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 final videos 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 started tweaking 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 his 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.