Aaa Modeling Agency

This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.

Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the ten chapters of this story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future stories.

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AAA Modeling Agency

Chapter 4

As things turned out, it only took three days for Mr. DeMarco to decide that Troy should stop masturbating Callum in the office. Callum had arrived as usual for his daily tanning session and Troy had finished applying the mixture of suntan lotions to his body in Mr. DeMarco's bathroom. Troy paused briefly to gather up the lotions he'd used and place them together with a couple of bottles of energy supplement into a small tote bag and then led the way back into Mr. DeMarco's office, Callum trailing close behind.

Then, following the routine that had been established in the last few days, Callum assumed the position he normally took in front of Mr. DeMarco and waited for Troy to jack him off. He still hadn't gotten comfortable having the little faggot masturbate him in front of Mr. DeMarco, definitely not enjoying the way Troy always managed to stick one or two fingers up Callum's butt while he was working on the model's cock, but he had to admit the boy knew what he was doing. Callum never failed to shoot off in less than five minutes, regardless of how many times he'd already cum that day. But it was no longer the fact that Troy was jacking him off that really bothered Callum. It was what happened next.

Once Callum had shot his load, Troy would immediately rub the boy's fresh cum all over Callum's body. The first time he'd done that, Callum didn't think there could be anything more embarrassing than having a faggot fondle and molest him in front of Mr. DeMarco as he just meekly stood there, doing nothing to defend himself. But, later that first afternoon, he realized that he was wrong about that. There was one thing even more embarrassing - the way Callum smelled as coat after coat of fresh cum dried on his body.

Per Mr. DeMarco's instructions, Troy would go up to the roof every hour to reapply the suntan lotion. Each time he finished, Callum was invariably erect and Troy would proceed to jack him off again. Once Callum had shot his load, Callum would work his fresh cum into his body as Mr. DeMarco had instructed. The result was that by the time Callum was done, four loads of ball juice had been spread all over his body. Callum had hoped that the effect of the fresh air and the sunlight might dissipate the smell of stale spunk. But, far from alleviating the stink, the sun seemed to aggravate it as it baked the cum into Callum's skin. By the time Callum was finished tanning for the day and headed back downstairs it was obvious to even Callum that he reeked of spooge.

The first day, Callum had asked if he could use the shower in Mr. DeMarco's bathroom to wash himself off before he got dressed. Mr. DeMarco had flat out refused, telling the model that he was simply trying to avoid showering in the gym where he was now headed. It was, said Mr. DeMarco, just another manifestation of his excessive modesty about showing off his body. "If you want to shower before you work out, Callum," Mr. DeMarco told the boy, "you can do so at the gym." And with that, Mr. DeMarco told him to get dressed and get going.

Of course, since all he was wearing was running shorts, flip-flops, and a fanny-pack, getting dressed took all of twenty seconds. In less than a minute after that, Callum was headed into the elevator, keenly aware that he stank like a used condom. Callum's appraisal of how he smelled was confirmed when he exited the elevator and walked over to the guard's table to sign out. Callum was still at least five feet away when the guard wrinkled his nose and moved backward. "Jesus," the guard said with disgust, "haven't you guys ever learned about personal hygiene?" Callum's entire body flushed but he forced himself to sign the visitor register before almost running out of the building. "Fucking faggot," he heard as the door closed behind him.

The trip back to his car elicited the same stares as his earlier trip to the office had generated but now they were almost invariably accompanied by expressions of derision and contempt, at least from those who got within ten feet of the mortified model. And the look of revulsion he received from the receptionist at the gym when he showed his membership card left absolutely no doubt as to what she thought of his condition. He grabbed the towel which the woman gingerly offered him and sped as fast as he could to the locker room. He quickly stepped out of his flip-flops, slid down his shorts and then threw them and his gym bag into an open locker and literally ran to the showers. It was only after he had spent a good ten minutes soaping up and rinsing off that he could feel his racing heart beginning to return to normal.

Callum didn't realize it right away but, for the first time, he hadn't been uncomfortable about displaying his completely hairless body at the gym. He was far too concerned by the noxious odors emanating from his body to worry about that. Later, when he thought about it, Callum chalked it up as a sign he was becoming less self-conscious about displaying his body in public. He was making adjustments to his attitude, he told himself, just like Mr. DeMarco wanted. In a perverse way, that made Callum feel good.

But if Callum's change in attitude was the silver lining, there was nothing about the way he smelled after he finished tanning on the Agency's roof that wasn't part of a black cloud. Callum knew it hadn't been an excess of insecurity or inordinate self-consciousness that made him embarrassed as he left Mr. DeMarco's office. The way the guard, the people on the street who he passed, and the receptionist at the gym had all recoiled with contempt and disdain as he got within their proximity simply confirmed Callum's own perception that he smelled truly vile as he made his way from the Agency to the gym.

And that little spectacle was repeated the next two days. On the third day, an elderly woman joined him in the elevator as he was leaving the Agency. Just about the same time the door closed on the two of them, she wrinkled her nose and turned to stare at Callum. A piercing look of disdain and revulsion contorted her face. "You're disgusting," she said to the model, looking him straight in the face. "You belong in a zoo with all the other animals. At least there they'd give you a good hosing down when you needed it. Like now."

Callum could feel his entire body turning scarlet with humiliation. And she continued to just stare at him, shaking her head with disgust until the elevator disgorged both of them on the lobby floor. He stayed back as she signed herself out and then, giving him one final glance of utter contempt, stalked out of the building.

