Author's note:
Thanks guys for all the feedback and patience! Good news, bad news: this chapter is part of a beast that grew and grew until it's now several chapters long. So there's a more where where this came from. But! There are some more episodic chapters that I haven't written yet that need to be worked in. Final verdict: urgh! I'll try to get future chapters out there more frequently now that I'm over the hump with this story line, but no promises. In the mean time, thanks for all the kind emails--they definitely kept me going; hope you kept going too.
If you liked what you read, please donate to the good folks at Nifty (look: there's that Donate button right...over...there!). They do a great job hosting all this, so give 'em a helping hand so you can keep your hand helping.
Finally, like all the rest of these chapters this is a work of fiction. Not only does it mean that all the characters, places, and so on are completely made up, but these guys also don't have to worry about catching anything when they mess around. If you live in the real world however, please be careful: condoms, PreP, monogamy whatever works for you--just play safe!
And now, we return to our show! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Chapter 23: "Field Trial" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
APPROVED FOR RELEASE 2018/12/02 CIA: RDP-CIA24113000925007-002
SECRET//CUY//ORCON/FOUO [Security Classification]
Handle Via CUY Security Channels
Warning Notice Intelligence Sources and Methods Involved NATIONAL SECURITY INFORMATION Unauthorized Disclosure Subject to Criminal Sanctions
SECRET//CUY//ORCON/FOUO [Security Classification]
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THIS PAGE LEFT DELIBERATELY BLANK
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SECRET//CUY//ORCON/FOUO
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY:
Foreign asset recruitment inevitably runs up against the challenge of in-group (IG) socialization, which preconditions potential assets against a significant change in loyalties. Traditional techniques have focused on either negative (via blackmail or similar techniques) or positive (so-called "honey pot") approaches. We propose that a combination of such approaches are significantly more effective than either alone: pre-selecting subjects vulnerable to negative reinforcement should result in much more effective positive reinforcement. Furthermore, positive reinforcement can be provided via chemically-induced homophilic pair bonding (mean Kinsey delta +3.2; see case CONNIFER LODGING and related references). While these initial experiments were only successful with a small subset of the population, we have demonstrated effectiveness with a new class of compounds that, while slower-acting, have similar effects on nearly all males exposed to several weeks of conditioning, (mean Kinsey delta +3.1; see case SUBORDINATE GINGER), as well as inducing a more labile mindset conducive to goal reorientation. We have a proof-of-concept project plan for the next logical phase: significant goal reorientation testing under real-world conditions outside the lab. Successful reorientation against IG pressures would demonstrate the viability of the psycho-pharmaco approach in more hostile social environments, where asset deployment would be significantly more beneficial....
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Cal Brenner rolled over, groaning as his hangover hit. Shit, how much had he drunk last night? He couldn't remember anything after the first couple of shots at the Tipsy Penguin. He rubbed his hands up his lightly-furred abs and chest, then dragged them through his short dark brown hair as he swam back to consciousness; rubbing his scalp helped. As he did he realized two things: he was naked, and this didn't feel like his own bed. Cracking open his eyes he saw he was actually in some mid-grade motel room--definitely not the sort of place he would've picked himself. He hoped whatever chick he'd fucked was at least hot--if he'd let some uggo drag him to the freakin' La Quinta he was going to be pissed off.
"Hello?" The room was obviously empty; no sounds from the bathroom either. Maybe she'd bailed already--her loss. He stood up, absently scratching his furry balls as he did; they felt a little sticky. He sniffed his fingers: cum and a little ball sweat, but no pussy juice. So at least he'd gotten a blowie out of all this. He ambled into the bathroom: his brown eyes were bloodshot and he needed to take a shit, but that and a a shower would help him feel better. And a big drink of water, pronto. Good thing he kept some Tylenol in the King Ranch for mornings like this.
When he finished his routine there was still no one in the room. It wasn't the first time a chick had bailed on him in the middle of the night, but he was still horny as fuck for some reason and he wouldn't have minded dumping another load. He could smell the familiar aroma of jizz, and it definitely made him aware of his dick: despite the hangover he could feel his morning wood coming on.. He found his boxers on the floor and pulled them on, debating whether to rub one out here or do it back in his condo where he could watch some porn. As he did, he noticed an envelope on the bureau next to his wallet; it was labelled "Read Me." He cursed; this better not be some emotional goodbye letter crap. Fuckin' chicks--always pulling this bullshit.
Inside was a single sheet of hotel stationary with the words "Watch this before you leave" and a web address. What the fuck was this? Fine, he'd watch it, then share it with the brothers later--they could get a laugh out of whatever emo crap she'd recorded. He typed the address into his phone--it wasn't YouTube for some reason--and settled into the chair to watch.
There was some jerking around of the image--it looked like it was shot on a cell phone, and then it steadied to show the hotel room with him standing in it. He looked pretty wasted, but he was still better-looking than most of the losers trolling the bars: the tailored dress shirt he wore showed off his gym body, and contrasted with his tan really well too. Buying that tanning salon membership had totally been worth it.
"Hi Cal." The speaker's voice was full of electronic distortion; it could've been anyone talking--maybe not even a chick. That was weird as fuck. He realized that the speaker had been sitting in the same chair he was in now.
In the video he gave a drunken little wave. "How you feeling Cal?" the voice asked.
"Horny. Fuckin' horny." He was too: his hard-on was clearly visible snaking down the leg of his jeans.
"I bet. Why don't you strip for me."
"Fuck yeah. Sure." He swayed a bit, then struggled to get out of his clothes--he really had been wasted. He'd finally managed though, until he was standing there naked, his pale 6 1/2" dick sticking out with it's familiar bend to the right. At least he hadn't been too drunk to get it up.
"You want some of this?" the voice asked.
"Fuck yeah," he slurred.
"Get over here and get on your knees Cal, and you can have it." His image gave a shit-eating grin and ambled forward. Holy shit, he thought, this chick filmed me eating her pussy. Fuckin' hot--he'd have to track her down for a repeat if he could. He slid a hand down his boxers and started yanking on his dick in anticipation, watching himself shuffle forward and kneel down.
"Good boy. Now ask like I told you." This was kind of kinky--Cal felt his dick firming up in anticipation.
He swayed on his knees, then one hand reached forward out of frame. "Can I suck your cock sir? Please?" He looked up to the camera for permission, while in the chair Cal felt his brain freeze in horror, unable to look away as his image leaned forward and swallowed a circumcised cock, gagging slightly as he bobbed up and down into a light brown bush.
No. No no no no nononononoNO! he thought. There was no way he was a fucking cocksucker, no way! He knew it, the Sigma Nu brothers knew it, and all the chicks he'd banged knew it. This had to be some bullshit CGI. But he couldn't tear his gaze away as he watched himself going down on this guy, and to his horror he'd started making those little grunts a chick made when she was really getting into it.
A muscular hand came into view, gripping his short brown hair and pulling him away for a minute; he looked up into the camera with a glazed expression. "You like that Cal? You like my dick?"
"Yeah, I love it." His face winced slightly as the fingers tugged on his hair.
"Love it what?"
"I love your dick sir."
There was a deep chuckle. "For a guy who plays tough, you sure did get in the mood to take orders didn't you? Now get back on it."
"Yes sir," he replied, and then bent back to his work. Cal caught glimpses showing he was rock hard as he did, even though he wasn't even touching himself. He felt sick to his stomach. He was not a fucking faggot. No. Fucking. Way. Some perverse instinct compelled him to keep watching the video though, frozen while he watched himself slob on the knob. He'd started jerking the shaft, and the guy filming had started to squirm.
