VICTORY CELEBRATIONS
The dozen over the tree were quickly untied and made to stand in a line. Kyle and I took the guns away and goggles were removed. At Pete's direction their hands were left untied, but they were blindfolded and gagged. Each of them was told to reach backwards with their left hand and grab the cock of the boy behind him. Of course the guy at the back could only reach backwards, so he was told to put his left hand on his head and keep it there. Then they were told to reach forwards with their right hands and push a finger up the arse of the guy in front. The guy at the start was told to put his hand on his head.
This chain of people was obviously very awkward, so Pete insisted on "practice". He would order the chain to move forwards at a slow march to his beat of "left, right, left, right" and every time someone let go of a cock, or more likely let their finger fall out Pete would point them out and shout for them to get five spanks. A senior would grab the unlucky kid, sling him over the tree trunk and spank him with the flat of his hand. Then the kid would be put back in the chain for more practice.
After ten minutes of practice and twenty minutes of pounding junior arse with senior hand they had it sussed. The "Loser Train" set off, with every pair of buttocks glowing nicely red, led by Pete tugging on the cock of the guy in front.
Ricky and Doug were going to be left behind so David tied Ricky to stop him from escaping. He tied Ricky in front of Doug, wrists on the same branch, facing him. They were both blindfolded and told to start making out. Some one would come back and check on them from time to time prior to their collection. If they weren't playing serious tonsil hockey with their tongues and if their cocks weren't hard from being rubbed against each other's bodies then it would go badly for them. Very badly.
They started kissing, lips on lips, but this wasn't good enough for David. He demanded full tongues in mouth and whipped both their arses until they did.
Then they weren't rubbing their cocks against each other enough so he whipped them again until they were pressing their groins against each other, but they were both soft and their cocks were dangling between their legs so there wasn't any pressure on them to get hard. David reached between them and took both their soft cocks in one hand and started rubbing them together himself. Soon they were both hard and he pressed the two cocks between their bellies to let them take care of the rubbing.
"'Course, real lovers would be whispering sweet nothings in each others ears," he told them. "Ricky, tell Doug how hot his body is all covered in cum."
A slap round the arse made it clear that he wanted to hear it now.
"Oh Doug, you're so hot. All covered in hot, sticky cum like that. God, I wish it was my cum. I want to cum all over you and then lick it all off. The smell is really turning me on. I love the smell of cum on your hot, hot body."
He wasn't particularly imaginative, but he gave a minute of monologue, while still rubbing his cock against Doug's and kissing him passionately between sentences. David had me video all this with full sound recording while he did it.
I took some more photos of the two young lovers and then jogged to catch up with the Loser Train.
The line of dejected, humiliated and very, very hot junior rugby players had been led towards our site's main gates. We're surrounded by a chain link fence running about ten feet high with a pair of matching gates on the way in. These were open and, as we approached, I finally found Steve.
He was spreadeagled, tied to the outside of the fence by his wrists and ankles, right next to our sign. His boots had been removed and Pete tugged off the goggles as he arrived in front of his opposing captain. All Steve was wearing was a gag and four cable ties.
The Loser Train was stopped and one by one the losers were peeled off the front and moved to the fence. Each had their boots removed and were then tied to the fence. Finally the blindfold was removed so they could see their situation. They were still gagged, of course, and couldn't warn their team mates. Soon, thirteen young men were tied out the front of our site, stark naked, overlooking the small road that goes past our site between two farms.
Now I knew that the road sees very little traffic but the losers didn't. There was a look of terror on their faces that they might be seen like this by a random passer by. Later, perhaps, I thought.
Then a thought hit me for some free advertising. I turned to Pete and asked him whether Doug and Ricky could join their team mates on the fence at some point.
"Of course. But Ricky may need to be carried and I wanted to spend some special time with him too but that can wait. What did you have in mind?"
I told him my plan and, after he had stopped laughing, he agreed and dispatched some men to bring the two missing losers while I returned to the office to get some equipment.
I came back to the front gate with a hand trolley, a camera, a trolley, and some bars of the green and black body grease that over-paid executives like to smear their faces with to pretend to be real soldiers when playing with paint guns.
I looked at the fence. Pete had nine losers to the left of the entry gates, starting with Ricky and Doug, and six on the right, starting with with Steve. Ricky and Doug's hard cocks and bellies were slick with pre-cum from their making-out session and their faces were a brilliant shade of red.
I set up the tripod on the trolley ready to slowly move it along the road, recording each of the losers in turn. I did this once, taking around five seconds over each loser, having each of them fill the frame for a few seconds. Then I moved it back, taking still shots of each individually.
Meanwhile, the winning team was getting impatient, so I started on the next stage of my plan. I took the thickest of the black grease sticks and wrote a large "P" on Ricky's chest and belly. Then I wrote an "A" on Doug's.
"Guys, there are plenty of grease sticks in the bucket on the trolley. I want 'PAINTBALL' written on the guys on this side of the gate, and 'LOSERS' on the other. I'm going to get myself an advert."
They fell on the losers with delight, and soon they all had letters written on their fronts, ready to spell out their team's new name. Of course, they took every opportunity to feel up their captives, leaving them all hard and, in some cases, dripping pre-cum.
I was getting the camera ready when Pete came over to me. "Has that thing got a decent microphone?" I told him it was good enough and quite directional and asked why. He smiled and turned to address the men tied to our fence.
