PART FIVE - PARTY, PARTY, PARTY! The pictures from the party came in fast and furious, almost beating the gossip that Adam Lomas had jerked off in front of a crowd of baying girls. The photos were rather poor quality because of the low light but showed a straightforward story. He seemed to have started nervously but soon his old cock-sure nature reasserted itself. Two dozen photos showed him dancing with a dozen different girls. From the gropes he was getting in some of the photos, at least some of the girls had noticed that he was wearing no underwear. According to my sources, he spent a couple of hours dancing before one of the gym guys he hadn't blown yet passed by and tapped him on the shoulder. Reluctantly he detached himself from the girl he was rubbing up against an the next set of photos show him obediently giving a couple of blow jobs in a small room. The look of terror on his face that some one might wander in was quite priceless. In both cases he seemed to have been very enthusiastic about swallowing all his masters' cum. Presumably he knew he had to go back to the party and not have cum sprayed all over himself. Finally I got sent some video footage of his strip dance. The slave was up on a long table running alongside the wall. Someone had had the wit to clear the bottles and glasses from it. The crowd were chanting for him to strip and, to the tune of Madonna's "Like a Virgin", he started to peel off his clothes. The majority of the crowd immediately around him was female, and that was the audience he was playing to. As a result, he tried really hard to make it a hot, sexy dance. I'm sure he was feeling that while he was playing to the girls he could go into denial about what he had had to do for the boys. His practice dance in the gym's assessment room had paid off. He put on a seriously sexy show as he peeled off his T-shirt, running the flats of his hands up his firm abs and chest as he pushed it up to his shoulders. He stretched his body with cat-like insolence as he tugged it over his head and pulled it off. He tossed it into the crowd where the girls leapt on it like teenagers at a rock concert. I was sure he would never see it again. He danced topless for a further thirty seconds, letting his hands wander over his upper body with his fingertips ocassionally teasing the audience by passing under the waist band of his trousers and stretching the cloth away from his body. The room was hot and sweaty with so many people in it all dancing and the college's cut-price air conditioning had clearly failed in its task. He was working up a fine sheen of sweat which glittered on his skin. Then he started work on his trousers. Turning his back on the audience he stroked his hands down from the small of his back towards the base of his spine. His hands came together as his little fingers passed down the crack between his solid glutes and his other fingers splayed and stroked the round surfaces. He let his thumbs catch on the waist band and tugged it down a couple of inches. Then he slid his hands apart to reveal the top of his arse to the waiting audience. "Oh my god! He's not wearing anything underneath!" I heard a girl's voice shriek. Glad to be of service, miss. Back at the dancing, he slid his hands round to the front of his body and pulled down the elastic on that side too. Looking closely I could see him his his cock a couple of tugs. He wanted it to be at its best when he revealed it to the crowd. Finally he brought his hands to his sides and pulled down his wristband over his arse to the tops of his thighs. Keeping his legs fairly close together he let his hips sway as he slid the fabric down his upper legs, over his knees and, with a twitch, dropped them down his calfs to pool around his ankles. He lifted his left leg out of his trousers and went back to a wide stance, letting him improve his movement on the table. He raised his hands high again now that he was assured of his balance. To complete his path to total nudity he then flicked his joggers off his right foot up into a waiting hand. Holding them in front of his groin, he spun round as the music hit a dramatic note and repeated his gyrations, covering his modesty with a handful of grey cotton knit. The slut was enjoying this. His eyes were sweeping over the crowd and his suggestive pelvic thrusts were all carefully aimed to favoured girls in the crowd. He was slowly letting more and more cloth drop from his hand and soon he was just dangling his joggers loosely held from the waistband. Then, as the song's chorus crescendoed for its last repeat he flung the trousers over his shoulder to land on the table behind him. His cock and balls were now bared to the entire audience as he struck a pose for the final note. The next song on was "Vogue" and rather than simply dance, he switched from static pose to pose according to the rhythm of the music. Each stretched part of his body to show his charms to their best effect. He wasn't forgetting his orders to get hard though. The majority of his stances had one or both of his hands clasped over his groin, flashing his dick to the crowd as he moved. When his hands were in position I noticed a few times the surreptitious squeezes he was hiving his dick. As instructed, over the course of the song he was starting to stiffen. His dick had been teased non-stop all afternoon, and I was sure the guys wouldn't have given him the chance to cum before the party, so he was very sensitive. Well before the end of the song he was rock hard and waving his boner in the direction of his fan club. His audience's reaction was a mixture of laughter and squeals of disbelief. The storm of camera flashes doubled in intensity as everyone concentrated on getting their own photos of the naked stud dancing on a table-top with his hard dick waving in front of him. The third song on the Madonna mix playing at the party was "Express Yourself". I'd told him to keep hard for the third and final song of his erotic trilogy and he planned to achieve this, as I had hoped, by stroking his cock from time to time. I looked closely at his face as he did this as, unlike most of the crowd, I had already seen plenty of his naked body. A couple of times I saw a flash of intense concentration pass across his face, cutting through the drunken look he was faking. I think he realised just how close to the edge he was and managed to back off. Third time was the charm. Near the end of the song, just as I was giving up hope, I noticed his cock begin to soften. No doubt desperate to avoid any punishment for failing to obey orders he gave his cock one last, subtle stroke. It was one too many. I saw his eyes fly open in panic as he realised what was about to happen. His hands flew down to his groin from shoulder height where one had just joined the other in a clasp behind his neck but they were too slow for the first shot. He had been building up pressure all afternoon. The cum shot leapt out over the crowd just as dick was swinging, spreading his sticky juice in a wide arc over the heads of the