"Good boy," the watcher said, "faster." He obeyed, and heard the watcher grunt, hand tightening in his hair and forcing his head to bob up and down with greater speed. There was a long "nnnnnngghh," and then "take my fuckin' load boy. Fuck!" He could see a pair of muscular thighs dusted with light brown hair tensing in orgasm, and hear the wet sucking noises he made as he hoovered up the guy's spunk.
He suddenly became aware that his hand was still wrapped around his dick, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch as he realized he'd stayed half-hard the whole time. "No," he whispered, "abso-fucking-lutely no." He stood up, dropping his phone, feeling physically ill, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He staggered into the bathroom and retched over the sink, desperate to purge the semen from his stomach, but nothing came up. Finally the heaves stopped; he was shaking with adrenaline now, and could feel himself burning with rage. There was no way he would do something like this bullshit--he must've been drugged. He was going to find this fucker and beat the shit out of him. Beat him to a fucking pulp. Whoever he was--he couldn't remember a thing beyond the first few rounds of drinks at the Penguin. But maybe that video would have some clues he could use.... He went back into the room and picked up his phone, bracing himself for what he might see.
It showed a closeup of a guy's hand stroking a lubed hard-on--he realized it was his. It was deep red, the clipped head almost purple. Periodically the hand would let go and his cock would twitch out a droplet of whitish spunk. He could hear himself whimpering--he was obviously close to coming. "Please," he heard himself say, "I gotta come."
"Please what?" the voice said, while the hand slid down to rub his balls.
"Please sir." The view flashed up briefly to show his face: his hands were clasped behind his head and his face looked desperate. Why would he do this, Cal thought? He'd always shot his load when he felt like it--no way would he let anyone pull this crap, let alone some faggot. "Make me come."
"You like getting edged like this boy?" The watcher had gripped the top of his shaft, and his thumb was making slow circles over his purple glans.
"Yeah," he panted.
The hand flashed down and grabbed his balls, squeezing; he heard himself grunt. "What?"
"Yes sir."
"Better." The hand returned to it's previous position, thumb smearing the fresh drop of precum that had appeared. This wasn't as bad to watch, Cal decided. He was still going to pound the shit out of the fucker who did this, but watching it wasn't so different from watching himself jerk off. A pussy version of himself, but it was still a lot less faggoty than watching himself suck dick.
He dropped back down into the chair to keep watching. As he did his dick flopped out of his fly, and he noticed he was more than half-hard--the video must be reminding him of all those times he'd rubbed one out. What the hell, he thought, it wasn't gay to watch yourself jerk off. He wrapped a hand around his dick and started pulling on it as the hand worked him over in the video. Pretty soon he was ready to nut, but the fucker in the video was still working him over slow. He was hard now, but nothing like he was in the video: he could see his balls pulled up tight and his dick was practically vibrating. He could hear himself making strangled little grunts in the background every time the guy hit a sensitive spot. He forced himself to slow down his strokes, otherwise he was gonna nut too soon and then he'd have to watch the rest of this video with a soggy dick in his hands.
Five minutes went by, then ten. He'd nearly shot twice, and finally had to cut back from stroking to just rubbing his fingertips over his cock, following along with the hand he saw on the screen. What the fuck had gotten into him last night? Maybe he could get tricked into sucking cock if he'd been roofied, but why hadn't he just knocked this faggot away and finished himself off the way he wanted? He grunted in frustration--if this didn't end soon he was going to get himself off anyway. He could wipe up and then get back to looking for clues.
"You're doing well boy." The voice startled him. "I think I might let you come now. Would you like that?"
"Yes," he heard himself pant, "yes sir!"
"Yes, you've been a good little cocksucker. I think you've earned your reward." The camera briefly tilted up to show him red-faced and biting his lower lip. His arms were still clasped behind his head, and he was screwing his features up into his O face. Cal felt a lurch in his stomach at the word "cocksucker," but it was too late to worry about: he could feel his balls churning as he started fapping in earnest, and he unleashed as the image of his cock began spraying white jets everywhere. He didn't expect how intense his orgasm would be: usually jerking off felt good, but not this good. Just got lucky he thought, wiping his hand off on his boxers; they were soaked where two jets had bubbled up and landed on them. On screen he could see the hand holding his cock was covered in white goo, and was smearing it into his pubes and over his balls, slicking down the fur there. The hand went out of frame and he heard wet licking noises.
"You shot a good load boy. Did you like that?"
"Yes sir!" He sounded equally sleepy and enthusiastic, and Cal felt a wave of disgust at what he'd let himself do.
"Maybe I'll do it again sometime, if you can be a good boy. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Cal could hear more licking noises. He wanted to turn the video off so he wouldn't have to hear this sick shit, but he couldn't make himself do it. Maybe he'll show his face now, he thought desperately.
"Yes sir! I would. Uh, sir." Well that wasn't going to happen, he thought, not a fucking chance. He wasn't stupid enough to get drugged twice, and if that sicko made a move on him, well, he'd get what he had coming.
The video went to black, and then the voice spoke. Now that he knew, he could tell it was a guy's voice, but it was still too distorted to have any idea who it might be.
"Good morning slut," it said. "Did you enjoy the show? You did last night." Even with the distortion he could hear the contempt. Of course, he thought, no one respects a cocksucker. Hi stomach knotted up again, but this time in fear. What did this fucker want?
"You know, you're a worthless piece of shit: you're spoiled, arrogant, and lack respect. But you've shown you can be an obedient boy if you have the right incentive. So we're going to try a little experiment: we're going to see if you can learn to straighten up [chuckle] and fly right. If we can, you get your freedom back. If not...well, what would your friends say if they saw this video? What would the school say?" The voice paused. "What would your rich daddy say?"
Cal swallowed. He'd never be able to show his face in the Sigma Nu house again (even if most of them were self-righteous PC pricks anyway, like that fag-lover they'd made president). And his dad...yeah, he knew how that would turn out. The guy who gave tens of thousands of dollars a year to support the folks at Family Research Council? He'd toss Cal out on the street. No King Ranch pickup, no sweet condo, no high-powered lawyers to help out when he got...rowdy. He was fucked if this got out. Truly fucked.
"It wouldn't go well, would it Cal? So you're going to do what I say from now on, and you're going to do it pronto. And if you fuck up, you'll be punished--it's what you deserve anyway. You're my bitch now boy, and don't ever forget it. Your first job is to go to the web link that pops up. You'll click on it and install the software on your phone. You have five minutes from now to get it fired up, or the video goes out to the world. Get moving boy."
Cal clenched his jaw, furious, but he was trapped and he knew it. He'd have to go along with it for now, at least until he found this guy. Then he could spin some story to his dad, get the lawyers to pounce, and have him put away for good. After Cal was done with him he'd be begging to go to jail just to get away. Just the thought of getting revenge made him feel better--he'd add this hassle with the software to the guy's tab when they met up. An ugly smile on his face, he hit the button for the web link and followed the installation instructions; when he was done and his phone had rebooted he had a new app called iSlut on his menu; the logo was a cartoon dick. Firing it up revealed a messaging screen, nothing else. So all this was to let this loser send him harassing text messages? He barked out a harsh laugh--that was some weak shit.
Suddenly his phone chimed with a weird sound he'd never heard before--some custom ring tone. He had a text.