So it was that on the fourth day, just as he had assumed the position in front of Mr. DeMarco's desk and Troy was approaching to jerk off Callum's raging boner that the model finally spoke up.

"Sir," he asked, with an obvious hesitation in his voice, "I was wondering if it's really necessary for Troy to keep jacking me off every time he finishes applying the suntan lotion."

"The only reason it's necessary, Callum," Mr. DeMarco pointed out sharply, "is because you can't help throwing a bone every time Troy applies the lotion to your body. If you could get your raging hormones under some sort of control so you didn't harden up every time Troy touched you, then Troy wouldn't have to jerk you off after he applied suntan lotion to your body."

"Yes, sir," Callum admitted, knowing that he was blushing at being reminded of the effect Troy's hands seemed to have on his body. "I know it's my fault but I can't help it. I don't know what's wrong with me - I'm pretty much hard all the time, even though I masturbate as soon as I can once I realize I've boned up, just like you told me I should do. And I understand that's something I have to get under control before you can send me to see a client. But couldn't you just make an exception for when I'm tanning. I mean, it's not like I'll see any clients on the roof-top."

"The fact that there's not any clients around isn't the point, Callum," Mr. DeMarco firmly responded. "There are no clients around in the gym or at your home, but you jerk off there. Or," the man continued, narrowing his eyes, "is that it? You just don't want to masturbate anyplace. You just want to walk around with your hard meat tenting out your running shorts - is that what you want, Callum?"

"No, sir," Callum immediately replied. "That's not it at all. I don't mind jacking off at home or at the gym. I mean, I don't like masturbating myself in a toilet stall at the gym, but I do it - just like you said I should. Every day. Sometimes, more than once a day. I don't like it but I do it. And I'll keep doing it as long as you tell me I should. I will, sir. It's just...it's just that I'd like not to have Troy jack me off every time he applies suntan lotion to my body."

"Oh," Mr. DeMarco in a hard voice. "I see where this is going. You don't mind masturbating yourself, it's having Troy masturbate you that you object to. Is that it, Callum? I thought we were beyond that."

"No, sir," Callum denied with some vehemence. "That's not it either. I don't mind having Troy jack me off." Realizing what he had just said - that he had just said that he didn't mind being jacked off by a faggot - Callum stopped short. He could feel the heat radiating from his entire body. "I mean," he corrected, "I do mind having Troy..." But before he could even finish that sentence the look on Mr. DeMarco's face caused him to shut up.

There was an awkward silence that stretched for nearly half a minute before Mr. DeMarco broke it. "You were saying, Callum?" the man asked his model in a menacing tone.

Trying to collect himself, the model took a few deep breaths. And then, speaking slowly he began again. "What I mean, sir, is that while I'm not entirely comfortable having Troy, or anyone else for that matter, masturbate me, I have no objections to doing so when you order me to, sir. The reason that I'd really like not to be jacked off now has nothing to do with the fact that it's Troy who is jacking me."

"Then I don't understand, Callum," Mr. DeMarco responded with some asperity. "Just what is it that makes masturbating now different from all the other times during the day when you jerk off?"

"Well," Callum continued nervously, "it's that after I shoot, Troy rubs my jizz into my body here, just like I do on the roof."

"You know why that's necessary, Callum," Mr. DeMarco interrupted. "We don't want your tan to be splotchy and, with the thick cream you shoot, we can't just let it dry where it sprays."

"I know that, sir," Callum quickly agreed. "It's just...it's just that at the end of my time on the roof, I...I stink of cum." Callum was visibly squirming as he made this admission, completely mortified that he was being forced to verbally admit that his body literally stank after he was finished tanning.

"Really, Callum?" Mr. DeMarco asked, with raised eyebrows. "I hadn't notice that."

At this point, Troy made his first contribution to the discussion. "Actually, sir," he said, obviously trying to keep a straight face, "Callum's right. He literally reeks of ball-scuzz when he leaves the office at the end of his tanning session. He smells worse than a twenty-five-cent hooker after a long night's work. He is truly rank when he comes back down from the roof."

While Callum was grateful that Troy was supporting him in the discussion, he was singularly embarrassed by the receptionist's comparison of him to a low-rent street-walker. But this was hardly the time to pick an argument with Troy over his characterization. Instead, he pressed his point. "Troy's right, sir. I really do stink when I leave here. And people...notice, too, when I walk by them. It's really embarrassing, sir. That's why I was hoping you would agree that Troy didn't have to jack me off so I wouldn't have to rub my cum on to my body during my tanning sessions, sir."

Mr. DeMarco's face had a bemused air. "Funny," he observed questioningly, "that I didn't notice how badly you smelled.

"Well, sir," Troy volunteered. "You're on the other side of the desk when Callum comes back - a good six or seven feet away. That probably protects you from his body odors. But from where I stand when he comes down from the roof, it's enough to make you want to retch. I mean, it really is disgusting."

Callum had to literally bite his tongue as Troy spoke. While he was both surprised and happy that, for once, Troy was taking his side in a dispute, he didn't appreciate how Troy seemed to go out of his way to emphasize just how noxious Callum smelled. It was obvious that the little faggot was enjoying the extreme discomfort Callum was experiencing as the discussion of his body odors dragged on.

"Well, Troy, I guess I have to take your word for it that Callum really stinks of spunk when he comes back down from tanning," Mr. DeMarco conceded. "But I really don't see any good solution. Callum needs to be masturbated before he leaves to go up to roof because we have to get his excess testosterone production under control. And I certainly don't want him spraying his boy scuzz all over my carpet." He paused and looked at Callum, "you don't suggest that remedy do you, Callum?" he asked his model, his tone clearly indicating that the model's answer was expected to be in the negative.