girls pressing forwards. The laughter and squeals of amazement were transformed instantaneously into screams of horror as girls' hair, faces and chests were splattered by droplets of his semen. He was fixed to the spot with his hands grabbing his treacherous cock, dripping excess cum onto the table beneath him. His mouth flapped a few times as he tried to frame an apology. No words seemed to emerge and instead he jumped down from the table and grabbed his joggers, all pretense of drunkenness forgotten. He ran for the door and slipped out before the stunned crowd had time to react, all hope that this might be laughed off as a bit of silliness gone. Nobody would ever make mention of him again without recalling the story of how he had jerked off over the girls' heads in a party. His precious reputation was now in tatters. And we were only getting started. PART SIX - SUNDAY On Sunday, round about lunch time I received a spate of photos from phone cameras and one video from the morning. He still had some blowjobs to offer and was going from dorm room to dorm room trying to track down the last few people he had to blow. Of course, the guys didn't make this easy for him and bunched together in rooms. As a result, when he knocked on a master's room and was admitted he found one master he still had to blow and two or three others he already had. But it would be rude for the host to avail himself of the slave's services without his guests partaking too, so a bunch of the gym rats got blown again, and he got three or four times as much jizz as he was expecting. There were some other filthy tricks beyond that, of course. Neil Findler was one. There was a note on the door explaining that he was in the library working and that Adam should find him there. The library isn't busy on a Sunday, but it's not empty either. Neil led Adam to the least travelled bit of the shelves (theological studies) and told him to give the blow job there. Oh, and Adam was to be naked while he did it. The sooner he sucked out Neil's precious juices and swallowed them, the sooner he would be able to get dressed again. Of course, if they heard anyone coming then Neil only had to pull his cock out of Adam's mouth and push it back into his trousers. He could then nip into the next aisle along and deny all knowledge of the event. Adam would have to pull his clothes on, of course, taking much longer. I was starting to detect a pattern in the slave's various looks of terror. The fear of being caught was clearly a good one to drive him over the edge. That was definitely worth knowing. Neil is one of those lucky people who can take forever to cum. He sent a series of five photos at five minute intervals of Adam Lomas sucking at his cock clearly in the college library. After that came three more pictures, the first showing him standing naked at the shelves reading "Saint Anthony in art" and stroking his hard cock. The second shows him cumming on the pages of the book and the third him putting it back on the shelf. I don't approve of defacing books, and I made a mental note to punish the slave severely for this misconduct. Jimmy Douglas, our media production student, had a French porn flick showing in his room of a woman giving a blow job. So he dressed Adam up for the part by stripping him naked, putting a blond Marilyn Monroe wig on his head, putting high gloss lipstick on the slave's lips and writing "PORN STAR" over his forehead. Finally he made Adam give him the exact same blowjob as was on the screen, with Adam having to read out the English subtitles. Any time he deviated from the exact actions or words, or even showed less enthusiasm than the actress on the screen he would rewind ten or so seconds and they would run that part again. Of course you can't talk with a mouth full of cock so there were lots of mistakes. Jimmy had prepared well and this was all caught on camera showing Adam Lomas in stupid costume mimicking the scene running off camera on an anonymous cock. He is a video-editing wiz and dropped both the original movie clip and an edited version of his recording to also produce a side-by-side double image. It was hilarious and I determined to save it for the Christmas party. But the final blow job was the best. The last remaining gym rat was Owen Fletcher, a student of psychology and good friend of Jimmy. Jimmy packed Adam off, wearing the wig, lipstick and a "Seven Year Itch" dress, back to his own room where Owen would be waiting for him. The next photos I have are from within Adam's room from a video camera on a tripod pointing to the window. The dorm rooms have full height windows that you can sit by to take in the scenery outside. They probably won an architectural award for "cute but pointless" because the scenery outside this room was just a main road, with cars and lorries tearing past at sixty miles an hour or more. The scenery inside the room was much more interesting. The blind for the window was lowered to just above waist height. Owen was standing naked at the window, with his upper body concealed from the window by the blind's slats. Adam Lomas, however, was on his knees in front of the window, clearly visible to anyone looking in. Of course, his room was on the fifth floor, and it was overlooked only by a main road and a farm's field, but the sensation of giving a blow job while the entire world looked on must have been nearly overwhelming for the enslaved suck toy. No matter how hard the rational part of his brain told him not to worry, the irrational, emotional side was clearly in a blind panic. I don't think I had ever seen him so crushed. He was sobbing, begging for mercy, and shaking in his fear. Owen was having none of it, of course. "The longer you beg, the longer you're at the window," he pointed out. The beauty of it is that the rational part of the slave's brain was wrong. Jimmy Douglas had conspired with Owen to get this scene. Jimmy was on the far side of the road with a tripod, a camera and the best optics he could afford. I don't have video footage, but I do have a series of papparazzi-style still photographs clearly showing Adam Lomas kneeling at his window giving a blow job to an anonymous man. Of course, these were photos that any random passer-by might have taken. I wondered how Adam would react to their being leaked anonymously to the general public. Well, when I say "general public" I mean a few of those specialist Yahoo groups like "Men Stripped and Displayed". After ten minutes, Owen came all over Adam's upper body, splashing his face and chest with cum. This was Adam's final blow job but his ordeal wasn't over yet. Owen moved away from the window and ordered Adam to stand up and face out in the posing position. Then Owen reached out and slowly started pulling the cord to lift the blind. "Oh god, please don't, master. Please!" Adam started to get frantic and I saw him almost break position. Owen didn't stop, though, until the bottom of the blind was level with the slave's neck. "Drop your right hand. Start wanking." Adam had difficulty getting hard, probably