Gym Boy Cum: 4 ==============
By TopLegal
WARNING This contains graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse
and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this
offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or
you are not of legal age, do not read it. Any resemblance of
characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental.
(c) 2001, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via
Usenet and the Web provided that the following two conditions are
met: there is no cost to access this story, e.g. AdultCheck, pay
site, etc., and the story is posted in full without modifications.
Countdown to Release --------------------
So, sixty days was the count till release. My beautiful
miner-gym-boy stud was adapting to the agony of the intensely long
period without release of his sexual needs.
At home Jason would stay naked--like my visiting brother Jeff, my
other lover. Naked, his grimy (after work) and more muscular body
was a stark contrast to Jeff's smaller frame. However, the
matching black spider tattoos--my mark--was on both their necks.
They were mine, Jason in particular.
I had been keeping Jeff inside the house--and buck naked save his
chastity belt--for several days now. His welts and marks from his
punishment days earlier were fading. I could tell Jeff appreciated
what I saw in Jason's somewhat uneducated, but brawny nature.
Jason at first was calm but just five days into the longer
chastity belt period of sixty days without release, he began to
get quite frustrated at home. I knew that at some level he was
thoroughly humiliated by his conversion from hetero-miner boy to
sex-slave-boy-toy.
Of course, he had to keep his job. It wasn't a financial thing. It
was for my enjoyment of him for what he was: a brawny, strong
miner. And what I could make him do, how I could control him. How
he was now a stark contrast. Around his other miner friends I had
noticed him becoming more submissive. It was not surprising to me
in the slightest.
Jason's ability to experience (traditional) male pleasures of
orgasm and, now more recently, erections were totally at my
control.
Daily, he came home from the mines dirty, grimy, exhausted, a bit
sweaty. He knew I preferred that he not shower at work. Once home,
he would strip quickly inside the door and wait for me to come to
him. He would service me. Lick me. Let me enjoy his smelly, dirty
body. But mostly, I knew he hoped I might just take out his cock
for a second to just touch it. Maybe flick a feather at it.
But, as was more likely his cock, his sexual needs would go
unfulfilled. Especially with an extensive cum denial torture
session: hours of unsatisfying, almost painful stimulus of the
boy's cock head but no chance of orgasm.
Our Childhood -------------
Having Jeff around again was also a joy. Three years my brother's
younger, we were unrelated by genetics, but brought together by
adoption. Jeff, still, does not know I was adopted, and I prefer
the he not know. Jeff was a scrawny 5'8" and a 30" waist to my
6'2" frame and 36" waist.
Over the days--and weeks--of Jeff's visit, details of our
childhood did emerge to Jason. We had grown up on a fairly rural
farm in Iowa. Our parents had basically seen the writing on the
wall with respect to family farming and were very concerned with
our education and that we "make something of ourselves".
[N.B. These diary entries include some details that for obvious
reasons have not been shared with Jeff, or Jason. Jason would not
know the Internet if he hit it with his miner's pick and Jeff does
not browse so I feel safe sharing some details here.]
It was in retrospect unusual for rural Iowa, but so was the fact
that I was adopted. Later, I've learned that actually our parents
were "refugees" from city life and the sixties, but that comes
later. By the same token our parents, actually dad, had a quite
old fashioned ideas about punishment.
Jeff's scrawny size in farm country made him a frequent target of
bullying as school. Me on the other hand, I was always a bit big
for my age group (and was skipped ahead three grades over time as
well) and tended to give more than I got. By the time I had been
moved up to Jeff's grade in school, I had taken to protecting him
from the bullies.
That was sixth grade. I was eight, he was eleven. He would cry at
night a lot and since we shared a bedroom, I would go to him and
hold him to comfort him.
Although our parents loved us both, dad definitely hit me harder
and treated me rougher. The slightest infraction of dad's rules
and I was naked, outside getting my ass beaten black and blue
within seconds. Jeff on the other hand had to really cross a line
and even then mom would try to intervene and talk about how frail
he was. (He does not have any real disabilities, he's just a
smaller guy with only the mildest asthma.)