Look under the bed. take the box, follow instructions. u have 10 min
A timer appeared on his screen, counting down: 9:59, 9:58... he got the idea. Sure enough, there was a shoebox under the bed; he fished it out. When he opened it and saw the contents he froze: there was a sheet of paper, a pair of black wristband-looking things, a small clear tube with honey-colored liquid in it, and finally (and here was where he balked), what looked like a butt plug. He'd never used one, but he'd seen them in some of the porn he'd watched--watching a chick get banged up the ass was always hot. This one was maybe six inches high and colored with blue and silvery stripes, like some weird zebra skin, and it had a slightly knobbly surface, but otherwise it had the rounded cone top, narrow bottom, and slightly flared base he had seen used more than once. Dreading what was coming he unfolded the paper and read the typed instructions:
- Put wrist bands on, snap in place, wait for green light. 2. Insert plug into your ass. All the way--it has sensors. You are allowed to use the lube.
At the bottom of the note someone had scrawled "be sure to take a shit before using butt plug--you won't be taking it out for a long time." "Fuck no," he whispered. "Fuck this. No way. No. Fucking. Way." This was some seriously faggy bullshit--there was no way he was going to do this. He'd fucked way too many girls, was way too much of a bad ass, to ever do this. No. He glanced at his phone: 8:00, 7:59, 7:58...this wasn't happening. People like him did *not have to put up with this sort of blackmailing bullshit--if anything they dished it out; his dad had taught him that early on.
When the timer hit five minutes it finally started to sink in that he was going to have to make a choice: do what the note said, or ruin his life. Thinking about it that way it really wasn't a choice. Square jaw clenched he picked up the wristbands: they were shaped like an open C, with two prongs that were obviously meant to snap into the other end of the C to close it. Taking a deep breath he put it on his left wrist and snapped it shut: it sounded like a shackle going on. Nothing happened beyond that though...maybe it was all just some bullshit mind game. He put the other one on his right wrist and attached it; a few seconds later it gave a beep and a small green light flashed twice. If he didn't know better he would've thought it was just a pair of FitBits--if anyone ever wore two of them. He looked at the counter: 4:30 and still ticking. Of course putting the wrist bands on hadn't gotten him a break--it figured.
Grinding his teeth he picked up the remaining objects, shucked off his sticky boxers, and lay back on the bed, mentally adding "shove a broomstick up his ass" to the list of things he'd do to the asshole when he caught him. He popped open the tube and squeezed out some of the viscous lube, smearing a generous portion over the plug. He took a few seconds to screw up his nerve, took in a deep breath, and poked around until he felt the cool tip pressing against his asshole. It was tapered enough that it didn't take much pressure for it to start sliding in a little bit. He pressed more firmly, trying to find the best angle to work in from. As the head pressed against his ring he could feel the texture more noticeably. Not rough exactly, but he could feel it rubbing against the skin of his asshole--he'd never realized how tender that area was. There was also a sort of warm glow coming from the tip--he couldn't tell if it was heated slightly, or if the lube had something in it. At least it wasn't cold, and the lube kept the friction from being unpleasant. He glanced at the timer--3:19--and realized he needed to hurry up: he could see that he'd barely gotten the rounded head in, never mind the big part.
He took a deep breath and lay back. "Okay, just fuckin' do it you pussy. Nut up and get the fuckin' job done." His dad would say shit like that to get him amped up before a football game in high school, and it always worked. He ramped up the pressure and felt a significant bit of the plug slide in, the bumpy/slick texture very noticeable now that his ring could barely accommodate it. He pushed in a little more before the burning pain in his ass got to be too much and he stopped for a minute, breathing deeply as he tried to relax. But every time he thought too much about putting that thing in there like some loser faggot it just pissed him off even more and he clenched up again. He wanted to just yank the goddamn thing out and throw it across the room, but he was under three minutes now and there was no time to start over. Plus the warmth was moving deeper with the dildo, and as it sank in he could feel it soothing and relaxing his stressed ring. It hurt less now, and that was making him less stressed; he was still pissed, but he was starting to relax. Another deep breath and he got another half inch? Inch? Please let it be an inch, he thought. He fumbled around the shaft as he gave himself a break, then groaned in frustration as he felt how much more he had to go. Gritting his teeth he pushed hard again, then grunted in pain: it hadn't looked that big when he'd taken it out of the box, thinner than his dick for sure, but it felt like he was being split open. It just showed how sick you'd have to be to let someone fuck you in the ass, he thought. Only a twisted idiot would do this.
The warmth was still increasing at least, and he could feel himself relaxing into it a bit until the pressure was bearable again. As the pain decreased he was more aware than ever of the shaft rubbing his insides--it was weird as fuck, but it didn't hurt at all up deep, just on his ass ring. On a whim he tried pushing the shaft in using a corkscrewing motion rather than just ramming it straight in--maybe that would be easier. It seemed like it was: he still felt like he was being split in two, but he was making steady progress. And now the rubbing deeper inside was actually feeling pretty okay. In fact, if he angled the thing just right and wiggled it while he pushed... He gasped as it hit...something and a zing of pleasure went through him. Da fuck?! he thought, and did it again. "Shit," he grunted. The sensation made his balls and cock feel heavy and swollen all of a sudden, and his dick suddenly flopped up onto his belly as it rapidly inflated--he could already see a drop of precum forming. Maybe he'd spend some time doing this later in the day...no, fuck that, he wasn't some buttfucking queer.
At that moment his phone began to buzz: 15 seconds remaining. "Fuck!" he said. No time for fun stuff: he just pushed it in the rest of the way as fast as he could. The last part was almost unbearable, and he hoped he hadn't damaged anything, but then the fattest part was past his ring and suddenly it went in the last bit, the round base snug in his furry crack. There was a ping from the FitBit things just as the timer ran out, and then nothing. Cal lay there panting as he tried to absorb the sensations racing through him. His ass ring hurt, but deeper inside the dildo was pressing on something that didn't hurt at all. His dick was half-hard, and couldn't make up its mind whether to go up or down. His armpits were wet from stress sweat, but there was a warm glow in his ass that was relaxing and pleasant--he almost felt like he was getting a little bit of a buzz. In other words, he didn't know how to make sense of the whole experience. His phone buzzed.
Gj boy. uv earned a reward
Suddenly the plug in his ass twitched, or something. It started buzzing, or, or pulsing, or _something, but whatever it did it hit that spot again, but harder than when it had gone in. Cal's eyes widened and he let out an involuntary "aaah!" as a burst of pleasure spread out from his ass, through the root of his cock, and up into his body. It was over in a couple of seconds even before his cock could catch up and get completely boned up, but it was enough to make a bead of precum appear. Normally he didn't drip much at all, but he'd never tried anything like this before.
U like that boy?
What an arrogant shit, he thought. But it had felt good--*really good, actually--and maybe he could get this asshole to do it again. He picked up his phone and started typing in the iSlut app.
Yeah
thought so. Be a good boy, follow the rules, u might get some more.
What rules? He gritted his teeth as he typed.
U will learn to be obedient, respectful, and grateful. Obedient: u will do what I say, when I say, no ?s. u will have ur phone by you always for my instructions. U fail, u will b punished.
This didn't look good--not like his fraternity initiation at all. Cal swallowed: he might have gotten himself in deeper than he'd realized. His phone buzzed with another text.
Respect: you will address me as sir, always. Yes sir, no sir, please sir. U fail, u will be punished.
OK, fucked up, he thought, but he could fake his way through this.
Grateful: u will thank me when I reward u. when I punish u, its for your own good, and you will apologize for fucking up and then thank me for the chance to do better. Fail to obey, fail to be respectful, fail to be grateful and u will b punished. Fail enough, and the video goes out. Do u understand boy?