due to his extreme embarrasment. It took him, a teenage stud cum factory, over two minutes to get his boner up such was his shame. It was priceless. "Keep wanking. If you stop we publish all the photos, got it?" "Yes, master." "Besides, if anyone was looking they'd already have seen your face when you were sucking me off." Owen gave one long, last draw on the cord and raised the blind another twelve inches, revealing Adam's face full on to the outside world. The video camera inside just shows the twitching of his buttocks and the motion of his back and shoulder muscles. The shots from outside, however, show a face in torment. The man who thought he could sink no lower had just taken another step down. Finally, after another ten minutes of constant stroking his genitals won over his brain and he came, spraying his cum over his window. "Kneel in front of the window, knees well apart and lick it off." Adam didn't protest. He was too emotionally numb now. I think any command would have been obeyed silently. Wordlessly he fell into position and started to lick it up. Five minutes later Owen declared himself satisfied and left, turning off the camera as he picked it up. The last sounds on the tape were of Adam Lomas sobbing. PART SEVEN - MONDAY By the look of the photos I got from Monday morning, the shower curtain for the cubicle he used hadn't been repaired. If anything there was less of it than ever. As a result the pictures of him soaping up and rinsing off were very clear. The pictures of him naked and on all fours clearing up the water that had sprayed on to the floor were even more explicit. He didn't get breakfast, well at least not the breakfast he wanted, because we then switch to a video in his room. "It's half-eight, slave boy," a voice off camera said. "Your first lecture starts at nine and you're ordered not to be late." There was a pause. "Trouble is there's half a dozen cocks needing sucking dry, and you're not allowed out until they're all done." The footage the followed for the next twenty-five minutes was hilarious. As cocks were brought close to his face he would leap forwards, seizing them with his mouth and then he would grab hold of his master's buttocks or thighs with his hands to pull himself onto the cock more firmly. Credit where credit's due, he did succeed. At three minutes to nine he swallowed his sixth load of cum. As soon as he had finished swallowing he leapt up and ran to his wardrobe to put on some clothes. He almost bounced off Gavin "Mad Gav" McKenzie standing in front of it holding his clothes for the day in his hand: a pair of jeans, a pair of flip-flops and a t-shirt. It seemed quite normal at first. The slave pulled on the jeans passed to him, zipping them up and discovering that the button had been removed. They were tight but not impossibly so. They were his own and were obviously designed to show off his hot form under the skin-hugging denim. Then he slipped on the sandals as they were handed to him. Finally he pulled on the top to discover the next bit of cruelty set aside for him. The t-shirt was sleeveless with ragged edges where its sleeves had been roughly cut off. Its bottom few inches had similarly been trimmed and it reached down to his navel - just - but was never going to be tucked in. But the beauty of it was printed on the front. Somebody had printed a photo of him dancing full frontal naked, with a full hard on, at the party and had printed it onto the paper that could then be transferred to cloth with a hot iron. The picture of his most infamous act was there, spread across his chest as if he was boasting about it. He didn't dare hesitate to complain, but gulped down a sob and pulled it on running from the room. As he turned to leave I saw that the back of the t-shirt had a photo of him dancing naked as he was waving his arse at the audience. Gavin obviously had a sense of humour as warped as mine. "Sixty seconds," he called down the corridor to the retreating slave. I received an e-mail from a student waiting for him in the lecture room. The first thing the e-mail said was that he had arrived at 09:01:39 precisely, a full ninety-nine seconds late. The second was even more important. As he had entered there was a moment's shocked hush, followed by giggling, followed by laughter. I wish I had been there to hear it because nobody thought to record it, but he was greeted in the class by the literal derision of his peers. He was a laughing stock. Apparently he had tried to back out but had been grabbed by two classmates from the gym who had sat him down at the back of the lecture hall. If he had had any illusion that he might be able to laugh off the party incident it was gone. My next set of photos came from a camera phone from one of those two "friends" of his. They showed him sitting at the back of one of our larger tiered lecture halls taking notes as if nothing was happening. To be fair nothing was happening to him right then but his jeans were off, tossed casually over the desk to his side that was the back of a seat in the row in front. I couldn't see if there was anyone else sitting near him to witness this, but Adam Lomas was sitting mostly naked in public. The fear of discovery must have been driving him insane. The next photo was from a small empty classroom where he could be seen with his hands clasped behind his neck and his jeans pushed down to his ankles. He wasn't wearing underwear, but someone else had thought to check. The door was ajar. Not enough to let anyone see him but enough to keep an edge on the situation for him. His next class ran from ten to eleven and was in a more modern, open classroom with far fewer people and loose desks that anyone could see under. I thought the potential for embarrassing him was greatly reduced, but I had underestimated just how resourceful some of my graduate gym students were. The class was being taken by an MBA student, Gerry Maxwell, a gym rat who knew all about Adam's slavery. It was also being videoed which is not uncommon for example classes being run by graduate students. We're always worried about complaints about poor quality teaching so we have a scheme where the graduate can look over the video with their advisor to improve their teaching skills. I suspected his academic advisor might not get to see this particular video. The class was in market surveys and a classic study of how underwear followed trends and how certain chains exploited these trends to maximise sales. So he took a "random" sample of six guys from the class and had them stand at the front. I noticed that he had picked the better looking guys and had included Lomas at the end of the line and his fellow gym-goer Trevor Farley at the other. "So let's examine the 'boxers or briefs' question," he started. "A survey question asking which people prefer is subject to all the usual problems of people lying, people being confused - yes, even over a simple question like this - or people not really caring one way or another." He paused for a moment and continued. "It's better to ask