the boys hadn't let me down.

Judging from the timestamps in the photos, it had taken the slave two hours to make the mile trip to his dorms. He arrived wearing his clothes normally and with his hands untied. Presumably he had managed to get out of the velcro ties. He had also washed the cum off his face, though from its damp state I guess he hadn't been able to dry afterwards.

The photos of his arrival all came from one person, who had now moved to a real digital camera. I'm guessing they had set watches and were waiting for him to give more humiliating instructions.

He approached the dorm door in the first photo. In the second he was taking off his shirt and I never saw it again in any pictures. The third photo was taken inside the dorm's front lobby. It was empty apart from our slave boy and the camera man, but the lights were on and he looked around nervously to see if any one was coming as he stood in the middle of the room with his jeans lowered to his knees and his hands clasped behind his neck and the camera man checking he wasn't wearing underwear. There were half a dozen photos checking this and I could confirm that between 01:23 and 01:25 Adam Lomas had not been wearing underwear. The next set of photos showed him with his jeans up but his hard cock and his balls pushed through the open fly walking through the dorm.

Finally we got to his room and I saw a shot of him opening a drawer full of socks and underwear. The next shots showed him kneeling naked on the floor cutting the waistbands of all his underpants on each side. He had his back to the door and I noticed that it was wide open.

One by one, his other masters from the same dorm were walking in. There was a beautiful shot of him being startled with his head half jerked round towards the door and a look of panic on his face as he wondered who else it might be.

Next, I used some video footage as, to the sound of jeering and insults from the half dozen masters in the room with him, he crawled on hands and knees backwards and forwards between the pile of ruined underwear and his waste paper bin. Each time he had to take a mouthful of the rags and dump them in the bin. On the occasions when the camera focused on his face, typically as he was picking up another bunch of rags, I saw that he had stopped crying and had the blank eyed stare of someone in shock, filtering out the truth of what was happening to him.

Most of the time, though, the video focused on his body. His arse swayed very temptingly as he crawled. He was sweating enough that the side and back of his left glute shone as they moved into position to reflect his room light: on, off, on, off as he crawled. His cock was limp and it and his low hanging scrotum swung as he moved. The thighs, upper arms and pectoral muscles were doing most of the work, obviously, and his well toned body put on quite a show. The crawling only lasted two or three minutes but I was rock hard by the time I had finished watching the video for the second time - just to make sure it had uploaded to the web site correctly, you understand.

Next, I had a mixture of movie and stills showing that the slave had to make good on his orders of offering blow jobs. They had already all cum once each, but teenagers are utter cum machines and he spent the next hour averaging ten minutes over each blow job for the guys in the room. I noticed that they shut his door for this bit, presumably not wanting the world to see what they were up to, even if they didn't mind the slave's humiliation leaking out.

Finally, once he had done a second round of the six cocks, licking them clean, kissing their tips, and saying thank you to them, the guys forced him onto his bed, at the suggestion of a particular one of them called "Mad Gav", because of the crazy stunts he had been known to pull at parties. There, they put him on his back and taped his wrists and ankles to the bed's four corners with a large roll of sellotape from his desk.

Then Gavin went over to his bag and pulled out what looked like a bright blue plastic hand. The recording has very poor sound but I could clearly hear a mixture of laughter from those people who knew what it was and confusion from those who didn't. He walked back to the bed and waved it in front of the slave's face as he grabbed the exposed cock and stroked it to firmness. Then he taped the slave's cock to the hand, so that it lay between two of the plastic fingers and pressed a button in the hand's thumbnail.

It was a novelty massager.

As it started to vibrate, the slave started to buck and twist, trying to get free, but was unable to make any headway. He started to beg them to turn it off, shouting that he wouldn't be able to take it and how it was all too much. Their response was to remind him that the more noise he made the more likely he was to be discovered by someone else.

He shut up.

The guys left the room. Gavin's parting comment was "let us know when the batteries run out" as he picked up the room keys. The camera man was the last to leave, backing out slowly and letting the door swing shut as the video faded to black.

Not Oscar nomination stuff but I enjoyed it.

The last few emails had only just arrived and delivered the finalvideos of the set. It started with a very shaky camera pointed down on a small table with a bowl of breakfast cereal in the centre and a circle jerk going on around it. One by one, six cocks unloaded into the bowl. The cum was stirred in and the video stops for a moment.

Mad Gav, complete with bowl and spoon, and the camera man then headed off to the slave's room and let themselves in. The massaging hand was still running, though only faintly. As the camera moved in on the sleeping slave's belly and cock I could see that he had cum, probably more than once. Ropes of cum covered his six pack and thighs. His cock was glistening in the cum and pre-cum that had just dribbled out. Even in his fitful sleep he was still rock hard.

Gavin turned the novelty toy off and the change in sensation was enough to wake the sleeping slave. "Morning, slave boy," Gavin chipped in. "We brought you breakfast."

Gavin untied the toy and then the restraints, but as the slave struggled to get up Gavin used the spoon to scrape the cum off the sticky abs and thighs. Then, with an evil grin on his face he slowly lowered it into the breakfast bowl and stirred.