"No, sir," Callum dutifully replied, even though he actually believed that virtually any conceivable alternative was better than having to leave the building reeking of cum like he was now doing.

"No, I would think not," Mr. DeMarco agreed, clearly foreclosing any further consideration of that alternative. "And we have to rub Callum's thick boy-seed into his body or his tan will be affected. No," the man concluded, "I just don't see any alternative to doing what we're already doing. I guess, Callum, you'll just have to suck it up and try to avoid getting too near to other people until you get a shower at the gym."

"Well, sir," Callum responded, deciding it was time to broach the solution he had envisioned as a possibility. "Maybe I could shower in your bathroom after I come back downstairs."

Mr. DeMarco's face immediately rearranged itself into a mask of shocked disbelief. "Really, Callum" he began with some force, "I'm surprised at you. Here you - and Troy, too - tell me how badly you reek when you come down from the roof and now you're suggesting that you should be allowed to stink up my bathroom with your disgusting body-odors. Prospective clients use that bathroom on a regular basis. I couldn't imagine what they'd think if they had to wash their hands in my bathroom after you had befouled it with the stench of your testicular eruptions. I'm truly surprised that you would even suggest such a thing, Callum."

Callum seemed to visibly shrink under the force of Mr. DeMarco's tongue-lashing. And, even though it hardly seemed possible, his skin took on an even deeper crimson hue. But, before he could even respond, Mr. DeMarco was continuing.

"But even if you didn't stink as you say you do, showering in my bathroom wouldn't be an option. I'd already decided that, starting today, you'll be getting dressed in the reception area when you come down from your tanning session. Having you come back into my office just to put on your running shorts and flip-flops is simply too disruptive, particularly if I'm meeting with clients - like I was yesterday, if you remember, Callum, when you interrupted my meeting with Sam Walensky."

Callum managed to mutter a "Yes, sir," as he recalled the distinctly over-weight man who had been in Mr. DeMarco's office when he got dressed yesterday. The man had turned and stared at Callum with a penetrating, almost feral, look that had totally disconcerted the model. Something about the man made Callum feel particularly naked - and it didn't help matters that Callum was sporting a full erection when he walked through the door. Callum had mumbled a quick apology, yanked on his shorts and slipped into his flip-flops as fast as he could manage, and then almost ran out of the room. He wasn't sure but he thought he heard the sound of amused laughter as he hastily closed the door. Even Callum had to admit, he wouldn't want to repeat an encounter like that in the future.

"So, Callum," he heard Mr. DeMarco conclude, "I just don't see any alternative to doing what we're already doing. Sorry."

Callum tried to keep the wave of disappointment and dejection that washed over him off of his face as Mr. DeMarco pronounced his decision. "Yes, sir," he quietly responded and then, after a pause, turned his face towards Troy, expecting the receptionist to move in and begin masturbating him as he'd done for the last three days.

And that was when, to his utter shock, it was Troy who came to his rescue - well, sort of.

"Sir," Troy spoke up. "There is one possible solution that would take care of the need to keep Callum's hormones under control and not adversely affect his tan and cut down on the way Callum reeks of ball-juice when he leaves the office."

"I don't see what that might be," Mr. DeMarco immediately countered.

"Well, sir," Troy proposed, "instead of jerking Callum off I could suck him off. That way I wouldn't have to rub his cum all over his body."

There was a look of surprise on Mr. DeMarco's face as he responded to Troy's offer. "You'd be willing to do that, Troy," he asked. "You'd be willing to suck Callum's ball seed out of his hard boy-cock and then swallow it. Are you sure, Troy?"

Troy looked at Callum, just a faint smile flickering around his lips, and then turned to Mr. DeMarco, his face now taking on a mask of earnest self-sacrifice. "Well, sir, I'm not anxious to do it...and I would certainly prefer not to, but Callum has a point about how much he stinks when he leaves in the afternoon. You always tell us how we should consider ourselves family here and I just thought that this was one way I could show my commitment to that concept. I know Callum has some problems with me - and I've had some with him - but I thought this might be a way for us to get past those difficulties. Turn a new page, so to speak. So, yes, sir, I'm willing to suck Callum off - both here and up on the roof."

Mr. DeMarco leaned back in his chair and stared at Troy approvingly. "I must say, Troy, that I'm impressed both by your initiative in proposing this solution and your willingness to step up to the plate and help Callum out." Then, turning to Callum, he added "Isn't it great that Troy is willing to help you out by sucking you off?"

Callum had listened to this last exchange between Troy and Mr. DeMarco with a mixture of shock and horror. Just the idea of having Troy's lips kissing his penis made his skin crawl; the possibility of having the receptionist actually mouthing his entire cock and sucking him off was totally repulsive. Without thinking, the model exploded. "No fucking way. There's no fucking way I'm going to let that little fag...." And then Callum came to a dead stop, seeing the look of fury that was contorting Mr. DeMarco's face.

"That's enough, boy," Mr. DeMarco exclaimed, jumping to his feet and quickly moving from behind his desk. In seconds, the man was standing directly in front of Callum, his face just inches from the model's face. Callum could see the rage in the man's eyes and was afraid for a moment that Mr. DeMarco was actually going to hit him. It took almost a full minute for the man to get himself under control but eventually he did so. He took a deep breath and then took a step back. While his stance was now less directly confrontational there was no question that he was still furious.