what they're wearing right now." He picked up a clipboard and in a parody of market surveyor approached Trevor. "Sir, I'm conducting a survey for a leading high street department store. Might I ask which of boxers or briefs you are wearing at the moment?" "Boxers," Trevor replied clearly for the audience. "Dark blue," he added and then, with a grin on his face turned his back on Gerry and the class and dropped his trousers to reveal his backside covered, indeed, with dark blue boxer shorts. There was laughter from the audience and wolf whistles from a couple of the girls. "Ahem, yes, thank you." Gerry sounded slightly embarrassed about what had just happened and moved on to the next guy. I have no idea who he was but he was up for the gag too and revealed that he too wore boxers but his were blue and white striped. And so it went on. The first five guys were split three to two in favour of boxers, and each had taken the opportunity to drop trou in front of the class. It all appeared to be good natured fun, a classic student prank. Of course there was growing alarm on Adam's face. He knew what was coming. Finally Gerry arrived at Adam. "Well, here's someone who's used to dropping his trousers I gather," he joked. "Nice T, by the way." By now Adam was looking terrified. He could see what was coming, he knew what he was about to have to reveal to the entire class, and he could do nothing about it except stand there and wait in complete helplessness. Gerry asked the question. "Sir, which of boxers or briefs are you currently wearing?" The slave had turned red. "Erm, I'm not wearing any underwear at all at the moment," he mumbled. "No underwear," Gerry repeated, clearly enough for the whole class to hear. He turned to the tittering class. "Now this is an example of why 'other' isn't a useful category in a survey. Does 'other' mean that he is wearing nothing, or knit boxers half way between boxers and briefs, or does it mean he's a secret wearer of women's lacy panties?" The class tittered at Gerry's cruel jibe. I wondered if I should relax the "no underwear" rule to permit women's lacy panties, but decided against it. He paused and whispered something to the terrified slave who turned an even deeper shade of crimson with his eyes fixed on the implacable camera running at the rear of the classroom. "Of course, it's always possible that the subject is lying," he reminded the class as he turned away from the line up to face the class again. As soon as his back was turned, the slave obeyed his whispered orders. Mimicing the five guys before him Adam turned on the spot and dropped his trousers to reveal his naked arse to the delighted class. To the independent observer, the student prank had just turned up a notch. To the audience who had only heard about the party, there had been confirmation that Adam Lomas routinely didn't wear underwear. To the masters there was the satisfaction that their most public order to date had been obeyed and that the slave's descent into his own personal hell of humiliation had taken another step. To Adam Lomas there was just another confirmation that he was a joke, a complete nothing in the eyes of his fellows. A slave. There had been a huge cheer from the class and as Gerry had spun back again Adam pulled up his trousers and refastened them as best he could without the button. "Mr Lomas, please see me after class," Gerry said sternly and waved for the six guys to return to their seats. Of course Adam didn't get far. Trevor jumped him and grabbed hold of his zipper. The other four guys, keen to be in on the horseplay grabbed his flailing limbs and Trevor unzipped the jeans and pulled them down. The flip-flops had already gone flying and Trevor managed to get the jeans all the way off one leg in a matter of two or three seconds. The class was treated to the sight of not only his naked buns again but also of his cock flopping wildly in the brief struggle. "Gentlemen!" Gerry called, appealing for calm. "Enough horseplay, please! Clearly Mr Lomas was telling us the truth when he said he was bare arse naked under his jeans. He may be a exhibitionist pervert, but he's at least an honest exhibitionist pervert." There was more tittering. Adam's reutation among the student body was in free-fall. Adam pulled on his jeans again, standing in the middle of the aisle running down the middle of the classroom, with two dozen greedy eyes and a video-camera drinking up his shame. "Mr Farley," Gerry said, "I would appreciate a word with you too afterwards." The rest of that class was all about truthfulness in surveys and techniques to identify and compensate for subjects reporting what they thought the survey wanted to hear. "After all you can't ask people to drop their trousers in a street interview, can you?" Gerry asked. "Unless he's Adam Lomas," the class replied. Finally the class was over and Gerry stopped filming. But then he inserted a second film into the camera and I don't think our slave realised that what was happening next was being recorded. (Our cameras are wonderful. The small red LED indicating that they're running can be easily hidden with a little bit of grey plastic. They also run very quietly. And yes, I was part of the selection panel. Why do you ask?) "Lock the door, Trev," Gerry said casually as he faced Adam. "And, slave, you can lose your clothes. You won't need them for a bit." Adam Lomas obediently stripped his clothes off again, folding them neatly on the desk behind him. "Trev, kick off your jeans and boxers. Lean over the desk at the front and spread your legs wide. After all the time slave-boy here has spent on our cocks, I reckon he ought to give our arses some attention. "Get on your knees behind him, slave, and get that tongue of yours stuck in his crack. Lick it clean, rim that arse and let's see you stick your tongue all the way in his hole." Trevor Farley had clearly never been rimmed before. A moan of utter ecstasy passed his lips as the slave began his tonguing. After five minutes he was just about capable of rational speech. "Oh god, that is so good, so good, un-fucking-believeable, so fucking good, get that tongue in, yes, all the way, so fucking good, jeez, oh god..." Well, vaguely rational speech anyway. After another five minutes, Trevor passed his right hand down and started to jerk off, slowly so as not to disrupt the action at his rear. It took him five more minutes to cum and his glutes tensed on the slave's face, popping it out and signalling that he should stop. As Adam leant back Trevor turned round and grabbed the back of Adam's head. Pulling him forwards again he plunged his cock into the slave's waiting mouth to be sucked clean. Once that was done he pushed the slave away and walked over to his clothes without a word. "Wipe the cum off the desk," Gerry ordered. "Use the inside of your t-shirt to do it." He tossed the humiliating t-shirt to Adam, still kneeling in front of Trevor's jizz stream on the desk. "Now put it on," he told the kneeling boy once that job was done. Adam pulled the shirt over