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 high school basketball player who finds himself at the complete mercy of his teammates. Most of these humiliations have a strong sexual component. If you are underage, do not want to read about such matters, or cannot distinguish between fact and fiction, please do yourself (and everyone else) a favor by leaving this webpage at once. Assuming you do NOT fall into any of these categories (and you really should not be on this site if you did), I bid you: onward!

Special Note: -------------

I am aware that there are a large number of characters within this story, and this chapter introduces at least two more. If you would like a list to keep them all sorted, please contact me at the address above.

Dedication: ----------- For Andrew, on his birthday, and for Bart, on the successful completion of his story, "Getting Eric".

Chapter 11: ----------- Q is for Questioning

Nate ate his breakfast silently while his mom ranted. "You couldn't even pick up the phone to let us know you'd be home so late?"

"I told you," he interjected finally, "my battery was dead." It was true; with everything else he'd had on his mind he'd completely forgotten to charge it and it must have died sometime after nine. The result was that he'd missed half a dozen calls from home, as well as another couple from Melanie. He'd not yet had the chance to do anything about the latter.

"You could have used a friend's phone," Marsha pointed out.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Nate. "I forgot." He wished the doe-eyed look would work as effectively on his mom as it seemed to on Spencer.

"You know, if you weren't eighteen, I'd ground you."

"It wasn't even that late," whined Nate.

"It was nearly 12:30! Do you know how anxious I was? I couldn't even get you on the phone to check if you were alright."

"I said I was sorry," Nate said sullenly.

His dad put down the newspaper. "Don't take that tone with your mother. She was worried about you. So was I, for that matter. You're our only kid. But you're an adult now, and that comes with responsibilities. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad," replied Nate quietly. "I'm sorry, Mom. It won't happen again." His mind was whirring: his dad's words about him being an only child reminded him of what Spencer had said the previous night. He glanced furtively at each of his parents in turn. If he told them about being raped by his teammates, was it possible that they wouldn't react in horror and dismay, as he'd expect them to?

Marsha put the last of the dishes into the washer and set it to run. "Alright, I've got to get to the carnival and set up the booth. The kids from bible class are supposed to do the legwork, but Katie and I have to supervise. I think I saw her leaving earlier so I'd better get going too."

The mention of the Bible instantly put the brakes on Nate's tentative hopes. He knew that his mom swore by it, and he also knew what it had to say about homosexuals: they were pretty much on the highway to hell. Now Nate didn't put much stock by scripture, but he had to agree that some of the sick stuff he'd been forced to do over the past week should be consigned to Hell's fiery depths.

He couldn't tell them. How would he confess to the numerous blowjobs he'd given over the last seven days? How would he admit to having been fucked up the ass, including several instances where he'd been the one impaling himself on dick? How would he even begin to explain why he'd stuck his tongue down guys' assholes, or why he'd seduced a gay guy to bed with him? His folks would never again so much as look at him, much less accept all the truly shameful things he'd done - not when he himself couldn't.

Nate was jerked out of his reverie by his dad calling his name. "Alright, son, I'm going to drop your mom off at the carnival on my way to the country club. What are your plans for the day? Shouldn't you be at swimming?"

Nate shook his head. "No, it was canceled. We're going to swing by the carnival instead."

"Hmm, okay. Here's some money if you want to get yourself something at the carnival. With all these late-night shenanigans I hope you're keeping up with your schoolwork."

"Yes, Dad," said Nate, taking the $20 bill from Mitchell. He hoped his masters would leave him some time to complete the essay he had due on Monday.

No sooner had his parents left, the doorbell rang. Nate, assuming one of his parents had left something behind, went to open the door. To his surprise he found Bobby in the portico.

"What do you want?" he asked irritably. "I've got to go somewhere."

"I know," retorted Bobby, "but Troy asked me to make sure you had your regular shave before you went out."

Nate's shoulders sagged. He stepped aside to let Bobby in.

"Why do you still have your clothes on?"

Nate obediently stripped naked in the foyer. His body still ached from the previous day's exertions, and he winced slightly as he raised his arms to pull his shirt over his head.

Bobby eyed the hunk's ripped body critically. "Yeah, you definitely need a shave. How fast does your hair grow back anyway? You're like an ape or something."

Nate had to bite back a sharp rejoinder about hairless little boys.

"My mom's already gone to the carnival," continued Bobby obliviously, "but Dad's still home, reading the papers, so we're going to have to do this indoors." His disappointment at not being able to subject Nate to an outdoor shave was palpable.

"Where's your bathroom?" he asked. Nate led him upstairs.

Bobby had him lie in the bath while he scraped at the stubble under Nate's arms with a disposable razor. It didn't escape Nate's notice that he was whistling cheerfully while he worked.

"What's up with you?" he asked finally.

Bobby paused in the midst of whisking away the few hairs on Nate's chest. "What do you mean?"

"You're whistling. I don't think I've ever heard you whistle before."

To Nate's astonishment the younger boy began to blush. "What do you know about me, anyway?" he blustered. "Maybe I just felt like whistling." Struggling to regain control of the situation, he snapped, "Now roll over so that I can shave your ass."

Interrogating Bobby rapidly became the last thing on Nate's mind as the younger teen forced two foam-covered fingers up his still-tender hole.

& & & & &

It was virtually impossible to find a parking space near the carnival by a quarter to eleven, and Nate had to park some distance away and walk the rest of the way. The carnival ground was thronging with people; it appeared all of Franklin County had turned up for the event. (Not all that surprising, given that precious little happened in their corner of the world.) Nate would not have been able to find his teammates in the crowd if Wes hadn't texted him their exact location. He joined them at the foot of the Ferris wheel.

"What's the plan?" asked Dave Ramirez, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.

"Have fun?" responded Wes in a similarly loud voice. "Seriously, guys, enjoy yourselves. We don't all have to stick together as a big group. In fact, it'll be a hindrance if we did."

"What about Nate?" asked Parker, jerking his head towards the silent slave.

Wes shrugged. "We'll take turns watching him. And try not to do anything rash," he added warningly.

"Okay, we call first dibs on him then," cried Dave's younger brother, Cliff. Wes nodded in amusement and the junior varsity team closed in around Nate. He found himself being dragged to the queue for the Ferris wheel. It was the highlight of the carnival, having been hired by the organizers for a significant amount of money, but the long queue of paying customers suggested that they would more than recoup their investment.

Nate didn't understand what they might possibly do to him on the Ferris wheel, but he was soon enlightened.

"What's the highest place you've jerked off in?" Connor Davis asked him in a confidential whisper.

"Huh?" Comprehension dawned. "Oh no! You can't mean -"

"Yep," drawled Ryder Walsh. "Right in one."

Devlin felt he had to step in. "Come on guys. Give Nate a break. Can't you see he's had enough?"

Several of his teammates turned to scowl at him. "Dev, if you don't want to join in, you can get lost," said Cliff.

"My brother said he found Nate jerking off in the supply closet yesterday," Wade Miller said.

"What was Kent doing in the supply closet?" Connor asked curiously.

Rodrigo Lopez giggled. "I bet he was trying to get off with my sister."

Wade ignored them and continued, "What it proves is that Nate can't keep his hands off his dick, so we're really doing him a favor."