There was a whimper from the naked slave but all he said was "thank you, master" and started to eat his cereal.

Perched on the edge of his bed, he held the bowl just below head height and had the spoon in his other hand. This let the cameraman take his time moving the shot up and down the naked body exposed in front of him.

After a bit Gavin sniffed at him. "You need a shower, boy. You smell like you've been wanking all night." He peered into the empty bowl and took it away. As the slave's hands moved down to his groin, Gav slapped them away. "No covering up, wanker.

"By the way, the six of us only wanked once."

The slave looked up at him, puzzled as to why he had bothered to mention this detail.

"Into your breakfast."

The slave retched but kept his cereal down. The colour balance in the video was pretty poor but either the sun went behind a cloud or the slave turned green.

Gavin threw him a towel. "Now go and get your shower. The curtain is busted on the stall nearest the door; it only comes half way across. Make sure you use that one and make sure you're facing out all the time. Anybody comes in, make sure you greet them by name. Take your time - at least half an hour. Anyone starts talking to you, chat back. Keep naked, exposed and facing them all the time."

He handed over the towel but stopped the save from wiping down his cum-slicked abs. The slave boy wrapped it round his waist and gripped it shut in his left hand because it was too small to tuck in firmly. Then Gavin dropped the room keys into the wash bag and handed that over too.

"Enjoy your shower, slave boy."

And the video paused.

To keep the chronology I had to insert a separate emailed contribution of a quick snatch of shaky camera phone. The slave had emerged from the showers, but had had his towel snatched from him. Then he ran down the dorm corridor, his hands in front of his cock, towards his room. Almost every door on the way was open as students laughed at this morning's harmless prank. Only our select few knew it was part of a bigger picture. Oh and the slave knew too, but he didn't count.

Of course when he reached the door it was locked from the inside. A voice shouted instructions that were too muffled to be hard clearly on the phone's small microphone but the slave stopped autside his door and, to the cheer of the onlookers, raised his hands above his head and did a slow 360, letting everyone see all of him. Only once he was facing the door again was it opened to admit him.

Inside I could switch back to the decent video quality. By the looks of the camera motion it had been mounted on a tripod, pointing at the door. A student unlocked the door and let him in, locking the door shut behind him.

"Knees!" barked a voice off camera. He dropped to his knees. A pair of legs walked into view, pulling the focus off him until they leveled with him. He was side ways on and both his face and the denim clad groin pushed into his face were perfectly clear.

"Isn't there something you're supposed to ask me?" the voice said.

"P..Please, master, may I give you a blow job?"

"Yeah. And if it's a good one, we'll let you put some clothes on when you leave."

He unzipped his jeans and pushed them and his boxers down. His cock was already hard and sprang out, eager for the pleasure to follow.

"I like it nice and slow, with lots of spit," he told the kneeling cock sucker who leant forwards to take it in his mouth. "Oh yes, that's it. You really are a natural born cock sucker. Ohhh yes."

Either our slave had improved dramatically or this boy was easily pleased. I suppose with the growing tendencies for girlfriends to refuse to suck cock, the guys have less familiarity with just how good it can be. But we'd fix that, at least for the guys in the gym.

Meanwhile, the voice on the video was becoming less and less coherrent as orgasm approached. "Oh yeah, suck my cock. Suck my big cock. Suck it good."

"You better take it all in your mouth," said a new voice. "You've already washed, so what you don't swallow you wear."

"Yeah, man, swallow my cum. Suck 'n' swallow. Suck me! Suck me! Suck, suck, suck, oooohhhh..."

His hips twitched as he came into the waiting mouth and I saw the slave swallow time after time as he raced to catch it all.

"Oh god, man, you're a fine cock sucker. Jeez, you're good. Now suck me clean."

Our obedient little slave boy obliged and by the time the master's cock pulled out it was slick with saliva but with no trace of cum.

The cock pulled out of shot and was replaced almost immediately by another. The next guy I knew at once, even from the waist down. He was olive skinned, muscular and his limp cock hung nine inches from its base in a triangle of jet black hair. He was called "Horse" by all his friends and happily boasted about why. The largest cock on campus had just come into play. He was already naked from the waist down and started stroking his cock even as he approached. It sprung up to its full size, which I conservatively estimated at a full twelve inches, and he held it at its base as he squared up to the waiting lips of his cum dump.

"Please, master, may I..."

Horse didn't wait for the slave to finish the question. He put his spare hand behind the slave's head, and guiding his cock with the other hand, pulled the slave on to him. As soon as the first two or three inches of his cock were in he clasped both hands round the slave's head and tugged it forwards, impaling the boy's mouth and, most likely, throat on his huge member.

The slave nearly choked. He coughed, spluttered and gagged, trying to get his breath back as an impossibly long cock was pushed into him. His hands came up as he tried to push Horse off him. He was very strong and would have succeeded if two other guys hadn't quickly come up behind him and grabbed his arms. Some parcel twine was procured and his wrists and ankles were tied together in a small square behind him. He was now helpless, unable to resist Horse's rape of his mouth.