"I've warned you about your attitude and use of that type of language before, Callum, haven't I?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Callum immediately conceded, chagrined that he had so obviously lost control of himself in front of Mr. DeMarco.

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, sir," Callum replied in what he hoped was his most contrite voice. Then, turning to Troy, he added. "I'm sorry, Troy."

"That may be, Callum," Mr. DeMarco responded, "but you've been warned in the past and that clearly hasn't been sufficient to keep you from repeating your despicable actions. I think this time a more drastic measure is called for." Then, turning to Troy, he ordered the receptionist to get a straight-back chair from along the wall and place it in the center of the room.

"Troy, sit down," he ordered. Troy did as he'd been directed.

"I want you, Callum," he said turning back to his model, "to stretch your body, face- down, over Troy's lap. As I explained to you the other day, in this office we mete out physical punishment for unacceptable conduct and you've definitely earned a good ass-thrashing."

Callum could feel the heat just radiating from his entire body as he flushed in embarrassment. For a fleeting moment he thought of refusing Mr. DeMarco's directive but he knew if he did that he would be ending his career with the Agency. He'd come too far to risk that. So, despite the incredible humiliation he felt at the prospect of being spanked, particularly being spanked by Troy, he moved forward and prepared to lower himself across Troy's lap. But, before he could, Troy spoke up.

"Sir," the receptionist addressed Mr. DeMarco, "Callum's body is covered with suntan lotion. If he lies across my slacks they'll end up being stained - and my shirt will, too."

"Well, that's a problem easily solved," Mr. DeMarco responded with grim resolve. "Just strip off your clothing, Troy, and then sit your ass back down on the chair."

"Yes, sir," Troy replied. He immediately stood up and in less than half a minute had removed all his clothes. He sat back down and then glanced at Callum, not even attempting to obscure the pleasure that he was feeling at the prospect of spanking the model's muscled buns. As Troy spread his legs apart, Callum couldn't help but notice that the receptionist was showing a hard erection shooting out from his hairless crotch. Visibly shuddering at the prospect of being in such close-contact with the obviously aroused faggot, Callum lowered himself over the boy's lap. As he did so, he tried to steel himself to show no emotion throughout the up-coming ordeal.

Despite himself, Callum couldn't keep from gasping aloud when he felt Troy grab his junk and use it to maneuver his body into the optimum position for spanking, making sure that Callum's big fleshy ass-globes were high in the air. But it was only when the model realized that his own cock was rigid in arousal that the full import of the situation hit home. Here he was, a one-hundred-percent straight American male, being physically molested by a raging faggot, preparatory to having his ass spanked, and he was sporting a full-on bone. He was mortified beyond belief. How could he possibly be aroused given his present situation? What was going on with him? But before he could even begin to deal with that embarrassment another gasp escaped his lips as Troy brought his hand down with awesome force directly on Callum's right ass-cheek. A high-pitched squeal escaped Callum's lips. He couldn't believe how badly that one slap had hurt. Instinctively, he moved his hand back to his now burning right butt-cheek.

"Hands on the floor, boy," he heard Mr. DeMarco order.

Callum quickly lowered his hand back to the floor and lay there, tensing his buttocks, waiting Troy's next slap, sure it would come soon. But instead there was a long pause. Finally, Mr. DeMarco spoke again, his voice tinged with frustration. "You know the drill, Callum. Or at least you should seeing how you spanked Troy's ass not a week ago. The person being spanked calls out the number and thanks the individual spanking him on each stroke. Now, begin again, Troy."

"Yes, sir," he heard the receptionist respond above him. Almost immediately, Troy brought his hand down once again on Callum's right butt-cheek. If anything, it hurt more this time than the last. But this time, being better prepared for the level of pain he could expect, Callum managed not to groan out loud. And he was sufficiently aware of what was going on that he realized that, as Mr. DeMarco had directed, they were beginning again, so he called out, "One. Thank you, Troy."

Without the slightest hesitation, Troy brought his hand smashing down on Callum's left globe. "Two. Thank you, Troy," Callum dutifully counted, trying to keep his voice under control, shocked at how painful his ass already felt.

Ten minutes later, it was a shattered and broken Callum who was lying atop Troy's lap. Mr. DeMarco had finally called an end to the spanking at the count of seventy. By that time, Callum was literally shrieking every time Troy's hand collided with the bruised and burning flesh of the model's ass. Early on, Callum had tried to affect an air of stoicism but that quickly dissipated as the pain of the spanking inexorably mounted. By the count of thirty, Callum was crying openly. By fifty, he was sobbing like a child, begging Troy to stop. By sixty, Mr. DeMarco was becoming concerned that they might actually attract the attention of the authorities drawn by the screams of a person who, judging from the sounds emanating from the Agency's office, was obviously being tortured. Finally, Mr. DeMarco decided he had to bring the spanking to a conclusion, even though Troy hadn't yet been able to force an orgasm from the writhing and squealing model, though judging by the speed with which he was now jerking Callum's leaking cock, Troy had to be getting close.

Troy looked up at him when he called a stop to the spanking with obvious annoyance. Clearly, he'd been looking forward to completely humiliating the model by forcing him to cum while he was being spanked and Dean DeMarco had to admit to himself that he'd been looking forward to that too. But Dean didn't need another confrontation with the building management. The old biddy that ran the ad agency directly beneath the AAA Modeling Agency was constantly complaining about the awful noises that frequently came from the rooms above her offices. 'I don't know what they're doing up there,' she'd told the building superintendent, 'but sometime it sounds like a full-blown orgy and other times like they're enacting a scene from the Spanish Inquisition.'

