The Downfall of Nate Ramsey

THE DOWNFALL OF NATE RAMSEY

Disclaimer: ------------

This story is a gay authoritarian fantasy; no part of it is based in fact and none of the characters are intended to resemble real persons, living or dead. This continuing story chronicles the humiliating ordeals of an 18-year-old jock. These ordeals often have a strong sexual component. If you are unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality, you should not be reading this. The same goes if you are underage, or if you find such material offensive. For the rest of you: enjoy!

Special Message from the Author: --------------------------------

I apologize for the long delay in publishing this chapter. I'll try to keep the time between chapters shorter in the future. I'd also like to take this opportunity to wish my readers a happy new year.

Chapter Ten: ------------ "One man's fun is another man's torment"

Since his enslavement to his teammates, Nate had greeted the dawn of each new day with dread, but on no day was his feeling of dread stronger than on Friday - for it was Owen's day to take control of the hapless hunk. Nate was growing increasingly certain that the redhead was psychotic, and that insanity coupled with a fierce hatred of Nate made for a lethal combination as far as he was concerned.

Nate's misery was compounded by the attire that Troy had picked out for him. The full extent of the humiliation caused by this outfit did not become apparent until a freshly-showered Nate attempted to put it on. The purple vest left his muscular arms bare and exposed a deep triangle of naked chest. He knew some of the more artsy guys wore vests over t-shirts, but he wasn't going to have the privilege of a t-shirt underneath. However, it was the jeans that were the greatest source of embarrassment to Nate. It was one of those pairs designed to look faded and worn, with several threadbare patches and rips in the denim. Unfortunately for Nate, one of these threadbare patches happened to be located on the upper thigh, very close to his groin, and there was a small, frayed hole on the jeans' rear, right across his left buttcheek! Of course, all this would have revealed under normal circumstances would have been Nate's choice of boxer shorts. But Troy had cunningly insisted that Nate pair the outfit with a jockstrap, which meant that, instead of merely revealing the print of his boxers, the unfortunate stud was going to be exposing his bare butt cheek.

He couldn't possibly go to school dressed like this! He'd be kicked out for indecent exposure. Heck, he couldn't even go down to breakfast with his parents in this outfit! He knew he had to call Troy and beg his way out of wearing this humiliating attire to school. Maybe Troy hadn't realized how revealing the jeans were. (In his heart Nate knew this was unlikely to be true, but he had to try or he could kiss his reputation goodbye without even putting up a fight.)

"What is it, fucktoy?" Troy growled over the phone, evidently only just having woken up.

"Um, it's these jeans, Troy. There's this hole, at the back, right on my - my butt. And in front, you can make out that I'm wearing a jock -"

Troy cut in impatiently. "Yeah, this isn't news to me. Why do you think I ordered you to wear them?"

Nate's heart sank as his worst fears were confirmed. "But Troy, I can't wear them to school! Please, man!"

"Can't?" repeated Troy in a dangerous tone of voice. "The last time I checked, that word wasn't in the vocabulary of slaves. Not unless they want to break the terms of their enslavement, and you know when that happens, we won't have to keep our word either."

A chill ran down Nate's spine, but he couldn't let it go. "Come on, Troy, I'm begging you. They'll kick me out of school if I go dressed like this!"

"No, they won't," Troy explained calmly. "You just have to say you didn't realize there was a hole in the seat of your pants, or that the threadbare patch in front was quite so revealing. They can't punish you for wearing the jeans with a jock. And besides, you're their star athlete; I'm sure they'll make some allowances for you." (Nate could sense the bitter sarcasm underlying the words "star athlete".) "Now, I've got to get ready for school. You've wasted enough of my time as it is. You'll be lucky if I don't mention this to Owen and ask him to give you a little punishment for questioning my orders. Oh, and speaking of Owen, he wants you to bring your dildo to school. Don't forget, or else." On that ominous note, Troy terminated the call.

Nate swallowed. He was so screwed. It was all well and good for Troy to suggest an excuse for Nate if he was hauled up by a teacher for dressing inappropriately, but he had completely ignored the reactions of their fellow students and Nate's parents. No way would his mom let him go to school in this attire! She'd think he was some kind of freak for dressing the way he'd been ordered to.

Then it struck him. Of course! He didn't have to go down to breakfast in this outfit. As long as he showed up at school wearing the prescribed clothing, no one would be the wiser. He stripped down to his jockstrap and stashed the rest of the outfit in his sports bag, along with his basketball kit. He then dressed in a normal t-shirt and shorts before running downstairs for breakfast.

As it turned out, he probably needn't have worried about his mom's reaction to his clothes. She had other things on her mind.

Nate first realized something was up when Marsha didn't comment on him swigging milk straight from the carton. Looking back at the table he discovered that his dad had actually set down his newspaper - a minor miracle in itself - to bring his mom a glass of water. She was looking distinctly unwell.

"Mom, what's wrong?" asked Nate.

Marsha looked up from holding her head in her hands and smiled weakly at him. "Oh, hi, honey. Sorry I'm a bit under the weather today." Seeing the look of alarm on her son's face, she hastened to add, "I'm sure it's nothing, just stomach flu or something silly like that."

"That's what you said last weekend when you had this at your mother's," Mitchell pointed out. "Maybe you should see a doctor."

"Oh really, Mitchell," protested Marsha. "It's nothing. Dr. Sinclair will just confirm what I already know. Besides, between work and the carnival tomorrow, I simply don't have the time for a doctor's appointment. Speaking of time ... Nathan, honey, shouldn't you be getting to school?"

Nate glanced at his watch. "Shit!" he exclaimed without thinking and looked guiltily at his mom, who disapproved of such language. Luckily Marsha was engaged in conversation with her husband and hadn't heard. Nate edged over to her seat and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Have a good day, Mom. Hope you feel better."

"I will," promised Marsha. "You have a good day, too."

"Bye, Dad," he yelled as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Bye, son," came the replying holler.

Nate jumped into his car and drove towards McKinley High, scanning the streets for a spot where he could get changed in relative obscurity. It was more difficult than he'd anticipated. It seemed like the entire population of Mount Pleasant had turned out that morning: people on their way to work, to college, or taking their kids to school. Nate had to turn off the main road and into a quiet cul-de-sac, where he parked beside a deserted playground. Glancing around nervously, he pulled off his t-shirt and immediately slipped into the vest. Changing pants while seated, however, proved to be more of a challenge. He had kept the jeans handy, but there was still that brief moment when he was essentially bare-assed naked in public. After failing to pull the tight jeans over his butt while remaining seated, Nate reluctantly got up from his seat and started to pull them up.

That was when someone tapped on the front passenger window. Startled, Nate fell sideways onto the front passenger seat, the jeans still around his knees. Looking up, he saw an attractive young female jogger smirking down at him. She said something, but Nate couldn't quite hear her through the glass. However, from the movement of her mouth, Nate was relatively sure she'd said "Nice ass". He turned an impossible shade of red. The jogger laughed and took off down the street.

Nate furiously pulled on his jeans, still blushing. He couldn't believe how many people were getting the chance to see him butt-naked. Little did he know that, before the hour was over, a whole bunch of people would get added to that list.

It was partly his fault; he'd let his guard down. He was so self-conscious about his revealing jeans that he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. By the time he realized he was surrounded it was too late. It was just his luck that Tripp van Hansen had chosen this morning to execute his master plan to humiliate Nate.

"Nice jeans, Ramsey," the football captain smirked. "I'm guessing you won't mind too much if we take them off you."

Nate barely had the time to exclaim, "What?" when the football team pounced. He put up a struggle when he realized they were about to pants him in the school hallway while the only underwear he had on was a jockstrap, but it was futile. Two guys pinned his arms, another two grabbed his legs, and Tripp himself had the questionable honor of unbuttoning Nate's jeans and sliding them down the trashing stud's legs.

"You chose today to wear a jock?" laughed Leo Somerfield in disbelief. "This is even better than I imagined!"

Tripp had managed to pull the jeans over Nate's shoes and completely off his body. The beleaguered stud's face burned with shame, but his ordeal was far from over.

"Why stop there?" asked Gray Donovan with an evil smirk as he reached for the buttons on Nate's vest. Tripp was a lot less patient. He just ripped the vest open. Buttons went flying everywhere. Nate closed his eyes in horror as both his chest and ass was bared to the gathered crowd. Even with his eyes shut he could hear the camera phone clicks, the giggles and the catty comments.

"A nipple ring?"

"Not so macho now, huh?"

"How come he doesn't have any pit hair?"

"Wow, look at that ass!"

Nate couldn't believe this was happening to him. He was completely exposed in front of all of his peers. It had to be a nightmare. Someone reached for the strap of Nate's jock which cupped his right buttcheek and snapped it, hard. Nate's eyes flew open. This was no nightmare; it was horribly, horribly real.

"Maybe we should help him lose the jock," suggested Leo. "After all, he's shown everything else."

That was Nate's signal to renew his struggle against his captors. It was unlikely that he would have succeeded in retaining his modesty, of course, being outnumbered as he was, so it was just as well that a voice boomed across the hallway. "Just what is going on here?"

Nate was dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Someone tossed his jeans at him as the crowd rapidly scattered. Nate himself was unable to flee with any haste, for obvious reasons.

Coach Reilly approached with a concerned look on his face. "Ramsey?" he said in surprise. He had expected to find some unfortunate nerd being bullied by the football jocks, not his very own star player.

Nate stood up, hopping from one foot to the other as he pulled on his jeans. "Yes, coach?" he said meekly.

"What just happened here? Are you - are you being bullied?" Even as the words left his mouth Paul Reilly thought how ludicrous they sounded. Nate Ramsey didn't get bullied; he didn't have the personality of a bullying victim. If anything, HE would be the one doing the bullying!

For one brief, wild moment Nate considered telling Coach the truth: about the slavery, the rapes, and the rest of it. Then reality hit. If he told Coach, his tormentors wouldn't hold back. They'd release every photo, every video clip they had of him. The world would see him on his back, getting fucked at both ends like some faggot whore. He knew the videos had been carefully edited so that Nate appeared to be a more than willing participant. He cringed just thinking about the video they had of him with Spencer. His reputation would be ruined beyond repair, and he wouldn't get any justice either.

"No, sir. We were just ... horsing around, coach. Sorry it got out of hand." He didn't look at the coach when he spoke, concentrating instead on fastening the two buttons left on his vest and holding back the tears that threatened to spill out.