Shit, Cal thought. Shitshitshitshitshit. This guy is a nut job and I've just handed him my ass on a silver plate. A little while ago he was ready to storm out of the motel and kick some ass, but he realized now he'd have to be smarter than that. He was going to be stuck as this perv's bitch forever unless he played it smart.
Yes sir.
Might as well get off to a good start he thought.
Good boy.
The buzzing pulse of pleasure started up again, maybe a little more intense than before, and he sucked in a deep breath before it stopped abruptly. The cumulative effect had left him good and chubbed up; he was definitely going to rub another one out before he left. The phone buzzed.
Boy?
Yes sir?
Ur cock belongs to me now. U cum when I say, never any other time. You haven't earned your chance yet.
Cal ignored the phone. He could tell from the way his balls felt that this wouldn't take long, and it wasn't like the jackhole was going to walk in on him in the next two minutes. He wrapped his right hand around his cock and started stroking--he could already feel the twinge in his balls that said he was close. He closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure: flexing his hips made the butt plug move inside him in a way that he could really get into if he just ignored how sick it was. And it was just a piece of plastic, not another dude or anything, so it didn't even count. He picked up speed and felt his balls tightening up--
--and screamed in surprise and pain as a jolt of electricity blasted his ass deep inside. It felt like someone had rammed a red-hot poker up his chute. Not even thinking, he tried to yank the torture device out, but the shocks were making his ass ring clamp down and it was wedged in tight. He writhed on the bed, trying and failing to escape the jolts of pain coming from his gut. Within a few seconds it was mercifully over.
Bad boy. Told u not to cum unless I say.
Cal panted, groaning. His ass felt back to normal now that the fucking cattle prod wasn't going off, but he was still recovering mentally. His hard-on had vanished completely, leaving his dick shrunken and pathetic looking, almost lost in his forest of pubes. A wave of shame and rage washed over him as he typed.
Fuck you faggot!!!
Three more pulses of pain lanced through him, even more intense than before, and he screamed.
Wrong answer boy. What did I tell u?
He panted, brain still recovering. What...he scrolled back through the texts to see what this psycho wanted.
Sorry for fucking up sir. Thank you for teaching me.
There was another mild jolt, not nearly as painful but still unpleasant.
Thank u for teaching me what?
Thank you for teaching me sir.
Another jolt, stronger than the previous but still not as bad as the others.
U didn't apologize boy. Every time you fuck up u will tell me u are sorry. Every time. And thank me. Don't be a dumb fuck. We can do this all day until you get it right.
Cal felt the panic start to invade his brain, and his hands were shaking. Fuck, what was he supposed to say? He read the messages again. He couldn't fuck this up again. He typed and prayed it was the right thing.
Sorry sir for fucking up twice. I'm so sorry sir. Thank you for teaching me again sir.
He held his breath, desperately hoping that he'd put enough sirs and sorrys in there to avoid another ass-reaming. Thirty seconds went by, and then:
better boy. Maybe u can be trained.
The plug emitted a low buzzing pulse, not enough to get him amped up again but enough to feel good for a few seconds, and Cal let out a sigh of relief.
Go home. Wait for orders. Obey. Take butt plug out or wrist bands off and video goes live. Understand?
Yes sir.
Good boy.
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WEEK 1 SATURDAY
Cal headed back to his condo and spent the next few hours blindly watching TV, still in shock. His mind kept racing in circles trying to understand how he'd gotten here and what he could do to escape. At one point he realized he'd drunk the better part of a bottle of JD and was pretty wasted, and then suddenly it all hit him again: he was somebody's bitch, some FUCKING NOBODY, and he screamed in frustration and smashed his cup against the wall. Good thing it was plastic, he thought blearily, and then the image of himself going to town on some dude's cock came back to him and he had to throw up all that booze he'd just tossed back. "Never again, fucker," he breathed as he wiped his mouth, "I'm never sucking your cock again."
Fuck, who could he call to help him out? he thought. There had to be someone. But as he went through the list of people he knew, he couldn't think of one. Not his dad, no fucking way there. Sure as hell none of the chicks he'd banged, even if he could remember their names. (Maybe Samantha?... No wait--she told him to fuck off after they'd gotten in that huge fight and he'd called her a stupid cunt.) The Sigma Nu bros? They'd laugh their asses off if they knew what he'd gotten into: they only respected him because he was a bigger hard ass than any of them, and he'd never live it down if they knew the trouble he was in. The only one in the whole frat who was cool was Matt, but Cal had seen up close what he thought of cocksuckers. Matt wouldn't have any problem taking on one more faggot with him, but there was an even chance he'd mix it up with Cal himself or just tell everyone to have a laugh. Maybe his dad's lawyers?... They had to keep that attorney-client privilege thing, right?
His thoughts were interrupted by a chime from his phone. The weird new chime.... He picked it up, free hand clenching as he read the newest iSlut text:
go to web site, install software on your laptop. 5 min boy.
There was a web address that meant nothing to him except that he was even more fucked, even if he didn't know how yet. His hands trembled, on the brink of smashing the phone against the wall and who cared about what happened after that, but then the countdown timer started flashing on the screen and he came to his senses. And also realized he was probably supposed to respond if he didn't want that red-hot poker up his ass again.
Yes sir.
His jaw clenched so tight it hurt, he fired up his laptop and went to the web site. With 2:14 left to go it rebooted and with 1:22 left to go it fired up a browser session; he breathed a sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been keeping in. The web page was blank except for the word iSlut in slanting green letters, pulsing faintly and looking like an advertising logo from a cheap '80s sci-fi flick like his mom used to watch when he was little. Funny, he hadn't thought about her in years, and now his brain picked this moment to bring that memory back. Fucking twisted.
"Well done boy." The distorted voice took him by surprise and he jumped, then again when the thing in his ass began..."throbbing" was probably the word. "Good to see you can follow simple instructions."
Cal was too pissed to pay much attention to what the butt plug was doing. A little of course: the sensation was hard to miss. But mostly he was back to being angry. Play it cool, he reminded himself.
"Thank you sir," he said through gritted teeth.
Distorted laughter from the computer. "Still angry. Don't worry boy, you'll get over it. And then you'll learn to be useful instead of a blood-sucking brat. Right now thought it's time for you to learn some discipline. You look like shit."
Cal gritted his teeth and said nothing, staring in bleary-eyed fury at the webcam on his laptop. That lasted all of ten seconds before a short jolt of pain replaced the warm buzz that had been caressing his guts.
"Don't eyeball me boy. Remember you're my bitch."
"Right, okay," Cal said through gritted teeth--and then screamed as the pain ramped up tenfold, setting his nerves on fire for a few seconds that he never wanted to relive again.
"Well, boy?"
Cal took in a deep breath. "Sorry for fucking up sir." His broad chest heaved, still recovering. "Thank you for correcting me sir." He hoped that was enough: he still couldn't think straight.
"Good boy. But you still look like shit."
Of course I do, Cal thought bitterly, you just tasered me up the shit chute. He held his tongue though.
"Go clean yourself up. Shower, and shave. Everywhere."
"What--wait, what?" Cal swallowed. "Sir?"
"You're not a real man, you haven't earned it yet. You're just a little bullying boy. So you need to look like one. You can keep your eyebrows and the hair on your head, at least if you behave, but the rest of it goes. Every. Last. Hair. You have one hour. Don't disappoint me again." The logo stopped pulsing.
"Yes sir," Cal whispered, just in case anyone was still listening. Everything? He wasn't rocking a beard, and his underarms he could do sure, easy; even his pubes. But his chest and arms and legs? And how was he going to get his ass? He wasn't that hairy, but he knew from showering that he wasn't exactly smooth either.