Doubtless, the bitch was a frustrated old maid who needed a good fucking to keep her happy, but that was one hole Dean had no interest in plumbing. And, while it might be amusing to send one of his boys down to give her cunt a good workout, Dean didn't want to give any of his models the idea that servicing pussy - real pussy - was ever going to be in their future at the agency, not even one as dried up and unappetizing as hers. His boys were being trained and groomed to service cock - and only cock - and he didn't want anything to interfere with his training regimen. So, rather than face another confrontation with the bitch, Dean thought it wise to bring Callum's first spanking session to an end, even if somewhat prematurely. While he shared some of Troy's disappointment, he consoled himself with the knowledge that there would be many more times in the next few months when Callum would be getting a spanking - Dean would make sure of that - and there'd be numerous opportunities to see Callum cum while getting his ass thrashed. Besides, there was still Callum's blow-job to look forward to. That, at least, ought to mollify Troy a little.

For a moment, Dean took his focus off Callum and considered his son. Troy was such a mass of contradictions. His son hated getting fucked and truly loved brutally pounding straight-boy ass. And he really disliked being at any other guy's beck and call - which was one of the reasons Dean had insisted on maintaining his dominance over the boy as the price of making him a partner. One of the reasons he always got such a kick out of forcing Troy to sexually submit to him was that Troy really hated doing it. So, based on all that, you'd think Troy was a complete and total top.

But, somewhere along the way, the boy had also developed a real taste for cum and was more than happy to suck dick to get it. And he was really good at it, too, as Dean could himself attest. And the boy wasn't averse to eating out a nice smelly ass, either, though when he finished he invariably raped it with a vengeance. The only way Dean had been able to reconcile Troy's general dominance in sex with his role as an avid cocksucker and willing butt-licker was that, regardless of whether or not Troy was banging a guy's butt, eating him out, or sucking his dick, Troy always tried to remain in control. He was a master at drawing out a blowjob until the guy getting sucked was literally begging to cum and, almost invariably, once he finally let the dude blow a load he'd flip him over and give his ass a vicious and totally unrestrained reaming, made even more pleasurable for Troy by his realization that, having already got his nut, the guy being fucked was more likely to find the ass-pounding he was enduring even more painful than he normally would. And Troy would often draw the fuck out long enough for the dude to recharge so that Troy could force the added humiliation on his victim of making him cum while he was being screwed like a back-alley whore.

Today, of course, Troy wouldn't be able to follow his preferred pattern, but he knew that already. It was way too early to introduce Callum to his future role as a bottom-bitch and, besides, Dean fully intended to be the man who popped the punk's boy-cherry. So Troy would have to be satisfied with merely sucking the hot-cum out of Callum's over-worked balls. Knowing Troy, Dean figured he'd be able to live with that. And it was certainly something Dean, and his subscribers, would enjoy seeing.

Looking back to Callum, Dean was amused to see him simply standing there, staring at the floor, clearly concentrating all of his efforts on not reaching back and massaging his burning buttocks. They still had that purplish tinge that always accompanied a really good ass-thrashing. They probably hurt like hell and Callum was going to find sitting down painful for at least the next two days, to say nothing of the agony Callum was going to be enduring later that afternoon when he was at the gym working out. Dean couldn't resist smiling as he visualized the boy squirming in discomfort as he sat at the bench press, trying to concentrate on working his chest muscles when all he could really focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from his battered and bruised butt. The boy wasn't going to be able to forget his first spanking as one of Dean DeMarco's models for a long time.

But that wasn't the only thing Callum was going to remember this session for - it was also going to be the first time Callum had popped a load of his thick creamy boy-seed into another dude's mouth. And Dean knew it was time to move on to Callum's first gay blowjob.

Callum was standing there, in a haze of pain and excruciating embarrassment. The pain from his ass was truly awesome. He couldn't believe how much it hurt, even more now than when Troy had been smashing his hand into the fleshy ass-cheeks. Who would have thought that the little faggot could spank so hard? That anyone could spank so hard? His ass was just throbbing and felt as if someone was holding a lit match and waving it back and forth across his now hairless buttocks.

But it wasn't only the pain, or even mainly the pain, that most bothered Callum. It was the spectacle he had made of himself as Troy spanked him. Callum had always seen himself as a real man - a man's man. A guy who could handle himself in any situation. He might not win every fight he got into but he would give as good as he got and any dude who went up against him would think twice about confronting him again. But that carefully constructed self-image had been smashed into smithereens by Troy's hand.

Callum couldn't believe how he had carried on as Troy spanked him. He had cried and sobbed and begged him to stop like a little boy. No, not a little boy. Like a bitch. Like a fucking bitch. Like he was that faggot Troy's fucking bitch. And the worst thing was that he knew it at the time, he knew he was acting just like a little bitch while he was getting spanked, but he couldn't help himself.

And, while that was bad enough, what was even worse was Callum's realization that if Mr. DeMarco hadn't ended his spanking when he did, if he'd let Troy deliver just a few more smashes to Callum's burning butt-cheeks, Callum would have popped off a massive load of his spunk all over the carpet, just like the little faggot had a few days earlier when the roles had been reversed and it was Callum who was administering the ass-tanning.

Callum could remember the scorn he'd felt for Mr. DeMarco's receptionist when Troy spewed his hot seed between Callum's legs as Callum spanked him. 'What a fucking faggot,' he'd thought to himself, sure that only a complete fagboy would ever cum while being spanked. Well, 'who was the fagboy now?' Callum wondered. If Mr. DeMarco hadn't intervened, it would have been Callum's ball-juice being sprayed all over the carpet in his office. What would Mr. DeMarco had thought of him then? How could any man have respect for another dude who got off sexually by being spanked like a young punk? Just thinking about that question made Callum's mind reel.

