Chapter 18

“Hey, Ford, where’s Coach? He’s never late for our Sunday sessions.”

“Must be held up, anyway, he told me we should get started.”

Nick leered at Ford. “Okay. If you insist! Maybe you’d like a little warm-up on the dildo stool!”

“Or maybe we could do... this!”

To Nick’s surprise, Ford pushed him back onto the bench and began to undo his pants with his teeth. In seconds, the dark-haired jock was going down on him, using his tongue in that spirally-way Nick loved.

Nick sighed, closed his eyes, and was really getting into it when


It took him a moment to realize that his hands had been cuffed together under the bench.

“Ford? Ford? Hey! Hey, what is this? The Coach is gonna be pissed -”

“Coach isn’t coming. He left me a message yesterday.”

“Not - but, wait a minute -”

“I told Luke that we would be free today, but he had a better idea. Steve is pretty pissed that you haven’t been returning his calls.”

“He can go fuck himself! I’m never spending another minute with the creep! I’m -”

“Never say never, Nick.”

Nick’s head spun around to see Steve step out of the Coach’s office. He was holding a very, VERY large dildo in one hand.

He was followed by seven members of the frat house, all wearing football uniforms from the waist up.

Below that, they were just wearing jock straps.

Nick heard a gurgling sound come from his own throat.

“Sorry I can’t stay to watch, Nick, but Luke has plans for me at the frat house. But don’t worry, Steve is going to record the whole thing using the Coach’s hidden cameras.”

“Nnng - gh - gh -ghnnnnnnnnnnNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”



“That’s what Dean Flagely said. He said Nick’s dad called, that he had a severe case, wouldn’t probably be back to school for 30 days.”

“He looked fine on Friday.”

“Anyway... Coach, what am I going to do about these Russell twins? Can’t you get the Dean to call them off? They made me blow them again in the Boy’s john on Friday. Sooner or later someone’s going to catch us at it. And that might lead somebody to find out - what we’re doing.”

“Invite them here. For your sixth hour session. Tell them that you’ve been forging my signature all year, and that I’m never here sixth hour.”

“I’m not going to encourage them! That’s crazy!”

Ford felt his shirt bunch into the Coach’s meaty fist.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do, Ford! Don't forget it. Get those two horny bastards in here, see how far they’ll go, lead ’em on. But make ‘em think its their idea, you know ‘Oh please, don’t do that, I can’t do that,’ you know. The whole don’t-throw-me-in-the-briar-patch number.”

“And you’ll be?”

“In the back room. Watching the whole thing.”



The Russell boys were delighted to find out that they had the run of the gym sixth hour every day, with forged passes to get out of study hall provided by Ford.

The randy devils made Ford do a lewd strip-tease, shaking his ass while he diddled his cock to get it hard. They made him use the Coach’s master key to open lockers of guys they knew, so they could take pics of Ford sniffing sneakers, sticking his nose in the ripe armpits of old tee shirts, and the crotches of any underwear they happened to find.

They had great fun with plastic cup protectors, which often had a pool of congealed ball sweat in the deepest spot, and made Ford curl his long tongue all the way in to lick it up.

The twins came armed with disgusting items of their own, often filled with a load of semen shot in the Boys’ Toilet earlier the same day.

Sucking their toes, licking out their armpits (very carefully, they were both extremely ticklish) sucking on their sweaty balls... the twins had quickly gotten into the smelly side of male sex. Or, at least, having a male jock sex slave do it to them.

Their game of watching Ford chew on crusty jock straps quickly developed into doing so while the Russell were actually wearing the straps... they got off on having Ford suck their dicks through the ribbed fabric, extracting all the dried semen before peeling them back and letting Ford extract fresh semen from their long, banana-shaped pricks.

Near the end of the week, Ford was chewing on a strap, extracting all the sweat from the place where the straps came together, when his tongue slipped and grazed the guy’s tightly-clenched anus.

The boy froze, then muttered an expletive, grabbed Ford’s head, and pushed his mouth directly into the crack, hard against his moist pucker.

As the Russell boy felt Ford’s strong, long, supple tongue snake into his nether portal, he let out a high, girlish squeal of delight, forcing his brother to hold a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

Obviously, the brother was eager to try out this new source of pleasure himself, and they took turns riding his face for the rest of the period, only lifting their buttocks from his mouth to thrust their dicks into it when they started to cum.


Nick - who, of course, did not have mono - was sitting in front of his computer in a tee shirt and boxers, waiting for his latest round of pics from the Russell twins.

In return for secretly coaching them on things they could do to humiliate, arouse, abuse and debauch Ford, the Russell’s supplied Nick with a daily dose of pics. Nick wondered what the twins would think if they knew about the Coach’s secret cameras.

And what was that sly bastard up to, anyway? He had to have some perverted agenda for egging them on.

As long as Nick was looking at pictures of Ford getting used, he could jack off in peace and satisfaction.

Because the truth was Nick desperately needed something to distract him... otherwise... the dreaded flashbacks from Sunday afternoon in the locker room... tied to the bench...

Nick shook his head as his computer uttered a soft ping.

That must be it, the Russell’s latest photo shoot...

He opened the email and paused.

It was from Steve.

With a link to footage from Sunday.

Grunting in disgust, he moved his mouse cursor to the delete button.


Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, reflecting the blue glow of his monitor background.

Shifted in his seat.

Shifted again.

Finally, he tugged at the leg hole of his shorts, where his erection was painfully trapped.


Moved the cursor back to the link.


As the images filled the screen, and the sounds of the horny frat dudes filled his ears, he stripped off his clothes, grinding his naked buttocks in the cool leather of his computer chair.

It was the most disgusting, most awful thing he had ever experienced.

He had also shot the most intense orgasms he could remember. How many? Four? Five?

He would have to watch.

He didn’t want to.

But he had to.

Slack jawed, he let the lewd scene fill his brain, his right hand starting a slow, tortuous twisting of his hard cock.

It didn’t seem right to just jerk off.

It would have to be hard.