The laptop screen began flashing: 59:59, 59:58... and he knew it didn't matter what he thought: he'd better get on it. As he stood to get in the shower he could feel the dildo shifting inside him.
Fifty-seven minutes later he was done, or at least he thought he was done. He'd checked all over as well as he could, and he couldn't see (or feel) anything left. He still didn't know how he'd explain this to anyone who asked--maybe he'd lost some sort of bet?--but then part of him realized he maybe didn't have any people who really cared that much anyway. Fuck it, it was winter--who was going to check out his arms? He sat in front of the laptop in his boxer briefs, waiting; his whole body itched vaguely. Gotta put more lotion on, he thought vaguely.
At 0:00 the logo animation began pulsing. "Did you follow my instructions?" the voice asked.
"Yes sir," Cal said. Now that he'd started sobering up he was feeling that worm of fear and doubt burrowing in his brain again. Don't let him be pissed off again, he thought. "I think so sir."
"Stand up and clasp your hands behind your head." Cal did. "I expect you in this position every time we chat. Now turn around." He did. "Good so far boy--not everyone understands what I mean by 'everything'." Cal shivered involuntarily: what would the punishment have been if he hadn't thought to shave his arms?
"Why are you wearing underwear? Did you forget to shave down below?"
"No sir. Just...habit sir."
"Take them off." The voice sounded annoyed and Cal hurried to obey. "Mm." A neutral grunt from the screen as his smooth crotch and cock came into view. Cal had always gotten a pretty good reception when he unveiled his junk, but no ego boost this time. "Show me your balls--up close to the camera."
"Yes sir." Cal could feel his temper rising again: he wasn't a piece of fucking meat. But he did as instructed, stepping up to the laptop and flapping his wang around to show his smooth sack.
"Turn around. Show me your ass crack."
"Yes sir." Cal obeyed, teeth gritted as he spread his newly-shaved cheeks for the camera.
"Mm." Another grunt. "Acceptable for the first time. Maybe you're not a complete waste of space after all. Be ready for a daily inspection at 8 a.m.: I expect you to stay smooth. Any questions?"
Cal swallowed; this was all too much to take in. His mind was blank except for wondering how his life had gotten so fucked up so fast. Then suddenly he thought of something that made his chest pound. "Sir," he swallowed, "when can I take the, uh, thing out?"
"I told you boy, not for a long time. Maybe never, if we can't make a man out of you."
"But--" he felt a surge of panic "--how will I take a shit? Sir?"
"We've made arrangements. Expect a package in...about an hour. Anything else?"
"No sir." Cal gulped. What fresh hell was that going to be?
"Good. Enjoy the reward for your obedience." The logo stopped pulsing, but as it did the plug in Cal's ass started. Not the searing pain from a little while ago: this was the warm throbbing that he'd started beating off to in the hotel room. Without even thinking he clenched his ass cheeks to intensify the sensation, one hand automatically grabbing his cock to start stroking. He was fully hard and starting to leak when he finally remembered the rest of the events in the hotel, and pulled his hand away in horror: never again, no sir!
For a couple of minutes his cock sagged from the memory, but the plug's stimulation was relentless, demanding he give in. After a very long time (the clock said 45 minutes, but fuck that) it finally stopped, and he sighed in relief. A large damp spot had spread over the front of his briefs, and the yeasty smell of precum was rising from them. What the fuck am I gonna do? he thought.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SATURDAY A little over an hour later his hard on had died down and he'd gotten back to some serious day drinking, nursing his fourth--maybe fifth?--JD while the blonde news bimbo went on about some woman who'd been caught in a hit and run walking to her job at the homeless shelter. The usual human interest crap on the pathetic local news. He didn't realize how hammered he was until he stood up to answer the knock on the door and had to grab a chair on the way. When he opened it there was a solid-looking redheaded guy with a beard and wearing a snap brim cap with some courier company's logo on it; he was holding a package. "Yeah?"
The ginger gave him a doubtful once-over, taking in his state. "You Cal Brenner?"
"Yeah." Shit, Cal could smell the booze on his own breath.
"Package for you." He held it out and Cal took it. "Just need you to sign here." He held out an electronic pad and a stylus, and after fumbling a bit Cal was able to scrawl something that looked like a signature. "Have a nice day."
But Cal was already staggering into the room and closing the door. His hands were trembling as he tore open the box: he didn't want to know what was in there, but he had to find out how bad it was. The contents tumbled onto the floor as he finally got the box open and plunked down on the couch. There were some sheets of paper and something that looked like a small metallic dick, with some...rings? Or something? He was too drunk to figure it out just looking at it. Was that supposed to go in his ass too? But then how?... He looked down and realized that the papers were instructions for a--shit! A fucking chastity cage?!! On top of that thing up his goddamn ass?!! "You are FUCKING KIDDING ME!!" he shouted to the room. He sat there breathing hard, fists clenched in fury on his knees, until he finally got his rage under control. If he let go he knew he'd just snap and trash the whole fucking condo, and then there'd be questions. And there couldn't be questions.
Finally he stopped seeing red, and noticed that one of the papers was actually a printed note. "Boy: when you need to take the plug out you can, IF AND ONLY IF the cock cage is securely fastened first. Be sure to read the instructions. You can take the cage off once the plug is back in place. You may wear the cage for up to 60 minutes a day. Any longer and you will be punished."
Cal breathed a sigh of relief. He was still completely fucked, but at least he wouldn't be shitting himself while that video got sent to everyone he knew. He decided that was good enough to finish the JD and call it a day.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SUNDAY The next morning his alarm went off at its usual time of 7:30, and for a few minutes he lay in bed half-awake and relaxed. But then he rolled over, and the sensation of fullness in his ass sunk in, and suddenly he was wide awake, chest pounding. "Shit shit shitshitshitshit!!" His "inspection" was in 20 minutes--fuck!! Okay, he thought, get through the inspection, then figure out what to do. By 7:59 he'd had just enough time to give his crotch and underarms a quick once-over and remove the stubble--hopefully enough to pass inspection. God, he hoped so. He could feel the sweat starting to trickle down his armpits as he stood there.
Less than a minute later the logo pulsed on his laptop; without even thinking Cal stood a little bit straighter--then jumped as the plug in his ass administered an unpleasant shock. "You're not in position boy, and you're wearing underwear," the voice sounded like it was talking to a stupid child. "Do I have to explain everything to you?"
Shit, he thought, shit! "No sir." Not a good start. Oh, shit again! "Thank you for correcting me sir!" He quickly shucked his briefs, then clasped his hands behind his head. Like I'm under arrest, he thought, then shivered. That was too close to the truth.
"Show me the rest." The voice sounded bored, like he was looking at a not-very-good piece of meat.
His thoughts were derailed when he felt a short jab in his ass that made him jump up. Not a blast like before, but he'd fucked something up. But what?!
"You missed a spot around your asshole boy. I told you to get rid of all that hair." "But you said--AH!" *That was not a minor jolt. "Sorry sir! Thank you for correcting me sir! I'll fix it right away sir!"
"Get it done by tomorrow. You were adequate otherwise." The voice was bored again, and Cal felt a twinge of resentment. No one dissed his body! Even the football jocks agreed he was ripped every time he showed off his pecs or arms! "Assume the position." Cal did. "Did you get your package?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Then you'll be able to shave yourself properly everywhere from here on out, won't you?" Even with the distortion Cal could hear the threat.
"Yes sir. I will sir!" He could feel a trickle of sweat sliding down his right armpit.
"We'll see. You can have the rest of the day to yourself. Be ready tomorrow." The screen went dark.