himself, wriggling a bit as the sticky cum stuck the cloth to his body. "There's not enough time to do me too," he told the slave. "Room's needed in five minutes." He held out the jeans. "Put them on." Adam stood and pulled on his trousers cautiously, obviously expecting there to be some catch. But there wasn't and he zipped them up with a look of relief in his eyes. Gerry put the flip-flops in front of him and repeated the instructions. Adam slid his right root into the first one and suddenly stopped with the look of relief on his face being replaced with the more common look of digust. "Oh, yeah," Gerry commented. "I came twice during your little show. Once on the left and once on the right. Put them on." Adam slowly slid his left foot in too. Every step he would take subsequently would squelch in another man's juices. "Now go to lunch." Gerry unlocked the door and Trevor and Adam filed out, with Adam's gait made rather comic by the way he flinched every time a foot pressed on the ground. Gerry walked back to the back of the room and the ever-vigilant camera. "Enjoy the show, coach," he said and turned it off. I only have camera phone stills from the lunch break. I encourage my gym rats to eat together at a table in the main cafeteria. Peer pressure helps them eat well. Well, it helps stop them eating too badly at least. At their age they can eat more or less anything, the lucky bastards. Youth is wasted on the young. So they were sitting round a table in one corner of our dining hall. Adam was sitting in the very corner, wedged in by his masters on both sides. From the room itself all you would have seen under the table were the legs of students on this side, their coats and bags draped over their chairs and piled on the floor around them. If you had peered over the other side of the table, however, you would see, as the photos demonstrated, that Adam Lomas was naked from the waist to the ankles and sporting a boner that nudged just above the level of the table. The "dressing" on his chicken salad looked suspiciously like cum; there was no indication whether it was his or someone else's. I made a note to ask. I have only a few photographs from the afternoon. They showed a small group of guys out for a jog. Adam was wearing the same t-shirt, some running shorts and trainers. They headed off to the College's running path through the nearby woods. The path carries a number of exercise stations to break up a run. One of them is simply a set of pull-up bars. The first photo I had from this station was of Adam, spread-eagled in the frame, tied by the wrists and ankles to the four corners completely naked. The second showed him gagged with his own socks. The third showed him with a bag over his head, tied loosely at the neck. The next photo was of the same scene but an hour later. It was cold and already getting dark so the wood was more or less empty, but clearly not entirely. Adam's body showed clear signs of some unwelcome visitors. There was a muddy hand print across his abs as if someone had slapped him with a wet, dirty hand. Someone had written "7/10 B-" on his right pec and the photo from the rear showed that someone had taken a twig or small branch to his exposed backside. The torment for Adam was only growing. Who had seen him? Even if they had not removed the bag he was becoming increasingly recognisable naked in the College. Were there more photos not bound by our agreement? They untied him and let him run home in his trainers. Apparently they told him his clothes were waiting for him at the edge of the wood. Technically they were, but they were where the woods comes down to the main road. They were exposed, hanging from a post in a layby with traffic coming past constantly, lights on, illuminating the area. As far as I can tell from the photos he sprinted to the pole, grabbed his shorts and dashed back. Unfortunately they were attached to the pole rather firmly and ripped as he tugged them off in his haste. The photos of him returning to the dorm shows him wearing no shirt, and a pair of tattered shorts held together at the waist by his left hand. I received this photo at about five thirty and it was timestamped five fifteen. He had forty five minutes to ready himself for gym opening. It was hard to imagine that after all he had been through in just a few short days, that the real hell of being arse fucked in the gym by anyone who beat him at an event was just about to start. PART EIGHT - THE GYM He arrived in the gym on time, naked and oh so nervous. This was where it had all started and hhe had walked back into the lions' den. I was adding to his nervousness by showing videos of his humiliations on the three TV screen on the wall opposite the treadmills. The walls had a liberal covering of full colour printouts of some of the better photographs. The entire gym was a shrine to his shame. Keeping up with the web site would have been a full time occupation so some of this was new to the gym rats and they were happily passing comments on one anothers' evil tricks. I got the session started, reminding them all that they were here to exercise not just to fuck with the slave's mind and body. "That comes later," I told them. We always start with a warm up. Stretches and light, full mobility exercises are called for and I couldn't help but admire how they showed off Adam's body well as he developed the light sheen of sweat. I was also keen to have him pounding his bare feet on the ground. We underestimate how mush we need shoes these days. His soles would be sore and would really slow him down later. As we moved on to the various exercises they dispersed across the gym, but with a small concentration wherever Adam Lomas was working out. His perfect body still held that magnetic attraction. To stop this from getting out of hand, I moved him to one of the weights benches and tied a couple of dumb bells to his hands. Then I tied his ankles to the feet at the end of the bench. "Fifteen reps, fifteen second rest, flyes, presses, overhead extensions, repeat until I let you stop." I stood back and watched him begin his forced workout. I had given him some rest periods to let him have a vague hope. As he started I walked away to let others see his torso stretched out for their viewing pleasure. I was sure that I would get immediate reports of any deviation from his exercise regimen. I would call over from time to time to stop people from resting too long as they were captivated by the muscle ballet before them. As they stood around him they chatted casually about who would get to fuck him first and what the exercise was going to be. They acted as if he wasn't even there, of course. Would he be a better fuck doggy style or on his back like coach had done it? Should he be tied firmly or should he be allowed to writhe in agony? Better to leave him screaming or with a cock in his mouth? These guys had never fucked a helpless muscle stud before and whole new worlds of sensation was awaiting them. So of course they talked about it. It was an incredible nineteen minutes