"The deal was that the losers would do whatever the winners wanted for the rest of the day. Well, all we want you do do now is say a simple line to camera. As the camera is on you you will say 'My name is so-and-so, and I lost at paint ball.' Got it? Oh, and Steve, you should add 'team captain' after your name. And I want full names, guys."
And so I ran the camera with microphone running to record an advert for select audiences. I have a good camera. The details of the abuses their bodies had suffered were clear, as were their faces.
"My name is Richard Brooks, and I lost at paintball." The flogging lines across his abs showed up as brilliant red in the sunlight. His groin showed a general nettle rash and the tip of his cock peeked through his foreskin to show itself almost purple.
"My name is Douglas Jennings, and I lost at paintball." The mix of cum, sweat and spit had dried into a thin crust, streaked below his eyes where he had been crying. His cock and arm pits were clearly hairless.
"My name is Simon Jackson." He choked back a sob. "And I lost at paintball." This one was hanging almost limply in his bonds with a vacant look on his face. Emotionally and mentally he had been crushed. If you like your bottoms to be quietly obedient, this one would have been for you. If you like them with some spark to crush then he was beyond the point of use. He could always sink lower, of course, and I wondered just how cruel the winning team might be.
"My name is Trevor Tilney, and I lost at paintball." Trevor, on the other hand still had some fight in him and struggled at the cable ties holding him to the fence. The sun glinting off sweat highlighted the tightening of his muscles beautifully as he tugged them.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see somebody talking to Jimmy and Luke by the gate. My puzzlement was solved as I got to the end of the word. The double L at the end was provided by the brothers.
"My name is James Walker, and I lost at paintball." He paused for a beat. "And this is my elder brother Luke." He turned his head to look across to Luke.
Luke had his head turned to face his brother. As the camera slid in front of him he turned to face it. "My name is Luke Walker. My brother and I lost at paintball."
I moved in front of the gate and took pains to make sure the sign was in focus as I passed it by. Then I came to Steve.
"My name is Stephen Perry, team captain, and I lost at paintball." There was a dead tone in his voice suggesting that whatever Pete had done to him in his "time alone" had been fairly devastating. The camera picked up the streaks of dried cum on his chin and even below his left nostril. A thicker trail of cum ran up his abs and stopped between his pecs. I wondered if that was his or Pete's.
And so it continued. Each loser was forced to give his full name and have their humiliation recorded for the sadistic pleasures of whoever wanted to see it.
I finished with some panorama stills of the two halves of the team and one of the whole team, hoping that I might be able to make up some posters or web banners from them.
The senior team had been holding back all this time, letting me have my fun. Then I turned to them to thank them and let them get back to their own schemes.
"Hang on," Pete said. "There ought to be some photos of the winning team too. Then we ought to have the hand shake as well."
The winners formed the traditional two rank line up in the gateway and I took some photos of them too. But then came the "hand shake".
At the end of any sports match the two teams file past one another shaking hands. Pete's version of this involved them filing past the bound losers and shaking them vigorously by the cock. While they were there they would tug the balls, tweak a nipple and so on. I couldn't photograph them all, so I focused on Steve while Kyle took stills of Ricky.
Steve had fifteen men all willing to make him suffer and I stood by taking fifteen photos of men letting their anger go.
SNAP! His balls being tugged hard by a rough hand.
SNAP! Strong fingers pinching and twisting his nipples.
SNAP! A slap across the face.
SNAP! An arm pit pushed to his face he had to lick at.
SNAP! An earthworm lowered into his mouth that he was made to swallow.
SNAP! A punch in the guts from one of the guys he'd whipped.
SNAP! A knee in the groin from another.
SNAP! A gentle squeeze of the balls, almost a caress, from Adam.
SNAP! A thumbnail dug into his foreskin.
SNAP! Pubic hairs pulled off his scrotum.
SNAP! A spit into his open mouth.
SNAP! A whipping across his stomach with a stick.
SNAP! The electric razor shaving a stripe through his pubes.
SNAP! A tugging on the cock pulling his arse almost two feet off the fence.
SNAP! A stream of urine splashing over his pubes and cock.
At the end of this, the losing team was hanging limply in their bonds, disheveled, humiliated, and in pain.
Pete strode to the far side of the road, so he could see them all clearly. Then he started talking. He didn't shout, but he had that clarity of voice that meant everyone could hear him quite clearly.
"Listen up, Losers!" He paused while they gathered their wits to pay attention to him.
"You went O-T-T with us and you're paying the price. You do what you're told today and tonight and we'll call it quits. But it's going to be tough. We're going to fuck your arses, your mouths, and your minds! If everyone of you does everything we say it will be over and what happened here will stay here. But if one of you so much as hesitates on any order by any winner then every photograph will be sent to all your families, friends, girlfriends, bosses and everyone else we can think of.
"Got it? All or nothing!
"Do you accept our terms?"
He looked along the line of losers. Some of them nodded their heads. A couple whispered yesses down towards the ground.
"Steve, I can't hear your team."
Steve pulled his head back. There was even a brief look of defiance in his eyes and he barked back an answer. "We accept!"
"Good. Now we can have some real fun! Chris?"
Chris walked up to Ricky and smiled evilly at him and pulled a steel tape measure from his pocket. He stroked Ricky's tender cock and, despite the nettle hell it had already been through, it rose to a decent degree of hardness. Then he measured it.
"Six and a half inches!" he shouted. To make Ricky's humiliation even worse he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a black permanent marker pen. He wrote "6 1/2" just below the navel in two inch high letters.