"For what?..." Cal whispered to himself. Then he got to figuring out how his new morning routine was going to work
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . MONDAY Monday he didn't have any classes until 11:00, but he snapped awake at 6:30 anyway, already wondering what fresh hell his blackmailer had planned. He tried to go back to sleep but it was no use, so he finally decided he might as well get ready for his 8:00 inspection. It took a few minutes, but he finally got the cage on his dick once he remembered the trick from yesterday; as the lock clicked tight he herd a soft beep that said he could remove the plug. Out of the frying pan, into the fucking inferno.... At least the cage wasn't too uncomfortable when he was soft, and putting it on definitely made him soft, but it had some pointy bits that would get painful in a hurry if he chubbed up, and it looked like it had some electronics built in that he prayed never got used. It was a relief to pull the butt plug out again though, and he sighed as his asshole was able to relax. He lay there for a few minutes readjusting to the feeling of emptiness, then sighed and got up to shit, shower, and shave. All over this time for sure.
He lay back on his bed and ran his hands over his taint and asshole one more time, just to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. The skin was tender from the razor and he decided he'd better put some lotion on himself. He put a dab on his fingers and smeared it over his balls and crotch--that felt better. It was weird as hell having his groin smooth though, he thought as he rubbed the lotion in. His balls especially: they were a lot more sensitive in a way that would've been kind of cool under any other circumstances. He idly rubbed some lotion lower, into his taint, and pressed a little, just for fun. And a little lower...and suddenly his finger was touching the wrinkled skin of his pucker and his cock was swelling uncomfortably in the cage. Shit! He jerked his hand away; it was time to get out of that fucking thing anyway. He grabbed the goddamn butt plug, still warm from being scrubbed in the shower, and smeared some of that lube on it. Taking a deep breath he began pushing it in.
It was uncomfortable, and it still made him furious to have to do it, but at least it wasn't as bad as the first time. He was surprised to realize that by the time he had to wait and adjust, it was most of the way in. The stretching was still uncomfortable as hell, but as the warm glow began to spread through his ass it didn't bother him nearly as much. It was just really intense, he thought lazily, more than painful. Well, still painful, but then that last bit popped through and once he wiggled his ass a little it settled into place and felt fine. He popped the release on the cock cage and was vaguely surprised when his dick flopped sideways into a half-hard. Well, it was the morning, and he hadn't been able to get off since--he shied away from that thought. At least the plug did actually feel okay: he seemed to be getting used to it. In fact it seemed like it might be doing a little of that tingling thing again: his ass was starting to feel pretty good actually. He didn't know why he was getting a reward, but he wasn't going to complain: it beat the lightning bolt. He took a deep breath as the sensation intensified slightly, then let it out and smiled a little as he slid one hand down his torso to meet his hard cock. Having that thing up his ass wasn't gay, not really, he thought lazily. It was just a piece of plastic. He stroked himself a little, rocking his hips slightly as the probe pulsed. He couldn't go too far of course: he had a very, very clear memory of what had happened the last time he'd tried jerking off. But he'd edged himself plenty of times--he knew how much he could push it. His whole body was a lot more sensitive now that it was hairless, and he was really getting into feeling himself all over, letting the probe work him while he spent the next few minutes lightly stroking himself, or sliding a hand down to fondle his newly-smooth balls, or rubbing his torso. He arched his back as he ran his hands down his inner thighs, and on a whim he pulled them up with the hazy intention of caressing his calves. As he did he stretched his legs apart, pushing the probe into a slightly different position, and he sucked in a deep breath. His cock was rock hard and leaking enough to leave a wet smear all over his abs; he could feel his balls pulling up tight. He rolled his head to one side in pleasure, and suddenly caught a glimpse of his alarm clock. 7:59. Shit! The trance he was in broke as adrenaline surged through him.
He jumped up and assumed the position at the foot of his bed just as the screen came to life. "Good morning boy."
"Good morning sir." Cal suddenly realized his dick was jutting out straight in front of him, a clear strand of liquid dangling from the tip. He turned bright red, humiliation washing over him at the thought of getting hard in front of this guy. But even though it'd mostly quieted down the probe was still doing its insistent thing, and his dick wasn't going down.
"I see you're enjoying your wakeup call."
"Yes sir."
"And?..." An edge had crept into the voice.
Oh no, Cal thought. "Sorry sir, I don't understand." He cringed inside, his dick already starting to wilt at the thought of possible punishment.
There was an irritated sigh. "Of course you don't. What did I tell you I expected from you?" The probe's stimulation ended abruptly.
"Uh...respectful. Obedient. And, uh, grateful. Sir."
Another sigh. "And when someone does something nice for you, how do you express gratitude?" The voice spoke as if he were a small child. A very stupid child.
"Thank you! Thank you sir!"
"For what?"
"For, uh, making me feel so good this morning. Sir. I'm very grateful sir."
"Better."
"Thank you sir." Better safe than sorry, Cal thought. Plus, maybe he could get the juice turned back on. Part of him felt guilty, but it wasn't like he was actually fooling around with another dude--no fucking way--it just...felt good. Like jerking off, really. Nothing more.
"Today we begin a training exercise," the voice said, and Cal swallowed nervously. "To test your observational skills." The iSlut logo on his laptop screen vanished, replaced by a torso shot of a shirtless guy about Cal's age. Not as bulked up, but clearly athletic. "Dean and Conrad Bareback" was superimposed over his face.
Oh shit no, Cal thought, this can't be. No. Fuck no. He felt his dick wilting.
"You will watch this film from beginning to end, and then take a quiz on its contents. You will be graded on your results. Don't disappointment me."
The movie began to play, and at the same time the probe reactivated. "Nooo..." Cal whispered, then hurriedly shut his mouth. Luckily his blackmailer didn't seem to be listening--he didn't want to think how he'd be punished for outright refusing an order. So he held himself in the required "position" while he braced for anal agony, eyes screwed shut. Nothing happened though, so after a minute or two he popped one eye open. There were two guys in the movie, both horsing around by the pool and generally shooting the shit; they were both his age or a few years older, smooth, and ripped. The probe throbbed steadily but insistently as he watched, and the stimulation was making him hard again. Never mind he was watching a naked guy give another one a massage, or how that led into a makeout session that turned into some cocksucking.... He was breathing heavily he realized, the sensations radiating from his ass making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. God this is fucking awful, he thought, I can't keep watching these fags get it on. But he had no idea what the "quiz" was going to be, and there was no way he was going to fail it! Part of that was fear of pain, but he also felt his competitive spirit rising: he'd show this queer they couldn't distract him with this bullshit. He'd ace this stupid little bullshit test and then... Then what? part of him asked, but before he could come up with a good answer to that the guys started fucking and the butt plug ramped up its stimulation.
Cal couldn't resist a long low grunt of pleasure as the butt plug _throbbed and then the tip began wiggling, moving around slowly deep inside his gut. Every few seconds it would touch on a spot that lit him up in a way he'd never experienced. His eyes fluttered as he watched the cock on screen slide steadily into the other fag's asshole, while the sensations in his own made him squirm in pleasure. He didn't dare take his hands from behind his head, but only the thought of punishment kept them there. He could feel a warm droplet of precum sliding down his shaft, then another, and his dick was rock fucking solid. It was all he could do not to reach down and grab hold of it, but if he did he knew he'd come in just a few strokes and then he'd be fucked. Truly fucked, not like the butt boy on the screen begging to get rammed. "Pathetic," he muttered through gritted teeth, even as he felt his juice start to run down his ball sack. "Fucking pathetic." The guy on top pulled out and started jerking it for the money shot, and Cal wished he would hurry up so he could get this over with. When he finally came Cal felt the thing in his ass pulse in time with the jets on screen, and he whimpered in pleasure. He could almost imagine himself with them, and even though he didn't want to his body was ignoring his brain: his dick and ass wanted what they wanted. Suddenly the screen went blank and all stimulation stopped. It was like a bucket of ice water over him as he remembered the quiz, and the threat. Even though his balls were full and heavy, his dick was already losing its edge.