before he broke pattern. I was amazed and impressed but I didn't let that stop me from taking advantage of the situation. "First penalty, Mr Lomas," I told him. I picked up some scissors and an electric shaver from behind the desk. "Shaving from the neck down." Of course, he couldn't struggles. His legs were tied and his arms and chest utterly exhausted. As I stretched each arm out to get access to the pit I felt almost no resistance. As I turned my attention to his pubes I took the opportuinity to stroke it hard and add to his fear of the future. "I wonder what the art class will think tomorrow evening when they see you without pubes?" "Please, master. Coach. Please. Leave me alone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about how I behaved. I'm sorry I was such a prick. Please just make this stop." I paused for a moment to give him the sweet illusion that just perhaps I was thinking it over. "Too late!" I said cheerfully and applied the shaver to his pubes. I took my time, especially running the vibrating shaver over his scrotum as I held it taut. "This must be quite uncomfortable," I commented as he squealed. "Even painful, perhaps. But only for you and nobody cares about you." Once that was done, I had his legs untied and flipped him over to his chest. I forced his legs wide apart and had them held in place. There was no real hair around his arse, but I inspected it anyway. "Take a good look, guys. Keep your minds on the prize." I pushed my finger against his hole. "This could be your cock." I teased the hole's rim. "This could be your cock getting ready to fuck Adam Lomas' hole." I pressed in. The hole tensed, desperate to keep all intruders out. I slapped his arse hard with the palm of my other hand and the hole relaxed for a split second. I pushed the tip of my finger in to the first joint. "This could be the head of your cock fucking Adam Lomas' hole for the first time in your life." I pushed the finger in to the second joint and started to wriggle it inside the tight, tight hole. "Remember all the times he laughed at you?" I started to pump the finger in and our between the first joint and the knuckle. Adam started to whimper. "Remember all the times he made you feel inadequate?' I gave one last, hard shove with my finger, making him shriek in pain. "So, do you want to fuck him?" I shouted. "Hell, yeah!" "Fuck, yes!" "You better believe it!" "Yeah!!" The crowd was pumped. My little pre-match speech had done its trick. Coaches get training in pep talks, you know? "Then get in the small sports hall, and get ready to compete," I told them. "Go!" They ran from the gym into the room next door. This room is used for basketball, volleyball and gymnastics. It's our general purpose empty room with a sprung wooden floor. We've even hosted ballroom dancing there, but tonight's entertainment was going to be rather less genteel. I hauled Adam to his feet. "Let's go, sunshine," I said. I tried to keep that fake cheerfulness in my voice, but the truth was that I was busting a nut and it was taking all my self-control not to throw him over the desk and fuck him right there. "Let's see how many people get to fuck you tonight." I led him through to the room I had prepared. "Preparation" is probably too strong a phrase. All I had done was chalk two lines along the two short edges, about two metres out from the walls. "Shuttle runs," I announced simply. "You start behind the line. I blow my whistle and you run hell for leather to the other side. If you get to the other line before I blow my whistle again you're still in and you start running back. If you don't then you're out. I'll start slow and work up the pace. Anyone who's still in when the slave goes out gets to fuck him. "If he's the last man running then nobody gets to fuck him. "Clear?" I knew that Adam Lomas was a decent sprinter, but he was bare foot and that would slow the runner down more than you would believe. He was, however, more motivated than any other player I had ever seen. After all that had happened to him his arse was still "out of bounds" to the evil bastards. And if he could win then my rape of him only a few nights previously would be the only prick in his hole. I gave Adam a "lane" of his own to run in to avoid the mad throng. I wanted him to actually have a fair contest this time. Not because I wanted to be fair to him, you understand, but because I wanted my gym rats to take the competition seriously. This was, of course, purely for their benefit and the thought of plunging their throbbing, stiff cocks into trembling, moist hole was only a sweetener. You keep believing that, OK? I blew my whistle and started spotting how the guys were doing. The real sprinters cut out of the pack and three seconds later arrived at the other end of the hall. I blew my whistle when half of them had crossed the line. I wanted the numbers thinned out to get some decent running. I did the same at the next length to bring the numbers down to a more manageable eight contestants and a prize. The next two lengths got faster and soon we were down to four people with Adam and Horse in the lead. He managed this for two more lengths before the pain on his feet became too great and he slipped to last place. That was when I pounced, of course, and he was out, with three guys with fucking rights over him. There were cheers from the crowd of onlookers and the three winners whooped with excitement. They stared at their prize who stood, trembling slightly, with his gaze cast down at his feet unable to look them in the eyes. I tossed a mat to the ground. "Only catch is that you have to fuck him now," I told them, "in front of witnesses. Otherwise you might go gentle on him and we'd never know." The laughter in the room was not kind. There was no chance of that happening. "Condoms?" I offered them, holding out a packet. "Came prepared, coach," Horse replied, pulling a single flat condom packet from his pocket. The other two winners, Gerry Maxwell in second place and "Mad Gav" McKenzie in third, were going to accept my offer but at least some of their friends were in a position to help them out and a couple more flew across the room. "Horse, you came first," I told him. "You get to start." Horse already had his shorts off and the condom rolled down his monster cock and looked up eagerly. I pushed Adam in the small of his back, propelling him to his fate. Horse grabbed him round the back of his neck and pushed him onto the mat. "All fours," Horse grunted. So it was going to be doggy style, then. Little did I know. Adam had barely got down when Horse swooped. Kneeling behind Adam, he pulled the legs apart and then, with his left hand on Adam's shoulder and his right guiding the base of his own cock, pushed in. He wasn't gentle, he wasn't in the least restrained, and he sure as hell didn't give a damn if he hurt his new fuck toy. It took just three thrusts in less then five seconds to get the whole twelve inches buried into Adam's hole. Adam screamed. This was clearly hurting him but his screams just turned Horse