Horse started to get a rhythm going, pulling his cock out and then pushing it in again. The slave managed to gasp in ragged breaths as the cock left his throat and started to calm down from his earlier panic.

"Squeeze with those lips, fucker! And let me feel your tongue when I push in. Do it!" Horse was a violent mouth rapist and I wondered how long he kept any girlfriend, between his oh-so-desirable cock and his apparent aggressive tendencies. Hopefully he would be able to work the latter out of his system with the assistance of this unwilling stud. His girlfriends might get a better deal a a result. I hadn't thought of the boy as a community resource like that before but I smiled at the thought that we were doing our bit for the girls too.

Watching his cock was like a trip to an engine room with a huge steel piston pushing in and out of a powerful machine. I don't think he cared that there was a face on the other end of his cock. A clenched fist, a girl's cunt, or a guy's face. It was all the same to him. Horse was a sprinter, which made it tricky to pick a contest in the gym where he was certain to beat the slave, but I was determined to find some way to have that huge cock in the slave's reluctant arse hole. And I wanted my cock in the slave's mouth to gag his screams at the same time.

I pulled myself from my revery as the cock suddenly froze in position, pressed as far in as it would go. Horse moaned, a gutteral grunt from the depths of his soul as he came. I saw the slave swallow as best he could with most of the cum going straight into his throat.

Horse paused as he recovered from his orgasm. He pulled his piston out a couple of inches to let the slave catch his breath. Then he pushed it in and out a few more times. "Suck it clean, bitch!" he snarled.

When he pulled it out at last he commented "let's see just how clean it is" and started to beat the slave's face with it, first one cheek, then the next. It was hard, twelve inches long and slick with saliva at least and he kept the spanking up for at least thirty seconds. The bound stud's face ended up red with the impacts.

"Over to you, Chaz," Horse commented as he walked off camera.

Charles Hawkins, a giant black weightlifter and one of the smartest students on campus, walked into view. He was wearing a pair of heavily tented joggers and he pulled them off as he stood in front of the kneeling boy.

"Please, master, may I give you a blow job?"

"Yeah, but I like it nice and gentle. Don't put it in your mouth. Kiss it. Lick it. Make love to it" He drawled out the word "love" in a deep growl and for a moment Barry White had taken up porn films in my imagination.

He didn't push forwards, but waited for the slave to lean forwards awkwardly and start to kiss and lick his cock. He wasn't short with a seven inch cock, but in girth he was a champion. His cock would have stretched even the largest pair of lips.

"Oh you can do better than that," he chided the boy at waist height. "Use the tip of your tongue round the rim of the crown. Tease me. I want to feel the love in your mouth."

The slave redoubled his efforts and Chaz's member soon swelled to its full length and quite incredible width.

"Better. Now don't forget to suck my balls too. One at a time, and do my cock again in between."

Following these orders, the slave started to give his master the pleasuring he demanded and I could see that Chaz would be a very demanding master.

"Sweet talk my dick, slave boy. Tell it how beautiful you think it is. Have you ever seen a dick so pretty?"

So he did. The slave boy humiliated himself beautifully by talking to the cock as he worked it over with his soft tongue and lips. "Oh, you are the prettiest cock I've ever seen. Oh, you taste so fine. You are so much more beautiful than any of the other cocks." He started to blush again as he was forced to recite this nonsense. I was impressed; Chaz had found a way to shame him even further.

After a bit Chaz gave him his final instructions. "Kiss the tip, boy, and leave your mouth there, licking the crown. I'm cumming soon."

And indeed he was. He twitched hard and his cock nearly flew from the slave's lips.

Desperate not to let any of the cum drip onto his freshly washed body, the kneeling man pressed forwards and took nearly the whole of Chaz's crown in his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he held on almost by pure force of suction as Chaz buckled and twisted in his ecstacy.

"I told you not to put it in your mouth!" Chaz snapped at him once he had recovered. He looked up, presumably at the camera man. "Can you wait while I punish him?" he asked.

The answer was too unclear to make out but I presume it was affirmative because Chaz pulled up his joggers and walked over to the desk. He picked up a pair of scissors and snipped the twine holding the slave in kneeling position.

"Lean over the desk. Legs wide apart, hands on the far side."

The camera turned to focus on the desk. The soon-to-be-punished boy leant over and Chaz kicked his legs further apart. Unseen to the naked boy, somebody passed Chaz a blue flip-flop, presumably one of Adam's.

"You're lucky coach has put your arse off limits," he told the vulnerable boy. "'Cos I sure would enjoy fucking it right now."

Then, without warning he brought the flip-flop down hard on the slave's arse.

Chaz was a weightlifter. He was very strong and he was not holding back. If the slave's hands hadn't been right up against the wall on the far edge of the desk I am sure he would have lost his position. The slave exhaled with a sharp gasp as a bright red shoe mark started to appear on his left buttock. The second slap was over to the right, leaving the other globe equally marked. Four more times he brought the sandal down on the slave's arse, alternating sides, and keeping a steady rhythm of one beat every five seconds. I made a mental note to educate them all on better spanking techniques; I am their coach, after all.