"Boy," the voice from his computer made him jump.
"Yes sir?" he asked warily. Part of him seethed at the way he was being treated, but he was used to tamping those feelings down, and he put on his game face.
"What was the name of the top?"
Cal panicked as his brain went blank. "Uh...it was...Dean! Sir." Despite the momentary relief his dick was shrinking fast, and he could feel his armpits starting to sweat. Don't fuck this up, he told himself, don't fuck this up!
"And the bottom?"
"Conrad, sir."
"Good, not completely useless. Now...." The voice continued to grill him on details from the movie, from who had the bigger cock (Dean) to the color of the sheets (brown) to how many times Conrad shot when he came (3--but Cal answered 4 and got a bearable but still nasty shock). The shocks for his wrong answers were painful: not incapacitating, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he got an answer right.
"You scored a 72 boy. I won't punish you this time, but I expect you to do better if you want a reward. Will you do better next time?"
"Yes sir," Cal nodded vigorously. No more ass zapping! And maybe a reward...who knew?
"Good, be ready for another quiz tomorrow after your inspection." The laptop screen went blank.
"Yes sir." Cal breathed a sigh of relief. At least the rest of his day could be normal, or as normal as it could get. He had a couple of classes, but after that...it was time to do some research on who might be fucking with him, and how to get his revenge. He grinned fiercely in anticipation, no one around to see his moment of rebellion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THURSDAY
He groaned unhappily into his pillow when his alarm went off at 6:30--it was still dark as shit outside. He fucking hated--hated!--getting up early; he always had. But there was no way he was going to risk missing his inspection like he nearly did a few days ago, and when he scratched himself he could feel some stubble where his pubes were; he was going to have to shave there again, and he wanted to take his time if he had to put a razor near his junk. Part of him wondered if he'd get a reward again today too, but he shoved that thought back down before his dick had done more than pulse once. Just normal morning wood. But at least for the last few days he'd gotten the good side of the probe each morning, and as the least shitty thing he'd had to put up with he was kinda looking forward to it. Not as good as pussy, he reminded himself, or even beating his meat, but it was definitely better than being punished. A lot better.
By 7:30 he was all prepped with plenty of time. He smeared the lube on the plug again, and found his hands shaking slightly in anticipation. He hated this whole thing, hated being someone's bitch, hated the familiar feeling of humiliation--but in some sick way part of him was looking forward to this part of his new morning routine. The plug slid most of the way in now before he had to slow down, and he let out his breath sharply as the textured surface rubbed his hole. He lay there for a couple of minutes, idly wiggling it around as the familiar warm glow made itself felt felt. He'd realized a couple days ago that if he took in a deep breath and let it out it helped him relax; two of those and the plug popped right in. He grunted in surprise at how easy it was, and then again as it started up. The dick cage was starting to get really uncomfortable, and he sighed in relief as he popped it off. "That's better," he breathed, then sucked in his breath as his ass throbbed. "Yeah..." he whispered, and began rubbing himself again, desperate to play with his hard-on, but terrified of what would happen if he did. Almost a week without relief had left him hornier than ever, and he wasn't sure he could stop if he touched himself--he'd never had a dry period like this before. He grunted in frustration as he squirmed on his bed, and then he remembered what he'd tried Monday. He grabbed his thighs and pulled his knees up and apart, and again the different position caused the probe to shift to that spot, the one that felt extra good. Like when the probe started moving in there. His eyes slid shut as he concentrated on the pleasure he was feeling. "Mmm...yeah...mmmmm," he murmured. He realized he was talking out loud, but right then he didn't care. His whole body felt good, but especially his ass where the warm glow was coming from, and he squirmed with each wave of pleasure. He was pretty sure it felt even better than the first time he'd tried it.
By 7:59 he was breathing deeply, eyes fluttering as he rocked to the tempo the butt plug was setting, Even though his thermostat was set to a cool 67 F he'd begun sweating lightly, but it wasn't sweat that was pooling on his abs. His dick had been leaking steadily for over ten minutes, more than he'd ever dripped before, and he could smell the precum there was so much. He sighed with frustration and stood up. Another inspection, another quiz, and another day of his balls getting bluer. He barely noticed his dick twitching in anticipation as he stood in front of his laptop, hands clasped behind his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FRIDAY
His laptop screen went dark and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he fell backwards onto his bed, his dick smacking wetly against his abs. This quiz had gone well--almost too well. Over the last few days he'd learned to roll with the pleasurable feelings coming from his ass during the videos and pay better attention to what was happening. And today he'd gotten a 96! He felt a burst of accomplishment before he remembered what it was for and his mood soured. And the reward had been almost as bad as his earlier punishments, he thought. Well not that bad, he had to admit, but pretty close. The voice had complimented him on his effort, telling him what a good boy he was becoming and a bunch of other head-patting bullshit, and all the while ramping up the action in his hole. By the time it ended fifteen minutes later he was a trembling, sweaty mess, barely able to keep upright as his cock dribbled on the verge of exploding. "Thank you sir for making me feel so good!" he'd gasped as the stimulation ceased, and he'd almost asked for more before the iSlut logo had disappeared.
"Fuck!" he muttered as he lay there. His mind kept looping, remembering the sensations he'd experienced even as scenes from the movie kept popping into his head. He wasn't nearly as grossed out by that gay porn shit as he'd been the first day, but he didn't need these flashbacks of some guy (Cam) going to town on his buddy (Bailey), deep-throating his cock (7.5", cut) and sucking his balls (three times) while the butt plug tickled another surge of precum out of Cal's own dick. "Fuck," he repeated. Obviously this sicko got off on fucking with Cal's head and trying to get him all hot and horny while he watched a couple of fags doing it. Well just because he was desperate to nut didn't mean he was going to do it with a dude. He just liked having his ass played with a little, that was all. And if he had to watch a couple of jocks suck and fuck while he had a little fun, well that wasn't his choice. He'd be back to pussy as soon as he figured a way out of this. Speaking of which: he needed to check in with that guy he'd hired to see what he'd found. His trust fund money meant he could afford someone legit, but he couldn't spend it forever without risking his dad finding out about it. Time to motivate his flunky. Cal got up to get dressed, hard on bobbing in front of him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SATURDAY WEEK 2
Near the end of the week Cal had started to hope the batteries in the but plug would run out and then he'd have a shot at getting away...somehow. Or at least get a break from the relentless edging he was getting every morning. But Friday night he'd gotten instructions to leave his cock cage on for his Saturday inspection. Just after 8:00 there'd been a knock on the door and he'd had to scramble to grab a towel to answer it. The same bearded redhead guy was there with his Ace Courier Service ball cap and a package for him, along with instructions to wait while Cal got the package the guy was supposed to pick up. Cal's confusion ended when he opened the box (not in front of the delivery guy, thank Christ) to find another butt plug inside, along with more lube and instructions to clean and pack up the old one. Cal had done it of course--what choice did he have? But his heart sank as the new dildo slid smoothly up his chute--this said whoever the guy was who was fucking with him, he was in it for the long haul. Cal's quiz score that day was one of his lowest, and he'd been punished accordingly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WEEK 3
Another week went by and Cal was starting to feel desperate. He was horny all the time now, and not even hardcore interval training was enough to distract him for long. He didn't dare use the shower at the gym anymore, not after the first time he'd boned up in the locker room. Luckily the guys he was next to hadn't noticed, but they'd looked too much like Caleb and Drey from one of the morning videos not to remember Drey up against a wall while Caleb's schlong (8", cut) slid into his ass from behind (three shots of jizz when he came, two on the green wall). And that was that--who knew when someone else was going to start a movie flashback going? So now he was walking across campus in wet gym clothes every day, in freezing weather, pissed. The only good thing about the cold weather was the bulky clothes: it was a lot easier not to be reminded of a movie scene if the ass or package of the guy he was looking at was covered with a parka, and if he did throw a rod it was pretty well-hidden by his own. Which was a damn good thing, because by the end of every day his briefs were beyond damp where he'd been leaking; his laundry basket reeked of spooge.