There was a moan from the losing team. The writing was high enough that it would be clearly visible over a waist band. "Tut, tut," was Dave's only reply. "You guys said 'anything'. Well, this is only a taste of what's coming!"
The other winners moved up to the fence and started caressing the losers' cocks. Within minutes the entire team was hard and Chris could make good progress down the line, measuring each, shouting out the length and writing on their bodies for all to see.
Fifteen men hung off our fence. All naked. All marked with their dick lengths. All terrified that someone else might see them. To add to their fear, Dave announced the winners' departure.
"Now, we're going to pop back inside and set things up for the party. See you guys later!"
To the cries of protest from the losers, tied to the fence and completely helpless, we all returned into the main site.
Now, the road outside our site is pretty much deserted like I said, but if you pick up a mobile phone and if you phone the local farmers, and if they happen to know the games you play behind the chain link fence, then maybe, just maybe, the road can see more traffic than usual.
After half an hour we had set things up ready for the barbecue that ends the session and we went out to fetch them. There were half a dozen cars out there with people taking photos left right and centre. Nearly half of the junior team were weeping. They had no idea that the guys taking photos were all friends of mine and that the photos would get a very restricted circulation.
Dave walked over to the opposite side of the road so he could shout at the entire losing team and be heard clearly by the photographers too. He had his team line up over there too. The juniors would have to raise their voices to speak to them.
"You get a choice, each of you individually. You can either be taken inside to be fucked up the arse by a real man's dick away from all these cameras, or you can stay here in the open air and only get fucked by the golden dildos - I mean tokens - from game two. Your choice. If you want to go indoors all you have to do is ask a member of the winning team, by name, to fuck you up the arse. If you want to be stuck outside with a metal prong up your arse as we phone your families to drive by with cameras then all you have to do is keep quiet."
And they did. The juniors asked to be fucked. And the seniors didn't make it easy for them.
Ricky started. "Chris, please take me inside and fuck me up the arse."
Chris, over on the other side of the road, cupped his hand to his ear. "Pardon?"
"Chris! Please take me inside and fuck me up the arse!" Ricky bellowed at the top of his voice. There were cheers and jeers from the crowd watching this little show as Chris untied Ricky from the fence and led him inside.
Doug went next. "Craig, please take me inside and fuck me up the arse!"
Craig was a cruel bastard, though, and turned him down. "No. I think you'd be a lousy shag," he said.
"What?" Doug was stunned. He hadn't for a moment considered the possibility that he might really be left outside with a golden token up his hole while phone calls were made to his friends and family.
"No, I'll be a really good fuck! I've got a young, sweet hole and I'll really work for you. I'll be the best fuck you've had. Please fuck me!"
"Nah. Let's see who else wants to be fucked by me."
Trevor leapt at the chance. "Craig! I've got the hottest arse on the team. You really want to fuck me. I got good core muscles; I can really push and pull. I'll be the ride of your life! Come on, Craig, look at my hot, tight body and tell me you don't want to fuck my brains out."
He started to twist in his bonds, flexing muscles under tight skin glistening with sweat, showing off his body to his potential rapist. Either he was oblivious to or chose to ignore the video cameras, presumably with microphones, lapping up his performance. His six-pack abs clenched as he pushed his groin forwards into the air in front of him, his semi-hard dick flapping in front of him.
He open his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out, wiggling it it in front of him. "You can fuck my mouth too. You want my tongue on your dick! Both my ends are yours if you want them."
He kept on trying to sell himself like a cheap whore and was finally successful. Perhaps he was a bit too successful as Craig looked to his side where Adam was standing. "Wanna take an end each? Maybe swap if we get bored?"
"Yeah. Let's."
Craig and Adam untied Trevor and pushed him inside. Of course, if two seniors left with one junior there were fewer to select the boys still hanging there. This fact wasn't lost on the losers hanging there and suddenly they all started shouting at once, all competing with one another to tempt members of the winning team to fuck their arses.
Bodies got thrust forwards. No end of claims were made about just how much better a fuck each man was than his neighbour. I just stood back and let the sounds wash over me as I saw taut, toned muscles showing clearly under shining skin, thrusting themselves forwards. I saw wrists and ankles tugging at their bonds. I saw biceps and triceps alternately tense and relax as people moved their bodies as best they could to advertise their delicious physiques to fussy buyers.
One by one they were taken down, mostly by individuals. Sammy invited Kyle to join him in one junior's fucking. A couple of times two seniors took two juniors in "as a pair" for some more complex interplay.
Finally Pete took Steve down from the fence to lead him indoors, leaving me outside with Doug and the Walker brothers still hanging on display and half a dozen friends of mine taking in the view.
"One of me and three of you," I remarked. "So what am I offered not to leave you on display?"
I turned for a moment to look at my friends.
"Screw 'display'. What's it worth not to to leave you here to be gang-raped by six horny strangers?"
"What?" Luke looked at me with clear disbelief in his eyes. "Bad enough we've been fucked over by the senior team, but no way are you offering us up to a bunch of people we've never met before.
"Wrong answer," I told him.
"Guys," I turned back to my friends. "Come over here."
They approached, their eyes eating up the image of the two helpless youths in front of them.
"Do anything you want that doesn't take them off the fence," I said and walked away as six pairs of hands and six probing tongues fell on their captive prey.
I walked over to Doug. "Of course I could just leave you here too."
