Gym Stud

By TopLegal

Published on Mar 16, 2001

Gay

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.

Write the Author ----------------

These stories are e-mail'ware, show your appreciation by dropping

some feedback to the author at toplegal@yahoo.com.

Next: Chapter 6


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