Callum was just standing there, consumed by his inner turmoil, when he became aware that Mr. DeMarco was addressing him. Having missed what was said, he forced himself to look up at the man and admit, "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't quite get that."

There was a faint look of exasperation on Mr. DeMarco's face as he repeated himself. "What I said, Callum, was that you should assume the position."

Without any conscious thought, Callum immediately spread his legs far apart and locked his fingers behind his neck. He had been ordered so many times in the past two weeks to assume what Mr. DeMarco simply now referred to as 'the position' that Callum no longer even thought about how totally exposed it left his naked body especially when, as now, his big cock was fully engorged.

Once Callum was in place, Mr. DeMarco turned to Troy and simply ordered, "Blow him."

In mere seconds, Troy was kneeling in front of Callum's widely-spread legs and leaning forward. Seeing the receptionist's open mouth move towards his own raging hard-on, Callum couldn't help but shiver. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was let a flaming faggot suck his cock but, given what had already happened that day, Callum knew better than to utter even a murmur of protest.

But rather than simply engulfing Callum's hard-on with his mouth as Callum had expected, Troy first stuck out his tongue and proceeded to run in up and down the model's throbbing boner. Whereas just moments earlier all of Callum's consciousness had been centered on his burning buttocks and the shame he felt at the way he'd reacted to being spanked, suddenly the boy's entire focus was fixed on his rigid cock. Troy's tongue felt incredible against the sensitive skin and almost without missing a beat the pain emanating from Callum's toasted ass was overtaken and submerged by waves of pleasure radiating from his aroused dick.

Troy continued to lick Callum's fuck-stick like it was a succulent lollypop for a good minute, long enough to leave Callum panting in heat and his boy-dick slick with saliva. Then, without any warning, Troy moved his head back, opened his mouth wide, and then drove his head forward, relentlessly swallowing Callum's meat until Troy's lips were pressed hard against the base of Callum's manhood. Callum let loose a squeal of absolute ecstasy as, for the first time in his entire life, his hard cock was completely throated from its aching tip to its swollen root.

Almost immediately, Troy began to disgorge the pulsating tube of flesh until only the crown remained in his mouth at which point he immediately reversed direction and re-swallowed Callum's aroused stud-pole. Another squeal escaped Callum's lips. This time Troy kept his lips pressed against the base of Callum's cock while he worked his throat muscles up and down the length of the shaft. At the same time, he reached behind Callum and grabbed hold of the model's flaming butt-cheeks. A cry, half-pain half-pleasure, was ripped from the dark-haired stud, as Troy roughly squeezed and kneaded the sore and tender melons, all the while continuing to work on Callum's hard dick with his throat and mouth. And then, just when Callum didn't think the sensations he was feeling could get any more intense, Troy began to fuck his face up and down on Callum's cock while he rammed a finger from each hand violently in and out of Callum's virgin fuck-chute.

Troy had taken the opportunity afforded him during his application of suntan lotion to finger-fuck Callum numerous times before and Callum had been embarrassed by the realization that not only were the invading digits painful but they were also vaguely arousing. But those past experiences hadn't prepared Callum for the waves of sexual excitement surging through his body. Somehow the combination of Troy's rigid fingers jamming themselves in and out of Callum's tight, virginal butthole while Troy's mouth and throat worked their way up and down Callum's throbbing boner had resulted in an incredibly heightened sexual response. Before he even realized what he was doing, Callum began thrusting his ass backwards onto Troy's fingers and squeezing down hard on the fingers as they plunged in and out of his tight anal passage.

In front of him, Troy smiled even as he continued to work his mouth and throat up and down Callum's hard meat. He'd sucked off more than enough guys to know that Callum's reaction was a clear indication that he'd be receptive to further anal intrusions. Without slowing down the ministrations of his mouth, Troy brutally jammed an additional finger from each hand into Callum's ass, so that the model now had four fingers roughly pummeling his tight hole.

"Oh, my God," Callum moaned above him, as the two additional fingers were violently jammed into his already straining back-passage. But, while there was an initial surge of pain, strong enough to cause the boy to almost break position and lower his arms, almost immediately the pain ebbed and was replaced by a level of sexual arousal was that was so intense that it was almost painful as the combined fingers penetrating his ass began kneading and prodding Callum's prostate.

Sooner than he would have thought possible, Callum found himself on the edge of a massive eruption of steaming boy-cream. This was the point where normally Troy would have backed off, lifted his head from the cock he was sucking and removed his probing fingers from the boy's ass, leaving him totally frustrated right at the precipice of sexual relief but unable to take that last step which would allow his aching cock to disgorge its burning load of steaming sperm. Troy had been known to keep a boy on the edge of orgasm for hours, long enough for even the most masculine stud to be reduced to simpering frustration, begging to be released, promising to do anything if only Troy would let him cum.