But five minutes into his disgusted self-debauch, the film stopped.

He moaned.

A selection screen appeared.

In order to watch the rest of the movie, he had to turn on his web camera and link it to a certain web site.

One of Luke’s.

Shit, that Luke was a sadistic bastard.

It wasn’t bad enough to tempt him into watching the fucking movie of his humiliation.

No. He would have to watch it while they watched him doing it.

Watched him. Knowing that if he had chosen to watch it, he was probably whacking off.

So even this dirty little secret would be public.

He groaned, and his cock gave a desperate pulse in his fist.

He enabled his web camera, and clicked the link.

The movie—and his exquisitely humiliating masturbation—continued.


“He’s doing it.”

“I thought he would. Oh, don’t forget to send him a message reminding him that I still expect him to report to our Valentine’s Day party this Saturday. Obviously we know his ‘serious case of mono’ doesn’t keep him from getting it up.”

Several of the frat guys—all of them part of Sunday’s ‘football team’—gathered to watch Nick while he watched the movie.

The expression on his face, knowing that they were watching him watching himself, was priceless.

The guys hooted and hollered when Nick put his heels on the desk, spread wide, and began a vigorous finger-fuck of his sluttish hole, in plain view of the web cam. His other hand alternated between tugging and stretching his nut sack, and slowly grinding his knob. Nick’s tortured expression seemed to indicate that he was going to deny himself orgasm until he had watched the whole movie, as some kind of self-inflicted punishment.


Nick opened a bleary eye and looked at the clock. 11am.

It took him a while to figure out it was Friday.

The memory of what he had done the night before came back in a sickening wave. After that first viewing in the late afternoon, he had gone to bed, tossing and turning in a nightmare-filled, feverish sleep. It was almost like he really did have mono. But he woke just before midnight with a nagging compulsion to watch the humiliating video again. He fought the need as long as he could, but finally gave in at 2am.

When he clicked on the link, he was informed that he could watch the video again, but only if he remained in good view of the web cam. This time it reminded him to turn on the microphone as well.

Somehow, just knowing that the mic was on had made him go verbal last night, begging and whimpering and interacting with the images on the screen. He just couldn’t help himself.

Nick realized that he had rolled over and was grinding his dick against the mattress, just thinking about the humiliating episode.

He groaned as he realized that he would probably give in and watch it again before the day was out.

It was sickening, it was awful... and it was also hot Hot HOT.

But this time, he knew that his fingers wouldn’t be enough.

The giant dildo, the one they used on him in the movie, haunted him.

Maybe if he did it, fucked himself with a dildo like that, he could lay the demon to rest.

He wondered if that was why Luke was making him watch it on camera, so they could watch him use a dildo on his traitor slut of an ass.

Swallowing his pride, he decided to go to the Grotto and get one.


The clerk at The Grotto porn shop looked up as he heard the tinkle of the door opening.

The brown-clad figure of the delivery guy was making his way to the desk.

“Hey Bobby. What you got for us today?”

“Hey, Zack. Some stuff from Cocked’n’Loaded. And, it looks like this month’s supply of... I’ll be fu... um. I mean the latest issue of Bound & Slagged.”

Zack looked up. Bobby’s banter was the normal, but his voice was totally weird. Like he was seeing a ghost, or something.

“You okay, there, Bobby?”

“Yeah. Never better. Got a big delivery due in Chicago this afternoon. Important. Gotta go.”

“Hey - wait a minute - you forgot to have me sign the - oh well.”

The door closed with a tinkling chime.

Zack began to undo the parcels.

“Um, I need to check out, now. I’ve been waiting -”

“Keep your pants on, kid.” Zack looked up to see a high school kid, blond, with a packaged dildo. A massive one.

“You 18? I’m gonna need some ID.”

Reluctantly, he handed Zack his License.

Nick Taylor. 18.

“Okay, hang on a sec while I get this unwrapped and check for defects. Store policy.”

“But I really want to...”

Nick stopped cold as the stack of Bound & Slagged magazines spread out on the counter.

There, on the cover, large as life, was Ford, getting fucked by someone in a referee costume.

Nick straightened up, a wicked gleam coming into his eye.

“You know, I don't think I need this after all,” he said, laying down the dildo. “But I’ll take three copies of that.”

Nick exited the store into the thin February sunshine, a spring in his step. He flipped open his phone and dialed a number.

“Hello? Ryan? It’s Nick Taylor.”



Sam glanced at his phone. Damn! Almost 5pm on Friday, and no call back yet.

“Please, no more, please—”

Sam turned to Leonard Battz—aka the ‘Bat Master’—and told him to get their latest model into the next bondage rig while he called the Bound & Slagged office. Again.

“You want the Andrews Cross? Or the incline table? Or what?” Leonard was wearing his signature Bat Mask, studded codpiece, and utility belt hung with bondage gadgets. Tattooed wings on his back and shoulders completed the look.

“Let’s go for the sawhorse instead. Get him mounted and ready for the fuck machine sequence. He can suck you off while it reams him out.”

Sam punched the number into his cell phone as Battz put down the whip, lowered the model to the floor, and led him over to the bondage horse. The tattered shreds of his brown delivery uniform clung to the model’s well-muscled butt and thighs. The guy gasped when he saw the sinister-looking fuck machine in the corner.

“Please—no—not that—”

The number rang 8 or 9 times with no answer. Sam cursed and turned away, pressing one finger against his other ear to muffle the model’s pathetic begging.

...BEEP... You have reached the offices of Bound & Slagged Magazine, dedicated to pushing the boundaries of all-male erotica. If you know your party’s extension...

“Hey, Hugo, if you’re there answer the fucking phone! I’m getting another shoot ready and you haven’t paid me for the last one yet! That spread with the high school wrestler kid sold great and you haven’t fucking paid me after promising to settle up for over two weeks. So you get squat until you pay up! Asshole...”

There was a click and a wheezy male voice picked up: “... you got another shoot for us? That’s great, great... Hey, Hugo’s not here right now, some legal stuff downtown, but he’s sorry about the money screw up. How about I write a check, maybe you drop off the pics and pick it up, huh?”