"Now get back over there on your knees, boy. 'S Graham's turn."

The camera wobbled slightly as Graham locked the focus on a point just in front of the waiting slave boy and surrendered control to another jock.

Graham Turner was Charles Hawkins' best friend, and perhaps his only intellectual rival. He was the exact opposite of Charles in every other regard, though. He was a tall, thin blond guy, with light blue eyes, pale white skin that never held a tan and a five inch long, narrow cock.

He was also completely naked as he walked on screen but he didn't stand in front of the waiting mouth, though. He lay on the floor with his cock exactly where the focus was locked. "Well?" he asked, sternly.

"Please master, would you like a blow job?"

"Yes, I would. Get on all fours and suck me off."

That was the full extent of his instructions, as he was happy to let the slave do all the work but, as the slave's head bobbed down and his arse rose, he snaked his arm out under the slave's body and startedtweaking the hanging nipples. The slave's head was moving up and down as he ran the shaft of Graham's cock through his lips. Sometimes as he moved down Graham would leave his hand at the bottom of the movement, still pinching a nipple. Then as the slave moved up again he would have to pull his nipple free, hurting slightly as he did it.

After a few minutes Graham moved his hand further down the bobbing torso, lightly rubbing his palm over the tight abs. Finally, after a few more minutes when it looked like he was on the verge of cumming he started stroking cock and gently fingering the balls.

I was slightly annoyed that he was showing such tenderness to the slave but I needn't have worried. Just as he came, Graham snapped his fingers against the boy's dangling balls. The slave's head snapped up as he exclaimed in shock and pain letting the cum fountain spray free from Graham's cock all over his chest, abs and thighs.

Graham laughed a cruel and mocking guffaw. "Looks like you're going to need punishing all over again, boy."

The slave had learned enough not to protest the unfairness of the situation, but simply whimpered an apology, "sorry, master."

"Well, lick it up first of all. Start at my chest."

The slave crawled up level with his chest and started lapping up his master's cum.

"Slowly," Graham ordered. "Nice, long strokes wth the flat of your tongue."

The slave made his way down Graham's body, inch by inch licking it clean. Graham mae him lick his whole torso, demanding "a proper tongue bath, not just a mop up job."

Eventually it was time to lick Graham's cock, but he insisted on his thighs being cleaned first. Only then did he let the slave start licking his cock clean. Of course, this had given him time to recover and by the time the slave got to his cock it was hard again.

"Nice and slowly, slave. Lap it all up. I don't want one drop of my cum left on me."

Of course, he was fully recovered and the sensation of tongue on cock was enough to send him over the edge a second time. To the whoops and cheers of the onlookers he came for a second time, this time spraying only as far as his navel.

"Oops," Charles called out. "Looks like you've got some more work to do, slave. Get to it."

I heard the slave choke back a sob and moved further up Graham's body to start again.

"A tenner on Graham cumming again," I heard. "Done!" came another voice. "Well that's one of us pissed off with the slave, then," said the first voice to general laughter. "His arse is going to be so red."

Meanwhile, the slave had cleaned up the second load from Graham's belly and was approaching his quivering cock with a look of apprehension and almost fear in his eyes. Gingerly he reached out with pointed tongue and touched cock with its tip.

"Aw look, guys! He's scared of my cock." Graham's voice cracked up with laughter. "Wait 'til I beat you in the gym. Then you'll be scared. Now get on with it. Danny's waiting."

The slave started to lick up Graham's cock, not lifting it from his belly, but running his tongue's tip along the shaft and flicking it off at the end. He managed to clean the shaft without any mishap but when he started to tongue Graham's crown his luck ran out.

With a quiet cry, Graham's body suddenly tensed and a third shot of cum leapt from him, and back up towards his navel again. There was a cheer from the crowd and a warning: "That's ten quid I'm taking out of your arse, slave boy."

The slave had already started cleaning up Graham's third load. "Double or quits?" I heard off camera. "Deal!" came the reply.

Once again, there was no problem until the slave got to Graham's tender cock head. This time he was ready for his master's orgasm and pressed his lips round the slit at the critical moment, taking the fourth load of the session straight in his mouth.

"Dry cumming doesn't count!" came a protest. The slave just turned to the camera and opened his mouth. Ribbons of cum hung rom his teeth and tongue; he hadn't swallowoed yet.

"Hah! Twenty quid!" came a triumphant voice. "Now eat up, slave boy. I'm waiting."

Daniel Stanion was one of the guys who had suffered at the hands of Adam Lomas. He was fit enough but never lost the inch of fat covering his abs. As he walked on he was naked from the waist down, wearing Arsenal strip above. He chose to sit in the room's desk chair and slid his groin forwards, with his legs spread invitingly.

"Please, master, may I give you a blow job?"

"Get to work, slave boy."