Paul didn't know whether to believe him. Something was up with Nate; he knew that for a fact. He'd been acting weird all week. He was a lot less inhibited for one thing; Paul was sure he'd never seen the boy naked in the four years he'd been on the team. Yet for the past two practices he'd stood around naked, almost casually, while Paul pepped the team. His game was off, too. He wasn't on the court for personal glory, but let his teammates have a chance. He was actually being (for want of a better word) nice to them. There was an unlikely turn of events if he'd ever seen one!

Paul wasn't overtly fond of Nate; there was no denying that the boy was a great player, but basketball was a team sport. Nate was a tad too arrogant and self-centered to work well in a team. This change in his attitude might be for the best. Certainly the rest of the team seemed rejuvenated. However, if bullying was responsible for Nate's attitude adjustment, then he would have to do something about it. If there was one thing Paul couldn't abide, it was bullying. The idea that Nate, of all people, was being bullied still seemed ridiculous, though. Maybe Nate wasn't being uncooperative in not telling him anything, inasmuch as there was nothing to tell. He'd seen Nate hanging out with the football jocks before - indeed, he seemed closer to them than to his own teammates - so maybe it really was just horseplay getting out of hand, as Nate claimed.

"Alright", he said finally, "I'm going to let this one go. But if you change your mind ... if there's anything at all that you want to tell me ... you know where to find me. If not, I'll see you at practice this afternoon."

"Thanks, coach," said Nate quietly, but Paul was already heading down the hall.

"I see your buddies got your humiliation off to an early start," murmured a voice in Nate's ear, startling him. Troy had crept up behind him unobserved. There was a mischievous grin on the gay senior's handsome face. "The photos are already circulating. Your ass does look good in a jock, though perhaps not as good as it does stuffed with a hard dick."

Nate looked around the hallway nervously, but it was mercifully deserted except for a few stray students. He must have not heard the bell ring in the melee.

"I've got to get to class," he said brusquely.

Troy pinched his butt through the hole in the seat of his pants. "You'll go to class when I say so, slut. Ethan asked me to pass on some instructions. He wants to see you in the third-floor restroom, first thing during lunch break. No clothes required. Oh, and did you bring the dildo as ordered?"

Nate nodded. He was living in fear of someone not in the know opening his bag and finding the phallic toy inside.

"Good," said Troy. "That'll be your punishment for not dressing as instructed."

Nate stared at him. "What do you mean? I'm wearing the clothes you told me to!"

"Yes, but I didn't say you could wear something else until you got to school."

Nate's jaw dropped. "How did you-?"

"Not that I'm obliged to explain my methods to you, but let's just say Bobby Rawlins uploads the pictures he takes very promptly," replied Troy.

Nate curled his hands into fists. If he ever got his hands on that fucking son of a bitch -

"Ah, Mr. Ramsey, I'm glad to have caught you." Gabriel Vaughn approached from the other end of the hallway. He frowned slightly. "Although the two of you really should be in class."

"Sorry, sir, we were just about to go in," said Troy.

"I suppose another couple of minutes won't hurt," Gabriel conceded. "As it happens, by the oddest of coincidences, I ran into my old friend Rory last night. Rory is a T.A. at MPSU," he explained. "He happened to mention to me that he hadn't been able to procure a single male model for his freshman anatomy class all year. Naturally, I immediately thought of you."

Nate didn't like where this was going. Troy, on the other hand, looked positively delighted. Since he was standing behind Gabriel, the teacher couldn't see his wide grin.

Gabriel was still speaking. "Of course, I wouldn't normally have thought you'd be willing to, er, undress in front of a bunch of university freshmen, but given your, um, enthusiasm in posing for Mr. Ross-Jennings' camera yesterday, I rather thought you might leap at the chance. Rory was a bit concerned about your age so I took the liberty of checking your records and it's all good since you're eighteen. So, what do you say?"

Nate was gobsmacked, to say the least. His teacher wanted him to pose naked in front of a class of university freshmen. His day was jumping from one unbelievable incident to the next.

Mistaking Nate's silence for reluctance to model for free, Gabriel hastened to inform Nate that he would be compensated for his time. "You won't be paid very much, admittedly, but I'd say it's fair remuneration for a ninety-minute session. The decision's up to you, of course. No pressure."

Gabriel might have said, "No pressure", but he couldn't see Troy behind him, gesturing to Nate that he should accept the commission.

"Just think of it as a medical exam, except in front of a live audience. It will all be quite professional; Rory will see to that. And you really have nothing to be ashamed of." Gabriel was growing a little desperate, for he had all but assured Rory that Nate would agree to this. He had presumed that the little exhibitionist would jump at the chance to flaunt his perfectly-honed body in front of college girls.

Troy decided he would have to intervene. "Oh, I don't think Nate's ashamed, Mr. Vaughn. He's just trying to figure out when he can model for your friend's class. He has a lot of other commitments, isn't that right, Nate?" He stressed the word "commitments" just a little, to remind Nate that he was obliged to follow his masters' every command.

"I ... I suppose I could do it," said Nate weakly. The thought of being exposed to yet another room full of eyes, to people who had never seen him naked before, made him ill. But he really had no choice in the matter. At least he had the scant consolation that he would never have to see those college freshmen again, unlike his peers at McKinley High.

"Excellent!" said Gabriel, clapping his hands together in relief. "How soon do you think you could do it? Rory's classes are on Tuesdays, I believe. I understand next week is probably too soon, but how about the week after that?"

"Oh, I don't think next Tuesday will be a problem for Nate, will it?" interjected Troy.

Gabriel regarded Troy with a slight smile. "Are you his agent or something? Mr. Ramsey, do you want to speak for yourself?"

"Um, next Tuesday's fine," confirmed Nate helplessly.

"Great. I'll just have to double-check with Rory as it's a bit sooner than we anticipated, but I expect it should be fine. He asked me to give you his card - it's got his office number if you have any questions. He's written down the time and venue of his lectures on the back as well. I trust you know your way to MPSU? Good, good. There's no dress code or anything like that; I expect you won't be in your clothes for long anyway." Gabriel chuckled at his own joke and Troy joined in. Nate, meanwhile, was feeling worse and worse.

"Alright then, I won't keep you from your class any longer. And thank you, Mr. Ramsey, on behalf of Rory and his freshman class. I expect they will be thrilled to have finally secured a live model for their class after all this time." Nodding to Troy, he walked off, tapping a number (presumably Rory's) into his phone as he went.

Nate waited for the teacher to leave earshot before he started whining to Troy, "Why'd you do that for? Now I'm going to have to expose myself in front of more people. This wasn't what we agreed. You guys said you'd keep me being your slave a secret."

"Yes, and I don't see how anyone's the wiser about your slave status if you model for a college anatomy class. At worst they'll think you're an exhibitionist."

Nate opened his mouth to protest but shut it again as Troy continued. "Indeed, if anyone's failing to keep up their part of the bargain, it's you. You promised total obedience, yet you question every other command we give you. Twice today you've failed to obey immediately, and the day's barely begun. I suggest you toe the line in the future, or we'll have to publish some of the photos just to remind you who's in charge. Now get lost." Without waiting for a reply from Nate, Troy stalked off.

Nate was left standing alone in the deserted hallway, feeling utterly miserable. His day was already off to a terrible start, and Owen was yet to play his hand.

& & & & &

Nate was glad to be spared having lunch in the cafeteria, where he was sure his bare-assed pantsing that morning would be the talk of the town. Certainly the tale had gotten around, as more than one student took the opportunity to pinch his butt through the hole in his jeans, each time eliciting a yelp from the unfortunate stud. Adding to his misery were the snide remarks about various parts of his anatomy (but concentrating largely on his butt), and he'd even gotten a strange look from Miss Morrison. He fervently hoped the latter was due to his strange outfit, rather than to the story of his humiliation having spread as far as the staffroom.

Upon reaching the third-floor restroom, he found two students already occupying it. He didn't know their names, but he'd seen them around school before. They, however, clearly knew all about him, as they started snickering the moment he entered the restroom.

"Aren't you a bit overdressed, Ramsey?" queried the blond who was washing his hands at the basin.

The dark-haired guy who was using the urinal chuckled. "Only a bit?"

Ignoring them (with great difficulty), Nate made his way to the furthest cubicle and shut the door behind him. He prayed that the duo would tire of teasing him and leave so that he could assume the degrading position demanded by Ethan without being seen by unwanted eyes.

Fortunately for him, the two boys had other things to do besides mocking the school stud and Nate soon heard them leave. He didn't waste any time in shedding his clothes and working three lube-coated fingers up his ass. It was not a moment too soon, either, as he had barely inserted the third finger into the tight orifice when the unlatched door swung open.

"Huh. You're in position." Ethan sounded surprised. Nate presumed that Troy had clued him in on Nate's reluctance to obey commands. "Hold that pose," ordered Ethan as he took a snap with his camera phone. "Alright, now drop to your knees and we'll see if your blowjob technique has improved." He shut the door behind him so that anyone entering the restroom would not be privy to what happened next.

Nate obediently kneeled on the dirty floor and took Ethan's dick into his mouth. His technique had, in fact, improved, although Ethan was never going to admit that. It only took Nate about ten minutes to bring him to a climax. Ethan, never one to pass up a chance to demean Nate, pulled out just as he was about to shoot and blasted his load all over the stud's face. He then quickly snapped another photo of Nate's wretched, cum-covered features. "Clean that up," he ordered. Nate had served these bastards long enough to know that meant consuming the cum, and began the task wearily.

There was a sudden beep as Nate received a text message. Realizing that the slave was otherwise occupied, Ethan pulled out Nate's phone from the jeans hanging on the clothes hook and scanned the new message. A smirk spread across his face. "Looks like you'd better eat up, bitch, because that's probably the only lunch you're getting today. Owen wants you down in the supply closet opposite Chem. Lab 1, pronto. Naked and hard, of course. Best not to keep him waiting." He slipped the phone back into Nate's jeans and unlatched the door, leaving Nate scrambling for his clothes. "Later, bitch."

It was no coincidence that Owen had chosen the supply closet opposite Chemistry Lab 1 as their rendezvous point. He knew that was where Nate and Melanie often had their trysts at school. He planned on forever ruining those memories for Nate.

Nate ran downstairs without even bothering to dry his face after splashing some water on it to get rid of the residual cum. He found the supply closet mercifully empty. Shutting the door behind him, he stripped naked. Remembering the order to get hard, he started to pump his dick, but it was no use. The terror of being discovered naked in the closet by a janitor was keeping his dick limp. He had to close his eyes, push all thoughts of discovery out of his mind, and think of happier times instead. He recalled when he was the recipient of blowjobs, rather than their supplier. He remembered the thrill of cheating on Melanie with various girls and her being none the wiser. He thought fondly of that time he'd had a threesome with two cheerleaders, and of the night he'd deflowered Jessie Archer.