One exception to the general trend of me getting the sharp end of
a birch or a brutal thrashing with a razor strap was first quarter
report card day in sixth grade. Dad especially expected us to
achieve our best and neither of us was stupid. So best to him
meant A's. Generally we got them, me more often than Jeff with
pluses after. When we didn't we got punished.
By the end of fifth grade with me only eight, Dad thought a "fair"
punishment for me having received a single-B against four A-pluses
was thirty odd licks with a strap. His justification: I was so
smart I had skipped three grades, I had damn well better perform.
Further dad's idea of thirty licks with a strap was not like what
you see in some movie from the sixties or seventies where dad
vaguely hits the kid with the belt and then feels bad and relents.
No, dad believed in swinging hard, firmly and repeatedly until the
boy's ass was tender and red. Oh, and not to mention the boy was
howling, crying, and begging for it to stop.
Sixth grade, first report cards were different. Jeff had gotten a
"C". He had forgotten to study for a test in math (we were in the
same classes with the same teachers at that point since the school
was small). Addition and subtraction of fractions had really hosed
him over. I had aced that test and had an A+ there, but our
English teacher did not like my book report on "The Phantom
Tollbooth" and had given me a B for the quarter. Worse yet, I had
also got a B in Social Studies (loosely history for those of you
reading this and not schooled in America). While my teachers were
all impressed with my performance, I knew that my dad would feel
otherwise.
The long (it really was five mile) walk home was not fun for
either of us. We talked nervously, once we were far from any other
kids Jeff started crying about his "C", and I said not to worry.
(Jeff had only gotten about 20 licks with the strap for two B's in
fifth grade.)
I on the other hand knew that I was looking at probably 50-100 and
not being able to sit in school for a few days. But in an odd way,
I think I also found getting punished a bit erotic.
Sixth Grade Strapping ---------------------
At home, Dad was out in the fields still. To this day I am not
100% certain how my parents made money from the farm, though I do
suspect at times that marijuana may have been the cash crop.
Mom took our report cards from us and by that point, Jeff was
visibly shaking. She opened them up and looked at me and said
something like, "Good effort, go wait outside for dad." It was
cold outside, but I knew better than to argue for fear of getting
it worse than usual. Mom started to cry when she opened Jeff's
report card (I lingered on my way out). But unlike me, he got the
favored treatment, "Stay here Jeff, I'll talk with Dad, I know you
are doing well."
I was pretty certain that mom would cry and beg and get Jeff off
Scott-free from the ordeal while I would be the only one
suffering. Worst of all for me, when mom's begging did work, and
it did from time to time, the punishment was always worse than
ever for me.
I took my clothes off before stepping out into the coldish Autumn
day and waiting next to the wood shed. Standing there, I was
scared, especially if Jeff did not have to come out for punishment
too. I was, after all, only eight.
Even though I was facing the woodshed, I could sense dad coming in
from the fields to the house. His disapproving glare seemed to
bore through the back of my head and I almost started to cry.
I heard the door to the house close loudly. Then shouting.
Mom was trying to protect her "real" son. (Actually at that time,
I just knew she favored and protected Jeff; however a few years
later when I learned the truth it just made even more sense.)
But something that didn't happen generally did. Dad came out with
Jeff's small body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of
potatoes. Mom followed out the door screaming at Dad not to hurt
her "little boy".
Dad ignored her and quickly reached the woodshed and grabbed me by
my ear as he walked in with Jeff slung over. Jeff knew better than
too kick or struggle, but he was already crying.
Dad pushed Jeff off his shoulders with ease and bent my older
brother over the back of a chair. This was the standard position.
"Grip the chair Jeffrey," Dad said. It was an order.
Jeff was bawling and Dad had not even swung a belt or birch yet.
Through his tears he fumbled to grab a chair edge.
Dad barked at me, "help him David." Naked, and nervous, I walked
to the front of the chair and positioned Jeff's hands around the
front legs so he could grip it.
"Get his pants off," Dad said as he stepped out. He was going to
cut some fresh birches for the punishment. This was not good for
either of us. While Dad was out, I tried to get Jeff to calm down
saying he would hit Jeff less if he quieted down.
Jeff was not as naked as myself, when dad returned, but
importantly for Dad's purposes, my older brother's buttocks,
thighs, and even calves were fairly well exposes for punishment.