The slave crawled forwards, between the legs, which closed around him. Danny took the slave's hands and placed them on the chair's arm rests forcing him to dip between them to suck on the whole cock.

This cock sucking was almost completely silent, except for the inevitable slurps from the sucking itself. Danny wasn't a talker. Instead his face took on that peculiar blank look of a man on the verge of sexual release and his legs were wriggling slightly, to rub the insides of his thighs against the sides of the slave's chest, while his hands absent-mindly stroked the sop of the slave's head and the back of his neck and shoulders. Danny was definitely a "skin on skin" lover.

Without any warning that I could see, he came, slamming up in his slouching pose and pressing into the mouth, pressing against the slave's throat. What also surprised me was how long the save had to keep swallowing. Graham might be able to cum four times in a row, but Danny could cum like a hosepipe! After what seemed like a minute but was only twenty seconds by the video's clock, he stopped and let the slave pull his mouth free.

"Not bad, slave boy." He ruffled the kneeling stud's hair, but then reached down to grab and twist an ear. "But let's talk about that twenty quid you lost me."

"Master?"

Danny pushed the slave back on to the ground with his foot. Then he pressed his legs together and patted his lap. "One swat a quid should do it."

The slave took position over Danny, whose hard cock pressed flat against his belly.

Danny started his spanking, with his bare hand. He let his hand rest on the reddenning flesh after each swat. He was caressing the firm, hot butt below him and this was having a noticeable effect on the slave's own cock, or perhaps that was just its being rubbed against Danny's leg. After twenty whacks he left his hand lie on the slave's arse, with his finger lightly teasing the crack.

Suddenly there was a shout off camera of "shit, man, look at the time." According to the video it was one thirty or thereabouts. The slave had plenty of time to get to my office. Obviously they had other plans of their own, though.

The slave was tossed casually to the floor and the video stopped.

CHAPTER FOUR - LESSONS

There was a knock on the door. I looked up at the clock and saw it was two o'clock already. Doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself?

I opened the door and saw my personal play thing standing there. I paused for a moment to drink in the scene: his worried eyes, his lower lip pinched between his white teeth, his grey, baggy sweat shirt with requisite hood, his matching jogging pants and grubby white running shoes. It was an outfit designed to conceal his physique as much as possible. We couldn't have that, could we?

I stepped out into the corridor; it was deserted apart from the two of us.

"Take off your top and throw it inside my room," I told him.

I was quite pleased to see how silently acquiescent he was. It meant I could move to the more extreme games that much sooner.

He unzipped his shirt, pulled it off and tossed it onto a chair just inside the room.

"Shoes."

He loosened his trainers and put them inside the door. I could see the worry in his face building: was I going to make him strip in the corridor?

As hot as that would have been, I was as worried that we might be stumbled upon as he was. However, I did have one more trick I could play.

"Underwear inspection!" I announced. Glancing wildly up and down the corridor, the slave tugged loose the bow in the drawstring and dropped his jogging pants to his ankles and stood there with his hands behind  his head.

"You remember the position. Good," I reassured him. "Trousers up, but don't retie the string."

He soon discovered the downside in wearing baggy clothes. I tugged at the waistband and slowly pulled the drawstring out. Then I tugged his joggers into a slightly lower position so that a good inch of arse crack showed at the rear and a fine line of pubes showed at the front. It was at risk of falling further at any moment.

"Don't touch your clothes without explicit permission," I told him as I pulled my door shut. "Follow me."

We went for a walk round the gym building. I nodded greetings to my colleagues as I passed them, and exchanged quick chats with some of them. I explained that I was taking Mr Lomas to an assessment room for a physical but I had a few errands to run first.

As I chatted with them, though, I made sure he drew full attention to his physique.

I had him stand with his arms by his side, tensing his chest muscles to show off their perfect forms. Alternatively I would have him push both hands into his pockets and rub his own cock while I chatted, apparently oblivious of this student's perversions, to my friends.

Whenever we were on our own after people left us I would quickly tweak his nipples, stroke his arse or cock through the joggers, or tickle his flanks.

By half past two he was hard and the front of his loose joggers tented forwards oh so lewdly. From the waist up he was blushing scarlet and the glint of tears was forming in his eyes. Then I led him into an evaluation room down in the basement.

The room was the usual sterile white of all medical or pseudo-medical facilities. Most usefully from my point of view was that it was equiped with our "gait analysis" system: a treadmill, two video cameras and some bright lights. It also boasted a chained laptop and a network connection. Over in the corner was a shower cubicle.

I slid the door's sign from "available" to "in use". Keeping an eye on the slave, I pushed it shut but left it unlocked. He gulped.

"Strip."

He pulled off his joggers, lifting the waistband over his hard cock. He handed them to me and tracked them with his eyes as I tossed them into the corner of the room.

"Take the inspection position. Spread your legs to shoulder width."

He guessed what I meant and stood straight with his hands behind his neck, his feet apart.

I turned on the bright recording lights and the video cameras and then turned to face him.