He was so engrossed in his reminiscences that he didn't hear the door open. He only realized he had company when a female voice exclaimed, "Oh my God!"

Nate's eyes flew open in shock as a male voice rejoined, "Dude, what the fuck?"

& & & & &

Kent Miller and Lily Lopez had been looking for somewhere to continue their heavy petting when Kent had thought of the supply closet opposite the Chemistry lab. Finding the door unlocked, they let themselves in, too busy mauling each other's faces to realize at first that it was already occupied. As Kent leaned down to kiss Lily's neck she opened her eyes and saw, illuminated in the dim light, the incredible sight of a naked hunk stroking his hard dick. His chiseled body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his erect nipples stood out prominently against the firm mounds of his pectoral muscles.

Lily's shriek alerted the hunk to their presence and his eyes flew open. For a moment he was frozen to the spot, his hard dick waving in front of him. Then he kicked into high gear and covered his dick with one hand while fumbling for his clothes with the other.

Lily barely heard her boyfriend's outraged squawking or the naked hunk's apologies as she concentrated on committing every inch of the latter's body to memory. She now recognized him as the school stud, Nate Ramsey. (Perhaps unsurprisingly, her attention had not initially been focused on his face.)

Kent was pulling her arm while he chastised Nate, who was now struggling into his jockstrap. "At least lock the door, you freaking pervert! C'mon, Lil." He then noticed that his girlfriend was not very eager to leave. "Lily!"

"What? Oh ... I, um ..." Lily was at a loss for words. Kent had to literally drag her out of the room. He feared that she was already forming unfavorable comparisons between his own rather average body and Nate's fantastically ripped one. Sure enough, she cast a lingering glance backwards as he slammed the door shut on the mostly-naked stud.

Alone once more in the closet, Nate leaned against the wall. He wasn't sure if he'd start crying. It had been bad enough when the people in the hallway had seen him in his jockstrap that morning, but now a couple of them had seen him jerking off. He was done. He was never going to be able to go back to his macho stud image.

The closet door flew open and Owen was standing there. "I thought my orders were clear. Yet not only are you not naked, you're not hard either."

Nate began to stammer an apology. "I'm sorry! It's just that ... someone came in here and I had to -"

Owen stepped into the closet and locked the door behind him. "I don't care about your excuses, Nathaniel. When I order you to do something, I expect to be obeyed."

"But ... but they saw me jerking off!" cried Nate.

Owen snorted. "So? Would you rather they saw you blowing your load from getting fucked up the ass by Spencer? Because that can be arranged if you choose to go on disobeying our orders."

They had Nate over a barrel. He had already sacrificed one part of his reputation, but at least his shameful participation in gay sex remained a secret. He couldn't bear it if the world were to know that he was being butt-fucked by faggots. "Please, not that!" he blubbered.

"Then you'd better start listening to orders. Starting with the ones you've already been given."

Nate hastily stripped off his jockstrap and stroked his dick, which had gone soft after he'd been interrupted by Kent and Lily. Meanwhile Owen dusted off a chair and placed it in the middle of the narrow space, covering its seat with Nate's discarded jeans. Then he stripped naked from the waist down and sat down on the chair.

As Nate looked to him for instructions, Owen explained that Troy had told him how much Nate hated rimming. "Licking another guy's ass is some pretty sick shit."

For an unbelievable moment Nate wondered if Owen was actually sympathizing with him. He was soon brought crashing down to earth. "That's why I want you to rim MY ass," Owen said with a wolfish grin. "And I want you to show the camera how much you enjoy it. I also want you to stuff that dildo of yours up your ass. Keep fucking yourself with it until I tell you to stop."

Nate choked back a sob as he went about obeying Owen's orders. The dildo dug uncomfortably into his guts as he knelt down to rim Owen's ass. The redhead grabbed him by the hair and mashed his face against his pale asscheeks, making sure there was no escape for the subjugated stud. With his nose buried in Owen's crack, poor Nate was practically gasping for breath - not that Owen cared in the least. "Stick your tongue in there, bitch. All the way in. And let's hear how much you love it."

"Mmm, I love the taste of your ass," Nate mumbled into Owen's ass, blushing to the roots of his hair as he degraded himself even further. "God, it tastes so fucking awesome."

The camera Owen was holding above Nate's head drank up his shame. Owen laughed to himself as he observed firsthand how he'd turned the hottest womanizing stud in school into an ass-munching faggot whore. He was pretty certain Nate was far from enjoying the taste of his ass, but he was definitely enjoying the taste of his revenge.

"Alright," he said after Nate had spent a good ten minutes struggling not to throw up while tonguing Owen's ass. "You can pull out of there and start sucking my dick instead." Nate panted with relief to be released from rimming duty. His handsome face was streaked with sweat, saliva and anal juices. He was painfully aware of the camera recording him in this pathetic state as he wrapped his lips around Owen's dick.

By the time Owen had shot his load down Nate's throat, lunch break was nearly over. Owen stood up and pulled on his pants as Nate struggled to swallow his load. "Don't take that out!" he said sharply as Nate reached for the dildo lodged deep in his ass. "That's going to be your first punishment: keep that dildo in until basketball practice this afternoon."

Nate stared at him in horror. Walking around with the dildo in his ass would be torture, not to mention the risk of discovery he'd be running!

"I hope you'll be extra careful not to get pantsed again today," Owen added with faux sincerity. "I'd hate for everyone to learn of your fondness for stuffing huge dildos up your ass. I'll text you with instructions for your evening with me. Until then, enjoy." With a cruel grin, he unlocked the closet door and stepped out.

Nate knew he couldn't go to a restroom in the state he was in. Luckily, he'd brought his sports bag since he had basketball practice later in the day. From this he extracted a towel, sprinkled some water from his bottle onto it and wiped his face clean of slime. He poured more water down his throat, gargling to get rid of the smell and taste of cum. To be absolutely certain he didn't have `cum breath', he popped into his mouth a couple of the breath mints he had taken to carrying around with him. He finished these ablutions just as the bell rang. Nate got wearily to his feet and walked slowly to his next class, struggling not to give away the fact that he had a ten-inch dildo stuffed up his ass.

The rest of the school day was filled with more mockery and groping (his ass was pinched at least half a dozen times), but thankfully no one attempted to pants him again. It was just as well, because Nate already had too much to focus on: avoiding eye contact with his snickering peers, ignoring the stabbing pain in his gut every time he sat down, suppressing his bow-legged gait ... and all this was before considering the inevitable hard-on produced by the dildo's constant rubbing against his prostate. For the first time Nate was glad he was wearing a jockstrap instead of his regular boxers, for the jock helped to keep his erection constrained.

& & & & &

Three hours later, he hobbled into the locker room, desperate to get the dildo out. Most of the varsity team wasn't there yet, but the junior varsity gathered around him curiously as he extracted the silicone phallus with an embarrassing slurp.

"Wow, did you really walk around all day with that thing up your ass?" asked Ryder, his eyes bugging out at the sight of the large dildo.

"Well, he must've really enjoyed it," observed Cliff. "I mean, look at his dick! That thing is still hard, and he's leaked precum all over his jock!"

Connor pulled apart Nate's asscheeks so that they could all get a look at his gaping hole. "Hey, guys! Come look at this. I can see right up his ass."

"Geroff," growled Nate, smacking away the freshman's hand. It was probably a mistake to antagonize one of his masters, but Nate was beyond caring. He was hungry, exhausted, and most of all, he just wanted to sit down for once without the dildo digging uncomfortably into his guts.

Devlin separated from the throng of his teammates and approached Nate with a look of concern on his face. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"What the hell do you care?" snapped Nate irritably, making the younger boy flinch.

"I ... I just thought that you looked tired, and that you might like one of these," explained Devlin, holding out an energy bar.

Nate eyed the bar suspiciously. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"No trick," replied Devlin. "I swear."

Nate decided to take the freshman at his word. He grabbed the bar from him, ripped its packaging open and wolfed it down in record time. He looked up to find Devlin regarding him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"What?" he growled. "You said I could have it!"

"No, no, it was for you," the blond freshman assured him. "I just didn't realize you were so hungry."

"I didn't have lunch," Nate defended himself. Well, he thought to himself, except for those two measly mouthfuls of cum. Then he realized that he'd just thought of cum as food and blanched in horror. He was turning into a cum slut just as Troy had predicted!

Devlin saw the change in the older teen's expression. "Nate?"

"I ... I still feel kinda hungry," Nate covered.

"Oh. Hold on, I've got another bar in here somewhere." Devlin rummaged in his sports bag and produced a second energy bar. Nate took it from him and was about to take a bite before it dawned on him that he might be depriving Devlin.

"Wait, are you sure you don't want this?" he asked.

Devlin shook his head. "I usually save it for after practice, but I think you need it more than I do."

Nate downed the second bar in a flash and found the replenishment of his energy levels almost instantaneous. Looking back at Devlin, he found the younger boy was still anxiously watching him and he had to push down the surge of almost-affectionate gratitude he felt towards the boy. He had to remind himself that Devlin was not his friend; he was one of his tormentors. He hadn't lifted a finger to help him in all the time he was being humiliated and violated in ways no straight guy should ever be. Hell, the kid had been right there, urging Nate to finger-fuck himself in front of an audience. And if that wasn't enough reason to despise and mistrust him, Nate suspected (and he was almost certain his suspicion was right on the money) that Devlin was a fag. No, the kid could cozy up to him all he wanted but Nate wasn't going to fall for it.

For Devlin's part, he felt disappointed. He had approached Nate out of genuine concern, and for a moment there he'd thought the older boy would at least be grateful. But clearly Nate's prejudices were too strong. Not to mention it was incredibly frustrating trying to help someone who put up a wall every time you did. Maybe Bobby and Troy were right about Nate when they said he was a jerk who would never change. It was a sobering thought.

"Alright, guys," declared Coach Reilly as he walked into the locker room, "time to hit the court!" The guys who were still undressed scrambled into their basketball kit and raced out onto the court, eager to secure the championship. Nate's heart, however, simply wasn't in it. How was he supposed to care about a basketball championship when his whole life was on the line? Owen still hadn't revealed his evening plans for Nate and the stud was sick to his stomach conjuring up images of all the dastardly acts Owen might force him to perform.