Dad glowered at me as he began to lecture Jeff. "A C is totally
unacceptable... There is no excuse..."
Jeff had failed to gain composure while dad was out cutting the
birch and the lecture caused him to let go of his grip on the
chair legs.
"Hold his hands down," Dad said firmly to me.
When I hesitated Dad raised his hand to slap me and I quickly took
the ordered place and my stronger, larger body was easily able to
hold Jeff's arms where Dad wanted them.
The punishment was shockingly brutal for Mom's favorite son. It
lasted much longer than any punishment Dad had ever given me and
was much more severe. Jeff was getting punished not just for his
C, but also for Mom's coddling.
Fifty strokes into the punishment there were lines of blood
visible--dad had never drawn blood from me. At hundred Jeff's ass
looked like bruised red meat and there were dozens of lines on his
thighs and calves.
Dad told me to stay put and carried Jeff back into the house
naked--and up to his bed to stay.
I was already bent over the chair by the time he had come back.
Just fifteen strokes in with the strap he relented and with some
scolding sent me to my room with the admonishment not to leave it
this weekend and to do better next quarter.
I kissed him and promised to do better.
In our shared bedroom, I could tell mom had visited. Jeff's
buttocks had iodine on them to prevent infection and a yellowish
tinge was visible.
I laid down in the bed next to him, we were sleeping together most
nights now. At this point it probably was not sexual as such, but
to this day there is no man quite as sexy to me as Jeff.
I hugged him and told him that I knew dad loved him but that if he
wanted to avoid anything like that again he would either need to
get mom to stop protecting him or behave like an angel.
Jeff nodded and stopped crying, then he kissed me. This was our
first non-brotherly kiss that I can remember. Then we just stayed
embraced into the night.
In the morning, mom came in and wasn't surprised we were laying
together. She was going to put some Vaseline on Jeff's now swollen
buttocks but Jeff spoke up and said, "No, mom, it just makes dad
angrier, if David can take his punishments than I can too."
Mom started to cry and ran out of the room. Dad came in and
inspected Jeff's buttocks. "Put some Vaseline on Jeff's butt," he
barked at me then he leaned down and kissed Jeff on the forehead.
That was the last time my mother directly tried to stop dad from
punishing Jeff; however, that did not stop more subtle kinds of
manipulation: minimizing Jeff's misbehaviors and maximizing mine.
Or keeping things Jeff did from my Dad till I did something worse.
As Jeff and I grew closer, as lovers, those things bothered me
less.
Besides, I would always have sixth grade report cards.
First Fuck ----------
Being older, Jeff reached puberty--and sexual maturity--earlier
than me. At thirteen, with me just ten, he sometimes would have
erections.
Mom and dad had taken to checking on us less frequently so it was
easier for us to sleep together--it was expected after a
punishment of either of us. Although, we made a point to mess up
both beds and frequently bed hop before morning.
As he would more regularly have erections, Jeff's fascination
turned to whether I could have one. He would play with my cock,
kiss around it, even lick it to try to give me an erection.
One, at the time, unintended consequence of all of this was that
he would not handle his own cock. So while he would have
erections and I would sometimes play with it--resulting
occasionally in boy spunk--he never really developed an intensely
orgasm/cock focused sexual identity.
As we reached high school, I was finally becoming old enough to
hit puberty myself. My first erection had been in Jeff's
accommodating mouth. And my first orgasm into his mouth. He
swallowed, we kissed, hugged, etc.
The second time I had an erection, I fucked him.
I had planned the event all day and just before curfew I had snuck
into the bathroom and taken the Vaseline and some hand towels.
After mom came in for lights out, I applied the Vaseline and
stroked my cock to an erection. When I went over to Jeff's bed
after about fifteen minutes, I put a hand on his mouth and then
got between his legs and lifted them in the air.
I knew what I wanted.
I fingered around his fuckhole to lubricate it slightly and then
forced my cock into him.
I pushed forward to I could kiss him as I worked my young shaft
inside him.
He stayed fairly quiet as I fucked him, but he smiled and even
developed a bit of an erection from the stimulation.