“What the fuck, you only get the new shoot with cash in advance. I’m not playing phone tag again.”

“Hmmm... Depends on the pics.”

“Good. Real good. I’m calling it ‘Overnight Delivery’ where a real-life delivery guy gets worked over by the Bat Master. All night long, every which way. Fucking machine, hot wax, clothespins, rimming chair, the works. So, money up front or I take my business somewhere else.”

“No, hey, sounds great, sure, bring it on in. Hugo’s not here but I can round up some extra cash. Maybe Wednesday?”

“You better be straight with me. Okay. Wednesday. But no money, no pics. I mean it.”

Sam clicked the phone shut and turned back to Bat’s dungeon. The delivery guy was strapped to the padded bondage horse in a way that was designed to spread, immobilize and display his perfectly formed—and up until now, virgin—ass. The pale, tight cheeks were crisscrossed with red welts from the upside-down ass whipping he had just endured at Bat’s expert hand.

Before the whipping, the delivery guy—his name was Bobby—had play-acted a scene in which he delivered a messed up package to the Bat Master’s house, and was grabbed, pinned down, and rip-stripped as punishment. Bobby’s sexual hell then began with forced open-mouth kissing while getting groped.

To his mortification, the dungeon master had been able to make his reluctant cock get hard with 30 seconds of expert hand work before snapping a tight leather ring around the base of the shaft to keep it nice and hard no matter what.

Bobby’s cock was now drawn back between his legs and strapped to the end of the bondage horse. A leather ball-stretcher was then fitted to ensure that his genitals were obscenely displayed and utterly vulnerable to any devilish activity the Master had in mind.

As Sam adjusted the video tripods and set up the auto-snap still cameras, Battz wheeled over the cart with the fuck machine and demonstrated it so that Bobby could see what was in store for his virgin ass. The motor hummed into life, rotating the dinner-plate-sized gear disk and driving the mechanical elbow arm, moving the black dildo in a lewd fucking motion. The guy yelled and cursed, begging piteously as he imagined the shaft raping his helpless hole.

Sam snapped a few close-ups of his face, capturing the desperate apprehension, the dripping sweat, the wide-open eyes, the abject fear... and the trickle of sexual curiosity underneath.

Bobby was shaping up to be one the best models he ever had.

Sam’s hunch to follow the delivery guy after he left Ford’s house a month ago had turned out to be a good one.

Within two weeks Sam had everything he needed to go after the guy.

Turned out, his predilection for Ford’s ass was a fluke, that he normally hauled ash for bored housewives. Lots of them. He had surveillance pics of no fewer than 6 trysts with women whose husbands would not look kindly on the delivery guy if they found out. In several instances Sam had managed to get a zoom shot right into the bedroom for pics that left nothing to the imagination.

But the cherry on the ice cream was the delivery guy’s sideline in ‘lost’ packages that somehow never got returned to the vendor, but wound up in a small U-store unit, awaiting resale on Ebay.

Between his fear of getting beaten to a pulp by a bunch of angry husbands, and doing likely jail time for theft, the guy caved in to Sam’s demands, signing the required porn modeling agreement before stripping down in the back of his delivery truck and beating off. Sam took copious pics of the guy playing with his nipples and balls and sniffing his own sweaty underwear before shooting his load all over the place. Clearly, the guy had an over-the-top sex drive, which made him good porn material.

And now here he was, trussed like a chicken, with a dildo lined up ready to go at his ass, and the Bat’s codpiece staring him in the face.

But when Bobby saw the Bat’s big, smelly hard-on released from the studded leather pouch, he freaked out.

“No, way! I’m straight, I never sucked a guy before, please—”

“You certainly enjoyed having sex with the jock kid a few weeks ago.”

“That’s different—I fucked him—I mean, it’s not gay if you’re on top, right? And okay, his ass felt great on my dick, what can I say, but I never sucked anyone off before, I don't think I can do it—”

Sam laid a hand on the deliver guy’s quivering back, let it wander down to cup one tightly-muscled but cheek.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that. Before dicking around with a bunch of other guys’ wives. Before stealing your company blind. Over ten K of stuff I found in your little hideaway. So, grand theft, that’s a felony, big time. And because you’re a bad boy, now you left yourself vulnerable to a guy like me. Somebody who knows how to use information. Somebody who can keep you out of jail... out of the emergency room...

“Somebody who knows how to take a hot-bodied stud like you and turn him into a gay sex toy.” Sam let his fingers drift into the sweaty ass cleft, graze against the tightly-clenched sphincter. “Because we have a deal, right Bobby? You’re gonna open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and learn to suck a man’s dick while I lube up your tight little ass. Or else it’s Plan B. Prison. Where, by the way, you’ll be fucked even more, but without any lube.”

Sam grabbed the tube of Ass Butter, squirted a dollop on the quivering hole, and started to rub it around.

“So what’s it gonna be, Bobby? Plan A, or Plan B?”

Bobby’s head drooped. Eyes on the floor, he nodded and mumbled something. Sam felt the guy’s anus relax slightly and he pushed his greasy finger in to the hilt as Bobby gasped and shuddered.

“Good boy! Plan A it is!”

The Bat Master grabbed the delivery guy by the hair and pulled his face up into position, lining up his fat knob at Bobby’s open mouth.

“Oh... fuck.... Please, I-urggm-nnno... N-nnaaaarrrbbblbbngfhhhhhh! Mmm-mMM! MMMMNNNHHHH!!!”

Sam checked the camera’s monitor to make sure it captured every detail of the dick sliding inch by inch into the guy’s mouth, muffling his cries, until Bat’s pubes were pressed against his nose. Bobby’s lips were stretched tight and his throat muscles worked as he tried to control his gag reflex.

Bobby’s anus clutched helplessly on Sam’s finger as he choked on the massive boner and fought for breath. Battz pulled back a bit and ordered Bobby to suck on his knob and work his tongue on the shaft or he would jam it all the way in and keep it there until he passed out.

