GYM SLAVE

(c) Andy Robson, 2007.  Please feel free to copy for non-commercial
purposes, keeping the text and authorship intact.


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?"


[ More to follow, if you'd like. ]