on even more. "Does that hurt? Does my fucking cock hurt you, pussy boy? Scream for me, bitch. Scream for me!" He started pounding in and out even harder. He had both hands on Adam's shoulders to pull him down even more firmly on to Horse's monster. Adam's arms were still tired from his earlier exercises and collapsed under the weight. Horse didn't even hesitate in his response. He simply passed his arms under Adam's limp arms and then wrapped his hands round the back of Adam's neck. Once he had Adam in this hold he just lifted him backwards, letting the slave's own weight help with the work as Horse's groin thrust upwards and his gripping arms pulled downwards. It occurred to me suddenly that there was no photgraphic record of this, Adam's second anal rape. I popped back into the gym to pick up my camera and came back to find that the scene had got a lot more noisy. Horse was spewing a train of consciousness from deep in his rapist's heart. "Fuckin' yeah! Oh you fucking fucker! Fuck!!" and so on. Meanwhile the crowd around were getting more aggressive. Half had their cocks out and their shorts round their ankles or knees as they wanked away to the scene in front of them. Most of them were shouting encourangement to Horse, "Split the little shit in half", "Rape that hole", "Run him through", and were baying for blood. The two waiting for their turn at the hole were on either side of Adam's mouth trying to get both their cocks into his mouth at the same time. This takes more coordination than they had and a stiller mouth than Adam could achieve given Horse's pounding. Instead he was just getting poked in the face by one or two cocks moist with pre-cum every time Horse pushed him forwards. I couldn't hear what Adam was screaming, if it was indeed words, over the noise made by the audience, but I wasn't going to let that get in the way of my fantasy mouth fuck. Once I had taken my first set of photos I pushed forwards and pulled off my shorts and jock. I didn't want anything getting in the way of this moment. The two guys whose cocks were smearing pre-cum over Adam's face made way for me. I knelt down in front of Adam and looked up at Horse. "D'you mind?" I took his "Ngh!" as a negative and pushed on. Or in, rather. My cock was rock hard. As Adam was pushed forwards I pressed my cock into his mouth. He was moaning and crying in pain already so his mouth was wide open. As my cock went in to the back of his mouth he gagged on it and I pressed onwards wanting him to feel like he was choking and like he really was being split in two at both ends. I wanted to feel him panic. I could feel his tongue working to get my cock out of his mouth but it was the only muscle available for the task and was hopelessly outmatched by my body weight. But it was fun feeling the tongue on my cock as it tried. I took up a rhythm with Horse and we both pushed and pulled back together. It was everything I had dreamed of. As Horse and I pushed together Horse's lowered head, just above Adam's, exhaled sharply and I felt his hot breath on my abs at the same time as I felt the cock-sucker's breath blow out of his nostrils, tickling my pubes. Adam had no control over his body's angle from the ground. Horse was in complete control. His arms were pinned and he had no way to push himself off my cock. If I didn't pull back far enough he wouldn't be able to breathe through his mouth, and given the wild, desperate gasps I was hearing from him he needed to. I started to withdraw less and less causing him more and more trouble with my rigid member filling his throat. He started to struggle to get his head back far enough to be able to gulp in the air he needed, but Horse was having none of it. The desperate twists of Adam's body were simply adding to the sensations running along his mighty cock and he was loving it. "Choke on it, fucker! Death by cock. Yeah! Death by fucking cock!!" The power over his fuck-toy and the sense that he might actually be helping choke the slave was too much for his sadistic soul. Suddenly Horse reared back, dropping Adam's arms at the last moment and screamed "FUCK!!!!!!" as he came. Adam fell forwards onto my cock, pushing its head firmly into his throat. As Horse was shaking on his knees with cum flooding from his member, I got the ultimate massage of my dick head from Adam's panicking throat muscles sending me over the edge too. We both shook for a good thirty seconds as our cum pumped. We fell back, drained both of cum and energy, letting Adam fall to the ground between us like a sack of potatoes. He coughed and spluttered as he cleared his mouth of my juices and struggled to get his breath back while at the same time being in some considerable pain from the twelve inch butt-fucking he had just endured. Horse and I looked at one another with that common bond that can only come from double raping some poor bastard. Horse and I would take some time to recover from our pleasures, Horse in particular. I was determined that Adam would get no such relief. "Mr Maxwell, you're next," I called as clearly as I could. Gerry strode across the room and grabbed Adam under a shoulder. "Get up, slave," he snarled and practically threw Adam to a vaulting horse I had pushed over to a wall to make room for the running. He tipped Adam over the horse and spread the slave's limp legs wide apart so that he could fix the ankles in place with velcro straps from the mats. Even in my exhausted state I thought I perhaps ought to buy some more of these for the gym. They were proving to be very popular. Gerry grabbed my attention again as I heard the sound of a loud flesh-on-flesh slap of his palm against Adam's buttocks. "Fucking hell, Horse, you've split him in two." He tied Adam's wrists in place too and moved back to the waiting arse. He slapped it again and started to roll the condom down his shaft. "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment, Fuck Boy. Third dick you've ever had is gonna be mine. Coach made you wail. Horse made you scream. I'm gonna make you cry your fucking eyes out." He moved behind Adam and slowly guided his cock in. He began a very slow movement, pushing his cock fully in and then pulling it out almost all the way. Gerry was a patient man, the exact opposite of Horse, and wanted to luxuriate in the feel of the captive hole. "You hate this, fuck toy? Are you really hating being anally raped? Talk to me!" "I hate it! God, I hate it," Adam whimpered from his position over the vault. "What do you fee like?" Gerry commanded. "I feel like a piece of shit. I used to be the big dog. And now, you - you - you've turned me into a nothing piece of shit." And, congratulations were due to Gerry's grasp of psychology because as Adam was forced to describe himself and what was happening to him he started to cry. "Tell me, you no good piece of shit. Tell me how many times have you taken it in the mouth?" "Fifty three," he sobbed. It was interesting that he'd counted and that these individual incidents weren't all blurring together into a continuum of hell. Each was