Adding to his happy mood, his fucking useless PI hadn't been able to find anything out about where the software might have come from, hadn't seen anyone suspicious, nothing. He was following up on possible enemies of Cal's dad, but that wasn't a short list and Cal got the feeling the guy was doing it for show (and the hourly rate). It didn't help that Cal wasn't willing to give him all the details, like what exactly was on the videos. And he sure as shit wasn't going to bring up the butt plug.
And then it managed to get worse: after his PI meetup Monday he'd been at the Sigma Nu house watching the playoff game with the brothers when he'd sucked in his breath loud enough for the guys next to him to notice. "Cramp," he'd grunted, but it wasn't a cramp: the fucking dildo had started in on him, right there in his own goddamned frat house! Not enough to really get him going, but he'd watched the rest of the game half-chubbed and palms sweating, and when he left he'd had to pull his hoodie down to cover up the bulge. At least he'd been on the way home when the painful reminder came that he had forgotten to text his gratitude on iSlut, so none of the brothers were there to ask about the "cramp" getting worse.
It happened a couple of times a day after that, at random times. Not to often, but enough to start fucking with Cal's head. He was almost afraid to go out, but it felt so good.... And it was the closest thing to relief he was getting; his "Thank you for making me feel good sir" texts were increasingly sincere.
By Friday he'd started to crack. He was going into his third week of this now, and it felt like the walls were closing in. He'd secretly thought that somehow he'd find a way out of this, that the punishments and the nonstop edging would finally end, and he could go back to normal. But it was sinking in that he was probably kidding himself: he was utterly at this guy's mercy. The stress was eating him alive, and no amount of booze or edibles that could help. The punishments were becoming a lot less severe, but that meant he was getting rewarded a lot more.
And that was the worst part: he was starting to get into it and he couldn't help himself. Just the thought of sliding that thing in his ass would get his dick as stiff as it could manage inside the cock cage, and he was actually hurrying through his morning prep routine so he could spend more time with it working him over before his inspection. And he even caught himself looking forward to the pornos, just so he could prolong the time he spent getting worked over. The worst had been Thursday night: he'd actually dreamed about the guys he'd watched fucking that morning, and when he jerked awake his cock had been rock hard and his boxer briefs had a quarter-sized wet spot in the front. He hated himself for it, but when he'd finally dozed off the dream had continued until the alarm woke him up for real. By then the wet spot had grown to the size of a dollar coin. He groaned when he noticed it, a mix of rage and frustration, but at what he couldn't have said.
WEEK 3 SATURDAY
Saturday he'd gotten a 99 on his quiz--his best yet--and even though it was fucked up he'd felt a surge of frustration that he hadn't nailed it. Then he'd beaten himself up for worrying about pleasing some asshole who was torturing him--but then the dildo had starting doing its thing even better than before. The waves of pleasure had washed over him, from that magic spot deep inside where it was slowly rubbing, to the ring of his ass being stretched and stimulated, to his heavy balls, and up the root of his cock where each twinge announced a fresh droplet of precum on its way out. It wasn't enough though--it was never enough--and he'd sunk to his knees before his shaky legs just collapsed; it was all he could do to keep his hands behind his head. "Pleeeeease sir," he'd groaned like a pathetic bitch, "pleeease, can I come?" He'd held his breath, afraid he'd stepped out of line, but the pleasure continued. He'd moaned again, his ass clenching involuntarily. You fucker, he thought, you fucking fucker. A soft whine escaped him.
"Who does that dick belong to, boy?" The voice was stern.
"You sir," Cal panted. He would've said anything at that moment.
"And did I tell you you could get off?"
"No sir," Cal had gulped. "Sorry sir."
"How many times did you ask a woman you fucked if she'd come, before you kicked her out?"
"I--what?" All of Cal's attention had been focused on rage, and his ass and cock; it had been almost impossible to think about anything else. Complicated questions were beyond him.
The electric jolt had brought him back into focus in a hurry. "What did you say?"
"Sorry sir! Thank you for correcting me sir!" Cal had babbled, humiliated that he'd made such a rookie mistake. "I didn't hear your question sir." The probe had switched off abruptly, finally making it easier to think.
The voice had repeated the question, sounding impatient and annoyed. That was never a good sign.
"Um," Cal licked his lips, "I'm not sure sir. Um...probably not many. Sir." From out of nowhere he'd felt a vague sense of shame for some reason.
"Well now you know how they feel." Abruptly the screen had gone dark, leaving Cal quivering, feeling like he was going to burst.
"FUCK!!!" he screamed. It just came out, and now he couldn't stop himself. "FUCK!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!! FUCK YOU!!!" What the fuck had he done to deserve this--this torture?!! He just wanted his life back, was that too fucking much?!! "GODDAMNIT!!!" He let the rage sweep over him, and smashed his fist into the drywall, barely noticing it. He just wanted to come, was that too much?!! Jesus Christ!!!
He looked down and realized he was still hard, his swollen purple head glistening with the juice it could barely contain. "Fuck this," he said grimly. "And fuck you," he spat at the dark screen. He'd take the punishment, but he was so horned up right now he knew he could get off in maybe two strokes, three tops, before they--
He screamed and dropped to the floor--he'd barely had a chance to wrap his hand around the shaft before the probe had lit him up. This was far and away the worst: a white-hot spear shoved into his guts he couldn't escape. He could distantly feel his ass ring spasming, clamping it in place as he scrabbled on the floor howling. "Please sir, stop!! Pleeease!! I'm sorry sir!!" Another jolt and his leg spasmed, but the pain of kicking his bed post barely registered. "I'm sorry sir!! Thank you for correcting me sir!! I'll never do it again sir!!" Slowly the pain level dropped.
Cal realized his eyes were streaming and it felt like a gallon of snot was pouring down his face. Also, his foot and hand were demanding some attention. But at least the probe had let him off the hook. For now.
"Boy." The monitor sprang to life.
Cal shot to his feet and assumed the position. "Yes sir?" His voice sounded weak and watery--pathetic--but right then he didn't care.
"Have you learned your lesson?"
"Yes sir, sorry sir. Thank you for correcting me sir." He felt wiped out, crushed, but he couldn't keep a hint of eagerness out of his voice.
"And what is your lesson?"
"My cock belongs to you sir. I'll never try to come again without your permission. Sir."
"And what if I never give you permission?"
Cal swallowed hard. "Then I'll never come again sir."
"No, you won't." The screen went dark, and Cal dropped onto the bed, head in his hands. He should've felt relief, or something, but instead it just felt like someone had bricked up the door to his cell. A few minutes later the probe came to life again. As his dick thickened and lifted he wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry.