These pictures have been kicking around the net for a while. This is the story they inspired in me.
We all knew Hell Week would live up to its name. The whole week before we had been in chastity cages, unable to get hard, let alone cum. Saturday morning they unlocked us and took us out for a run in the woods: stark naked! Of course, we all thought that would be as bad as it got, fools that we were.
The run came out of the woods on a patch of grass by a small road: small, but not totally unused.
They made us line up facing the road, knowing that somebody was bound to drive down the road and see us. Of course, we only found out after hazing was over that this was a regular event and every year people would drive by to see us posed for their pleasure and our embarrassment.
They split us into two lines. I got stuck in the back row. I thought I was lucky, but I would find out soon that this wasn't the case!
And then our Pledgemaster told us what we were going to be doing all afternoon: posing with feet apart, backs straight, hands behind our heads, and in absolute silence no matter what was said to us, asked of us, or done to us.
And then the son of a bitch walked off, leaving us behind, stripped naked and on display.
Two hours we stood there as traffic drove past, hooting their horns, stopping only to jeer, laugh and take pictures.
When our Pledgemaster finally returned and let us drop our arms we breathed a sigh of relief. We should have known better.
With nearly a dozen people watching from the road he told us to drop our hands and start stroking our cocks! From the cheers we heard, we guessed he was adding something new this year.
“Stroke your dicks hard, but do not cum!” he shouted. “One stroke per second. No speeding!”
None of us had cum for a week. He knew this, the bastard!
It was too much for Alex to my left. With a moan mixing pleasure and despair he launched a huge jet of cum on to the ground in front of him.
“Alex loses for the back row!” our Pledgemaster shouted. “No cumming!”
I wondered what he meant about “for the back row” but only for a moment before I returned all my attention to the forcing myself not to cum after eight days of abstinence.
We were made to keep stroking for another thirty minutes to the delight of the people with cameras locked on our bodies and to our absolute agony.
You try stroking non-stop for half an hour without cumming. No matter how light your touch your cock becomes massively sensitive.
Finally, our Pledgemaster let us stop wanking...
...and I found out what he meant by “for the back row”. Only the front row got to leave. The “losing” back row had to resume the position and stand there posing for another hour.
We dealt with Alex later. When we finally got to cum, he got to swallow.