Troy would have dearly loved to edge Callum for a couple of hours, keeping him just on the verge of orgasm but denying him ultimate relief until the horny homophobe was so frustrated that he'd actually volunteer to bend over and let Troy fuck him if only Troy would let him cum. And Troy knew, he just knew, that one day he'd do just that. And, when he did, Troy was going to give the boy a fucking he would never forget, a fucking he would never get over. But, Troy also knew, that wasn't going to happen today. Today wasn't about plundering the homophobic stud's sweet boy-twat - it was about getting him off, working him slowly into boy-on-boy sex, destroying one inhibition after another until, one day, he found himself on his back, his legs spread wide taking the fifth dick up his hole in the past hour, wondering how the fuck he had ended up as a plaything for real men even as the cock jammed up his hole exploded and added its slimy deposit to the loads already coating his guts. That day was coming, sooner than Callum could ever imagine. But not yet. Not today.

So, instead of backing off and denying Callum the orgasm he now craved, Troy rammed his face even harder into the boy's crotch, working his throat muscles for all they were worth. And almost instantaneously he was rewarded as Callum's blood-engorged cock exploded with cum.

Troy let the first two spurts splatter down his throat but then moved his head back so that he could take the rest of Callum's load directly in his mouth. He was surprised that Callum's thick load was sweeter than he would have thought. Not as sweet as Kerry's - that boy had cum that tasted like honey - but a lot sweeter than Troy thought it would be, given Callum's acerbic persona. 'It just goes to show,' Troy thought, 'you can't judge a book by its cover, or a load of cum by who's pumping it out."

When Callum's massive load finally began to ebb, Troy began suctioning on the head of the boy's cock. Troy had long ago discovered that a lot of cocks became super-sensitive right after an orgasm and that just by staying on a dude's dick Troy could rapidly turn the shooter's ecstasy into an agony of inflamed nerve-endings. Sure enough, Troy's insistent sucking soon had Callum squirming in discomfort.

Troy couldn't keep the grin off his face as he continued to work Callum's dick, visualizing Callum tied down on a bed, having been edged for hours without being allowed to cum until he'd been brought to the point where he had pleaded with Troy to finish him off only to find that just moments after he finally achieved release he was begging Troy to let up, pleading with him to stop working on his tenderized penis, not realizing that Troy intended to draw out the boy's agony until Callum was reduced to a quivering, sniveling boy-bitch who would frantically agree to endure any humiliation Troy's fertile mind might devise just to get him to stop sucking on his cock. Troy's own dick was hard as a rock between his legs just thinking about the pleasures he was going to extract from Callum's hard, sculpted body in the days and weeks and months ahead.

Above him, it was all Callum could do to keep his fingers locked behind his neck as the unbelievable pleasure that his orgasm had provided quickly morphed into shooting pricks of excruciating pain while Troy continued to work his mouth on the model's inflamed cockhead. "Please, Troy. Please. Stop. No more. Please," he heard himself begging, his entire body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to dislodge his still-hard boy-dick from Troy's mouth. But it was only when Troy heard his father order "that's enough, Troy," that he finally let up and allowed Callum's cock to be pulled free of his mouth.

Having finally extracted his slowly softening rod from Troy's mouth, Callum stood there, still maintaining the 'position', his lungs gulping in air, his pounding heart only slowly returning to its normal rhythm, his mind reeling as it tried to wrap itself around what had just happened. It was bad enough that he had just let that faggot Troy suck him off. But he could deal with that since he had been pretty much been ordered to let Troy blow him by Mr. DeMarco. What was more difficult to explain was the fact that he had just experienced the most spectacular orgasm of his life. Nothing he had ever experienced before had felt so hot, so incredibly electric, as the sensations that swept over him as he pounded out his load into Troy's grasping throat - not even the time he and Sean had DP'd that drunk bitch they'd picked up at "Jose's" a couple of years back.

He tried to tell himself that it was just a blowjob and Troy, probably like most faggots, simply knew how to give a really good one. But, while Callum could accept that there was probably a certain element of truth in this argument, deep down he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something wrong when the hottest orgasm he'd ever had in his life had happened while some other dude - no, not some 'other' dude, it was fucking Troy for God's sake - was mouthing his dick. It made the whole experience seem somehow very dirty and he felt himself befouled just by having been a part of it. When he looked over and saw Mr. DeMarco just staring at him, Callum felt himself once again beginning to blush.

Dean DeMarco couldn't help but smirk. The whole scene he'd engineered had been hotter than even he'd hoped and Callum's obvious embarrassment now that it was over was just the icing on the cake. He knew that after this little scene aired his email inbox would be stuffed with pleas that he put Callum up on the block right away. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. He'd delay the initial offering of Callum's ass to his subscribers as long as possible, stoking their interest, building anticipation to maximize the amount of money his model's hot muscled butt would bring in. And, after seven years in the business, Dean was sure that Callum had just the right combination of looks and attitude to ensure that the boy would still be bringing in big bucks even after a dozen auctions of his succulent ass. No doubt about it, this kid was going to be a fucking gold-mine - or at least a well fucked-out one.

But Dean also reminded himself that he didn't want to screw things up by moving too quickly. He needed to bring this boy along slowly, like any young colt you were planning to break to the bit. So he let his smirk become a smile and, in his most fatherly voice, asked the boy, "It wasn't so bad, was it, Callum?"

Callum was tempted to deny it. In his mind, there was nothing more damning for a straight dude to admit than that he had enjoyed being sucked off by another guy. But it was also clear to Callum that it had to have been obvious to Mr. DeMarco, since he had watched the whole proceeding, that Callum had pumped a huge load of his hot cum down Troy's throat while moaning with the pleasure he felt from the incredible orgasm he was experiencing. It would be stupid to contradict the evidence of Mr. DeMarco's own eyes. And, besides, it was pretty clear what answer Mr. DeMarco wanted. So Callum fixed a wan smile on his face and responded, "No, sir. I guess it wasn't."