still a particular degradation, a specific cruelty. Each one mattered. "How many times you swallowed?" "Thirty nine." More sobbing from the slave and a cheer from the crowd and cries of "two of them were mine" and the like. "You helpless? Tell me how you're helpless." "You've got photos of me. Me doing things. People doing things to me." "What things?" Gerry was maintaining his slow, patient rhythm. The muscles down his back, in his arse and down the back of the thighs were tensing and relaxing with almost metronome precision. I thought I started to see the beginnings of a tremble, but he was still just about in control. "Oh, god, everything. Me having to suck. Me getting fucked. Me wanking. Me dancing naked. Me cumming all over the girls." He was having trouble talking straight for the weeping now as he had to recount his various humiliations. "How many times have people cummed up your arse?" Gerry's voice was full of pent up orgasm, he was speaking almost through clenched teeth as he struggled to hold it back. The muscles around his abs were starting to twitch. he didn't have long. "Two..." Adam replied to be cut off by Gerry's exultant cry of "three!" as he relaxed his hold and shot his load with his dick buried firmly up Adam's arse. There was applause and hollered congratulations from the crowd. Horse had grabbed the camera and had been snapping pictures. I didn't know for how long. I didn't know how he could stand, either. He was tougher even than he looked, obviously. Gerry pulled out, holding the cum-laden condom in place with his fingers. He slapped Adam firmly on the arse again. "Three," he repeated, "and don't forget it." He wobbled away from the vault with its delicious mount and smiled at me. Behind him Adam was slowly getting control of his crying. "McKenzie," I called, looking round for him. I almost didn't spot him until I saw him further along the wall, opening a window and laying a mat over the sill. Then he lowered the blind so that there was just a foot or so's clearance. Gav walked over to Adam and undid the velcro. Grabbing him by the lobe of an ear he half led and half dragged him over to the window. "Lean out. Catch your breath." He pushed Adam's head through the gap and then his arms. Finally he shoved his arse forwards until Adam's was resting on his abs, with his chest and arms fully outside. We were on the second floor and it was fully night, but we have a lot of street level lighting down below. Adam must have known what was going to happen because he started to protest. "No! You can't be serious..." He was silenced by a tug on his bollocks. "Shut up. If you make any noise, people might look up. You got a cover story ready?" Gav stroked his cock a couple of times and slapped it across Adam's glutes for good measure before rolling on the condom. Then, gripping Adam's cock with one hand and his with the other he slowly slid in and, putting both hands on Adam's waist, he began to fuck. Adam's arms thrashed for a bit as he fought for his balance hanging out of the window. But then with his legs inside kicked well apart and his upper body pushed into the public world outside he got fucked. This was his third fuck of the night and he was starting to wheeze for breath. I could hear him work to keep his breath under control but only with limited success. Finally I heard what I had been praying for: a voice from outside. "Ad? Whadder fuck are you doin'?" "Catching my breath," he replied, keeping his voice still. Gav took that moment to fuck particularly hard and Adam lurched forwards a bit. The guy downstairs obviously didn't notice because he carried on his conversation. His voice was slightly slurred and then I remembered that the bars were chucking out about now. "It's fuckin' freezin'. Yerl catch yer death inner cold." "I'm fine, I'm - ow - fine." Gav had moved a hand round and had given Adam's crotum a friendly squeeze. He started to run his hand up and down Adam's cock to add the the boy's discomfort. "You shoor? You look a bit funny to me. Wotcher upto reely?" Gav whispered something that I didn't catch. "Well, if you must know I'm leaning out of the window so somebody can fuck me up the arse!" Adam snapped back. "OK, OK. No need to be fuckin' sarcas-sarcisis-rude aboudit." The guy downstairs wandered off and the conversation ended. Gavin mneanwhile had picked up the pace, presumably hoping to cum while Adam was still talking and came about thirty seconds later. He pulled out quickly and walked away, leaving Adam with a hard-on. I walked over to the window and pulled him in. He slumped at my feet. Even in the cold I could see the bright red he had turned from the fear and shame of having to talk to someone in public while getting raped in private. "Used condoms, please, gentlemen," I asked, holding out my hand. The three used condoms were passed to me. Two were already knotted at the end and I paused a moment as I undid them. "Kneel," I told the boy at my feet. Head back, mouth open and tongue out. I leant down and squeezed the cum onto his tongue. It slowly rolled back down into his mouth. "Do not swallow. You may not swallow until I say so. Now close your mouth." I turned to everyone else. "Showers! And to everyone who's been turned on by the fuck-fest, remember to work hard on Wednesday. Only winners get to fuck this arse." I tugged Adam to his feet and turned him round so his arse faced them. I swatted it for good measure. Unfortunately he didn't swallow in surprise, but I had plenty of time yet. We headed downstairs piling into the showers. I was in a hot sweaty state too so I joined them. I had the slave kneel outside the showers with his mouth open. Anyone who wanted to add to the cum building up in his mouth was welcome to jerk off into it. By the time I got out his mouth was literally overflowing. There was cum all over his face from shots that had missed and two long ribbons hanging from either side of his mouth running down to his chest from the pool inside it. We took our time drying and changing back into our clothes. Every one of us strugged to get a rock hard erection back into our trousers. Everyone was constantly glancing over to the kneeling cum bucket at the end of the room. Finally I called over to him. "Stand up and walk over here. Keep your head tilted back; I don't want you spilling any more." He stood before us and I had him pose for a few camera phones before I finally gave him the order. "Swallow." He obeyed instantly, desperate to get the slime out of his mouth and off his tongue. He swallowed, retched and coughed but kept it down. I saw his cheeks twist as he salivated and swallowed several times to clear the taste. I waited until he was finished before undoing all his work. "Scrape the cum from your face and body with your fingers. Lick them clean." When that was done I let the class go. Adam and I were all alone. "Coach? Master?" Adam turned from his locker to face me. "Hmm?" "My clothes are gone. Even my door key. What am I going to do?" What was _he_ going to do? No, no, no. What was _I_ going to do?