The hapless delivery guy whimpered and did as he was told.

Judging that Bobby’s ass was now well-lubed, Sam advanced the arm of the machine until the tip of the silicone ass probe was nuzzled up against the guy’s defenseless butt hole...


Erik Ransome lay sprawled on the exam bench in Room C, naked torso covered in gobs and small lakes of cum.

Steve had been able to get five loads out of him in just ninety minutes. Amazing. The guy could go from one orgasm to the next without a break.

Just as impressive, he had now gone three weeks using the anal stimulator they had cooked up, and he had never once given in to the temptation to beat off. They had great footage of him in the toilet stall of the library, day after day, squirming in utter lust, letting his hand get inches from his dick before finally mastering himself and putting his clothes on over the lewd device.

Steve planned to start using Thad’s robotic fuck machine as part of the ‘treatment,’ but Erik’s virgin ass was so tight, he would need opening up first.

“Okay, Erik, great job. We just have one problem with your course of treatment.”

Erik raised a dazed-looking head and focused slowly on Steve.

“Wha - what?”

“Your sphincter muscles are resisting the equipment and slowing your progress. They are, if you’ll pardon me, fucking tight.”


“So we’ll send you home with a night harness. Just put this on each night before you go to bed, and I think the muscles will become more pliable. Nurse John, will you show him how it works?”

“Of course, Doctor. See Erik, you just slip this ring over your penis and scrotum, then pull this back between your legs. This fat plug thing goes into your anus. Make sure you get it all the way in so this flange presses up between your buttocks and snaps into place. Then you just fasten the belt around your waist. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable once you get used to it.”

“Well - if you think I have to - I guess so -”

“Good guy! Start using it tonight, and we’ll have you better in no time.”


Chapter 19


 ... ...1323...
 ... ... ...1324...
 ... ... ... ...1326...
 ... ... ... ... ...1327...

The numbers flashed one by one in the center of the lap-top screen. In the lower right corner was a box of stats:

Strokes Remaining: 3953
 Avg. Strokes/min: 66.35
 Projected Time to Complete: 59.58 minutes

Across the top of the screen:


On the impromptu stage, Brian Cross’ sweaty, nude body jerked up and down, impaling itself on the greasy dildo with each grind of his hips.

A couple of work lights had been clamped to the drawn curtains, illuminating the butch mechanic’s writhing form. The only other light in the frat house activity room came from the laptop screen. Its blue glow outlined a clustered group of grinning male faces.

Brian’s hands were strapped to a bar hanging from the ceiling, his feet spread wide on tiptoe, his ass thrust back in order to meet the sharply angled pole mounted to the stage floor. The converted broom handle was tipped with a 12” long silicone dildo. The well-greased toy was a rich pink-red color, as was the ribbon tied around his glossy cock knob.

It was, after all, Valentine’s Day.

Thad had used the ribbon to tie a pedometer fob to Brian’s dick. The wireless device had been doctored to feed its data to the laptop. The fob swung to and fro, counting each self-impalement. The foot-long dildo made the math easier.

A mile having 5,280 feet exactly.

Brian whimpered as a couple of the frat guys approached. His eyes were glued to a small stool a few feet away, where a bottle of brilliant green liquid resided.

His reward. For a week’s worth of degrading sexual submission. The ‘Mile Long Fuck’ was his final humiliation before the Green Lube would be pumped into his ass, giving him awesome relief for the next 24 hours. As many ejaculations as he could wring from his throbbing, tormented cock.

Of course, for the next few hours he would be gang-banged every which way by the whole frat house. On live web cameras.

Brian groaned, overwhelmed by shame and inflamed with helpless lust.

The two frat boys grinned even wider as they reached out to pinch the fully-erect nipples, tease the sensitive navel, and tickle Brian’s sweat-soaked armpits. The helpless lube-addicted slave twisted in place, unable to continue the self-fuck that was his only way off the dildo.

After a few minutes, they plucked the sodden gag from Brian’s mouth.

“Beg for it dude!”

“Yeah, beg to fuck your own ass for us, Butt Slut!”

“Oh please - please - I need it so bad - please - just let me do it, I’ll fuck myself harder, I’ll do it deeper anything anything ANYTHING just give it to me!!!”

One of the guys slipped off his jeans and shimmied out of his tight briefs.

He balled them up and held them against Brian’s nose.

“I had these on all week, just for you! Gonna give a taste for when I sit on your face tonight! Get that tongue ready for some serious salad-tossing, dude!”

He stuffed the cloth into Brian’s mouth, shutting him up.

Brian looked down in sudden apprehension. The frat brother’s exposed hard-on was easily as long as the dildo up his ass! The dude grinned and moved his hips side to side, swiping his fat knob against Brian’s vulnerable piss lips.

Brian convulsed as his sensitive knob was teased, forcing his hips back and impaling the dildo deeper than ever.

The guys backed away, slapping his ass, and clustered around the laptop again.

Gamey, starchy, pungent, the caked sweat from the shorts in his mouth mingled with his saliva and coated his tongue in a degrading stew, while his nostrils suffered the assault of pent-up testosterone emanating from the crotches of the 8 frat brothers waiting for the orgy to begin.

Strokes Remaining: 3919
 Avg. Strokes/min: 59.17
 Projected Time to Complete: 66.23 minutes


Up in the control room, Luke was putting the finishing touches on Nick’s costume.

“You got that voice-box figured out yet, Thad?”

The tech wizard glanced up through a haze of soldering smoke. “Almost. Got... It... There! Give him a swat and let’s see if it works!”

Luke dealt Nick’s exposed buttocks a sharp smack. The costumed jock slave emitted a muffled, barely audible squeal.

The small speaker in Thad’s hand let out a robotic sounding ‘Baaaa-aaaah!! Baaaa-aah!’

“Got it!” The ‘Baaaa -h’ ceased in mid burble as he switched off the device.