He was so tempting, standing there at my mercy. A length of skipping rope and some bulldog clips from the stationary cupboard would be all I needed to have hours of pain-filled fun. But, I reminded myself, shame was the game we were playing, not torture. Putting that delicious temptation aside for the moment, I moved on to the main business of the day.

Taking a bottle of baby lotion I threw it to him. "Oil up. Do your cock first. Get it hard before you move on to your left leg."

He oiled his cock and rubbed it to hardness as instructed. Then he moved on to his left leg. During this time of course, his cock softened slightly.

"Now oil your cock some more until it gets hard again. Then do your right leg."

And so I kept it going. He alternated oiling his cock and another part of his body. Hard and soft, hard and soft, his cock went up and down, slowly building up the pressure to cum in a huge geyser. But that was part of my plan.

Once he was done I told his to turn side on to the camera so I could do his back. Of course, after I oiled his shoulders, I oiled his cock and felt its heat and sensitivity for myself. After I oiled the small of his back I moved my hands round to his cock again and almost triggered his orgasm with my first touch. He was starting to whimper with the need for release.

Then I moved down to his arse. Slowly I started to rub an oily finger up and down his crack, pausing only to press firmly on his hole. This really made him squirm so I took my time, keeping him edged but letting him drip pre-cum. Once I was finished, I didn't dare touch his cock again for fear of sending him over the edge.

It was time to let him calm down again. Sort of.

"Stand on that," I told him, pointing to a wodden step up box in front of a blank white wall. I turned the still camera on its tripod to face him. He faced me, his hands hanging limply by his sides. He was startled when I handed him a javelin.

"Hold it upright, resting on the ground, in your left hand. Let the right hand loose." Patiently I placed in in the classical "half relaxed half tensed" pose. I turned off the lights on one side of the room and the remaining lights caught the oil on his body and gave great contrast. Each toned muscle showed up in bands of light and dark. His slowly dropping cock was framed perfectly by his glistening thighs. I moved the camera and tripod to capture this Greek god from all sides. Of course, Greek gods don't usually look quite so scared about where their images will be shown.

Then I had him stroke his cock a few more times and, as his hard cock settled down yet again, I changed his pose to the classical javelin thrower. Whenever you see photographs of statues of this pose the cameraman is always careful to take the shot from the side with the forwards leg blocking the view of the penis. I had no such issues, of course, and soon added a dozen more images to the slave's portfolio.

Classical statues typically show smaller cocks. This is partly a reflection of their anatomy and partly because they didn't fluff between poses. The slave's physique could have rivalled Michaelangelo's David, but his mighty cock left the famous figure way behind!

After the javelin I had him stroke up again, just to keep him right on the edge and then posed him with a discus. By the end of the photography session, I had three dozen "artistic" shots of the poor, suffering boy. All of them would add to his suffering if they were revealed, but none would give the game away.

I put him back to the presentation pose and told him what I was up to as I teased his cock some more with a freshly oiled hand.

"Tuesday evenings I'm sponsoring an Art Club. Live models posing are usually outside the budget of all our aspiring artists but this club will feature you each night in a different pose. I'm going to post a few posters about the gym and some other public places. Do you have a favourite pose? I'm quite fond of the contraposto, myself."

"But... but... more people will see me naked. People not in the gym."

"Yes, but they won't know you're a slave. They'll just think you're an exhibitionist. Semimar room four in the bio block, by the way. Be there for seven."

I think he was going to say some more, but I squeezed very slightly on his slick cock head and the sensation caused him to tense his entire body to hold off the cum shot and shut him up.

It was getting on to four o'clock so I had plenty of time to continue with my fun. I turned the laptop screen to face him and powered up the virtual stripper application I have on it. Immediately a blond stud appeared on my screen and started dancing for me.

I offered him a sip of water from a bottle. "I want you to dance for the camera. I want one hour of video of you strutting your naked stuff." I gave him another mouthful of water. "You are to stay hard for that time, so keep touching your cock." Another mouthful. "Make sure you turn round slowly at least twice during the hour. I want you to tease the viewer; taunt them with your body." He was near the bottom of the bottle now. "At various points I will squirt oil onto you. Rub it on erotically." He finished the bottle.

I tapped a couple of keys and some quiet, tinny dance music started. He started to move in clumsy imitation of the professional stripper on my screen. After a few hints and suggestions I got him moving properly, and after fifteen minutes he was a competent amateur exotic dancer. We could improve on that later, but he was good enough for my current plans. His face was a portrait of terror and self-loathng. That more than made up for any fauls in his dancing style.

I took a squeezy bottle of baby oil and squirted some at him. It caught the light well and was clearly visible on camera. He paused for a moment and then started rubbing it in with long, slow movements of his hands flat against his smooth body, with fingers splayed to show his muscles' contours all the more finely.

He glinted beautifully in the light.

Then I squirted some at his groin. He started rubbing it in, with his hands moving carefully along his long shaft so as not to trigger an ejaculation. Most, he rubbed into his pubes, scrotum and upper, inner thighs.