That last year or so at home--before college--was a nightly fuck
fest. My favorite time to fuck him was right after an ass whipping
from dad. His butt was always sore and as I would slam against
him, he would make a little "ouch" sound. I loved it then, and I
love it to this day with any boy.
We went to college together--both of us to Columbia without any
financial aid/loans. (Further proof of my belief that marijuana
was the origin of my parent's money.)
During the application process for Columbia, I had discovered the
fact of my adoption. Mom had left the house for the day and while
Dad was in the fields and I was doing a college application at
home, I went into her dresser out of boredom.
At the bottom of the dresser, I found paperwork for my adoption
(it took place in New York City) and a picture of a young woman,
presumably my mother. I put the papers away and have never talked
about them with my adoptive mother or sought my real mom.
Hey, as I see it I came out ahead for the bargain, after all if I
had not been adopted I would never have met Jeff.
Snap Back to Present --------------------
At the thirty-day mark, Jeff was doing fine without any attention
to his cock, but Jason was constantly angry and irritable. This
resulted in several over the lap spankings for attitude adjustment
with only minimal impact.
As horrible as the now extended chastity was making it to be
around Jason I knew that if I gave in even by a day I would lose
my credibility to control him.
By day forty, Jeff was offering to do Jason's remaining time twice
over to improve morale. With twenty days remaining till Jason's
next schedule release that would push Jeff's out forty on top of
the twenty he had remaining for 100 days of chastity (and regular
orgasm denial).
Tempting as the offer was, I rejected it and forced Jason to
attend to my minutest sexual needs. Extended foot massages, foot
licks, full body licks, full body massages, extended regular blow
jobs (with swallowing), having to clean me in the shower, licking
my sweaty arm pits, standing in humiliating positions (e.g.
standing in the ground floor window with the curtains open), and
then some.
Our sex was wild and animal-like. Fucking him he would push and
buck into my thrusts, hungry for my massive shaft. Home from work
he made a point stay sweaty and grimy from work to rub against me,
knowing I loved the salty, dirty taste of his skin and having his
mine grime rub against my clean body.
But, I resisted all temptations.
College Years -------------
Back to the past, in college, we had been assigned to a shared
double dorm room, and being brothers our closeness was not
questioned much.
Columbia's core curriculum resulted in my last strapping (from my
dad). A rigorous study of classic works of literature, philosophy
and music was not exactly a perfect fit for my more scientific
bent. In my first year, I got a C in one of the core classes. At
only 15, I was upset to get a C, but when my dad told me he was
coming out to New York to visit, I knew I was "in for it".
My dad did not "disappoint".
In a large suite at the Ritz Carlton, Jeff and I went down to see
our Dad in the "city". On the top floor, we went into the
cavernous suite, and Dad asked for our transcripts.
Jeff handed his in 3.7's and one 3.3, not bad. Mine was 4.0's and
one 2.3. Ouch, for me.
Dad's response was as expected and led both of us towards a back
room within the suite. I dropped my pants without question and
quickly felt the razor strap several dozen times, and quite
violently.
The odd thing this time was I found myself getting erect and not
crying. After my buttocks were quite bruised and I humored my dad
with a yelp. Perhaps sensing my erection, Dad put a hand on my
back and told me to stay put.
Jeff was soon next to me and bent over. As had been repeated
several times over the years with me bearing the brunt, Jeff got
off easy with just a dozen or so cracks of the strap.
Dad left us there for a few moments and then explained that he and
mom were going to be taking an "extended" vacation to Argentina.
Dad lifted me from the dresser and leaving Jeff, my older brother,
bent over the dresser took me back to the living room to talk.
It was a frank talk. (Except about my adoption and my sexual
relationship with my brother.) I was put in charge of about
half-a-million dollars in foreign accounts and told to watch out
for my brother. It ended with, "you've always looked after Jeff,
we'll be back when things pass."
A peck on the cheek and Dad was on his way to the airport and I
had a luxury suite at the Ritz Carlton and my older brother naked
(and already spanked) in the other room.
I did the only decent thing one can do in the situation. I fucked
Jeff's brains out through the night and when we checked out in the
morning we headed back to campus.
Two days later, the FBI came to campus and got both of us at
once--no time to get stories straight.
Jeff fortunately had nothing useful to say. I was less than
forthcoming. I acknowledged we had seen him, but said we were told
he had to head back to Iowa.