Thad came around and removed the mask, revealing a very angry Nick, his lips stretched wide around a fat, pink pecker gag. Thad adjusted the lead of the pick-up mic dangling from one corner of Nick’s saliva-covered mouth, plugged it into the port on the micro-speaker, and hung the contraption around the boy’s neck.

The wall of flat-screen monitors showed Brian’s glistening body plunging up and down, back and forth. The screens were frosted with the last of the pale, setting sun. Luke glanced at the clock. It was 4:58.

“Jeez. Where’s Ford? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“Better call him. Looks like Brian will be done in about 40 minutes.”

Nick was on all fours atop a lab table. His limbs and torso were already encased in the furry costume and the hooves were firmly attached to the stained wood to keep him still. Steve leaned in from the side, head under Nick’s belly, wielding a small airbrush.

The only exposed flesh on Nick’s body were his rump and his genitals. His cock and balls stuck out through a tight hole in the belly of the costume and were fitted with a red leather ball stretcher.

His furiously hard penis, stretched scrotum, and exposed buttocks had been painted hot pink. Steve trailed a finger up the vulnerable crack, grazing the firm flesh with a fingernail as the helpless jock shuddered and whimpered.

Luke dialed his cell phone and watched as Steve put the ram’s head mask back on Nick’s head and strapped it into place. The realistic-looking head had had its horns sawn down to stubs, symbolizing the ram’s public subjugation. Soon-to-be subjugation, anyway.

Nick’s eyes rolled wildly in the fur-lined sockets as he saw Steve gather up the remaining costume pieces.

The tail and hindquarters fitted snugly, with a realistic and very prominent anal sphincter painted the same hot pink. The silicone rectum had a hole through which Nick’s own tightly-clenched sphincter was just visible.

Luke’ eyes roved over the other costume as he listened to Ford’s phone ring over and over. The skimpy shepherd’s boy costume was made from gauzy gold material with matching sandals, and included a shepherd’s pipe carved in the shape of a gigantic phallus.

No answer. Where the fuck was Ford? The whole skit was his idea, after all. Much to Nick’s humiliation.

Steve picked up a string of giant, vibrating ass beads.

“Might was well get our little sacrificial victim warmed up & ready! And we should probably double-check your voice-activation device, Thad.”

Steve shoved the first golf-ball sized bead into Nick’s anus as Thad flipped the switch.




“Uh... I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here, Ryan. I mean, now that the renovation project is under way.”

“I’m in charge here, Ford, and you’ll do as I say and prepare for your weekly whipping. Or maybe I will have to issue an adverse report on your behavior. And the Reverend has granted me full access to all parts of the building. In my official role as youth pastor. And disciplinarian,” he leered.

Ryan always looked creepy but today he was totally X-files crazy. And carrying a large, suspicious-looking duffle bag.

Ford looked away and started to undo his dress slacks.

“Not there, Ford. Follow me. Over this way.”

Ford followed Ryan through the shadowy basement to the far end, where rusty scaffolding was set up to let the construction guys get up to the 14-foot ceiling.

The church Undercroft was typical of the early 1900’s, in that it rose up about 4 feet above sidewalk level to let in light. The high windows were boarded up with stained plywood, letting in little chinks of the late afternoon sun. The large room was illuminated with one work light in a cage, casting stark shadows.

Ford turned away and lowered his dress slacks, kicking off his shoes in the process. Given the gritty floor, he decided to keep his black dress socks on. He straightened and began to unbutton his shirt. Ryan insisted that Ford dress formally for his ‘discipline counseling’ as he called it.

He knew that Ryan’s eyes would be looking at his exposed ass, anticipating the first sting of the whip.

Ford folded the shirt and set it aside, clad only in his socks and the jock strap that Ryan had previously told him to wear for his whippings.

It was his fourth session with Ryan, and Ford’s cock tingled in anticipation. Ford wished he could make it stay soft, but he felt it begin to swell in the tight pouch. In his weekly discipline sessions Ryan made him spread his legs wide and hold his buttocks apart with his hands, offering himself up as the evil leather tie snapped like a live thing, raining blows upon his balls, anus, buttocks, and cock knob.

It hurt like hell.

But somehow, the puritanical guy knew just what to do to get Ford’s nut humming, and he always made him cum at the end of the whipping.

The mingled pain/ pleasure orgasm was mind-blowing.

But today, he could sense something was different. Ryan had insisted that they descend to the Undercroft, which last week Ryan had said was completely off-limits during the construction phase.

Damn! His cock was already tenting the strap, which would certainly not escape Ryan’s notice.

Reluctantly, he turned around, only to discover that Ryan was staring fixedly at the scaffold with a weird little smile on his face.

“I believe this set-up must be yours, Ford.”

Ford looked at the scaffold and his jaw dropped open.

Firmly fixed to the middle cross bar, mounted at a jaunty angle, was a bizarre object. Obviously a sex toy of some kind, it had a shaft surmounted by a prickly-tipped knob and was covered with random bumps. The base of the shaft was creased like an accordion and had a small motor at the bottom.

The shaft and knob were greasy and covered with someone’s anal slime.

“Obviously, this disgusting object has a remote control of some kind. Give it to me!”

“What? But you can’t mean—Ryan, this isn’t mine. I swear! I don’t have a remote control, it isn’t mine!”

“Liar! I can see it now, you and some other lewd Sodomite, cavorting in the church basement like whores. Obviously, you were here with someone else, someone who controlled it...”

Ford saw that four padded cuffs were attached to the outside corners of the scaffold. A person restrained in the cuffs would form an X with the lewd toy at the center.

And in the thick layer of dry grey concrete dust, as obvious as candle wax on velvet, were dozens of cum spatters, some extending several feet from the scaffold, many of them overlapping in a slimy pile just below the dildo. The thick cum was dried around the edges but still tacky in the middle.

Surrounding the massive cum stain were dozens of scuffed footprints and the tracks from a wheeled cart.


“No! N-no, I swear, it wasn’t me! Please Ryan, you have to believe me!”

Ryan leered at him through narrowed eyes.