Nate's subpar performance didn't go unnoticed by the coach, of course. As the sweaty boys made their way back into the locker room after practice, Paul held out a hand to stop Nate. It was time for some straight talking.

"Ramsey, I really need you to talk to me. What's wrong? You blew me off this morning and I thought it would be best to give you some space, but I really can't ignore this anymore. We've got a week to the big game and you ... you're off your game. You're not playing to your full potential. What's going on?"

Nate stared silently at the floor.

Paul sighed in frustration. "If you don't want to tell me, will you at least speak to someone? A counselor perhaps? I can write a note for you to see Mrs. Berkeley ..."

Nate looked up in horror. Seeing a shrink was the last thing he needed. If they somehow gleaned the truth from him he'd be screwed seven ways to Sunday. He needed to come up with an excuse, and fast.

"It's not that serious, coach! It's just ... well, Melanie and me, we've been having some problems and ... I guess I must have let it affect my game. I'm sorry, coach, I promise I won't let it happen again."

Paul eyed his star player skeptically. Ramsey was this upset over ... girl trouble? It didn't gel with Paul's preconceived notions of the jock's personality. He was always flirting up a storm with the rival teams' cheerleaders. "Are you sure that's all there is to it?"

"Yes, coach!"

"I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth," Paul pointed out.

"But it IS the truth!" Nate protested.

"Hmmm. Well then, all I can say is you're going to need to get your act together, and soon. Sort out this mess with your girlfriend over the weekend. If you're still having trouble at Monday's practice, I'll have no choice but to schedule an appointment for you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, coach," replied Nate, subdued. He felt like he was being attacked from all sides. It was bad enough that he was being tormented daily by his slavemasters, but now he was basically being told that he didn't even have the right to be depressed about it!

The feeling of loneliness hit him again as he walked into the locker room. His teammates were horsing around, in various states of undress. Nate had to step back as Cliff Ramirez was chased across the room by Connor and Ryder, who were snapping their towels at his bare ass. The steam-filled air reverberated with good-natured laughter.

A freshly-showered Wes, clad only in navy boxer briefs, called for attention. "Guys, listen up! I know we usually go to the pool tomorrow, but Coach thinks we should take it easy this weekend - you know, rest ourselves before the big game. So, in the spirit of fun," Wes had to pause for the loud cheers from his teammates, "I thought we could visit the carnival tomorrow."

"Fucking ace, man," declared Lucas, thumping Wes on the back.

"Well, I do have an ulterior motive in a way," grinned Wes. "My mom works for the hospital, and the carnival's to raise money for their new wing."

"Hey, I'm always behind a good cause," said Parker. "Guys, who's up for the carnival tomorrow?"

Nearly every hand shot up. There were cries of "Cool, I really wanted to go!" and "Wouldn't miss it!".

One hand, however, remained down. Devlin noticed and asked, "What about Nate?"

Wes looked surprised. "Nate? Of course he's coming! Right, Nate?"

"Right," replied Nate wearily. He didn't know why Wes bothered phrasing it like a question; he knew Nate would have no choice but to agree with whatever his masters ordered. He just hoped they would not find some horribly public way of tormenting him at the carnival. His own mother would be there, manning the church stall!

Someone grabbed Nate roughly by the shoulders from behind. "Come on, Nathaniel," growled Owen, "get yourself clean because the fun starts sooner than tomorrow for you." He shoved Nate hard in the small of his back, making him totter a few steps forwards before he could steady himself.

Nate swallowed; it didn't take a genius to figure out what was "fun" for Owen would be no fun for him. Wearily he began to strip off his clothes, revealing his gorgeous, sweaty body to the locker room. More than one guy stopped to watch, and even more eyes tracked him as he stood under the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired (but no less impressive) muscles.

Jason made his way over to Wes, hopping as he pulled on jeans over boxers. He followed his friend's anxious gaze over to Nate, who was now surrounded by a gaggle of their teammates as Owen made him finger-fuck himself. "What's the matter, Wes?"

"It's - I don't know, Jase. Owen's giving off this really creepy vibe and I ... I feel kinda worried."

"Worried? For whom? For Nate?" Jason made it sound like it was incredible that someone would worry about Nate's wellbeing.

"Jase, I know you hate the guy for what he did to Jessie, and I do too - that was shitty of him - but could you just put that aside for a moment? I'm not talking about punishing Nate or teaching him a lesson; I'm talking about actual, serious physical harm."

"Trust me, Owen isn't be the only one thinking of serious physical harm when it comes to Nate," Jason muttered darkly. "I'd like to rip that fucker from limb to limb myself."

"Jase!" exclaimed Wes, horrified.

"Relax," said Jason calmly. "I'm not going to resort to anything of the sort, and I don't think Owen will either. I'm just saying I can understand where he's coming from. I know you've got a soft spot for him, but Nate's a fucking prick. Surely you haven't forgotten all those times he'd rib Owen about losing Melanie to him? All those loud boasts about how hot their sex was, and how Melanie supposedly enjoyed Nate more because he wasn't a small-dicked farm boy like Owen?"

Wes cringed as he recalled those times. He'd had to physically separate the two guys on more than one occasion so that Coach wouldn't come in and find his players fighting amongst themselves. The most troubling part of these memories was the different ways the two boys would react during their fights: Owen would be cursing and swearing and trying to break away from his restrainers. Nate, meanwhile, would just stand there and smirk. It hadn't been enough that he'd got the girl; he had to rub the defeated rival's face in it as well, in the most humiliating manner possible. Wes wished Jason hadn't reminded him of these incidents, which were decidedly not some of Nate's finer moments.

It had been a calculated move on Jason's part. Wes's growing concern for Nate was troubling him. He worried that Wes might be developing feelings for Nate. Not because Jason was a homophobe who despised the idea of his best friend falling for another guy (he'd known Wes for so long that it honestly didn't make a difference to him which gender Wes might be inclined towards) but because the guy in question was Nate Ramsey. The bastard had already gotten his hooks into Jason's little sister, and Jason would be damned if he'd let Nate do the same with the guy he considered his brother.

"You'd better get dressed," he told Wes, "we've got a double date tonight, remember?"

"What? Oh, right." Wes couldn't have looked less happy about it. Slowly he picked up his deodorant and applied it under his arms as he looked back at the showers. Every now and then the crowd around Nate would part, allowing Wes a glimpse of the handsome stud as he twisted his nipples and fingered his ass to the chants of his audience. Wes had to turn away from Jason as his dick lurched in his underwear.

& & & & &

The nourishment provided by Devlin's energy bars was wearing thin by the time Nate reached home, so he found some leftovers in the fridge and popped them into the microwave while he ran upstairs to perform his evening show for Bobby Rawlins. The youngster was ready for him and, despite his exhaustion, Nate soon found himself shooting a rather copious load onto the window. It probably had something to do with the fact that he'd been nursing a hard-on for the better part of the day. As he licked the window pane clean, he happened to look out onto the street, and almost fell off the desk in shock. Someone was standing on the pavement, watching him as he performed this disgusting act!

Nate was so shocked that he remained frozen in place. In those few, short, agonizing seconds, all manner of scenarios ran through his mind. The elderly lady in number 35 knocking on his front door to inform his mother of her son's shameful perversions. The father in number 37 telling off his dad for having a son who jerked off in full view of the neighborhood kids. Or the church minister from number 39 berating him on the evils of such lewd public displays.

Thanks to this jumble of thoughts, it took Nate a moment to realize that, far from being outraged, the observer on the pavement was actually waving at him in a friendly manner. Looking closer, he recognized Devlin. The blond freshman had been cycling over to Bobby's when he'd remembered that Nate was due for a show around that time. He had thus looked up at Nate's bedroom window to be rewarded by the sight of the hunky jock blasting his load all over the window and then licking it up. He had also seen the look of terror on Nate's face and consequently, to assuage his fears, waved at him. He didn't expect Nate to wave back, and he was surprised to even receive a curt nod in return.

As he walked his bike the last few feet to the Rawlins' front door, Devlin couldn't help feeling sorry for Nate. He seemed to be living in a constant state of terror and humiliation. Prick or not, no one truly deserved that. He rang the doorbell.

Bobby's mother, Katie, answered the door, smiling. "Hello, Devlin. Come in."

"Thanks, Mrs. Rawlins. Could I see Bobby, please?" He was still rather nervous around Bobby's mother. After all, he had only met her for the first time a few days ago, and she appeared very stern compared to his own easygoing mother. Katie had been rather upset when she'd come home on Tuesday to find that her son had invited a friend over to his room without even mentioning it to her. They'd both had to stay in the lounge after that. Bobby had apologized later for his mother's mini freakout, explaining (bitterly) that she'd become very edgy about such things ever since the incident with Nate.

"Yes, dear, he's upstairs in his room." She turned to holler up the stairs. "Bobby! Devlin's here to see you!" Turning back to Devlin, she asked him if he would like to stay for dinner. "I'm making roast chicken, with a mud pie for dessert."

Devlin's mouth began to water at the thought of his favorite dessert, and the concept of not having to fight his three siblings for a second helping pretty much sealed the deal. "That sounds really good, Mrs. Rawlins. I'll have to ask my mom, but I think it should be okay with her."

"Alright, I'll set the table for four then." There was a pause. "Bobby! Bobby! Your friend's here!" When it was obvious that Bobby wasn't coming down, she said, "Oh, why don't you go up to Bobby's room and tell him to come downstairs? I've got to check on the oven. I can't imagine why he hasn't come down to see you."

Devlin had a good idea why, but he forbore from mentioning it to Mrs. Rawlins. Instead he thanked her for the dinner invitation and climbed the stairs to Bobby's room.

Katie Rawlins watched him go, thinking to herself what a nice, polite boy he was. He would make a good friend for Bobby ... as long as that was all it was. She scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. It was all that Ramsey boy's fault for introducing doubts into her mind. Surely her beloved only child couldn't possibly be the deviant pervert that Nate had made him out to be? She was learning not to take what Nate said at face value. Her husband had informed her of the strange goings-on at the Ramsey residence while Mitchell and Marsha were away. Nate had answered the door practically naked, and HE was trying to claim that Bobby was spying on him in the hopes of catching him undressed? And really, Devlin seemed such a sweet boy that it was hard for her to imagine him and Bobby doing anything abhorrent or unnatural. She shook her head at herself for coming up with such ludicrous ideas and returned to the kitchen to check on the chicken in the oven.

Upstairs in Bobby's bedroom, what Katie feared was, in fact, not quite so ludicrous. Devlin had arrived to find Bobby putting away his camera equipment. The brown-haired teen's face was rather flushed and Devlin noticed that his clothes were askew, as if he had pulled them on in haste.

"Hey, Devlin. I'm sorry I couldn't come down. I had to, um, put away stuff in case my mom came upstairs."

"I'll bet," grinned Devlin, making Bobby blush.

"Do you want to see today's footage of Nate? It's pretty cool. He shot so much spunk on the window! You should have seen his face when he had to eat it all up. Man, that never gets old!"

It troubled Devlin how much Bobby relished his hold over Nate. He had to admit that he himself had found it fun, even empowering, at first. But he hadn't felt that way in a while now, and observing Nate's weariness firsthand that evening had struck a chord with him.

"Don't you think, maybe, we should give Nate a break?" he suggested timidly.

Bobby stared at him incredulously. "I thought you were my friend, Dev!"

"I am!" Devlin said hastily.

"Then why would you even suggest that? You know what that jerk did. Because of him, my relationship with my parents will never be the same. I can't lock my bedroom door and Mom's always watching me like a hawk ... they think I'm a freak because that's what Nate told them."

"I'm sorry," said Devlin quietly.

Bobby blinked back his tears furiously. "That's just it! It's not you who should be sorry; it's Nate! And this is the only way I can make him sorry. It's so little compared to what he's done to me ..."

Devlin shifted from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. The sight of Bobby's eyes glistening with tears made him feel bad. He reached out to pat Bobby's arm. "I think I understand. I can't say that I approve, but I understand. It must be horrible to have your own folks turn against you at someone else's word." He could feel Bobby trembling under his grip and he found himself shifting his hand, rather daringly, to Bobby's shoulder. "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise."

As soon as the words left his mouth Devlin regretted them. Who the hell was he to promise such things? He had no control over Bobby's parents, or even Bobby himself. But he couldn't deny the large part of himself that desperately wanted the older boy's pain to go away. And in that instant he knew that he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

Bobby gazed down at Devlin's hand on his shoulder and followed it back to the boy opposite. His brown eyes met Devlin's blue ones. Before either of them could register it, he had closed the space between them, and their lips touched.

Devlin had never kissed anyone before, and neither had Bobby. For first timers they did a pretty good job. Several moments passed before they broke apart.

"What did we just do?" breathed Devlin.

"I - I think we just kissed," replied Bobby, scarcely believing his own words.

Devlin nervously searched Bobby's face for a stronger reaction. "Maybe ... we shouldn't have."

A silly grin spread across Bobby's face. "Are you freakin' kidding me? I wanna do it again!"

Devlin grinned as well, relieved. "Me too," he confessed.

The boys started to move back towards each other when Katie called out from downstairs, "Boys! What's taking you so long?"

Bobby and Devlin sprang apart guiltily, exchanging agonized glances. "Tomorrow," Devlin said quickly, thinking on his feet. "Come to my house at 4pm. My dad's away on a business trip and my mom has to take my sisters for ballet. We'd better go down before your mom comes up."

"But what about your brother? You've got a brother right?" asked Bobby as they raced down the stairs.

"Declan?" Devlin dismissed him. "You'd need a crowbar to pry him away from our neighbors' Xbox 360."

They reached the bottom of the stairs. "So it's a date?" said Bobby, stopping Devlin in his tracks.

The younger boy thought briefly about it, and then cracked an adorable grin. "Yes, it's a date."

& & & & &

Nate carefully guided his car up the dirt track that led off the highway to the Montrose Farm. In the dying light of dusk the place looked desolate ... even creepy. The farm lay outside the city limits; it was no longer a working farm as both of Owen's parents had office jobs. Most of the farm structures, save for the farmhouse and a couple of outbuildings, had either been demolished or fallen into disrepair, and much of the farmland had been sold off for a development project that never took off. As a result, the Montrose Farm was relatively isolated, with their nearest neighbor almost a mile away.

The fact that Owen lived on a farmstead was not news to Nate; he'd obtained the information a couple of years before and mocked Owen mercilessly ever since. He'd ratcheted up the country bumpkin insults after Melanie dumped Owen for Nate, advising the broken-hearted Owen not to blame himself because Melanie couldn't possibly have been satisfied by a "redhead redneck". "I guess it's back to fucking the livestock for you then, eh, Monty?" he'd taunted. It had taken both of the burly Hamilton twins to restrain a fuming Owen from launching himself at Nate following that remark. Unfortunately for Nate, there wasn't going to be anyone to restrain Owen today.

With great trepidation, Nate followed Owen's instruction to drive past the farmhouse to the old barn that stood a short distance behind it. He parked the car and paused, looking across the vast yard to the farmhouse. There was only one light on, in a first-floor room. Nate hoped that meant Owen's parents weren't home, because the next part of his instructions was to strip naked before getting out of the car. He decided they wouldn't be. Owen might be deranged, but he wasn't stupid. His parents would have something to say about a naked teenager in their backyard.

Dutifully, Nate began to pull off his clothes, aware of his trembling fingers. Piling them neatly on the passenger seat, he grabbed the bag containing his dildo and some lube, took a deep breath, and exited the vehicle. It had been a sunny day and the evening chill had not quite taken off the warm edge to the air. Nevertheless, Nate shivered - out of fear. The thought of being alone with the vengeful and sadistic Owen was terrifying.

The farmhouse door slamming shut jerked Nate out of his reverie. Owen strode across the yard towards him, wearing a t-shirt, shorts and a cruel grin. "Welcome to the Montrose Farm. I'd give you the tour, but I'm afraid there's not much to see. The freak show's moved on; there won't be any rednecks fucking sheep or that kind of shit. The only animal getting fucked here today will be you."

Nate flinched at the undisguised venom behind Owen's sarcasm. He made a last-ditch plea for clemency. "Owen, I'm really sorry," he began.

Owen cut him off. "Save it. I'm not interested in your insincere apologies. We both know the only reason you're sorry is because you let yourself end up my slave, not because you actually regret saying the things you did. Just wait till you've had two hours alone with me. Then you'll truly regret being such an asshole. Get inside the barn; I've got a `treat' waiting for you inside."

Nate miserably followed Owen into the barn, certain that Owen's idea of a `treat' would be some new and horrible torture. He would soon be proved right.

It took Nate's eyes a little while to adjust to the dim light inside the barn; it was lit by a solitary, naked bulb hanging from the rafters. Directly beneath the bulb was a low wooden box, about a foot high. Looking closer Nate noticed an indentation in the top of the box. A camera, mounted on a tripod, was pointed at the box.

"Did you bring what I asked you to?" demanded Owen. Nate silently handed over the bag with the dildo and lube. Owen extricated the former and tossed the bag back to Nate. He knelt down in front of the box and fiddled with it. His back hid what he was doing from Nate, so when he finally stood up, Nate was in for a menacing sight.

Owen had fitted the base of the dildo into the indentation on top of the box so that it stood vertically upright, glinting ominously in the dim light.

"See, Nathaniel, it appears to me you don't have much going for you besides your body. It's a pretty impressive body, I'll admit. And I'm not a heartless guy; I don't want you to lose absolutely everything. So to help you keep that body in shape, I've come up with an exercise routine for you - for which I'm sure you're most grateful."

There was a long pause before Nate latched onto what was required of him. "Thank you ... master," he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't help the shiver running down his spine; he had a very bad feeling about where this was headed.

Owen continued, "You'll start with squats, say ... oh, fifty of them. That's where this comes in." He bent slightly in order to rap the wooden box.

Nate stared at him in dawning horror. "You can't be serious!"

"You betcha," Owen confirmed, grinning mercilessly. "Fifty squats, right onto your trusty toy dick here. And I expect full penetration each time; no half-assed attempts. Get it? Half-assed?" He chortled to himself at his little joke.

Nate was far from amused. The most painful part of getting fucked up the ass was the initial penetration; repeating that fifty times in a row would be pure agony. "Please, Owen ... please don't make me do this! It'll rip me apart!"

"Nonsense, Nathaniel! What did you think you were practicing for today? You should be more than used to having big dicks up your ass by now. Besides, I told you to bring lube and, if you've any sense, you'll make sure you use plenty of it. Not that I care whether you get hurt or not, but your other masters would like a play on you too, and it wouldn't be fair of me to ruin their fun.

"I suggest you start now; we've got quite a bit to get through before you have your little sex romp with Spencer."

Nate searched Owen's eyes for mercy that he knew, instinctively, he would not find. Choking back a sob, he pulled out the tube of lubricant from his bag and started to pull apart his butt cheeks to apply it to his hole.

"Why don't you do that in front of the camera?" said Owen. It was not a suggestion.

Nate turned around, so that his rear faced the camera, and pried his cheeks apart. One lube-coated finger at a time, he prepared his sphincter for the assault to come. Once he'd managed to cram three fingers in his hole, he squirted a liberal amount of lube on the dildo as well. Then, he turned back to face the camera.

Owen issued some final instructions. "Count each squat. If you screw up the count, you can start again from one." Nate shuddered.

"Any time now," added Owen sarcastically.

Taking a deep breath, Nate bent his knees. He couldn't see the dildo but he was standing right in front of the box so he expected to make contact at any moment. Sure enough he felt the cold, wet tip of the silicone phallus brush against his ass. Gritting his teeth, he aligned it with his hole and pressed down, slowly and carefully. Inch by painful inch, the dildo began to slide into his ass. Just not fast enough for Owen.

A shadow fell across Nate's face and he glanced up. Owen was standing before him, grinning. He grabbed Nate by the shoulders and shoved him downwards, instantly impaling him on the dildo's full ten inches. Nate shrieked.

"That's more like it," Owen declared as Nate blinked back tears. "By the way, you forgot to count. Luckily for you, that was just the first one. Start again, and don't be so slow next time."

Nate stood up, wiping his watering eyes with the back of his hand. He had to obey, or things would just get worse for him. Steeling himself, he began the exercise again. This time, he forced himself all the way down on the dildo without pausing, although a whimper escaped him. "One," he stated.

The next half-hour was spent on the remaining 49 squats. By the end, Nate's ass was burning and his body was feeling the strain. But his torture-masquerading-as-exercise routine was far from over.

"Next," announced Owen, "fifty push-ups. And on each one, kiss my feet. We'll try a bit of variety this time, to keep things fresh."

Owen's idea of "variety" was to have Nate kiss his dusty shoes for the first twenty, then kiss his bare feet for the subsequent twenty, and, for the final ten, suck on each of his toes. Nate accepted the first forty push-ups without complaint, but the instructions for the last ten tested even his reluctant obedience.

"No way!" he exclaimed in disgust.

"Nathaniel? I've got footage of you sticking your tongue down guys' assholes. Sucking my toes is hardly a big deal now, is it?" Owen shoved his feet in Nate's face.

Nate dejectedly wrapped his lips around Owen's big toe and sucked it. "Forty one," he sobbed.

"Oh, I think you can do an extra ten for that little tantrum you had back there, Nathaniel. Suck each of my toes twice."

Nate truly regretted his pointless outburst by the time he reached the count of sixty.

For his third `exercise', Owen had Nate do thirty pull-ups on a rung of the broken ladder leading up to the hayloft. The twist: he couldn't drop the ice cubes that Owen had forced up his asshole.

"I originally wanted to use the horse whip on you for this bit, but Troy suggested the ice cubes instead," explained Owen. Nate shuddered at the thought of being whipped. Not the alternative was much better - between the strenuous nature of the exercise and freezing cold of the ice cubes, Nate messed up several times and had to begin again from scratch.

"You're wasting my time, Nathaniel," observed Owen as Nate had to restart for the fifth time.

"Please, Owen! This is impossible. It can't be done!" Nate panted. His arms were exhausted. He'd only made it as far as twenty on his last try.

Owen looked at him and sighed. "You're really going to make me help you, aren't you? It's going to cost you though. Stay there." He left Nate hanging from the rung, providing the camera with a stunning view: bulging biceps, heaving pecs and tightened abs, all slick with sweat.

A few seconds later he returned with a roll of heavy-duty tape. Then he taped Nate's hole shut with the ice inside. "That should hold for a while; I suggest you finish your thirty reps before it gives way."

Nate only just managed it, much to Owen's disappointment. He checked his watch. "Hmm, just enough time for one last exercise, but first, I think a fuck is in order." He peeled off his clothes. "Get me hard, slave - with your mouth."

The hapless stud got to work sucking Owen's dick. It was a relief to get a break from the grueling exercises, even if it meant he had to sexually service his hated tormentor instead. But even Nate's well-honed muscles were aching from the day's events; he didn't know how much more of this he could take.

His blowjob technique was certainly improving by leaps and bounds, as he had Owen rock hard within a matter of minutes. The redhead signaled for him to stop and get on all fours while he slid a condom onto his own erection.

"Ready for this, whore?" spat Owen, kneeling down behind Nate. He roughly fingered Nate's hole, still wet with lube from before. Nate whimpered in response.

"Not that it matters," Owen added before slamming his dick all the way in. The scream he elicited from Nate pleased him, but he was aware there was more enjoyment to be gained from shutting him up. "Noisy bitch, aren't you? Here, this should keep you quiet." He stuffed a piece of fabric into Nate's mouth. Nate didn't manage to see what it was exactly, but he could taste and smell the funk. "Been saving it for you from practice ... and I don't mean today's."

Nate realized that his gag was one of Owen's filthy, unwashed jockstraps. He retched and made to spit it out, but Owen was ahead of him. He yanked the stud's head by the hair to face him. "Don't even think about it," he hissed. Nate kept his mouth closed.

For the next quarter of an hour, Owen fucked Nate with long, powerful strokes that jabbed Nate deep in his guts. The only sounds were the slave's muffled snivels, Owen's grunts, and the slap of skin on skin with every thrust. Owen had Nate push back with his ass, ensuring that he was complicit in his own full penetration.

At last the redhead was ready to blow his load. He pulled out of Nate's ass and made him lie belly up on the dusty barn floor. He ripped off the condom and jerked his dick a couple of times before shooting thick, gooey ropes of cum all over Nate's face and torso.

"You look a sight," Owen grinned down at the stud's cum-spattered features, "and I'm not even done with you! Follow me." Nate stood, a little unsteady on his feet, and trailed Owen out of the barn. He felt self-conscious being naked outdoors, even though he was aware that the farm's seclusion practically guaranteed no observers.

Owen, although similarly naked, apparently had no such reservations. He led Nate to a spot just outside the barn, where the hard-packed earth had been dug up and doused with water to create a muddy ditch. It was lit by a floodlight over by the big farmhouse. Owen quickly set up the camera to point at the ditch.

Smirking cruelly, he informed Nate of his final exercise: "Fifty sit-ups, in the mud, and a lesson in irony. Remember all those times you used to tell me to kiss your ass? Yeah, well, now it's your turn to kiss my ass ... literally. Each time you perform a sit-up, I want to feel your lips on my pucker. Oh, and use tongue. Lots of tongue. I wanna feel the lurve."

There were apparently no limits to Owen's sadistic inventiveness.

"I'm going to get dirty," Nate pointed out.

Owen was unperturbed. "We'll hose you off when you're done so you'll be pretty for your boyfriend."

That was that. Nate winced and wriggled uncomfortably as he lay down in the squelching mud. Owen stood over Nate's body, bent at the waist with his butt cheeks pulled apart to expose his hole.

Nate brought his upper body up to meet his knees and held the position as he pressed his face into Owen's ass crack to tongue his hole.

"One," he panted, from both the physical exertion and the emotional revulsion.

"So as to not waste time, I'm going to call Troy and get your instructions for your night with Spencer," Owen called over his shoulder. "You keep exercising while he talks."

Nate grunted. He was too out of breath to say anything beside the number of the sit-up he was currently performing.

Owen dialed Troy's number and put it to speakerphone.

"Hey Troy, it's me, Owen. I've got Nathaniel here, eager to know what he should do with Spencer tonight."

"Five," grunted Nate.

"What's he doing?" asked Troy.

"Oh, alternating between crunching his abs and kissing my ass."

Troy chuckled. "Sounds like heaven for the little slut. So here's the deal, Nate. You get Spencer to forget all about talking."

"Six! But how?"

"I don't care how. That's your problem. My orders are for the part where you beg to get fucked like the whore you are."

"Seven! But he's ... never gonna buy that."

"As I said, your problem. Now, I've been to Spencer's dorm room before. It's got a sweet view: big-ass windows overlooking the river."

"Eight!"

"Your mission is to convince him to fuck you in front of them."

"Nine – what!?"

"Ride his dick in full view of the windows."

Nate completely abandoned the sit-ups. "No fucking way! Anyone might see!"

"There's nothing outside his window but a jogging trail that follows the riverbank. You're going to do it." There was a hard note in his voice.

"No, I'm not!" retorted Nate. "I'm not getting fucked for the whole world to see."

"Not even when we've got incriminating pictures by the hundreds to share with your folks and everyone else you know?"

"I'll take my chances," Nate replied in a shaky voice. The prospect of being able to fight one of his masters, even on something as small as this, was giving his shattered confidence a much-needed boost.

Troy sighed theatrically. "Are you sure about that, Nate? You'd rather take the absolute certainty of your family and friends watching you whore yourself out for several guys, than the tiny risk of some random guy, who doesn't know you from Adam, looking up from his jog at exactly the right spot to see you getting fucked by Spence?"

And just like that, Nate's fledgling rebellion was crushed, as was his rejuvenated spirit. It was a depressing reminder that he would never resist any of his masters' commands, not when they had the power to make things infinitely worse for him.

"Alright," he sobbed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh I'll tell you. But first I think you deserve a punishment for this little insurrection. Owen?"

"Got it covered," replied the lanky redhead. "Bitch has it coming for stopping in the middle of his exercises, too. Nathaniel, you know what to do."

Nate did. Exhausted and utterly broken, he began the sit-ups again from number one. While he worked up a fresh coat of sweat, Troy shared the details of what he would have to do with Spencer that night.

"And make sure you get him to be as vocal as possible," Troy concluded. "We've only got the one audio recorder in the room with you, and it's going to be in your pocket. Dusty's camera may have the very latest technology, but even it can't pick up sound from inside a building."

"Okay," panted Nate. "Fifty!" He made to get up, but Owen immediately barked, "Stay there! On your back."

"I'll leave you two to your fun," chuckled Troy. "I've got some of my own to tend to." Disconnecting the call, he went to answer the door of his playhouse.

Standing on the doorstep was a hunky, dark-haired college guy. He flashed a charming grin when he saw Troy. "Hey, you. Glad to see me?"

"That depends ... on how long those clothes stay on you."

"How `bout five seconds?" He had them shucked in that time, standing completely naked before Troy with an erection drooling precum.

"This is going to be a good night," Troy thought privately as he shut the door behind his companion, "although I expect Nate will say the complete opposite about his."

& & & & &

Back at the Montrose Farm, Owen was standing over Nate, pointing his dick at the stud's face. "You ready for this, Nathaniel?"

Nate, expecting Owen to jerk off onto his face, nodded tightly while keeping his eyes shut. He was therefore stunned and utterly horrified when the liquid that hit his face was more fluid and acrid. His eyes flew open to discover Owen releasing a stream of warm, yellow piss onto him. Nate opened his mouth in outrage, and shut it again hastily when he received a mouthful of piss for his trouble. He tried to roll away from the onslaught, but Owen wasn't having any of that. He pressed a foot down on Nate's fatigued abs as he dribbled the last drops from his dick onto the hunk's chiseled pecs.

"You - you just pissed on me!" Nate squawked in enraged disbelief. He spat onto the earth, desperate to get the taste of urine out of his mouth. "That's sick!"

"Yeah. What're you gonna do about it?" challenged Owen.

Nothing. Nate knew he would do nothing, because he was a slave, subject to his masters' whims and fancies. He lay in the mud, unable to stop the tears from flowing. Every time he thought he couldn't sink any lower, one of his masters would prove him wrong. Being covered in another man's piss (not to mention sweat, cum and mud) really drove that home.

"Didn't think so," grunted Owen. "You sure look pathetic, but I think we can improve on that." He started to jack his dick. "This is what you'd been expecting, wasn't it? I wouldn't want to disappoint you." He added a copious second cumshot to the mess on Nate's face and body.

Then he made the beleaguered stud lie still, with the spunk and piss rapidly cooling on his body, while he snapped away with the camera. When he was finally satisfied that he'd captured Nate's degradation from every possible angle, he told the slave to stand in front of the barn wall, legs well apart and arms held out. Then he turned on the hose and blasted poor Nate with a powerful jet of freezing water. He also provided Nate with a bar of dark red soap. It had a very strong disinfectant smell, but Nate was beyond caring: he just wanted to get the dried cum and piss off his body. He frantically scrubbed every inch of his body, even slipping several soapy fingers up his sore hole (at Owen's command, of course). Needless to say, all of this was also video-recorded for posterity.

At last Owen turned off the hose and threw Nate a threadbare towel. Nate, shivering from the cold, grabbed it gratefully and dried himself off.

"Now get to your lover's digs," said Owen, "you've got twenty minutes." With a smirk, he added, "Enjoy yourself. I'll be watching, and I'll be sure to get it all on tape."

Nate felt so worn out that he didn't know how he would survive the night of sexual depravity Troy had outlined for him, much less enjoy it. He trudged back to his car, stopping only to retrieve the bag with the dildo and lube in it from the barn. Twenty minutes was adequate to drive to Mount Pleasant State University's riverside campus. On the drive over he would have to formulate how to ensure everything went according to Troy's plan. He'd never put as much thought into seducing any girl as he did Spencer.

& & & & &

Just before nine o'clock, Nate parked his car in the vast lot in front of the dorm building where Spencer lived. He saw Owen's jalopy entering the parking lot as he walked to the building, dialing Spencer's number along the way.

"Spencer? It's Nate. I'm in front of your building."

"Okay, I'll be right down. Wait in the lobby. You'll need to sign the guest log." Spencer was as good as his word. Nate had barely signed the logbook when Spencer arrived. In contrast to how Nate felt, Spencer was practically glowing. His blond hair was damp, indicating a very recent shower ... and not one where he got hosed with freezing water in someone's backyard.

Spencer moved towards Nate, instinctively wanting to kiss him, before he thought the better of it and instead settled for a hello. "Brody's just left for home," he mentioned as they took the elevator up to the third floor. "So we've got the room to ourselves." He unlocked the door and stood aside for Nate to enter.

The room Spencer shared with Brody did indeed have a "sweet view". Nate could see the riverside jogging trail Troy had mentioned, lit by the occasional lamppost. Beyond the trees the lights of the city twinkled in the darkness. Nate couldn't see where Owen was, but he knew the bastard was out there somewhere, setting up his camera to document Nate's latest humiliation. He did, however, see a jogger run past. The guy didn't stop or even take his eyes off the trail (as far as Nate could see), but it was enough to make him nervous.

"So ... what do you think?" asked Spencer, breaking the silence.

"Huh? Oh, you mean the room." Nate turned away from the windows and looked around. The room was large, and each boy had obviously decorated their side of the room to their personal tastes. Beds and wardrobes lined the side walls, and the guys had their study desks under the windows. Next to the door from which they'd entered was a TV screen with a couple of huge cushions on the floor in front of it. It was only slightly messy.

"Not bad," remarked Nate. "Great view, and the room's pretty big."

"Yeah, Brode and I figured they owed us after the prison cell they crammed us into during our freshman year. So which side do you think is mine?"

Nate looked to his right, and then to his left. The left-hand wall had, above a bed covered with an elaborately embroidered duvet, two posters of male swimmers wearing (predictably) Speedos. "That one?" Nate ventured.

Spencer grinned. "Gets `em every time. No, that's Brode's. He just thinks Ryan Lochte and Michael Phelps are good swimmers; he doesn't have the hots for them. And the duvet's a gift from his girlfriend." He shook his head. "Absolute pain to wash that stuff."

"Oh." Nate looked more closely at the right-hand wall. The posters were typical teenage guy stuff; absolutely nothing screamed `gay' to him. In fact, Nate even recognized an indie band that he himself liked!

"Anyway, sit down. We've got a lot to talk about." Spencer sat on the edge of his bed and indicated that Nate should take a seat in the desk chair.

Nate took his seat, feeling the recording device in his jeans pocket digging into his thigh. "Yeah, about that ..."

"Nate, I know you're not in an easy position. Coming to terms with your sexuality, and coming out, is ... rough, to say the least. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. But if we're going to have any chance of a real relationship, we need to be honest. Not just with each other, but our families and friends." Spencer paused. "I like you; I think I may even love you. But I don't want to go back into the closet, even if that's the only way we can have a relationship." He reached out to grip Nate's hands in his and looked earnestly into his eyes.

Nate suddenly found his mouth very dry. "Spencer ... I know what you're asking of me, and you've every right to an honest relationship, but ... I'm not ready. I can't come out to my family. It would kill my mom. She's very religious ... Catholic. She'd freak out if she knew her son was a ... was gay." Nate didn't have to fake the fear or the shame; both were very real for him. Marsha Ramsey was indeed staunchly Catholic and severely disapproving of homosexuality.

"Nate, believe it or not, my mom is a devout Catholic, too."

Nate looked up anxiously. "And she's happy with you being gay?"

"Well ... `happy' is probably a bit of an overstatement, but she's okay with it."

"How?" Nate couldn't believe how anyone, let alone someone who professed to be a devout Catholic, would be okay with having a faggot for a son.

"I'm her son," said Spencer simply. "And she realized that, at the end of the day, that's all that matters. Gay or straight, it doesn't stop me from being her son ... her only child. You're an only child too, right?"

Nate nodded.

"Then that makes it that much harder for her to turn her back on you. I mean, you're her kid, and she loves you. It may take her time - I know it did for my mom - but she'll come around eventually."

Nate didn't know what to say. Was it possible? Might his mother not react that badly to the knowledge that her son had been an unwitting participant in gay sex? Somehow he doubted it. Heck, he thought it was disgusting and unnatural, and he wasn't even religious. He had to beg for more time. Luckily he'd thought of just the card to play.

"It's not the right time, Spence. I've got a big game coming up next week. What if Mom doesn't react the way you say she will? What if it takes her forever to come around? And that's not even considering how my dad will react! I can't take that kind of stress, man; it'll mess with my head, and I won't be able to play well." He was becoming a tad frenzied and it didn't escape Spencer's attention.

"Okay, Nate, calm down. Breathe." He massaged the stud's tensed shoulders. "I'm not asking you to leap out of the closet today. I can wait a week. I'd even wait a month, or two, if it came to that. You can have all the time you need. When you're ready, just call me."

"But ... I can't be away for you for that long." Nate fixed his most pitiful, adoring gaze on Spencer. It wasn't hard. "You're the only one I feel safe with. When I'm with you it's like ... it's like paradise. I can forget about all the expectations, and the pressure ... I wanna be with you, as much as possible, as often as possible." Once again he was startled by how easily the words came to him, by how honest they felt. He had to remind himself that he was lying through his teeth. "Please, Spencer," he begged, "don't say you won't see me until I come out to my folks."

Spencer looked helplessly at Nate. His urge to coddle the raven-haired stud was overwhelming. How did he manage to be so hunky and yet so adorable at the same time? He could sense his principles flying out the window.

"Okay, I won't stop seeing you. But you've got to promise me, when your big game is over, and things have settled down, you'll tell your parents the truth."

The truth. If only, thought Nate. Troy had said they'd break up before things went that far, and Nate trusted that Spencer not to tell anyone about Nate if he begged him not to. He didn't know why he trusted a fag, much less one who was participant in his degradation, but he did. He almost felt bad about lying to him ... almost. "I promise."

Spencer smiled, and it occurred to Nate that many girls were probably ruing what a waste it was for such a good-looking guy to not be interested in them. He cupped Nate's cheek and said, "I believe you," - driving the knife of guilt deeper into Nate's conscience. "If there's anything you ever want to talk about, you know I'm here for you, right?"

Nate nodded. "I know."

"So ... since you're here, what about a movie? I've got this DVD of a British flick that I've yet to watch, and there's popcorn I can microwave ..."

"I've got a better idea," said Nate in a whisper that had successfully lured at least a dozen girls into his bed. He leaned forward and kissed Spencer passionately, slipping his tongue past his lips with little resistance.

"What are we doing?" asked Spencer as they came up for air.

"Celebrating the fact that I still have the sexiest boyfriend on the eastern seaboard?" suggested Nate.

"Funnily enough, I could say the same thing," grinned Spencer.

Nate's response was to unbutton his shirt.

"Whoa, hold it!" protested Spencer.

"What? You don't like what you see?" asked Nate, a trace of his old cockiness returning. He pulled his shirt open and breathed in so that his abs were pulled tight, struggling not to wince as the tired muscles complained. He was eager for the night to be over; the sooner he got Spencer to fuck him, the sooner he could go home.

"No, that's precisely the problem," muttered Spencer. "I like it a bit too much! Every time you take your clothes off, I end up doing something I didn't mean to."

"But not something you regret, right?"

Spencer shook his head slowly. Nate took that as his cue to climb onto Spencer's lap and slide his hands under the blond boy's shirt. "I want to make love to you," he whispered, toying with Spencer's nipples. They were erect under his touch, and they weren't the only part of Spencer's anatomy suffering from that fate. He could feel the heat radiating from Spencer's hard-on rubbing against his ass.

"Christ," Spencer moaned lustfully. "Can I at least lock the door first?"

"No," replied Nate. He moved one hand down Spencer's chest and abs until he reached the top of his jeans. "Let's get this off," he growled while unbuckling Spencer's belt.

"I guess no one will come in," Spencer said, mostly to himself. "Thank God Brody's away, because I remember when I forgot to put a sock on the door and he walked in ... ungh ... on me blowing Derek. The fucker wasn't even embarrassed; he kept teasing me for ... oh God! ... days about being lucky not to have his eye poked out by -"

"Spence? Stop talking."

"Okay. Can I at least get up to draw the curtains?"

"Leave them," said Nate as dismissively as he could. He continued fisting Spencer's hard dick while sucking on one of his nipples. His free hand found its way round to Spencer's back and slipped into his ass crack.

Spencer retained enough presence of mind to realize something wasn't quite right. "Nate, you don't want anyone seeing you. Not when you aren't ready to come out."

"There's no one there," Nate pointed out. "See for yourself." He hoped Owen had found a discreet spot for his camera work. "Besides, even if there was, they wouldn't know who I was. Don't you think it's hot to have sex with the possibility of the whole world watching?"

"Well, yeah, but it's you I'm worried about. It's more than a little reckless. Nate, stop that and pay attention."

Nate released Spencer's dick and looked at him. "I know what I'm doing. I've all these fantasies with you in them, and this is one of them. Please just play along. Please?" He reprised the doe-eyed expression for maximum effect.

Spencer sighed. "I'm never going to be able to say no to you, am I?"

"Probably not." Nate grinned, delighted to have Spencer wrapped around his little finger before realizing what he was thinking. "Now I hope you've got love juice to spare, because I want to see how many times I can get you to shoot in one night." This had been part of Troy's instructions.

"You're a sex fiend, you know that? And a mighty effec - aah!" The rest of Spencer's sentence was lost as Nate deep-throated his dick. "Oh fuck!" Nate reached up with one hand to twist Spencer's nipples while with his other hand he finger-fucked Spencer's tight asshole.

"Oh, God!" Spencer moaned as he gripped the bed with both hands, sweat running down his lean torso and matting the patch of blond fur between his pecs. It didn't take him long to blow his load down Nate's throat.

Nate swallowed and said, loudly for the benefit of the audio recorder, "That's the first. For the next ... why don't you lie down on your desk?"

"On my desk?" repeated Spencer.

"Yeah. It's big enough."

"Why?"

"Desk sex is hot," replied Nate, making it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The truth was that it had been on Troy's list of demands. The location of Spencer's desk, directly in front of the windows, probably had something to do with it.

Spencer shrugged. "I think it's already been established that I can't refuse you. And it is a pretty hot fantasy, I'll admit."

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet," Nate assured him.

Spencer cleared the books and miscellaneous items from his desk, placing them on the floor beneath it. Then he climbed up and lay back on it. Nate kneeled down between Spencer's legs and glanced out the window, into the night. He thought he discerned some movement in the bushes directly opposite Spencer's window. He fervently hoped it WAS Owen and not some stranger.

"Put your legs up," he told Spencer, who obeyed.

"Are you going to fuck me?" asked Spencer curiously.

It was a tempting thought - the opportunity to get back at one of his tormentors. Nate imagined brutally slamming into the hapless blond until he screamed for mercy. Strangely, the fantasy did not please him as much as he'd thought it would. In fact, the emotions it stirred in him were probably closer to ... guilt.

"No," he said finally, "something better." Hoisting Spencer's legs up onto his shoulders, he brought Spencer's ass up to his face and pried his cheeks apart. Spencer's ass cheeks were covered in very fine, very light golden fuzz that grew thicker and darker in his crack around his tightly puckered hole.

"Shit!" Spencer exclaimed in surprise as Nate dove in. "Damn you're a fast learner." Nate was glad Spencer didn't specifically mention rimming Nate on their previous encounter because he didn't fancy having to bribe Drew again, to erase that bit from the recording.

Spencer's dick was hard again within moments as Nate went to town on his hole. He kissed it; he licked around it; he sucked on it; and he pushed his tongue in as far as it would go. His ministrations were such that Spencer needed only minimal masturbation before he ejaculated again, all over himself. It was a large load and Nate spent several minutes licking Spencer's body clean ... all in full view of the window and, presumably, Owen's camera.

"Ready for round three?" asked Nate. He slipped off his jeans and jockstrap before asking Spencer where he kept his lube. Spencer watched as Nate padded naked across the room to retrieve the lube bottle. His ass, glistening with sweat, looked very alluring indeed.

Spencer's erection rapidly returned and Nate had no difficulty sheathing it in a condom. However, his grimace as he lubed up his sore hole did not pass unnoticed by Spencer. "Nate, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing. I just ... overdid things with my dildo today."

"We really don't have to do this if you're in any sort of pain," Spencer said anxiously.

Nate forced a smile. "Are you kidding? This is the best part! Come on, lie back and, before you know it, I'll have you cumming again tonight."

Mollified by Nate's assurances, Spencer lay back on the desk and watched as the stud lowered himself onto his dick. The ten-and-a-half inches slowly disappeared into Nate's ass. Then Nate began to fuck himself on Spencer's dick in earnest. At the same time he was giving his prostate a pounding so it was hardly unexpected that his own dick grew hard. Recalling Troy's instructions to cum while riding Spencer's dick, Nate jerked himself off at the same time ... not that his dick needed much stimulation, to be honest, but it helped him avoid the dismay of suffering a hands-free orgasm from getting fucked up the ass.

Spencer grabbed handfuls of Nate's well-muscled ass, groaning in ecstasy as Nate worked his tight ass up and down Spencer's large dick. He brought his hips up to meet each of Nate's downwards thrusts, ensuring that the hunk was well and truly impaled every time. They were both dripping with sweat from their exertions.

As Nate's handjob began to produce the inevitable result, his ass clamped down on Spencer's dick and pushed him over the edge. They roared in unison as they both climaxed at the same time, Spencer blowing his load in Nate's ass while Nate shot his onto Spencer's face and chest.

Nate continued to bounce on Spencer's dick, slowing gradually to a stop. Looking down at Spencer's cum-covered features he felt a vicious sense of triumph ... but it was fleeting. When all was said and done, he was a sex slave. And Spencer, being a fag, had probably enjoyed getting spunked on. Nate was choosing to ignore the tiny part of him that actually felt bad about blowing his load on Spencer.

Spencer reached up to wipe the cum from his face. "Don't," said Nate quickly. He had his orders from Troy.

Gently and painstakingly, he gave Spencer a complete tongue bath. No part of Spencer's body was spared; Nate even buried his nose in the sweaty fur of Spencer's armpits. There was a brief diversion when he licked the cum from Spencer's face because the blond hunk wouldn't let him move on without a long and passionate kiss. When he was done cleaning the front of Spencer's body, Nate asked him to turn over onto his stomach. Spencer shuddered with pure bliss as Nate ran his tongue down Spencer's spine, soaking up the sweat from the nape of his neck to the small of his back ... and he didn't stop there. Spencer moaned loudly as he was rimmed for a second time. Inexorably, Spencer's dick was hard by the time he rolled onto his back again.

Nate suppressed a groan. He'd hoped three orgasms would be Spencer's limit, but apparently his luck was out. What else was new? "Quadruple or quits?" he asked.

Without waiting for a reply he wrapped his lips around Spencer's erection. It took a lot longer to coax another, smaller load out of Spencer, but Nate made it happen. As he swallowed Spencer's cum, he looked across to the clock on Brody's desk. It read 11:38.

"Shit!" he cried, scrambling off the desk. "Mom is gonna kill me! I said I'd be back by eleven."

Spencer sat up and swung his legs off the desk as he watched Nate pull his clothes on over his sweaty body. "You could really use a shower. Actually, I probably need another one myself. I can lend you a towel ..."

"Thanks, but I can't. I've really got to get home." Nate hunted around for his left sock while buttoning up his shirt.

"Under the bed," said Spencer. "When will I see you again?"

"Uh, I'll give you a call." Nate looked up from tying his shoelaces. "I'll try not to make you wait too long this time." He walked over to Spencer and kissed him gently on the lips. That part wasn't in Troy's script, but it felt almost ... natural.

"You do know your way out, right?"

Nate nodded. "Goodnight." He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"Wait!" Spencer leapt off the desk and crossed the room in three wide bounds. Nate turned around and Spencer kissed him long and hard.

"What was that for?"

"So that you'll hurry back. Brody won't be home till Sunday." The invitation was clear.

"I'll keep that in mind. Now I really, really have to go."

"Okay. See you."

Nate shut the door behind him. Spencer threw himself onto his bed, grinning inanely. He had the hottest, most adorable, eager-to-please boyfriend in the world. Sure, he was still in the closet, but he'd seemed sincere when he promised to come out to his parents after the championship game.

"Next week," Spencer said to himself. "In just one week's time I could have the boyfriend I've always dreamed about. Surely it's too good to be true?" Doubt flickered in his mind for a moment. Then he dismissed it. "Nah. Not again. Not so soon after the last time. Someone would really have to hate me for that to happen."

& & & & &

Nate found Owen waiting beside his car in the parking lot.

"Nice performance back there, Nathaniel. I managed to get some fantastic shots. I really liked the one where you spunked all over Spencer while fucking yourself on his dick. That shot belongs next to the dictionary definition of `slut'."

Nate ignored his taunts. He was too tired and emotionally drained. "What do you want?"

"Recorder," stated Owen. Nate dug it out of his pocket and handed it over. "And drop your pants – I want to see what your ass looks like after all that abuse."

Nate looked around the parking lot nervously, but it was dark and deserted. He pulled down his jeans and held his ass cheeks apart so that Owen could get a good look at his hole. It was swollen and sloppy.

Owen whistled. "No one's going to mistake you for a virgin now. Hold that pose." The camera flashed as Owen took a quick snap of Nate's battered hole.

"Is that it?" Nate asked plaintively. "Can I go home now?"

"Well, strictly speaking, I have forty minutes left of my day to torment you, but I'm going to be kinder than you deserve and let you go home."

"Thanks," replied Nate sarcastically.

"Although I can still change my mind," added Owen threateningly.

"Sorry," Nate apologized hastily. The last thing he needed at this stage was further punishment. "I'm just worn out and not thinking straight." The former part was seriously true; he ached all over and he was sure he'd sweated out his body's entire water content. He wanted nothing more than to go home, drink a gallon of water and crash in his bed.

"Oh, I think you stopped thinking `straight' a while ago," laughed Owen. "Go on home and get some rest; I suspect you're going to need all your energy for tomorrow. The good news is you've got a late start to the day: 11am."

Nate nodded and got behind the wheel of his car. Owen watched him drive off before replaying some of the audio on the recording device. He continued to listen to it as he strolled back to his jalopy and called Troy from the driver's seat.

"It went better than we could have ever hoped for," he reported. "You were right on the money with the window stuff. I had an excellent view of everything. Nate actually got Spencer up on the desk before he rimmed him and rode his dick, so those photos are particularly clear. And some of his dialogue ... I've only listened to part of the recording but Nate's really outdone himself this time. The stuff that comes out of his mouth is unbelievable!"

"It's incredible how Nate continues to serve as the instrument of his own destruction," remarked Troy. He was taking the call in the bathroom to avoid waking his lover. "I've got to get back to bed, but you'll be sure to upload all this stuff to the site, right?"

"Of course. It's too good not to share. But I think I'll hold off on uploading some of the stuff that went down at my place; we wouldn't want the softer hearts feeling sorry for the fucker."

"No, we wouldn't," agreed Troy. "Goodnight, Owen. See you in the morning."

"Night," Owen responded and terminated the call. He smiled to himself in the darkness. Nate as the instrument of his own destruction: how poetic. Owen had promised himself that, by the time he was done with him, Nate would rue the day he'd been born, and it appeared that promise was well on its way to fulfillment.

To be continued ...

Postscript: ------------

I always love to hear your thoughts and your suggestions for the future of this story. I've got most of it mapped out, so I'm afraid I can't always use your suggestions, but some of you will have noticed I've incorporated your ideas into the story, albeit perhaps not in the way you quite expected. You can find my email address at the top of this page if you want to get in contact with me. I know I haven't been very good in replying your emails lately, but I will try my best. A Happy New Year to all of you.

Copyright: ----------- All Rights Reserved by Jasper X. Cooper (2010)

No part of this story should be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.