Then I squirted again, onto his upper chest and he started rubbing it into his already-oiled pecs. He was starting to look "oiled" rather than just smooth and more like a cheap porn star. Perfect.

I picked up a second squirter and, before he had finished rubbing the last dose into his chest, I spread my arms wide and shot two squirts in, a second apart, one onto his abs and the other the side of his chest. He split his hands to rub in both locations now completely puzzled as to what I was up to.

"Start to turn round. Slowly," I told him, "and spread your feet a bit wider."

As he turned I started squirting again, to places where he couldn't reach, and it started to run down his body. As his back was turned I shot two loads (of baby lotion!) onto the small of his back and buttocks and watched his hands rub it in.

"Pull your buttocks apart a bit. Make sure the oil goes between them." He obeyed, though I think I heard a whimper from him.

"Rub it into your crack with your second finger. Nice and slowly. Don't turn any more until I say so."

I squirted some more oil just above his arse crack. "Push it in deep. Bury that finger."

He was dripping in oil now so I told him to start turning again and he finished his rotation at the thirty minute mark.

I squirted some more at him as he turned to face me and as much as he tried to rub it in all he was just smearing it about now.

"Keep dancing. Put your left hand behind your neck, stroke with the right and keep that pelvis thrusting. Feet well apart," I told him sharply.

"There's no obligation, of course," I added. "Just give the word and we'll forget the whole thing: naked gym work, art club, gang-bang fucking, blowjobs galore and the password protection on the web site." I emphasised the last just a little. He got the message.

I set to work on the web site and the notices for the art club. Let me tell you that having a virtual stripper dancing on your desktop is all fine and dandy, but having the real thing to gaze at each time you look up is altogether more fun.

Finally I told him to stop dancing and let him see the web site in all its glory. I teased his cock to keep it hard and dripping as I made him watch he whole thing. For a further hour I got to stroke the hot stud's well oiled cock and finger his well oiled hole. I kept him on the edge for the entire video and photo set.

"Only a couple more duties for you today and then you can go party the night away," I told him cheerfully as I checked my watch. It was a quarer to five.

I lifted the laptop off the desk and threw a sheet over it. I patted the desktop encouragingly. "Lie here, belly up."

He took position and I tied him into position; his arms and legs immobilised by the ropes to the desk legs and his head hanging back over the end. I tucked a small cushion under his neck so he wouldn't hurt himself too much. Finally I mounted one video camera to point to is face and the other to get his body as a whole.

I sat next to his groin and squirted a load more oil into the palms of my hands and set to gently stroking his cock again, very gently, just to keep him on the edge.

By five o'clock he was begging to be allowed to cum. I let him talk ths time, trusting to the camera's microphone to record his pathetic monologue:

"You gotta let me cum. Oh, god, I'm bursting. Please, please, let me cum! I'm gonna die if you don't let me cum. I'm begging you here."

The camera pointing at his face caught the tension in his expression. The one on his body recorded the straining of his arms and legs against their bonds and the desperate thrusting of his cock into my

hand.

There was a knock on the door. The slave's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets with the terror of possible discovery. My eyes glanced to the wall clock. It was five o'clock on the dot.

"Come in."

The slave's head snapped up to look at me in confusion and panic.

Connor Richardson, one of the gym goers walked in, wearing jeans, T-shirt and a broad grin.

"Got your text, coach. Cheers."

He swung the door shut, locking it this time, and unzipped his jeans. As he approached the prone slave he unbutonned then and let them drop to his thighs. He wasn't wearing any underpants.

"Please, master, may I suck your mmmpphhh..." Connor didn't wait for the question to even end before flipping his meat into the waiting mouth. I turned my attention back to the delights of edging the stud for as long as possible.

Connor wasn't much of a conversationalist while having his cock polished. He gave the occasional grunt but after ten minutes was clearly ready to let rip.

"Inside or out, coach?" he asked, near the end.

"Out, I think. He's eaten enough cum for the day."

"OK nnnnngghhh"

He pulled out just as he came, sending a long ribbon of cum down from the slave's chin to his pecs. His second spasm splashed over the slave's face and dribbled down the nostrils, making the slave cough and sneeze.

Connor waddled over to the paper towel dispenser and cleaned himself up before pulling his jeans up and dropping the towel into the bin. Then he unlocked the door and came back to where I was sitting. He took my place teasing the slave's rigid cock. It was a quarter past five.

As he sat, Barry Townsend walked in and locked the door behind him. "Coach," he said, nodding in my direction. "Hi, Connor."

"I think you have a question to ask," I told the slave, tweaking one of his nipples as best as I could given the oil.

"Please, master, may I give you a blow job?

Barry started to strip off his clothes. He was a swimmer and distance runner with a long, wiry build and he almost seemed skinny compared to the stud tied down in front of him.

"Beg," he instructed.

"Please, master, let me suck your cock. I need your dick in my mouth, master. Let me suck the cum from your balls..."

"Lick it," Barry commanded, "real gentle."

No sooner had the tongue reached the end of the dick than it sprung up into full hardness. Barry edged forwards slightly and started slapping the slave's cheeks with his flesh cosh.