"No, please! Fuck me! Fuck me really hard. I want your dick up my man-pussy. I want to be your bitch, your whore, your slut!" he was desperate and his attempts at dirty talk suggested that he didn't do this often.
No matter. We could train him today.
I took him off the fence and pushed him down onto his hands and knees. I had him crawl back to the offices so I could see his arse wiggle as he moved. He didn't disappoint. Firm buttocks and rear thigh muscles flexed for my pleasure. With each "step" I got a teasing glimpse of his hole, tempting me to jump forwards and fuck him right now.
He crawled up the path, and we reached the scene of the barbecue. Well, there was a barbecue in there somewhere, but all I saw was orgy.
On the first table I came to, three juniors were spread belly down with the guy in the middle facing in the opposite direction from the two on his side. Three seniors were along the "two arses" side of the table fucking two holes and a mouth. The junior in the middle, Mark, probably thought he was getting off lightly, only having to suck dick rather than take cock. But what did he know?
Just as I was passing by the senior in the middle came, shooting his first shot into Mark's mouth. "Don't swallow yet!" he said.
Then he pulled out, shooting the second load over Mark's smooth face.
This seemed to be the trigger for the guys on the sides. They pulled out suddenly, on the verge of ejaculation, and tugged off their condoms. This extra sensation was enough to send them over the edge and, as the middle senior held Mark's mouth open, they dumped his second and third loads into his mouth more or less simultaneously.
"Swallow," he was told. Mark did so, his face squeezed into a grimace of disgust and horror. All three cocks were then presented to him to lick clean.
I sat on a nearby sturdy chair where I could watch a number of the tables. I rolled a condom onto my own firm member and patted my lap for Doug to join me.
I positioned him with his legs spread over mine, facing away from me. I placed his hands palm down on his head as his strong legs slowly lowered himself down over my hard cock. He whimpered slightly as the head of my cock pressed through his virgin sphincter.
"Don't worry," I whispered in his ear. "Just relax the muscle as if you were going to take a shit."
He relaxed slightly and he slid down until my head was fully in and the shaft was just starting to go in. I started running my hands over his pecs, fingering his nipples gently. They were so hard they might have had pebbles in them. I let one hand drift down to his abs and start feeling their contours with the tip of a finger.
He continued his descent and as my second and joined the first on his abs I was three inches in. I started to stroke the tops of his thighs too and ran my hands up his sides, tickling him a little. He giggled and relaxed a bit more, sinking down another couple of inches.
He was over halfway to taking my whole eight inches when I spoke again, in an altogether harder tone of voice.
"Of course, you're not taking a shit; you're being fucked like a whore."
I suddenly jerked my legs apart, making him completely lose his footing. With a yelp, he suddenly dropped the remaining three inches to be fully impaled. I guided him down for the half second it took with my hands firmly gripping his sides.
"Don't move your fucking hands, bitch!" I snapped at him. I was tipping back slightly in the chair so his toes couldn't quite reach the ground. He had no support except for the cock penetrating his guts and his upper thighs resting on mine.
"If your feet touch the ground, if your hands leave your head for even a second, if you do anything to pull off my cock then it's game over, photos published. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," he whispered.
I started to thrust, as slowly as I could managed up and down inside Doug's glorious hole. If his mouth had been satin, his arse was velvet. His skin would have been smooth too if it hadn't been for the dry, crumbly mix stuck to its sweat. I didn't mind. The reminder of just how often this kid had been spunked on was a real turn-on and my dick started to throb, ready to breed again.
Meanwhile, opposite us on the table, Mark's torment was about to get worse. The three seniors' cocks had all gone soft again and they pointed them at his face. Then after a count of "one, two, three" all three of them let rip a gushing stream of piss onto his face.
When they were finished, they picked up a marker pen from the table and signed their initials on the backs of the three guys they had face- or arse-fucked.
Then the two from the sides moved round to the other side of the table. Two mouths and an arse awaited them, while their mate wandered off for fun elsewhere.
They wasted no time at all pressing their limp dicks into the two mouths and as they were being sucked started playing with Mark's freshly fucked arse.
Meanwhile, I was starting to get Doug hard, despite himself. I kept my hands clear of his cock for now, though I enjoyed feeling his balls roll around in his low-hanging sac.
I ran my hands over his taut belly and pulled him back into mine. As I let my hands fondle his torso it was like regaining my youth. Those were my abs, my pecs. Just as I had done ever since I was a kid, I let my hands wander down my body glorying in the fitness it found on the way, slowly creeping down to my dick - well Doug's dick, but it belonged to me for the time being - and very gently closed my fist round it.
Doug twitched, right through to his core. His arse squeezed my cock tightly and I nearly came right then. But I wanted this to last. I began a slow stroke on his cock, in time to the rhythm my hips were keeping as they pistoned my cock inside Doug's guts. My other hand continued its teasing exploration of Doug's body, slowly working its way back up his torso from the base of his cock.
My gaze was drawn back to the table in front of us. I whispered some instructions in Doug's ear: "Describe the scene on the table in front of us, would you? There's a good bitch."
Doug knew better than to question an instruction. "Derek's got his cock in Bernie's mouth. Sammy's got his in Dylan's and his hand on Mark's backside. He's rubbing it."
"Look closer," I told him. "Look at the fingers."