Turned out there had been a terrible bomb blast at the farm. I
guess with my past its ironic that I ended up doing corporate
compliance, but perhaps that's what enabled me to do it so well.
Jeff and I moved off campus as soon as possible and lived quite a
hedonistic lifestyle.
Fifty Nine Days ---------------
By the fifty ninth day, Jason was like a lunatic. Day after day of
denial of orgasm had cut to his core.
Jeff on the other hand was quite calm about it all. In a sense
"denying" Jeff orgasm was almost a joke since I had controlled his
sexuality for so long he hardly cared whether or not his dick got
erect or touched.
That's of course slightly an understatement since he had allowed
himself some libation during his last job. But, it was basically
true.
I called Jason in sick for work the next day--cold. And we then
drove to the gym with Jason ducking down in the back of the car to
avoid being seen. Once I established that my one employee had gone
home, we entered the gym and made our way to the basement.
Still dirty and sweaty from a day's work, I strapped Jason to the
exam table. Legs spread. Ass exposed. Arms restrained far from the
cock.
I inserted a vibrating butt plug and with Jason's chastity belt
still attached, strapped it so it would stay in place.
"Jeff give him water once an hour. If he needs to urinate you can
put the funnel near the opening in the belt," I instructed.
Jason would spend the last eighteen plus hours of his denied
release with a vibrating butt plug stimulating him and his cock
firmly ensconced against even mild erection. It would be an awful
eighteen hours.
Jeff gave me a blow job before I left and then I locked the door
to the room--from the outside, and headed off.
Working the gym the next day was rough on me. I found myself quite
sexually aroused throughout the day. I also quite badly wanted to
go down to the secret room and see my pretty boys.
Later Jeff reported Jason's pleas, offers of bribes, and the like
to escape the belt and have release. But how would Jeff have
released Jason? Cutting it open? Hardly stealthy.
When six o'clock came around, I hustled the remaining stragglers
from the gym with more gusto than usual.
Then I composed myself and headed downstairs.
Jason was sobbing softly and Jeff was caressing him gently
reminding Jason how much "I loved him." When I entered, Jeff
quickly got to his knees and sucked me off.
I opened Jeff's chastity belt quickly and told him to straddle
Jason's chest and jack himself off immediately.
Jeff complied eagerly and was stroking his nice shaft in front of
Jason's face--Jason was now hyper stimulated from the butt plug
and in no small amount of pain.
After about fifteen minutes of steady stroking action, Jeff
delivered my requested orgasm. I quickly used a cool towel on his
groin to calm his cock head and told him that if he behaved he
could be off chastity-belt again.
He got off Jason, thanked me for the privilege and promised that
he would behave. Since as a whole he did it seemed fair, plus the
psychological impact on Jason who was going to have to continue to
wear a belt was worthy of consideration.
I undid the chastity belt and though exhausted and in some pain
from struggling and over stimulation of his anus, Jason's cock
came to attention.
But it was only six thirty or so in the evening, far to early for
Jason to orgasm. Jeff was assigned the delicate job of applying
ice cubes to the studly miner boy's cock head to prevent orgasm.
No person-to-person physical contact with Jason's cock occurred
that evening. For six hours (and mind you Jason had not slept
already that day) Jeff reliably and without hesitation applied ice
cubes to prevent the now excruciatingly painful stimulus of the
vibrating butt plug from leading to an orgasm.
Finally close to midnight, Jeff told me he was out of ice. I had
been talking to Jason for the past hour or two, telling him how
proud of him I was, how much I loved him, how good he had been
about servicing me, and how I was proud of him for making it sixty
days.
He was crying when he finally orgasmed and without prompting Jeff
quickly applied a cool cloth to calm the area. I shook my head
imperceptibly to Jeff signaling that there would be only one
orgasm and as Jason sobbed like a little boy with our heads close
together, Jeff reaffixed the chastity belt.
"Ninety days," Jason whispered to me. His tears were filled with
mine grime and had rubbed onto my face. I nodded my head against
his and kissed him on the lips. Jeff undid the restraints and I
carried Jason back to the car. Completely fatigued from the
experience, he was already asleep when we got home.
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