"Oh, you've got a great tongue, slave boy. Now do it really gently."

He put his cock back in front of the slave's mouth. This time he let the tongue work him for at least twenty seconds before he started slapping face again.

"Gently, I said! Jeez, you're as bad as my girlfriend, always so eager to pop me. Take your time, will you? Nice and slow."

He stopped slapping and let the slave get back to work. The slave's tongue started tracing the veins of the cock, started tapping the glans with its tip. I don't think I'd ever seen so delicate a blow job. I wondered briefly how long he lasted before cumming when he fucked his girlfriend but then I noticed Connor was neglecting the slave's cock and it was starting to soften. I tapped my fingertips on it a few times and Connor soon had it springing back to full mast. I didn't want the slave's discomfort to ease for a moment. I heard him whimper.

After a few minutes Barry came. He didn't just cum a little, but shot ropes of his sticky goo all over the slave's face, neck and chest.

He wiped himself down, let another guy in the room and took over from Connor keeping the slave on the edge of cumming. Connor wiped his hands clean again and left, nodding to Freddy as he walked in.

And so it went on until nine o'clock. Another sixteen guys got sucked off, leaving their cum covering the inverted face and then taking their turn tormenting the slave with hours of orgasm denial. The gym's slave was slowly losing his mind as Andy Lomas ceased to exist and was replaced, blowjob by blowjob, by a cock-crazed sex machine.

When the last man had finished, I let him go without a turn on the cock. I had been working on the computer all evening, letting my attention wander between the web site, some dull on-line bureaucracy I had to get through, and the live show in front of me.

I locked the door and turned back to face the stud stretched out on the desk, his firm cock still dribbling pre-cum. "One last cock," I told him cheerfully as I pulled off my clothes, "and then we can shower and you can be on your way."

My cock, unsurprisingly, was hard and dripping. As I approached I heard the question one last time before I pushed in between his tired lips and back to the soft throat.

I came within five minutes. Frankly I was surprised I hadn't cum in my clothes already just from watching the show. "Swallow," I told him. I needn't have bothered; my cock was deep in his mouth and I wasn't letting him push me out.

I looked up at his cock. it was still hard, though the dribbling had stopped. Another ten to twenty minutes should see it going soft again I thought. I turned back to my work and studiously ignored the slave tied in front of me.

By half past nine he was soft again and it was time to move on. I untied him and led him still in his stupor over to the shower and tied his wrists to the rail. Then I closed the shower curtain as best i could and turned on the cold water.

That woke him up.

I ignored his scream of shock and let the water run for a full minute, though I'm sure it felt longer than that to him.

"Get your face under the water," I told him. "If there's any cum left by the time I get in you'll regret it."

After the full sixty seconds I reached in and added some hot to the mix. Again the sudden change provoked a howl from my studly thermometer. Once I was happy with the temperature I stepped in behind him.

Looking down I saw his cock was quite limp. The orgasm he had been so desperate for the past half day had been utterly denied.

I soaped myself up under the water and washed the sweat off my body. The cubicle was cramped and I noticed that he still tried to recoil from contact with me. The shame still burned on which pleased me immmensely. There was still more fun to be had. I put on a little show as I ran my hands over my body, looking for any reaction from him. He just looked ashamed.

Once I was done with myself I turned my atttention to the muscles in front of me. I started to soap him up and down, many more times than I needed to and far more slowly than I had any call to. I avoided his cock and balls and only fingered his hole a couple of times. I didn't want him cumming. Not yet.

He twisted under my touch, flexing as he tried to get away from my hands. Of course all he did was turn me on even more. But finally I had him clean as a whistle. I towelled myself off and let him drip dry for another fifteen minutes, as I washed down the cum from the desk and floor and gave him his final instructions.

"You're going to wear your trainers and jogging pants. You can wear this tee-shirt." I waved a tight mesh tee at him as I made some strategic snips in its neck line and seams. "Heather Thurston is having her 20th birthday party tonight in her dorm. You're invited I gather. You are to go directly there."

I piled his few clothes in front of him. I put a bottle of wine on top of the pile.

"It's 'bring a bottle'. You won't drink too much, but you will act a lot drunker. There will be other guys from the gym there so I'll know how you behave."

I stroked the back of my hand over his right pec. He tugged back.

"Between eleven and twelve tonight you will do a strip dance as part of your drunkenness. You will strip to one song, tearing off your tee shirt, and stay naked to the next. During the second dance you will get hard in front of the entire party. You will stay hard during the third. That's it. After that you're free until you get fresh orders or you suck off somebody else from the gym."

I untied his hands from the bar above his head. He started to speak but I interrupted him. "Dress. Go. Now." I pointed to his clothes and then the door.

It took him less than thirty seconds to pull his clothes on. Then he grabbed the bottle and ran from the room.

I did indeed have most of his masters from the gym at the party. And they had cameras.

We had a bet on whether he would be able to get hard without cumming in front of all those people.

I was betting on not.