"Oh, god! He's got a finger up Mark's hole. Yuck! No! He's pushing it in further. And he's sort of twisting it round. And Mark's kind of twitching and squirming. Christ! Mark's gone hard. Jeez! How could he get hard from that?"
I lent back and positioned Doug so that my cock started to rub against his nut. His cock jerked suddenly in my hand as his body prepared to ejaculate. He gasped with surprise.
"Like that, perhaps?" I teased. "Keep up the commentary. What can you hear from your team mates?"
"There's a slurping noise from Bernie and Dylan and Mark's kinda grunting. I think he's gonna cum soon."
I thought so too. I started playing gently with Doug's cock head, feeling the beginnings of the final spasm building up inside him. I let both hands' fingertips play on his cock, with one on the glans itself and the other running up and down his shaft, joining the other hand at the top and stroking his taut balls when at the bottom.
Doug was right at the edge and I was having so much fun keeping him there.
"Keep up the description," I told him.
"Ah... yes... OK." he started, breathless with the tension of his impending orgasm. "Ahhh! Derek is pushing backwards and forwards with his groin into Bernie's mouth ...nnngggg... like he's fucking a woman. ...oh... He's fucking Bernie's face!"
"All the way down his throat by the looks of it," I remarked, amused by Doug's horror at the thought of the cock being shoved in rather than just sucked. Boy, did this kid have a lot to learn!
"Sammy's got his head round Dylan's head and ...ah... and he's pulling Dyl down onto his cock. Oh god, let me cum! Please!"
"That's not a description," I told him and took both my hands off his cock. I twisted his nipples hard as a punishment, though not as hard as I would have if they hadn't been so slick with the cum and spit mixture made greasy again with his fresh sweat.
"Sorry! Sammy's really pressing his finger in, and Mark's starting to moan."
I put my hands back on the boy's quivering dick, almost vibrating with the need to shoot its load. I kept him back from that release though, mostly because I enjoyed tormenting him, but partly because I wanted him to feel himself cum at the same time he saw Mark do it.
"Mark's grunting louder! ...ah... He's all tense. ...oh!... I think this is it! ...ah! He's gonna cum. He's gonna cum! AAAHHHH!!!"
Mark came. I'm pretty sure Sammy and Derek came. I know Doug came because both my hands caught almost all of his hot, sticky boy juice on their fingers and palms.
Doug collapsed limply against me, his back falling softly against my body. I kept up my slight thrusting with my own cock. I didn't want him coming too far off the boil. I rubbed my hands over his body to rub most of his cum onto him. Then I held them up to his face one at a time for him to lick clean. As the three seniors signed their work a second time and walked off I pressed each of my fingers into Doug's mouth to suck each of them, letting his tongue run round them.
The next table along had only one junior on it, Chris, tied belly up with his legs loose at one end and his head tipped back over he other. Craig, the huge, black senior was pumping Chris' arse with his legs lifted up and pressed against his chest and Simes was going to town on his mouth. They were in sync and the table was rocking backwards and forwards as each pushed in turn from his end. I saw Adam come over to join them, fresh from fucking another junior, and stand by the side of the table looking down on Chris' body rocking backwards and forwards in front of him. He held out his hands, palms own over Chris' abs and I thought for a moment that he was going to start tickling him, but instead he started slapping out a crude tune on the tight stomach beneath him as if he was playing the bongos! He was only using the flats of his hands rather than gut-punching with his fists but he was still slapping very hard and I could see Chris turning red where the palms were landing. His cock was long but soft and flopped to and fro as the table bounced him around.
I turned the chair slightly so that Doug and I were facing straight at the double fucking and gave him his instructions.
"Start fucking yourself on my cock. Keep to the rhythm they're setting."
He had very little leverage but his thighs were powerful and I really enjoyed they way they squeezed my legs as he started a crude up and down motion on my pole. I rested and let the sensation run over me. He was a little unsteady at first and I had to help him keep straight for the first minute or so until he had it right and I could let my fingertips wander over his body again.
This time I concentrated on the sides of his body, tickling his arm pits for a minute, and then moving slowly down his sides, tracing out the contours of his obliques, to his buttocks where I lingered for a minute more, letting my hands move in and out with the alternate tensing and relaxing of his muscles. Then I ran them down the outsides of his thighs to the sides of his knees, around the knee caps and back up the insides of his working thighs, moving more and more slowly as I did it. All the way I was making small circles with my fingertips, tickling him slightly and reinforcing his sensation of the sticky goo that covered his whole body, and much of mine now too. As I approached his throbbing dick I pulled my fingers away at the last moment, just as they were about to touch his balls. The small cry that passed his lips spoke of lust and disappointment.
"What do you want?" I whispered in his ear?
"You gotta jerk me off again. Please. I'm busting." His voice trembled. In part it was exhaustion. Mostly it was the shock that he had made such a personal admission to a man he had met only a few hours earlier, a man on whose cock he was now fucking himself.
"First you get me off. Same rhythm, but really work those arse muscles. Make me cum. Move further up and down than you are at the moment. Grip more tightly. You give me a good enough fuck and I'll give you a cum shot they'll talk about for years."
He started working on his style and put even more effort into it. He started grunting in time to the beat and started to draw attention from the seniors taking a rest from the relentless fucking around them. I'm not a fan of having an audience myself, but all I had to do was keep hard and under the circumstances that was no trouble. Doug, on the other hand, was mortified. His style was completely disrupted for a moment. I pushed him back into position and pointed over to Chris' table.
"Keep rhythm," I told him sternly.