“Then maybe instead you would like to explain THIS?”

Ryan grabbed a magazine from the duffle and threw it at Ford.

The cover was mostly black with the title BOUND & SLAGGED MAGAZINE in faux-gothic lettering.

This Month: Heat Up Your Valentine’s Day with Our All-Wrestling Issue!

And below that:
 True-Life Spread: Throwing the Match: Wrestler Jock Buys Meet With No-HOLES-Barred Attitude!

Below that was a full-color shot of a wrestler getting fucked at both ends, a few shreds of his singlet dangling from his shoulders. The cock going up his ass was propelled by a pair of beefy, clenched buttocks topped by the unmistakable bars of a referee’s jersey.

The torso of the man fucking the wrestler’s mouth was covered with the Coach’s Chained Rock High School sweat shirt.

Neither man’s face was visible.

But Ford’s face was.

Along with his ass.

And his rock-hard dick, trailing a silver thread of pre-cum.

At the bottom of the page was blazoned:
 16-page Full Color Spread! And We Mean SPREAD!

Ford looked up in horror as Ryan slipped the magazine from his numb fingers.

Ryan leaned in close.

“So unless you want me to take this issue up with the Reverend... I suggest you cooperate. Fully!”

Ryan held the magazine facing Ford, and began to flip through it, slowly. Ford saw image after image of his own degradation from a month ago. In every photo, he looked like a total, blissed-out, faggot slut.

“I tell you what I think. I think a pervert like you would do anything. Any totally perverted thing you could think of. Including desecrating the church basement with your filth.”

“No - no, I swear, I swear - it wasn’t what you think, they made me do it, they...”

Ryan grabbed him by the jock waistband and tugged it down hard, revealing his embarrassing erection. Using his foot, he forced the jock strap to the floor, then nodded at the dildo attached to the scaffold.

“Let’s see you prove it,” he hissed. “If the dildo fits...”


Ford’s cell phone rang just as he started to cum.

Arms strapped to the scaffold, ass firmly implanted on the used dildo, unable to protect himself, Ford had endured lash after lash of Ryan’s skinny leather tie on his genitals, nipples, navel, and piss lips.

The pain was intense but his cock stayed rock hard, and his involuntary thrashing and twisting forced him to fuck his own ass on the dildo.

But worse than the whipping was when Ryan would stop and force him to look at every photo in the magazine spread. He forced Ford to describe - aloud - what was being done to him in each picture. In exact detail. And to describe how he felt, what the cocks felt like in his ass and mouth. He was especially curious to know how it made Ford feel to have a man sit on his face, to be forced to lick and tongue another man’s sweaty asshole.

And of course, Ryan recognized the Coach, even with his face digitally blurred. He made Ford tell him all about it, how the Coach forced him to have sex with the state referee in return for keeping his on-the-mat orgasm a secret.

Ryan could tell Ford was holding something back... he pressured Ford to admit if he had had sex with the Coach on other occasions... but Ford managed to evade the questions.

The whipping began again, but this time Ryan used his other hand to tickle and tease Ford’s scrotum, something that always got his juices flowing.

After Ryan judged that his helpless victim was getting close, he moved in and put his arm around Ford’s nude waist. Reaching around, he grasped Ford’s cock delicately between thumb & forefinger and held it still as he delivered a series of micro-spanks to the vulnerable knob. In between bouts of this he stroked the shaft sensually until Ford was almost ready to shoot... then the whipping would begin again.

“Oh please - please, Ryan - you have to let me - please - I can’t take it anymore, please-”

“Tell me about you and the Coach. Or I swear I’ll keep it up until you go insane. I’ll do it. You know I can. Tell me.”

Ford sucked in a shuddering breath and it all came out... the blackmail, the forced sex, the Sunday afternoons spent satisfying the Coach’s every desire, the hours between his legs, sucking his dick, eating out his beefy ass, or sitting on his lap, impaled on the massive dick, hands tied behind him as the Coach used his strong, calloused fingers expertly on Ford’s exposed nipples and throbbing shaft, making him squirm with pleasure before forcing him to cum and cum and cum and cum...

Ford could feel Ryan’s hot breath on his cock, coming in gasps.

As he babbled, he somehow was able to avoid mentioning Nick’s role.

And his work for Luke...

Oh fuck! He was supposed to be at the frat house by now! Shit!

He struggled wildly, begging Ryan to let go.

“Please! Please! I’ve told you everything!”

“All right, pervert! But you will have to earn your filthy pleasure yourself. Sodomize yourself! Sodomize yourself on the disgusting shaft piercing your buttocks! Sodomize yourself and show the world what a filthy, perverted wretch you are!”

Unable to help himself, Ford twisted and bumped his hips, fucking himself on the sturdy dildo, while thrusting his eager dick between Ryan’s loosely held fingers.

The phone began to ring just before the first gusher flew from his tormented knob. Ryan held the spurting cock away from him and wrinkled his nose in disgust as rope after rope of hot white semen shot from Ford’s thrusting dick.

The orgasm seemed to last forever, but in fact it ended just as the phone fell silent.

Ryan released his dick abruptly, grabbed Ford’s discarded shirt and rubbed his hands clean vigorously. Ford moaned as more cum leaked from his cock and dripped down to join the earlier, anonymous cum stains.

Ford hung limp in his restraints, ass aching on the still-embedded dildo, cock softening after the massive orgasm.

He looked up as he felt Ryan approach. The tall, skinny blond boy was holding a complicated-looking piece of clear plastic.

Ford suddenly realized what it was and gasped.


The monitors showed an orgy in full swing, with naked frat brothers crowding in to get at Brian’s ass, or his mouth, playing with his nipples...

The mechanic had finally managed to insert a mile of dildo up his ass and had received a huge dose of Green Lube as reward. Eyes glazed, he fucked and sucked like a wild thing as anonymous hands jerked his dick, beating him off to one blissful orgasm after another.

On the platform behind him, Nick - dressed as a trussed-up ram - was bleating helplessly as a semi-sloshed frat dude amused himself by yanking out the string of ass beads and then stuffing them back in again.