A week ago Devlin would have agreed, but having observed firsthand that Nate's obvious shame and loathing had not abated after all this time, he no longer believed Nate was in any way enjoying what he was being forced to do. He looked around at his teammates for some support, but the few who weren't scowling at him had their eyes firmly on the ground. "Guys ...," he pleaded, but to no avail.

"Fuck off, O'Rourke," said Ryder. Devlin knew the last name reference meant he was out of favor. He glanced at Nate and mouthed, "I'm sorry." The hunk gave no indication that he even noticed the silent apology.

Devlin stayed behind as his teammates boarded the Ferris wheel. Four of them boarded one gondola and the others waited with Nate for the next gondola; they needed one all to themselves for their purposes. Once the second gondola left the loading dock, Devlin moved away from the wheel. He knew he wasn't going to help Nate by standing around. He felt really bad for the poor guy; he must be so terrified and humiliated. But what was he to do? He was just one guy against many. Maybe he would have better luck persuading Bobby. The thought of the cute Carlisle Academy student put a smile on Devlin's face. He could hardly wait for four o'clock.

& & & & &

Nate, of course, didn't have the luxury of future pleasures to take his mind off his current plight. As soon as their gondola had moved out of sight of the loading dock and the ride operator, he was ordered by his masters to drop his drawers. Nate obeyed reluctantly; his white running shorts and leopard-print thong (worn in accordance with Troy's texted instructions) were soon at his ankles.

Ryder eyed the half-naked stud critically before issuing a further command: "Pull your shirt up under your armpits."

The gondola had windows on all four sides. From Nate's seated position, the windows came up to just below his shoulders. Hiking his tight, sleeveless jersey up under his arms would (hopefully) not reveal any bare flesh to the people in the other gondolas or those on the ground, so Nate did as he was told without protest.

"Now jerk off," instructed Connor.

"And catch your cum in your hand," added Cliff. "We don't want to make a mess."

"You'd better hurry," Wade pointed out. "This ride isn't going to last forever, and you'd hate to reach the ground in your present state."

Nate hurriedly spat into his hand, grabbed his dick and started to pump it. It wasn't easy to perform in such circumstances, but one thing Nate had learned from his ordeals was that fear made people do things they never thought possible. He closed his eyes and conjured up sexy images in his mind, all the while fisting his dick. Slowly but surely, it began to stiffen, and by the time the gondola reached the top of the wheel, he was fully erect and drooling precum. Ryder had a camera trained on him the whole time, while the other boys admired Nate's rippling abs and growing erection.

"You're running out of time," Connor reminded him.

Nate desperately gave his dick a couple more tugs, but he just didn't seem able to achieve that final momentum needed for an orgasm. He knew there was nothing for it; he popped two fingers of his free left hand into his mouth and sucked on them to wet them. Then, he reached down between his legs and fingered his hole. As it had numerous times before, the anal sensations pushed him over the edge, and he came with a loud groan. His cum splashed onto his groin and abs.

"I thought I told you to catch your cum in your hand," grumbled Cliff.

His teammates were inclined to be more forgiving. "At least he didn't mess up the gondola," said Dylan. "That's something."

"Well, clean it up before we reach the ground," ordered Wade. Without thinking, Nate mopped up his cum with his fingers and started to lick them clean.

Several of the boys screwed up their faces, and there was a chorus of ew's.

"I didn't say lick it up!" Wade complained.

Nate turned red. He could have kicked himself for being so stupid. Now the younger boys would believe that he truly enjoyed all this stuff.

Sure enough, Ryder said, "Oh, let him. Dude obviously loves the taste of his cum."

"Not just his, I bet," muttered Wade.

There wasn't any time to debate the point as the gondola was about to dock; Nate managed to get dressed only in the nick of time. Seven giggling teenagers and one somber one exited the gondola, joining the rest of the junior varsity team who were waiting next to the Ferris wheel.

"I hope the next passengers don't smell the cum," laughed Ryder. A self-conscious Nate reached for the breath mints in his pocket. As he squeezed his hand into the lone pocket that held not only the breath mints but also his phone and wallet, Nate was reminded of just how tight his shorts were. They also did not cover very much, coming less than halfway down his thighs, and to top it all off, they were made of a rather thin fabric that kept bunching in his ass crack. He had to keep discreetly pulling the shorts out of his crack, but it wasn't easy to do so in a crowded venue without being noticed. Amid a few scandalized looks, Nate's powerful thighs and bubble butt received many appreciative glances (and not all of them from members of the opposite sex). The tight top he was wearing molded itself to his sculpted chest and bared his muscular arms, which also gained their fair share of attention from passerby.

"What now?" asked Rodrigo.

"Let's take a walk around," proposed Connor. "And you," he directed the comment at Nate, "make sure you stay hard. We'll check up on you from time to time, and if we find you failing to follow instructions, the seniors are going to hear about it."

It was a terrifying half-hour for Nate as they wandered through the packed carnival while he nursed a hard-on in his pants. Once, they passed by the church booth, and Nate hastily bowed his head so as to not be seen by his mom or their neighbor. As for his junior varsity masters, it appeared they were utterly shameless. Ryder twisted Nate's nipples so that they would be clearly outlined behind the fabric of his jersey. Connor seemed to take delight in slapping Nate's butt every so often. Cliff suggested that Nate pretend to wipe his sweaty brow with the bottom of his jersey so that his abs would be on display. And all of them took turns in groping Nate's dick to ensure he was following orders to stay hard.

By midday they had run out of things to do to Nate so they released him for an early lunch, with instructions to call Wes at 12:30 to continue his "adventure", as Ryder put it.

Nate was glad for his time alone, even if it was just half an hour. He looked around for something to eat and settled on the hot dog stand. But lunch would have to wait as he bumped into a couple of girls when he left the stand with his purchase.

"Nate?"

It was Melanie and her best friend, Teri – and neither of them looked happy to see him.

& & & & &

"Oh shit! Turn around, quick!"

"What is it?" asked Jason, acquiescing to Wes's urgent request despite being puzzled by it. Wes ducked behind a stall with Jason following.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, dude," Jason said plaintively as Wes scanned the crowd from his hiding spot.

Wes turned to face his friend, looking embarrassed. "I saw Lauren and Amy," he explained.

Jason rolled his eyes. "We're not going to keep hiding from them, I hope. I actually had a good time on my date last night - and you might have, too, if you didn't spend it obsessing over poor, helpless Nate."

Wes glared at him. "I wasn't obsessing! I had concerns for Nate's wellbeing, and you'd probably share those concerns if you didn't hate him so much."

"I don't hate him," clarified Jason. "I despise everything about him."

"One of these days we're going to have to talk about that," muttered Wes.

"And one of these days we're going to have to talk about your blind spot where Nate's concerned," retorted Jason.

The two best friends glared at each other for a moment, and then they smiled sheepishly.

"Jeez, I can't believe we're letting Nate - of all people - come between us," said Jason. "Besides, you did see those pics Owen uploaded from yesterday, didn't you? Nate was all over Spencer. If anyone needed protection last night, it was Spencer."

Wes started to blush. He had indeed gone through the audio and visuals from Nate's Friday ... and jerked off twice over it. It had just been so damned hot, especially when Nate had cum all over Spencer while riding his dick. And the scene where Nate had given Spencer's sweaty body a full tongue bath ... Wes was getting a hard-on just thinking about it.

Jason smirked as he noticed Wes trying (and failing) to discreetly adjust the erection in his pants. "Come on, you ol' horndog - we'd best get going if you're going to stick that where you want to."