"Yeah! Keep the bouncing going, Doug," one of the audience shouted. "Fuck yourself good and proper!"
They started a chant of "fuck! fuck! fuck!" in time to Doug's self-rape and Chris' double rape. I saw Kyle point the video camera at us, immortalising Doug's shame.
I could feel myself starting to lose control and I gripped the sides of the chair firmly as I willed myself to last just a short while longer.
But it was no good. An eighteen year old super-fit stud fucking himself on my cock while fighting the twin pressures of lust and shame has that effect on me. I shot my load. God, it was good!
I shook in the chair. I'm surprised I didn't rip the chair apart. I felt the hot, liquid ooze of cum in a rubber around me. Doug knew it was over too and collapsed back against me, dripping with sweat and sticky with everybody's cum. The audience around us cheered and saw camera after camera click away.
Normally, I would have waited to enjoy the moment, but I was here to make their twisted dreams come true, not mine. I gathered my remaining strength and pushed Doug forwards off my dick and onto his knees on the ground. His hands came off his head as he broke his fall.
I pulled off my condom, squeezing my fingers round my cock as I did it to keep the cum in the sleeve and to push out into it any more I had left in my cock shaft. Then, as Doug panted in front of me, on his knees, facing away with his hands on his thighs, I squeezed the cum out into his hair. Then I turned it inside out over two fingers and held it in front of his mouth. Unbidden he started to lick it clean.
Some of the guys watching us wandered off, presumably inspired to fuck some more helpless losers, but a couple stayed to watch what happened next. I put Doug's hands back on his head, pressing his right palm into the cum pooled there.
"Rub it in." He did.
I had him close to where I wanted him: crushed of all self-respect and utterly obedient. His cock was still rock hard and as I took him by the shoulders and lifted him up to standing.
"Please," he whispered, peering over a shoulder at me.
"Repeat what you said to me earlier out loud and I'll do it."
"Jerk me off again. Please. I'm busting." This time he said it clearly, facing his audience of senior rugby players, facing the camera that was still running and facing the table where Simes was cumming in Chris' mouth, in a fountain of cum that only partly went in Chris' mouth.
I stood up behind him, which took more effort than I thought it would. I was still exhausted after one of my life's top ten orgasms. I stood behind him, resting my cock between his two buttocks. I reached round and held his cock firmly. I think I tugged it fewer than ten times before Doug's body took over and shot a load into the palm of my other hand. I brought my hand up to his face and he licked it clean for me, swallowing his own cum.
I turned him round to face me. My body was covered with the cum, spit and sweat mix where it had rubbed off him onto me.
"Now lick me clean. Head to foot."
Working from my forehead down, Doug started giving me a tongue bath.
Once my face was clear, and Doug was working on my neck, I started looking around again.
Simes was signing his initials on Chris' left pec. Craig was pounding away, near the edge from the look on his face. George was pissing in Mark's face while he smacked away at the two adjacent arses with a pair of leather belts.
Over at the edge of the trees a "tug of war" was being prepared. Two juniors - I couldn't make out their faces from this distance - were on hands and knees facing away from each other. A skipping rope was lying between them, with its shaped handles stuck up their arses. They had to crawl apart from one another and keep their holes tight enough that the handle not pop out. It didn't take long for there to be a winner and he was required to fuck the loser's mouth while a senior fucked his arse.
Another game being played was the "push of war". Two juniors were on hands and knees again, with their arses almost touching. One of our golden dildo tokens was pushed two inches into each arse, leaving eight inches clear between them. The competition was to crawl backwards, pushing the dildo into both arses. By keeping tighter than your opponent, more would go into his arse than yours. The loser was the first to beg for it to stop and was double fucked again.
I was distracted from my observations as Doug finally made it below my waist. "Blow job," I said simply as his tongue started work on my cock. Obediently, he opened his mouth up and took my cock in. I felt I had at least one more shot left in me.
Another "race" involved three juniors sucking on cocks. The last to to get his senior to cum had to suck off both the other juniors too.
I started to feel my next orgasm coming on and as soon as it was certain I pulled out to shoot my rather small load into his chest. I didn't let him do anything to register what had happened but simply had him continue the tongue bath immediately.
Despite these various occasional sophistications, it was mostly just men fucking men. The sets of initials on the juniors' bodies started to grow. There was one column running down the chest for people who had fucked mouth while the junior was on his back. A second column, marked the people who had fucked arse. There were two columns meaning the same on their backs for people who had fucked them while they were playing doggy. The juniors were carrying records of their more-or-less non-stop rape written on their own bodies in indelible ink.
After an hour or so, even with all the distractions around him, and just as Doug was finishing my toes, Kyle was finally ready to serve food from the barbecue.
"Juniors serve Seniors and beg for scraps!" Pete announced. "Oh and, Greg, could you nip out and fetch Jimmy and Luke. They're probably hungry by now."
Truth be told, I'd forgotten about them. I pulled up my uniform and kicked Doug away. "Beg scraps off somebody else. Make sure your opening line is 'I give great blow jobs.' 'Cos you do."
I walked out, not even turning round to look at Doug and went to see how the brothers were getting on.
The short answer was "not very well." The long answer was that they were still tied in place but a couple of the farmers had fetched their dogs which were happily lapping up dog food smeared all over their inner thighs, balls and cocks. The Walkers looked beside themselves with fear, shame and disbelief.