"Good," Mr. DeMarco immediately replied. "Then that's settled. From now on, whenever you get a boner that needs taking care of when you're here at the office Troy will blow you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Troy replied at once, not even trying to hide his pleasure at the new arrangement.

"Yes, sir," Callum responded with much less enthusiasm. Somehow having a rule established that Troy would be sucking Callum off whenever he got a boner seemed a much more significant step than simply having Troy do it on an ad hoc basis. Callum couldn't help feeling that he had crossed some major threshold without being able to quite pinpoint what that threshold represented.

Smiling broadly at both his model and his son, Dean decided to bring this session to an end. "Okay, guys," he ordered. "Time to get up on the roof."

"Yes, sir," Troy agreed. Then, turning to Callum he said, "Let's get going, Callum. A lot of good sun is going to waste and I'm sure you'd like to get settled in before Mr. Boner makes another appearance and I have to do you again."

Just hearing Troy mention having to do him again made Callum's blush deepen. But Callum also realized that Troy had a point. In the last week he'd been getting hard almost all the time, even right after he shot a load. Now, if he got hard again, that would mean he'd have to let Troy blow him again. Though Callum knew there was no way he could completely prevent that in the future, he wanted to delay that as long as possible, particularly right now seeing how tender and sensitive his dick still felt. So he stifled any rejoinder he might normally have let fly and simply followed the receptionist out of the office.

It was a good forty-five minutes before Troy found himself outside his dad's office door. He'd been pleasantly delayed on the roof, having to deal with yet another one of Callum's erections. Even given his continuous consumption of the energy supplement, it was amazing how quickly Callum's balls could recharge themselves. There was no way to accurately measure these things, but Troy was pretty sure the load he'd swallowed on the roof was at least as massive as the one he'd downed in the office. Of course this time, without his dad present, he was able to indulge himself and he stayed on Callum's dick long after the boy shot until the boy was literally crying. But the most amazing thing to Troy was that while Callum was almost frantic in his efforts to dislodge his aching dick from Troy's slurping mouth, twisting and turning his torso almost continuously, Callum never once reached down and tried to use his hands to force Troy's head off his cock. It was as if they were handcuffed together behind his back though, in fact, they were unrestrained at his sides.

From his experience working with his father, Troy realized that this was an important indicator of just how far their conditioning of Callum had already progressed. Callum had definitely wanted to stop Troy from continuing to suck on his super-sensitized dick and doubtless realized that his hands were not restrained but, despite the intense discomfort and pain he was feeling, he restrained himself from resorting to brute force because he was afraid he might get into trouble if he did. A reaction which would just a few weeks ago have been almost automatic had been effectively modified so that it was now subject to external control, a control ultimately exercised by Dean DeMarco.

Troy was sure that it was only a matter of time, probably less than two or three weeks, before Callum would progress from having his own dick sucked to sucking someone else's cock. And once that barrier was breached, once Callum had finally participated in the passive role in a gay sex act, it was only a matter of time before Callum's ass, itself, would be on the block - literally, in his case. Troy had seen the progression too often in the past not to understand that it was now virtually inevitable. Once again, his old man had taken a putatively completely straight dude and manipulated and maneuvered him into participating in sexual actions he actually found repulsive.

Troy was just about to open the door to his father's office when a sharp shout from within brought him up short. When the agonized cry that he'd heard was immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping into flesh, a broad grin spread across his face. Kerry had been scheduled to get back today and he must have come straight to the office from the airport. Of course, his dad probably had ordered him to do just that - telling him he wanted to view the outtakes from Kerry's second film-shoot at Thug Studios. It had been unusual for Thug Studios to schedule a second shoot so soon after the first but Kerry, with his ginger hair and creamy white skin, had been quite a hit with all the guys out there. His dad was actually in negotiations with them to sign a multi-video deal giving them monthly access to Kerry's not inconsiderable talents.

Knowing how those guys loved to put fresh white boypussy through the grinder, Troy was sure that Kerry's ass had to be sore as shit right now. But that wouldn't stop his old man from pounding the hell out of the redhead. Fuck man, he knew his father would enjoy it more precisely because it would be especially painful for the young kid. And, truth be told, so would Troy. Kerry might be a young gay guy just awakening to his own sexual predilections but that didn't mean he necessarily enjoyed being reamed out when his butt was already battered and bruised. So he certainly wouldn't enjoy taking Troy's big dick right after his ass-lips had been battered into mush by his father's violent assault. And knowing that would definitely increase Troy's pleasure when he took his old man's sloppy seconds.

So with a smile lighting up his face, Troy opened the door. His dad looked up from his desk where his dick was fully buried in Kerry's up-turned ass. "Come on in, son," his old man beckoned with a nod. "You can have a go at the bitch when I'm done with him. And after that," he added, with a vicious thrust up the young model's aching butt that elicited another agonized groan from the boy beneath him, "maybe we can have a joint session up his stretched-out little boytwat."

"Sounds great, dad," Troy responded, entering the room and closing the door behind him. In just a few seconds, Troy had once again stripped off his clothes and stood there watching his dad pummel and abuse Kerry's hot little body, impressed as he frequently was, by the vigor with which his father assaulted their young model. For an old guy, his father had amazing stamina, a quality Troy could appreciate much more when he wasn't on the receiving end. And, now that Kerry was back, Troy would be getting a break from servicing his old man at the office. If there was only some way to get Callum into his father's bed at home, Troy's life would be much, much more pleasant. That was something Troy intended to work on. After he worked on Kerry's ass first, of course.