The climax of the festivities was to be a show in which Ford, dressed as a shepherd boy from ancient Greece, performed fellatio on the sacrificial ram, fucked the animal up the ass, ate his own cum from the ravaged hole, and then buggered the hapless sheep with his long wooden flute while masturbating the animal to a rousing orgasm.

“Ford! You’re late! And you know I expect you to answer the phone whenever I call, that’s why I bought it for you!”

“I’m sorry Luke, but I couldn’t-”

“Shut up and get your ass in costume! The party has already started downstairs!”

“Luke! You have to listen to me, it’s Ryan, he-”

“I said shut UP take OFF your clothes get in COSTUME and get DOWN there!”

“But Luke-”

Luke grabbed the jock stud, pushed him to floor, and tore off his clothes. As he ripped away Ford’s jock strap, he stopped and stared.

Ford’s cock was locked in a clear plastic chastity device.

“What the fuck?”

Ford looked up at him sheepishly.

“And, Luke... that’s not the only problem.”



Brian’s hand reached out to turn the knob that released warm water from the shower head. His body ached deliciously from multiple orgasms, but his fuzzy brain was reliving the previous week.

His first week as a homosexual sex slave.

The morning routine was the part he hated the most.

Steve would get him up, and watch as he put on his jock strap - the only thing he was allowed to wear outside his room. Steve cuffed his hands behind him and then inserted a small butt plug into his horny ass. The wireless remote control was then hung around his neck and he was ready to work.

One at a time, in order of seniority, he padded down the hall to each frat boy’s bedroom and opened the door - with his mouth - and crept into bed. Most of the brothers slept naked and none of them showered before bed, so their crotches were ripe with a night’s worth of funky ball sweat. The guys would kick the covers back - to give the hidden cameras a clear view - and guide his head down to their early-morning hard-ons. He slurped on the dicks and used his tongue the way Steve & John had taught him, since if any of the brothers reported a bad blow job he would not get his weekly bonus.

The semi-awake dudes sighed and muttered as Brian pleasured their dicks, and sometimes they groped around to grab the remote control and turn on the vibrator in the butt plug, playing with the speed to make Brian whimper and whine around the meat stuffing his mouth. The guys seemed to always like that, when they made him squeal and squirm. Some of them ‘forgot’ to turn it off, too, so that he had to waddle to his next visit with the thing buzzing his ass to a frenzy.

The last room was the one he dreaded most. There were no cameras in this room, since Thad didn’t like to be watched. Thank god.

The bed would be ready with restraints at the four corners, and he would be un-cuffed before being spread-eagled, helpless, on the bed. Thad wore old-fashioned pajamas, which he only removed after Brian was securely tied down.

Then he would squat down over Brian’s head and lower his buttocks slowly until Brian’s face was buried in the slim, muscular butt crack.

Which Brian would be forced to lick, kiss, slurp, suck on, and tongue-fuck for 30 minutes while Thad took his time beating off.

The first morning, he had refused, even though it would mean a negative report. But Thad had managed to convince him with the help of an electric toothbrush. Tied to the bed, his knob held firmly in the computer-geek’s right hand, Brian could only watch in horror as the dude methodically worked the spinning bristles over his glans and swollen piss slit. It was sheer torture, and Brian was begging to eat Thad’s ass within 60 seconds.

Thad calmly explained that it was important for Brian to learn this lesson well - to ‘assimilate’ the lesson - so he was going to use the brush for another 5 minutes exactly.

Brian yelled - pleaded - screamed - but Thad just kept at it, cool as a cucumber.

When it was over, Brian’s chestnut curls were dark with sweat, and he was gasping for breath. Thad patiently explained 7 different tongue techniques that he wanted Brian to use on his ass hole, varying them randomly to maximize the pleasure he would receive as the helpless mechanic ate his ass.

If he failed to give pleasure, Thad would tape the whirling brush to his dick head and leave it there until Brian passed out.

Before sitting his ass back down on Brian’s face, he took the remote control and adjusted it until Brian was helplessly grinding his hips and bobbing his cock, seeking relief.

Thad leaned in close and whispered into Brian’s sweaty ear:

“We’ll start with Outside Rim, then proceed to the Flip Tickle and the Slow Slip-in. After that, you can experiment. Now stick out your tongue. Farther. Good.”

Brian whimpered around his fully extended tongue as the spread ass crack descended.


Brian let the torrent of warm, soapy water rush over him, rinsing away the sweat, saliva, and semen from the Valentine’s party. He was just coming down from the lascivious high induced by getting his fix of the Green Lube. Even though he had spent over two hours engaged in furious sex in every position imaginable, the Lube made him feel great - maybe a touch tired, but in a pleasant, sexy way.

Just like a week ago, the first few hours on the Lube were a blur. Not a total blackout, he remembered most things, but the memories were like photos in a book, happening to someone else. His head was back in control now, and could look forward to a day off in peace. The dreaded withdrawal symptoms would not come back for 36 hours or so.

He soaped up his cock, still semi-hard, and used his finger to scrub out his well-fucked asshole. He had to resist the temptation to frig his ass & cock to get off, right there in the shower, but he wanted to get into bed and have a nice jerk session under the sheets, getting off to his own fantasies instead of being forced to cum as a sex slave.

Of course, the multiple hidden cameras would broadcast everything he did on the web site, but there was nothing he could do about that.

How was he going to escape from this nightmare?

The ironic part was that his financial problems were over. Luke’s porn business had paid off his credit card debt, and he would be raking in $1,000.00 a week for his ‘modeling services.’

He was nearly finished toweling off when Steve opened the door.

“Hey, I thought I got the rest of the night off!”

“You have a visitor. A special one. I think you’ll want to see her.”

“Her? You’re kidding!” His cock gave a mighty lurch. “Sure!”

Steve nodded at the strips of silk cloth in his hand. “Just a few preparations, first...”



“Angela! It is you, thank god you’ve come I don't know how to tell you it was all so weird so out of my control, I—”

“Ssshh. I know.”

Brian felt her fingernail scrape his chest. He struggled playfully at the silk ties holding his wrists and ankles.

“Hey - Angela - can you take off the blindfold, I don’t—”

“Just a minute, Brian. I want to be ready.”

“Oh. Man. Hurry up, I—”

He felt her doing something to the ties at his ankles, felt his legs lifting...


“Just a minute Brian... ungUMF... okay. All ready.”

The blindfold fell away to reveal a very naked Angela and a room lit by candles. As he glanced down at himself he saw that his legs had been tied up to a spreader bar mounted from the ceiling.

Angela smiled at him as she finished buckling the belt around her waist. He smiled back but then froze as he saw what the belt attached.

The massive strap-on dildo jutted from her groin like a patriot missile. As his jaw dropped, he saw her rotate the phallus slowly, working something that was attached deep inside her. He heard a soft buzzing sound and she moaned.

“A - Angela?”

She leaned in close and the smile turned brittle.

“Do you realize what a laughing stock you turned me into?” she hissed. “I can’t go anywhere without people pointing and snickering. At me! Now, everyone calls me the fag hag for the notorious garage buttboy. And you are going to pay!”

Brian gaped at her, unable to utter a sound as she climbed between his legs and lined up the vicious-looking toy. Her eyes blazed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, you worthless fucker!”


Luke, Steve, and John were clustered around the monitors. Luke winced.

“Ouch. Man, that is one pissed-off chick!”

“Look at her go! Like a hammer drill!”

“No lube, either.”

“How’s our hit rate?”

“Huge! It was a great idea to have the Valentine’s day special of $14.69. A ton of new members joined, so next week’s bidding should be excellent.”

“I still can’t believe we raked in 40 grand this week, on top of the ongoing site income for Ford & Nick. The sky’s the limit if we get more models.”

“I know. I’ve been doping Tony & the Twins with the Lube, and they should be ready to start climbing the walls soon. Only a matter of time.”

“That’s if we figure out what to do about this Ryan kid. And the whole Bound & Slagged business.”

“Thad’s researching that as we speak. Fortunately, it’s President’s Day Monday, so we have an extra day to come up with a plan before Ryan is back at school to confront the Coach.”

“How’s the edit of the Shepherd Boy skit coming, John?”

“Should be finished soon. Also, I’m gonna do a rush job on the current view of Brian’s room. Angela wants a DVD with her check.”

“What a freak-ass bitch. She sure is enjoying her work. Hey, John - I want you to keep an eye on the Ryan guy until Tuesday. Make sure he doesn’t try to spill the beans before then. Ford tells me Ryan’s daddy is the County Sheriff, so watch it.”


Down the hall, Thad sat in his newly-modified desk chair and completed the purchase order for a new CB-9900. He had managed to get the clear chastity device off of Ford’s genitals in time for the show to go on, but he had ruined it in the process. He was having a replacement shipped Rush Delivery so Ryan would never know. And Luke would have extra keys so they could let Ford out whenever they wanted.

A tiny ping-noise told him that his search-bots had returned results. Thad’s left hand flew expertly over the keys, assessing the info, while his right hand stroked his dick, slowly.

Bound & Slagged had returned thousands of hits, most of them useless, but one caught his eye: Illinois Department of Revenue. Could be good.

But the search for something on Ryan or his father turned up nothing he could use. But wait, what was this thread over here?

Thad was suddenly aware of a distinct lack of movement in his ass crack. He looked down to see a very angry pair of eyes glaring back at him around his ball sac.

Replacing the regular seat with a cushioned toilet seat had been so simple, but what a stroke of genius. Thad had discovered that a tongue wiggling up his butt made his brain speed along twice as fast.

After the party, Ford had to get home before his precious daddy got mad. But Nick’s parents never cared what time he got home.

Once released from the ram costume, Nick found himself being tied to a low, narrow gurney in Thad’s room, his face slid under the hole in the computer chair. He had refused to perform until Thad had introduced him to the robo-dildo. One look at it convinced Nick to cooperate.

It was fantastic having the arrogant young jock helpless between his legs, having that strong pink tongue forced to service his ass.

But apparently Nick had had enough.

Thad sighed and got up.

“Okay, you got what you wanted, now untie me! That’s it, I’m finished, you geek freak!”

Thad opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of Green Lube, and a basting bulb. Nick watched with apprehension as Thad filled it.

“Hey - c’mon, man, no need for that... I mean, please... no, what are doing no you can’t you can’t no please!”

Thad deployed the stirrups from the foot end of the gurney and had Nick’s ankles up and spread in seconds. The basting tube slipped into his well-fucked rectum like butter and Thad squeezed the bulb to fill Nick’s anal canal with the psychotropic gel. Then he reached for the long, flexible, robo-fuck arm...

“No - no you can’t you CAN’T oh god not that please - oh please - oh god it’s inside me - its moving ah god no no no - fucking me - making me - aaahhhhh... noooo... please... nnngghhhhhh.....”

The buzzing, whirling, pulsing prostate probe borrowed smoothly into Nick’s bubble butt as the gel began to do its wonderful, terrible work.

“Please... pleeeeease... take it... out... nnnooooo...”

Thad leaned down and spoke through the hole in the chair.

“If you want it out, you’ll have to beg. Using only your tongue. Now get to work, you arrogant jock son-of-a-bitch!”

Nick’s eyes rolled back in a flutter as he saw the ass crack descend, his mouth opened, his tongue emerged, and his mind sank helplessly into his worst sexual nightmare, from which there would be no escape.

Thad felt the boy’s tongue slip smoothly into his ass, then slowly work itself into a frenzy, flicking and slurping like a crazed kitchen appliance. He smiled and began typing commands at the keyboard, probing the Bound & Slagged corporation for vulnerabilities... while Nick’s tongue probed his ass!

Thad was in heaven.

Nick’s mind was in his own private hell. It looked a lot like the locker room at Chained Rock High School.




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