I waited until the dogs had finished, which was only polite I thought. It took slightly longer than it might because some of the food had been smeared into the boys' holes and as the dogs licked them out Luke came. So the dog had to lick that up too.
I noticed one of the farmers with a camera, so I would be getting a copy of the fun, I was sure.
Once the dogs were over I felt I had to stop the fun. "Sorry, guys, but I have to take them indoors now. They've not been gang fucked by fifteen rugby players yet, and I'd hate them to miss out."
I turned to the losers on the fence. "Unless you'd prefer to hang around out here and play with the dogs?"
"Please! Take us in!" Jimmy begged.
I unhooked them and apologised again to the guys who had had their show interrupted. I made Jimmy and Luke thank the dogs too with a quick pat and then took them in.
"Here's the deal," I told them as we walked in. If, between you, you can give a blow job to every single member of the senior team then I'll keep quiet about the dogs. Fail and I'll spill the beans.
I didn't wait for an acceptance of my offer, I just slapped them both on the buttocks and shouted "go!" They ran.
As I walked back in, I found the two Walker brothers already on their knees with their faces plunged into the groins of a couple of surprised-looking seniors. I saw Doug in front of Pete sucking on his dick, while Pete wore an expression of sheer bliss on his face.
Elsewhere juniors were begging for their scraps. Some were lying belly-down in front of their feeders, kissing their feet. Others were on their knees kissing, licking or sucking dock. Craig had a junior sucking his cock and another rimming him. Three seniors were even eating some food on their own, chatting to Kyle. This looked quite normal until I saw them throw a scrap of burger on to the ground and two juniors, on their knees with ankles bound and wrists tied behind their backs started scrabbling on the ground to bite into it. After a few seconds of fighting like dogs one of them got it and swallowed it down. There was laughter from everyone around who wasn't tied up on the ground fighting for scraps.
Over the next hour the food did actually get eaten. A typical scenario was like this: I was eating a burger when Ricky crawled up to me on his hands and knees, looking like the winners had really gone to town on him. He stopped in front of me and looked up. "Please, sir, may I have some food?" There was a look of terror in his face. I saw a whole string of initials written on his body. I wondered what he had been made to do so far for his dinner.
I sat on a chair and patted my lap. "Lie back on my lap."
He took his place. I slid him down a little so that his buttocks rested on my legs and his cock pointed up straight at my face. I held his legs down with my left hand and held the burger well above his head, dripping juices onto his lips. He opened his mouth wide and swallowed them up eagerly.
"Here it is, come and get it." I wiggled the burger over his head. Getting the idea he performed the perfect sit up, straining his beautiful abs for me, raising his head up and seizing one bite of the burger. I lifted it up a little higher for the next bite and he didn't disappoint. Young rugby players have magnificent bodies and I was determined to see them demonstrated to their full. The third bite was higher still and he only got a small nibble before falling back. Bite after bite, his abs were getting weaker and weaker. By the time he had finished the whole thing, he was seriously fatigued.
We use citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes away from the food. Picking one up from the food table I lifted it over his exhausted six pack and slowly dribbled wax onto it. He squealed with the shock and tried to clench his muscles against the pain, but didn't have the strength. As I dribbled wax with a candle in my right hand, I started idly stroking his cock with my left. I don't think he had any more cum in him but he could still get hard. I got his cock fully engorged and then held it still as I moved the candle hand down a little. The first drop landed straight on his piss slit. His shriek carried around the whole camp and some people turned to watch me torture Ricky. I let the wax drip elsewhere on his glans next, and then I move onto the skin of the shaft. This seemed to hurt him less until I reached his scrotum where he started wailing again. Round and round his scrotum I dribbled hot wax, a drop at a time and his cries of pain, drop to drop, merged into a single, drawn out cry.
To give him some light relief, I moved the candle back onto the shaft of his penis, having more or less covered his ball sac in orange wax. He could deal with the pain better here so I lowered the candle a little to increase the temperature of the wax on his skin. I'm not an absolute bastard; I was watching his face carefully to see just how much pain he could really take. He was a tough bugger. Drop by drop, dribble by dribble I covered his shaft's skin with wax.
Once that was done I dripped wax over his torso again to give his dick time to recover without letting him have any mental recovery time. Each time a drop landed somewhere new he would tense up, flexing his abs and pecs under my watchful eyes. His nipples were obviously more sensitive than the rest of his chest but the hot wax hitting the grease of the "N" on his chest melted it in turn and pushed it that bit further into his skin's pores carrying the heat with it. I traced out the letter with the candle wax. This was as bad as his scrotum for him by the look in his eyes, bulging almost out of their sockets with the pain.
When I was done spelling out his letter I paused for a couple of seconds and let one drop fall in his navel. This was when he cried out most loudly. I looked up at me and started to plead. I discouraged him by the simple approach of dropping more wax on his body just below the navel.
"I'm going to keep pouring wax," I told him conversationally. "If you keep your cock soft, I'll dribble a line from your navel down to your cock's base." He looked at me quizzically, unable to work out where I was leading. "But if you get hard," I continued, "and your firm, young man's cock gets hard and in the way, then I'll cover your cock's head with wax until it matches the rest of your cock."
I flicked his cock a couple of times with my fingers. "It's kind of fifty/fifty at the moment," I observed as I let another drop of wax fall below his navel.