& & & & &

Troy was finishing the last bite of his burger when he spotted a familiar figure standing off to one side, engrossed in typing something on his phone. Tossing the burger wrapper into a nearby bin, Troy silently crept up and jammed his fingers into the sides of the black-haired hunk's ribcage.

The guy yelped and leapt several inches off the ground, much to Troy's amusement. He turned around and glared at him. "You bastard! Can't you just say hello like a normal person?"

"Because I'm not a normal person?" Troy suggested.

Finn Reilly's glare gave way to a grin as he rubbed his tender ribs. "No, you're not. So to what do I owe this pleasure? I hope you're not looking for more of last night; I'm still recovering from that. My roommate busted a gut when he saw me limping home this morning."

"You've only yourself to blame for that," said Troy. "If only you didn't look so fucking sexy riding my dick."

"I've half a mind to warn Paul about you," Finn retorted good-naturedly. "He should kick you off the varsity team for being such an animal."

Troy stuck his tongue out at him. "You know what's not so sexy? Running home to cry to big brother."

"He'd have to know about us first," replied Finn pointedly.

Troy sensed in Finn's voice his long-standing desire to make their relationship official. "We've talked about this before," he sighed. "What's wrong with what we have going now?"

"Besides the fact that I can't introduce you to my family as my boyfriend?"

Troy shrugged. "A pretty minor fact, if you ask me. I'd have thought the sex more than makes up for it. Just think of all the fun we had last night. I even let you fuck me!"

"That was a rare honor," conceded Finn, "although you kinda spoilt it by spending the whole time thinking of Blondie."

"I was not!" protested Troy.

Finn shook his head. "Don't even bother denying it. The look on your face gives you away every time. You do know it's never gonna happen, right? It's time you gave up that fantasy. Sure, he's fucking hot with that bod and those green eyes are to die for, but he's made it pretty clear how he feels about you."

"You're so full of shit sometimes, you know that?"

Finn sighed. "Sometimes I wish I knew his secret."

"And what secret would that be?"

"How to quit you, Troy Tucker Petersen."

The cocky grin returned to Troy's face. He had a pretty good idea that Finn wasn't really keen on finding that one out.

& & & & &

Lost in reminiscences of the previous night, Spencer had allowed his feet to lead him down Fifth Avenue and into Cuppa. He was through the door before he realized where he was. He anxiously scanned the coffee shop, but it was laid out in such a way that it was impossible to identify the customers in the many cozy and dimly-lit nooks. Deciding that the safer option was to take flight, he began to retrace his steps to the door.

"He isn't here," called someone loudly.

Spencer paused with his hand on the door handle, unsure if he was being addressed.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you. It's safe to come in. Your ex isn't here." Spencer identified the speaker as the brown-haired barista behind the counter.

Smiling sheepishly, Spencer abandoned his retreat and approached the counter instead. He recognized the barista as the same one who'd been on duty on the day he'd been very publicly dumped by Derek in that very coffee shop. His name, Spencer remembered, was Elliott. He'd seen him around on campus before, where he was a senior, but never before talked to him. In the immediate aftermath of the breakup, however, Elliott had been most sympathetic.

"Refills are on the house," he'd said, "and if that jerk comes back in here I will personally kick his ass out the door." The thought of adorkable Elliott, all 5'8" of him, taking on the 6'3" Derek had brought a much-needed smile to Spencer's face. It had occurred to him at the time that they were sharing a `moment' ... until it was interrupted by the arrival of Elliott's girlfriend and young son. No wonder Carly was always telling him his gaydar sucked.

Shaking the memory from his mind, Spencer watched as Elliott readied what he presumed was another customer's order.

"So I'm guessing The Jerk is the reason I haven't seen you around here this past month?" asked Elliott conversationally.

"Yeah, it was Derek - The Jerk - who introduced me to this place. Given how things ended between us, I didn't want to risk bumping into him here."

"And miss out on your mint chocolate chip ice crush?" Elliott set the beverage he'd been preparing in front of Spencer. "Extra dash of peppermint and hold the whipped cream, right?"

Spencer stared at him. "How did you ...?"

Elliott grinned. "I try to remember regular customers' orders - especially if they're cute. I mean the customers, not their orders."

Spencer chuckled uncertainly. He was confused as to whether Elliott was joking or not. He decided he had to be; he could remember quite clearly the kid calling Elliott "daddy".

He cleared his throat. "Uh, can I get a BLT as well?" Elliott grabbed one from the refrigerated display. Spencer dug in his pocket for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing; it's on the house," said Elliott.

"I can't possibly ..."

Elliott shrugged his shoulders. "My folks own this place. But if you really want to compensate me ... maybe you'd agree to a date with me?"

Spencer nearly knocked his drink over. "What?!?!"

"Well, that's not quite the reaction I was hoping for," Elliott observed, looking crestfallen. "Did I not do it right? In my defense this is my first time asking a guy out on a date."

"N-no, that's not what I meant. I didn't realize - it's just that - you have a kid!" blurted out Spencer.

"Oh. Janice did warn me that might be a deal breaker." Elliott sighed. "It's okay, you needn't apologize. I realize bringing a three-year-old into the equation does complicate things."

"It's not your son," clarified Spencer, recovering from his surprise. "I love kids. Some day I'd like to have a couple of my own. It's, you know ... your girlfriend. Your son's mother?"

Elliott looked puzzled. "Girlfriend? Son's mo-?" He started to laugh. "Of course! You saw Janice with Duke. You think she's my girlfriend!"

"She's not?"

"Dude, if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn't be asking you out on a date. No, Janice isn't my girlfriend; she's my sister. She helps out with Duke - that's my son's name, by the way. Being a single dad to a toddler, I need all the help I can get. Am I shooting myself in the foot by admitting that?"

Comprehension finally dawned on Spencer. "No, not at all. I can imagine it isn't easy. But where's Duke's mother?"

Elliott looked down. "I'm afraid she passed away. You might have heard of that big accident last summer on the Goode Highway?" Spencer had; it had been a major tragedy for the otherwise placid town of Mount Pleasant. "Claire and her dad were both killed, and her mom was left paralyzed."

"I'm sorry," said Spencer quietly.

Elliott nodded. "It was hard enough for Claire's grandparents to take care of her mom and brother without adding a toddler to the mix. So I petitioned for custody of Duke, with my folks' support. It wasn't the direction I'd planned for my life, but he's my son and I love him, regardless of how he was conceived." To Spencer's enquiring look he clarified, "Claire and I were `dating' in high school. Duke was the unplanned result of my efforts to prove to everyone - and myself - that I was straight. Then he came along and changed everything. I don't regret it, though. He's the best thing in my life."

Spencer thought back to the lively toddler who'd latched onto his father's leg and insisted on being thrown into the air. He smiled. "I believe you."

Elliott returned his smile. "So what about it? Can I tempt you with dinner tonight?"

Spencer started guiltily. "Uh, about that ..."

"There's something else?" exclaimed Elliott, but he meant it in good humor. "Here I thought I'd dodged the two biggest bullets. Don't tell me you're turning me down because you're still hung up on The Jerk."

"No, nothing like that," Spencer assured him. "I would have loved to go on a date with you. If you'd asked me a week sooner I would've agreed. The problem is ... since then I've met someone else."