This was when I started to play dirty. I used the hand that was bracing his legs to start to tease his balls. Of course, he got had again. The thin layer of wax started to crack as the flesh beneath it began to swell again. He whimpered but every attempt to talk to beg me to stop was met with hotter wax as soon as the first syllable was out.
Irresistibly, his cock started moving itself into position to be tortured again. As my dribble of wax came down from the navel, his cock head rose to meet it. "Almost there," I taunted him. "Next drop, maybe next drop... This drop!"
I let a drop fall onto a patch of bare, purple, tortured glans. He screamed. His torso tensed and his shoulders and chest leapt up from their bent back position, up though the horizontal and beyond, almost knocking the candle from my hand. I love having strong, toned men at my fingertips to torment. Their struggles are all the more sexy because I can see their strength being used all to no avail.
"Lie there and take it or we release the photos," I reminded him.
I slowed down the rate at which I let the wax fall as I covered his cock's crown in its entirety. His head was back so he couldn't see the drops. I made them fall irregularly so he couldn't predict when they were going to fall. The torture was as much mental as physical with the anticipation of the next moment of agony being at least as terrible as the moment itself.
Finally he started sobbing, incoherent in the shock and pain, so I rolled him off and onto the table where I fucked him doggy style. Well, it had been at lest ten minutes since he was last fucked and I didn't want him to think it was over.
As soon as I had cum in his arse I pulled out, signed my name and sent him on his way with a firm slap on his rump. He'd barely got two paces before Simes grabbed him round the waist and flung him over another bench for more fucking. This time he was on his back, so my wax work could be admired.
Simes was steadying himself with his hands flat on Ricky's chest. After a minute or so's hard thrusting he took a break, though he left his cock in place, and instead started to pick at the wax with his fingernails. Ricky's chest was essentially hairless so this was no big deal, but after a bit he moved down to the pubes.
Here he met some resistance as the few drops of wax there were mired in the hair. But then he moved on to the balls and the fun really started. He pulled off a small piece, tugging out the hairs with it. Ricky squealed again, so Craig who was walking by with burger in one hand and beer in the other, tipped Ricky's head back and filled his mouth with cock. As Simes pulled off another piece of wax and Ricky squealed, Craig would push his cock in harder, going all the way into Ricky's throat, nearly choking him. As Simes pulled the last bit of wax from Ricky's scrotum, Craig came, shooting a river of cum down his throat, causing Ricky to cough and sneeze, pushing the cum out through his nostrils.
Craig signed his initials and pulled out leaving Simes to start fucking his arse harder. As Craig wandered off to enjoy his burger and beer in peace, Simes came too. Again, he just signed and left, leaving Ricky, shattered on the bench, panting to get his breath back.
And so the rape and humiliation of the losing team carried on. There were equal numbers on each team so the juniors weren' completely overwhelmed, but for the next three hours for every junior taking a rest another was being double ended. The lists of names written on their bodies grew and grew.
AFTERMATH
All good things must come to an end and eventually we approached closing time. The showers were turned on in the men's changing room and the seniors took their time washing down, leaving the juniors with their wrists tied behind their backs kneeling in a line outside as Kyle and I got our cocks sucked by th entire team in order.
Eventually the seniors walked out, fully clothed in their normal attire. Each had an additional bundle of clothes under their arms. Pete walked out to address the juniors as the seniors started tossing the juniors' clothes into their coach.
"Stand up over there by the wall," he shouted, pointing at the side of one of our buildings. He untied their hands and made them lean against the wall, feet wide apart and hands equally spaced resting on the wall. He ripped the wax from those who had any left, ignoring the pained noises made by his victims.
Then Andy walked round with a hose pipe in his hand and pointed it at the losing team and shouted "now!" to Craig on the tap.
The jet of freezing cold water shot over them as they were hosed down. Soon they were all clean on their backs apart from the names on them in indelible ink. Some care weas taken to hit every arse hole and the backs of every dangling ball sac.
"Turn round, hands high over your heads on the wall." The hose played over their fronts, lingering this time on the fronts of their balls and the ever shrinking cocks hanging in front.
"One last forfeit and we're done," Pete told them. They didn't have the energy to cheer and, besides, it would have been premature. "Back outside," he told them.
They did have enough energy to groan.
The shivering wretches were led back outside and retied to the fence, this time on their knees, with their wrists behind their backs and looped through the chain link. Their feet were left free.
A few more photos were taken and cocks stuck in mouths, but the seniors were exhausted. Of course, so were the juniors but nobody cared.
"You're ours for the rest of the day,' Pete reminded them. "We reckon that ends at midnight. In the mean time, have a nice rest."
Ignoring the protests being shouted by the losers tied to the fence, they went inside go into the coach and drove off, pausing only for another round of photographs.
"Kyle and I are locking up for the night now," I told them. "The road is pretty empty at night except for a few people walking dogs. Once it gets dark you won't be visible from the road so long as you don't move a muscle. If you do the security lights come on and you're floodlit.
"Good night."
Kyle and I walked in and spent a couple of hours tidying up and getting ready for the next day. As we locked the gates the sun was going down. As we drove past the juniors started shouting and tugging the fence. The lights burst into life and we took a few more pictures before driving off and leaving them behind for four hours of terror.
Next day they were gone, or course, but according to the CCTV the lights went off over two dozen times, and on six of them there were men walking dogs. Clips from that added the final touch to the "PAINTBALL LOSERS" advert.
So, do you want to play paintball?
[ Author's note: This has been my first ever story. I would really appreciate constructive feedback. ]