"Oh." Elliott looked dejected. "I guess it serves me right for not taking my chance when I had it."

"Hey, it was a pretty good job you did on your first time asking a guy out," Spencer said in an attempt to render a silver lining to the cloud that had settled over Elliott. He felt terrible about turning him down, especially after Elliott had been so nice to him after his breakup with Derek.

Elliott smiled with a hint of sadness. "That's nice of you to say, considering I led you to believe that I was committing incest with my own sister."

Spencer was glad to see that Elliott hadn't lost his sense of humor. He extracted a note from his wallet and cut Elliott off before he could protest. "Don't say you won't accept it. And, for the record, I think the next guy you ask out would be a fool to turn you down."

& & & & &

Nate looked from Melanie to Teri as he mulled over how to play the situation in which he now found himself. He decided remorse was his best bet.

"Hey, Mel. How're you doing? I was sorry to hear you were down with the `flu."

"Really?" questioned Teri, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You were so concerned that you couldn't be bothered to return her calls?"

Melanie held up her hand to restrain her friend. "It's okay, T. I can handle this."

"I've had a lot on my plate," interjected Nate. "I wanted to check up on you, I really did, but things kept getting in the way."

"What sort of `things'?" Melanie asked sharply.

"Basketball practice and ... stuff," said Nate, aware of how lame it sounded.

"Uh-huh," responded Mel, clearly unconvinced. "See, Nate, Teri believes your extra-curricular activities are of a decidedly unsporting nature."

"Of course she does," retorted Nate. "When has she not? She's always had it in for me."

"And I've defended you, time and again. Maybe I've just been burying my head in the sand, like Teri says. But after everything that's gone on this past week, I can't just ignore it anymore. You're dressing differently, your behavior's all over the map, and you can't even muster up the most basic concern after hearing your girlfriend is ill."

"I was busy and I forgot, okay?" whined Nate. "I don't owe anybody an explanation!" He knew he was sabotaging his own cause, but it was unbelievable how he was under siege from all sides.

Melanie flinched at Nate's vehemence, but she was not about to back down. "Who is she, Nate?"

"Who is who?" repeated Nate, although he knew very well what Mel was asking.

"Don't play dumb, Nate. You're not dressing like this for just anyone. You have someone else in your sights."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" exclaimed a thoroughly exasperated Nate, but he couldn't think of a suitable rejoinder. He had always been able to turn on the charm and to lie convincingly at the drop of a hat, yet now when he needed those skills the most they deserted him. His ordeals and lack of proper sleep had exhausted him.

Teri cut in. "I told you he wouldn't admit it. He never has, so why would that change now? Lily Lopez already told you how he was waiting for some girl in the supply closet; what more proof do you need?"

"Nate, please tell me the truth. You owe me that much." The look in Melanie's eyes beseeched him to deny the charges, to offer a believable excuse as to why he'd been discovered naked with a hard-on in the supply closet.

And Nate wanted to; he hadn't realized until that moment how desperately he desired someone to trust him wholeheartedly the way Melanie did. Cheating on her gave him a forbidden thrill, which was why he'd done it again and again, but he had always gone back to her. He'd told himself that it was because he needed the hottest girl in school on his arm, and of course the perverse kick he got out of rubbing that loser Owen's face in their relationship was sweet. But faced with the disintegration of that relationship Nate realized he had always craved - and received - something more from Melanie. Not just the ego-stroking, or the sadistic put-downs of Owen, nor even the satisfaction of having a regular slam piece when he tired of the girls with whom he betrayed her. If Nate had been inclined to be sappy - and he was not - he might have defined that `something more' as love.

He could still have averted the looming crisis. As Spencer would have attested, few people could resist his puppy-dog eyes. Nate had lied his way out of more than one such predicament simply by utilizing them. But it occurred to him that he would have to keep thinking of ways to maintain the deception until such a time that his slave masters tired of him (and frankly, he was starting to wonder if they ever would). He was also aware that the major reason for Owen's singular cruelty towards him was his relationship with Melanie.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Nate came to a decision. "Okay! You want the truth? Yes, I'm seeing someone else. In fact, I've been seeing other girls from practically the first day of our relationship."

"Nate!" Melanie was shocked, and even Teri was momentarily stunned into silence; she hadn't expected Nate to admit his dalliances.

But she soon recovered. "I told you, Mel! He's such a pig."

Nate snorted. "Yeah, you should've listened to your friend, Mel. Of course the only reason she's been against me is because she's pretty much the only girl at McKinley I haven't slept with." Teri let out a scandalized gasp but Nate went on, the pent-up rage and frustration pouring out of him in an uncontrolled stream. After everything he had been through in the previous eight days, all the hurt and humiliation, he NEEDED to hurt and humiliate someone else. "How stupid do you have to be, to not see that this dumb bitch just wants a piece of the action just like every other -"

His venomous diatribe was cut short as Melanie's hand connected with his left cheek. Nate reeled back; the slap had been unexpected. Passerby stopped and stared. They had been pretending to not notice the confrontation going on in their midst, but the loud slap had echoed through the throng in a manner they could no longer ignore.

"Stop it," said Melanie through gritted teeth, aware of the eyes on them. "Teri's my friend, and I should've trusted her and not you." She looked at him in disgust. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. C'mon Teri, I don't want to talk to this dick anymore."

"Yeah, go on then! You don't know what you're missing!" Nate yelled at their backs, his attempt at false bravado falling flat. He couldn't meet the gazes of the crowd, who were all eyeing him with undisguised contempt.

His arms were grabbed roughly from behind, and a gruff voice in his ear ordered him to come quietly. Nate recognized Wes's voice and the vice-like grip of the Hamilton twins. He didn't know how long they'd been standing nearby or how much of the exchange they'd witnessed, but he realized they weren't pleased with him. Now that his reactionary anger had abated, he wasn't feeling too hot himself.

Away from the main crowd, his back was slammed into the side of a marquee and he was confronted by Wes. "What the fuck was that? You were supposed to get lunch, not get into a shouting match with Melanie."

"I thought you guys would be happy I broke up with her," Nate retorted sulkily. "You were the ones bitching about how I was leading her on and shit."

"Yeah, you owed her the truth, but that was a crappy way to do it. It was downright cruel."

Nate couldn't believe his ears. "Cruel? You're talking about cruelty? What about all the shit you guys put me through? That's not cruel?"

Wes had the good grace to look ashamed, but his best friend was not similarly inclined. "Some people deserve it, and others don't," stated Jason. "Guess which categories you and Mel fall into."

Shane interjected, "Man, you're just lucky Owen wasn't around to see what just happened."

"Where is he, anyway?" asked Stuart.

"I don't know," replied Jason, "but it's getting to 12:30 and Wes has arranged for Nate's next task to start then. Isn't that right, Wes? Wes?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Yeah, it's just this way." Wes led the way to the dunking booth, which was being run by a smiling middle-aged nurse. "Hi, Nurse Kaplan."

"Oh, hello, Wesley," replied Nurse Kaplan. "You're right on time. Who's your friend that's volunteered for the dunk tank?"

"That would be Nate here," said Wes. The Hamilton twins pushed the enslaved stud forward to meet the nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Nate. It was very good of you to volunteer. God knows I've had a tough time getting volunteers among the hospital staff."

Nate, who of course had not volunteered for anything, could only nod mutely. His forced participation had come about after Wes overheard Nurse Kaplan complaining to his mom, her coworker, about the difficulty she was having in finding people who were agreeable to being dunked. Wes had helpfully suggested that a friend from school would be more than eager to participate if he knew it was for a good cause.

As Wes made small talk with Nurse Kaplan, Jason led Nate to the dunk tank. Troy arrived, looking rather flushed, just as Nate was about to climb onto the seat above the tank of water.

"Oh, I don't think you want to get that shirt wet now, do you?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Nate glared at him, but stripped off his jersey obediently. Troy also pocketed Nate's wallet and phone. More of their teammates were arriving, looking on in amusement as a shirtless Nate took his place in the dunk tank. He felt very exposed as he was in full view of the crowd thronging the carnival. It didn't help that Troy had tugged his shorts down slightly, until they rested slightly below his hips and revealed the string of the thong he had on underneath. Nate fervently hoped his mother would stay in the church booth and not come across him in such a state of undress.

Such a hunky attraction was sure to draw crowds, and it wasn't long before a queue was building in front of the dunking booth. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the vast majority of the booth's customers were female and under the age of 25. Nate recognized a fair number of them from school. But he soon had a far bigger worry on his mind. The first few times he hit the water, he didn't notice it. The giggling, however, soon alerted him to the situation. The water was turning the thin, white fabric of his shorts translucent!

As he clambered back onto the seat, giving his audience a clear view of his bubble butt through the virtually transparent fabric, Nate looked to his teammates for help. The grins on their faces told him none would be forthcoming; in fact he suspected his current predicament had been part of their plan all along. His face burning with shame, Nate could only sit there and wait for the next ball to hit its target ... which happened a lot more frequently than Nate would have liked. His misery was compounded by the constant `click' of camera phones as girls tried to preserve for posterity the image of the dripping wet stud in nothing but semi-transparent shorts. Nurse Kaplan seemed oblivious to his situation as she jubilantly collected money from her teeming customers without even a backwards glance at him.

At 1:30, a young doctor turned up to take his turn in the dunk tank. Upon seeing the long queue of customers waiting to dunk Nate, and receiving assurance that Nate was more than happy to continue for the next hour, the doctor left, relieved not to have to suffer the indignity of being dunked repeatedly. Thus Nate's ordeal carried on for a second hour; he had by this point lost track of the number of times he hit the water. He did, however, remember when Tripp van Hansen showed up with his regular complement from the McKinley High varsity football squad. Sneering disdainfully at Nate, he handed the delighted Nurse Kaplan a $50 note. "For me and the rest of my team," he told her.

The football players had very good aim. Out of the fifty tries the $50 bought them, there were only five misses. They barely gave Nate a chance to recover before dunking him back into the water. His sputtering as he accidentally swallowed water only served as a source of much hilarity to them. Nate met Tripp's eyes at one point and saw, to his despair, not one whit of the camaraderie they'd once shared - only pure, unadulterated scorn. He couldn't really blame him either. After all, what else would any hot-blooded straight jock feel for a sucker who'd been turned into a public plaything ... who wore only a pair of see-through shorts, a nipple ring and a leopard-print thong?

It still hurt, though. Tripp had been his closest friend since T.J. had moved away to Fort Belvoir. Nate had spent many a time at Tripp's mansion, often while his father was away in Richmond. (Justin van Hansen, Jr. was a state senator.) They'd crack open a six-pack and talk smack about their schoolmates. Notes would be exchanged on who was an easy lay and who'd require a little more effort. One time they'd even snuck into the Senator's study and smoked a couple of his one-of-a-kind Cubans. That, and sleeping around, was probably the limit of Tripp's physical rebellion. He might have blown a lot of hot air, but he was wary of embarrassing his dad. The Senator had stuck his only child in public school (rather than the more elite Carlisle Academy) so he could insist to his constituents that the van Hansens were "just like them". There was a lot of posturing on how the Senator was a single parent raising a teenager (Tripp's mother had bailed early on, for reasons Nate had never learned) and how he had done such a splendid job in producing a "good kid". It certainly wouldn't reflect well on the Senator's family values campaign if his son were to be expelled on evidence of bullying. So Tripp limited himself to the kind of bullying that didn't leave any traces.

It was Tripp's opinion that there were two types of people in the world: winners and losers. The losers existed to amuse the winners. Nate knew this because Tripp had shared this opinion with him several times in the past (and Nate had agreed with it). So he was certain that Tripp now considered him to be the very worst kind of loser: one who'd formerly been a winner.

By 2:30 the guys decided Nate had been soaked enough and they did not offer up Nate as a substitute to the doctor with the next shift in the dunk tank. There was a chorus of disappointed murmurs from the students who'd queued for the satisfaction of dunking the school stud. Nurse Kaplan handed Nate a towel, noticing for the first time the state of his shorts.

"Oh dear, I didn't realize ..." She let the sentence trail off because she didn't know how to complete it without embarrassing the poor boy.

"Don't worry about it, Nurse," said Troy cheerfully. Knowing that Nate wouldn't contradict him, he went on. "Nate should really have known better than to wear white shorts. Besides, I dare say the booth wouldn't have done such a roaring trade if Nate had been more modest."

Keeping his eyes firmly on the ground for fear of betraying his shame and resentment, Nate tried to absorb as much of the moisture from his shorts with the towel as possible. It wasn't a very successful effort.

"Never mind, it'll air-dry," said Jason in a blatantly phony attempt to console him. Nate shuddered at the thought of walking through the carnival in see-through shorts. "Get a move on, the others will be waiting for us."

Nate expected their next stop would be another booth with the potential to publicly expose and humiliate him. So he was surprised when they halted outside the booth of the Franklin County Historical and Horticultural Societies. Even more astonishing was the fact that the booth was being manned by Drew Jennings!

"Finally!" exclaimed Drew when he saw them. "Jeez, I can't believe I let you guys talk me into this. This stuff is so boring. No wonder old Mrs. Langley was so happy when I offered to look after the stall for her."

Troy grinned at him. "Trust me, buddy, it's gonna be worth it." He turned to the Hamilton twins and addressed them. "Didn't you guys say you had to leave at 2:30?"

Stuart nodded. "You sure you'll be okay with this one?" he asked, poking Nate between the shoulder blades.

"Oh, I don't think Nate will try anything funny. He knows what's at stake. Besides, we've got back-up arriving as we speak." Troy indicated Ethan and Owen, who were approaching through the crowd.

The twins nodded and left. A chill ran down Nate's spine as he realized that their departure left him alone with his six rapists. Surely they weren't going to try anything of that sort here, in the midst of a crowded carnival?

Upon reaching Nate, Owen coldly informed him, "If you thought breaking up with Melanie was going to get you off lightly, think again." Nate gulped.

"We'd better get this show on the road before the old hag gets back," rejoined Ethan.

Drew protested the use of the word "hag" to describe Mrs. Langley, who was his neighbor and had babysat him many times in the past. "She's really nice!"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Whatevs. When's she coming back?"

The answer was four o'clock. Drew invited them to enter the marquee, which was open at the front and hung with white canvas on the other three sides. The rear half of the marquee was separated by a fourth wall of canvas, making it a completely enclosed space except for the flap allowing entry. The rear space was used to store the goods for sale, namely potted plants, gardening paraphernalia and back issues of the Historical Society's journals. At its center was a low potting table, the surface of which had been spread with old newspapers. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Nate knew its purpose.

"You can't be serious," he blubbered. He could hear the sounds of the carnival through the canvas covering, which was the only thing shielding them from the multitudes thronging the carnival. "There are so many people out there! Everyone in the county must be here. Even my mom's here!"

"Well, that'll be your incentive to keep your moaning to a minimum, won't it?" sneered Troy unsympathetically.

Nate turned to Wes. "Please, Wes. Don't let them do this to me, not here. Anywhere else! Please!"

Wes was shaken and his partners-in-crime could see it. Jason, hating that the bastard had a hold over his best friend, hastily interjected, "What the fuck makes you think Wes is gonna help you out? The whole idea behind your slavery was to teach you some humility and respect. Judging by your behavior with Melanie and Teri today, we obviously haven't succeeded yet. Now get naked and lie on the table."

Nate looked pleadingly at Wes, but to his dismay the blond captain had been swayed by his best friend's words. "You heard Jase," Wes snapped. "Strip!"

A tearful Nate undressed, climbed onto the table and lay on his back. While customers continued to be served at the front of the booth, Nate was gang-raped in the back. A tripod-mounted video camera recorded Nate being simultaneously fucked at both ends. Each of his six tormentors took a turn pounding away at either his mouth or ass (except for Ethan, who still balked at anal sex, so Drew was rewarded for "securing the location" with an additional fuck of Nate's ass). The near-public nature of the gang-bang added to the thrill and each boy didn't last very long before cumming in one of Nate's holes.

Nate's terror and shame peaked whenever the person dealing with customers (Drew, unless he was otherwise occupied fucking Nate, in which case one of the others stood in for him) had to come into the storage area to get something. The canvas door-flap was only ever partially open for the briefest of moments, but the increase in volume of the carnival sounds on each occasion set Nate's teeth on edge. He was terrified that the heady aromas of sex would permeate through to the front of the booth and arouse suspicions. The only concession he received was his tormentors' agreement to not spray their loads on his body, but to feed them to him instead.

As a fine sheen of sweat formed on his gorgeous body, Nate could only lie there and take whatever was dished out. Owen was particularly brutal, ramming his dick all the way in without any preliminaries. It would have hurt a lot more if Nate's ass hadn't been loose and sloppy from two previous fucks. Even Wes, who was usually the gentlest of his slave masters, did not hold back as he fucked Nate's face, forcing Nate to deep-throat his dick. Only Troy fucked at a leisurely pace, but only because he knew that would draw out Nate's agony. He cemented Nate's humiliation by pointing out the hapless stud's erection, which was throbbing and oozing precum. The fact that he didn't cum during the gang-rape was scant consolation. Whoever was not occupied fucking Nate took the chance to tweak his nipples and flick his hard dick. Nate somehow managed to keep his grunts as quiet as possible; the mouthful of dick he had at all times helped in that respect.

By the time the gang-bang drew to a finish, Nate's throat, ass and nipples were all sore, and he'd swallowed twelve loads of cum, either directly from the source or from used condoms. He was ordered to get dressed and get out "before we think of something else to do to you". That was all the encouragement he needed. Before he left, Troy reminded him that he had his window display in an hour and to be at the gay club by eight for his second striptease. "If you're a good boy tonight, we'll give you a little breather tomorrow - free time to spend with your boyfriend," he cackled.

Nate hurried away from the booth, anxious to get home, wash the sweat from his body and gargle with extra-strong mouthwash; the breath mints could only do so much. The sex funk that hung about him earned him several stares. His sensitive nipples were clearly outlined under the tight top and he had to hold his hands in front of his groin to hide the lewd tenting of his shorts. The walk to his car was a veritable walk of shame. Nate felt like everyone he passed on his way knew exactly what he'd been doing.

There was considerable traffic leaving the carnival ground and, as a result, it was 4:40 by the time he reached home. He had hoped to rush upstairs without alerting his father to his return, but as usual he was out of luck. Mitchell Ramsey stepped out of the lounge just as Nate was trying to shut the front door quietly.

"Welcome back, son."

Nate turned around to face his dad guiltily. "Hey, Dad. Um, how was golf?"

"It was good, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I met Rob Rawlins at the club, and he had some very interesting things to say about what happened here last weekend, while your mom and I were away visiting your grandma."

Nate cringed. He'd really hoped the Rawlinses would not mention that incident to his parents. He wondered how much detail Bobby's father had gone into.

Mitchell looked at his son sternly. "You know how your mom feels about you having friends over while we're not around."

Nate shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd notice."

"Well," his father admitted begrudgingly, "I do have to say I was impressed on that count. You guys did pretty well cleaning up after yourselves. Even your mom didn't notice anything out of place!" Realizing belatedly that he was giving his son credit for effectively duping Marsha and himself, Mitchell hastily added, "This can never happen again, alright? I'm going to let you off this time, without mentioning it to your mom, but the next time you want to have friends over, you're going to have to get permission from one of us."

"Okay," said Nate.

Mitchell blinked in surprise. He'd expected more resistance from Nate, who usually never responded positively to parental instruction. Perhaps he was finally growing out of the rude, rebellious teen phase, which in Mitchell's opinion had stretched on for far too long as a result of Marsha's overindulgence of their only child.

"Is that all?" Nate asked plaintively. "I was going to have a shower."

"Yes, go on. I've got to pick your mom up in a bit." Mitchell wrinkled his nose as Nate walked past him towards the stairs. "A shower is a really good idea."

Nate scowled and went upstairs without comment. Once in his bedroom, he locked the door behind him. The shower he so craved would have to wait; it was almost five o'clock and he had a show to put on. Stripping naked, he climbed onto his desk and waited for Bobby to show up at the opposite window. He was surprised the little bastard wasn't waiting for him, as he usually was.

The minutes ticked by. Nate looked at the clock on his desk: it was five minutes past five. How much longer did he have to wait? Had he missed a message from Bobby, asking him to postpone the jerk-off session? Nate checked his phone, but the only message he had was from Spencer, asking him to call. Nate looked out the window again. There was still no sign of Bobby. It occurred to him that this might be a trick. The insidious little twerp could be lying in wait, expecting Nate to put off the jerk-off session so he could then report Nate's defiance to Troy and have him punished. It was just the sort of thing his twisted mind would come up with.

Nate resolved that he wasn't going to fall for that! If Bobby thought he could fool him like that, he had another thing coming. Nate began to pump his dick furiously although, truth be told, it didn't need much work. Two hours of constant pressure on his prostate from the gang-rape had left his dick very sensitive, and it soon sprang to a full erection. He kept a wary eye on the window opposite, expecting Bobby to pop up at any moment like a perverse jack-in-the-box. He was stunned when, fifteen minutes later, just as he was getting ready to shoot, there was still no sign of the brat. By this point he was too far gone to stop so he jerked off to a climax, spraying his seed onto the window. As his cum started to drip down the glass pane, he automatically leaned forward and began to lick it up, before realizing with a start that he had no reason to do so if Bobby wasn't recording it for the website!

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. "This slavery shit is really messing with my head." He pulled a tissue from the box on his desk and mopped up the rest of his load while wondering what could have made Bobby forget about the possible highlight of his day.

& & & & &

If Nate had been privy to the happenings at the O'Rourke home that evening, he would not have had to ponder that question for long. Bobby had arrived promptly at four, having set off from his home by bicycle twenty minutes prior.

Devlin had answered the front door. "Um, so this is my house. Do you ..." He paused; his mouth was dry. "Do you want to see my room?"

Bobby nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They walked upstairs in silence. Devlin's room was large, but shared between himself and his younger brother, Declan. Bobby eyed the latter's bed nervously. "You're sure your brother won't come home? Maybe we should lock the door ..."

"Can't do that," Devlin responded regretfully. "There isn't a lock on the door. But as I said before, you'd need a crowbar to pull Dec away from the Carlton twins and their Xbox."

"Okay," said Bobby, reassured by the younger boy's conviction. "So what do we do now?"

Devlin grinned. "Well, for starters, we could get out of these clothes." No sooner had he finished the sentence that he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Looking at the other boy's nicely-defined body, Bobby was assailed by doubt. Unlike the athletic Devlin, he didn't play sports and his body was decidedly on the scrawny side. He worried that Devlin's attraction to him might fade when he took off his shirt.

"You look hot," he told Devlin sincerely, but also as a means of delaying his own disrobement.

Devlin blushed. "You're hot too," he replied. "Come on, take off your shirt. Or do you want me to do it?" He came closer to Bobby and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

The older boy swallowed. "Dev, I - I'm not ... like you, or Nate. I'm not ... hot."

"Course you are," said Devlin. "Did you think I was lying when I said so?"

"I - I thought you were trying to make me feel better," admitted Bobby. "I don't have big biceps, or a six-pack ..."

"That's not all there is to hotness," interjected Devlin. "Nate has all that, but I think you're hotter than him."

Bobby stared at him. "Now you're joking right? You're always telling me to go easy on him!"

Devlin shook his head. "Not because I think he's hot. I mean, sure, he's got a really nice body - I'd be lying if I said otherwise - but he can also be a real jerk. I only asked you to ease up on him because I feel sorry for him. He used to be so confident and happy but now he just looks so afraid and sad all the time."

"Well, he deserves it," Bobby responded vehemently. "How do you think he made me feel when he went blabbing to my parents and turned them against me? I want him to suffer for that!"

"NOW you don't seem so hot," observed Devlin sadly. "If you're just focused on being angry and spiteful, I don't think we should go through with this." He moved to put his t-shirt back on.

Bobby was stricken with panic. "Wait! I didn't mean -"

"I think you did, Bobby. I don't want to date someone who lets his life be ruled by revenge on a guy who's already down." Devlin took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm saying is you've got a choice: a relationship with me or revenge on Nate."

"Dev, that's not fair! I can't possibly choose. After all this time, I've finally got the chance to pay Nate back for what he did."

"You don't think you've humiliated him enough in the past few days? You're not trying to teach him a lesson; you're trying to break him. You're being nasty just because you can - and that's exactly what landed Nate in this mess to begin with. And to hear you equate the satisfaction of being mean to Nate with the satisfaction we could have in a relationship ... that's just wrong."

Devlin walked over to his bedroom door and held it open, the implication obvious. Bobby shifted from one foot to another, unwilling to leave the room and, with it, any possible relationship. He mulled over Devlin's words, thinking back to all the times he'd had Nate at his mercy over the previous week.

"You're right," he said finally. "The first couple of times I got to humiliate Nate, it meant something. But after that, I was just doing it because I could. Just like ... just like the bullies at school." He looked ashamed as he turned his gaze to Devlin. "I thought it would be fun. And it wasn't, not really. I couldn't feel happy because all I could feel was anger and hatred. When Nate cringed away from my touch it just made those feelings worse. I don't want a guy to be disgusted by my touching him. I want ..." His voice cracked, but he soldiered on. "I want him to want me ... like you do. Please say you still do," he begged.

Devlin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He closed the door once more and walked back to where Bobby was standing and enveloped him in a hug. "Of course I do," he said in the older boy's ear. He released him from the hug and looked into his eyes. "God, I want you so damned much."

Bobby stared back into his eyes and they both knew what came next. Their lips met as Devlin fumbled with the buttons on Bobby's shirt. As he reached down to unzip his jeans, Bobby breathed, "Dev, I've never done this before."

"Me neither," replied Devlin. "But I think we'll know what to do." He ran a hand over Bobby's chest, making him shiver with anticipation as it brushed against his nipples. His jeans pooled around his ankles as he stood in nothing but a pair of tighty-whiteys. Feeling self-conscious, Bobby instinctively brought his hands forward in an attempt to cover up, but Devlin gently pried them apart. "Don't," he admonished him softly. "You don't need to. You look really cute."

He guided Bobby's hands to the fastenings of his own cargo pants, and Bobby was thrilled to acquiesce. In his eagerness he nearly ripped the button off the shorts. Devlin stepped out of them, allowing Bobby to admire him in his (seriously tented) grey boxer briefs. Devlin's chest was smooth except for a dark blond trail of hair that started below his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his underwear.

"So hot," mumbled Bobby, brushing against the front of the boxer briefs and feeling the erection hidden within. He kissed the other boy's neck. Devlin's little moan of pleasure emboldened him and he trailed kisses down the blond's smooth chest, pausing to suck on his nipples. When his lips reached Devlin's belly button he looked up at him for permission. The younger boy nodded, so Bobby hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the boxer briefs and tugged them down. Devlin's hard dick sprang out and nearly smacked him in the face, which made them both giggle.

When the clock on the landing chimed to mark the hour, neither boy noticed.

& & & & &

Shortly before eight o'clock, Nate parked his car near the back entrance of the gay club. Troy was waiting for him. He informed him of Bobby's absence during his window show.

"Yeah, I know," said Troy. "He texted me to say he couldn't make it."

Nate was outraged. "You knew he wouldn't be there and you still let me go through with it?"

"It's not exactly a master's duty to keep his slave informed, dipshit, but if you really have must know, he only texted me at six. Not that I would've told you and kept you from your public display of indecent behavior." Troy wondered whether he should inform Nate that Bobby had also, in the same text message, declared an end to his participation in Nate's slavery. He decided he would have to, eventually, but for now let the fucktoy sweat it out. So instead he asked how Nate's phone conversation with Spencer had gone.

"He wants to meet for lunch tomorrow," replied Nate sullenly. He was still sulking over jerking off in front of his window without good reason.

"Going on public dates now, are we?"

"No. He knows we can't do that. We're having lunch in his room."

"That works, too. This way you can get to your tasks sooner."

"Tasks?" Nate had enough experience by this time to know that any tasks set for him by Troy would push him to his limits.

"Oh, nothing really new. On Friday you got four loads out of him; try for five this time. Get him to fuck you in a different position in each round; I personally think you look super slutty on your back with your legs up by your head. Make sure you eat up all the cum and lick up all the sweat. And persuade him to let you film the whole thing."

That last instruction made Nate exclaim, "What?!"

Troy merely said, "Get the video camera from Drew after he uses it to record tonight's striptease."

"There is no way Spencer's going to let me film us having sex! It's impossible," Nate insisted.

"Gee, I sure hope not. That might make it `impossible' for us to keep all the other scandalous footage of you from leaking out. Oh, and while you're at it, get Spencer to divulge his deepest, darkest sex fantasies to you. You're going to help him make them a reality."

Nate gave up. He'd find a way to finish Troy's tasks; he had to. The penalty for failure was too awful to contemplate. The two boys walked into the club, where Claude was waiting to welcome them.

"Good evening, gentlemen! Can I say how thrilled I am to have our young star back at our humble revue? Boy have I got a real cracker of an act lined up for you tonight! A double bill: Robin and Woody."

"Woody?" questioned Nate. The stripper he'd met the previous week had been named Harry (a redhead with more than a passing resemblance to the young British prince of the same name).

"Ah yes, I realize you haven't met Woody yet. He's in the other room; you boys get acquainted while Troy and I discuss business."

Nate wondered fearfully what "business" the two were discussing, and how it might involve him, but they'd made it clear he wasn't to be privy to the discussion. So he left them to it and went into the next room. Almost immediately he had to avert his eyes, because the guy there was stark naked. At Nate's approach he came forward with his right hand outstretched.

"Hey, you must be Robin. Claude didn't say what your real name was. I'm Liam, although out there" - he gestured towards the curtains that hid the backstage area from the audience's view - "I go by Woody."

Nate was trying to look at anything but Liam's body. While the blond-haired, brown-eyed stud didn't have bulging biceps or prominent pecs like Nate, he did have a well-defined torso which he kept shaved smooth. Rounding out the package was a nicely-proportioned dick and a bubble butt that was the envy of many in his audience. However, the same audience would have probably said that Liam's greatest appeal lay in his seemingly perpetual smile: a wide, dazzlingly white, all-American grin, of which Nate was currently the recipient.

Nate hadn't believed he was easily swayed by such things, but Liam's open, cheerful face almost compelled him to share his real name with him. Luckily he remembered in time that it would be foolish to impart such information to a coworker in a gay strip club, so instead he gave the first name that came to mind: "Spencer." As he shook Liam's proffered hand he wondered what on earth had possessed him to give Spencer's name. Why hadn't he just used his middle name (Matthew)?

"Cool," said Liam. "As a matter of fact, you're not the first Spencer I've met in these parts. The other guy lives down the hall from me in the dorms. Are you at MPSU, too? Haven't seen you around."

"No, I won't graduate from high school for another couple of months."

Liam's eyes widened. "Still in high school? Geez, you start young. Are you even 18 yet? No, of course you are; Claude wouldn't have hired you otherwise." He finally noticed Nate's obvious discomfort. "Dude, are you okay? You don't look too hot."

"It's just ... could you maybe put some clothes on?"

"Oh, yeah." He reached for the first component on his costume, a pair of brown trousers. "You know, dude, I'm not sure you're in the right business if a bit of naked flesh makes you squeamish. What made you join our noble profession, anyway? Surely you're not that desperate for cash in high school? Oh man, don't tell me you got some girl banged up."

"No!" Nate denied hotly. "I just ... need the money, that's all. Why are YOU doing it?"

"Gotta put myself through med school somehow, and this job has the best tips in town."

Nate looked surprised. Coming from a wealthy family, he couldn't really identify with Liam's plight. His own parents had told him they would fund him to a PhD, if that was what he wanted (he didn't). "Can't your parents help?"

"They've already done as much as they can. I've still got two little sisters who'll be looking to go to college in a couple of years. My folks can't afford all the years of schooling that becoming a doctor entails. Mind you, they don't know about this gig; they think I wait tables at a fancy restaurant." Liam laughed. "My girlfriend knows the truth, though."

Nate thought he must've misheard. "Did you say your girlfriend knows about this? About you ... performing in front of fags?"

Liam frowned. "Dude, I don't think you should be calling them that. It's not a very nice word."

"Whatever," said Nate dismissively. "But your girlfriend seriously knows and is okay with this?"

"Yeah, she knows. She's not thrilled about it but she gets that it pays well and that it's just a job. Her main concern was that if it ever gets out later on that I'd been a stripper ... whether it might hurt my medical career. That's why she encouraged me to take a stage name."

"But what about the whole fa- I mean, gay thing?" asked Nate insistently, unable to believe that any girl would be okay with their boyfriend being lusted over by a bunch of fags.

"Dude, would you stop harping on that already? Beth has no issues with gay men. To be perfectly honest, she's probably more comfortable with me performing for them than for women. At least that way she knows for sure the attraction is a one-way street. What's with all these questions anyway? Do you have a girlfriend who doesn't know about this gig?"

Nate sighed. "Not after today."

"Aw, dude, I'm sorry. That's gotta suck." Liam was genuinely sympathetic. "Did she not take your new job well?"

"No, it wasn't that," confessed Nate. He didn't know why he was spilling his guts to a stranger he'd met just minutes before. Perhaps it was because Liam was another straight guy caught in the same trap. "She doesn't know about all this. It was the -"

Nate's exposition was interrupted by Claude's entrance. "Well, there's nothing I like better than seeing my two top stars bonding. You guys should really bring the macho brotherhood stuff to your performance tonight; it'll go down really well with the audience." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "With the act I've got planned for the two of you, they're going to lap it up."

"Oh, boy," cracked Liam good-naturedly. "I can't wait to hear what it is."

"Here's what you've got to do ..."

& & & & &

"What took you guys so long?" Troy asked his fellow slave masters. Wes, Jason, Owen and Drew had all arrived just as the show was about to begin. (Ethan had opted out of the night's entertainment.)

"Had to wait for the camera battery to recharge," explained Drew. "It's been getting quite a workout this past week." The boys snickered.

"Well, we'd better get in. Nate's just about to go on." The five ducked in through the back door. The club sounded like it was packed. The promotional posters and leaflets, with their image of a masked Nate in nothing but a thong, his ripped body glistening with oil, had been like catnip. The buzz about Robin, "the Boy Wonder", had spread as far as the adjacent counties, and the tagline of `Touching Permitted' had lured in even the most reluctant club-goers.

Just as the boys were about to enter the main room, Troy threw out his hand to stop them. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" asked an anxious Drew.

"Derek. He's in there, in the crowd."

"What?" exclaimed Wes. "Derek Courtland?"

"Do you know any other Dereks?" replied Troy testily. The boys retreated into the backroom.

"Damn it, Nate can't go out on stage with Derek there! We have to tell Claude that the show's off."

"Why? It's not like Derek is going to recognize Nate. He'll be wearing a mask. We're the ones who need to worry about being recognized. It'll be hard to explain why the four of you are in a gay club."

"Troy's right," said Jason. "We'd better get out of here before Derek catches sight of us. Nate will be fine."

"Oh man," whined Drew. "But I was going film Nate's show for the website!"

"Give me the camera," instructed Troy. "Derek won't need an explanation as to why I'm here."

"It should be fun to see Nate's reaction when you tell him that a Panthers player saw him stripping in a gay club," mused Owen.

Troy chuckled. "Especially if Derek is one of those guys who'll take advantage of the new rules on touching."

"Guys, I don't know about this. It seems incredibly risky. That mask isn't the most foolproof method of anonymity," warned Wes, "and Derek has faced Nate on the court before."

"Even if Derek thinks he recognizes the stripper, he'd never associate him with Nate," Troy justified. "Why would he? It'd be a pretty big stretch to imagine Nate Ramsey, the Manwhore of McKinley, is performing in a gay club."

"And that's not even counting how Nate's shacking up with Derek's ex. Now that's just off-the-scales unimaginable!" added Owen, a pensive expression on his face.

Troy could see that Wes wasn't entirely convinced, but the lights in the club began to dim and he seized the opportunity. "Look, you guys had better get out of here before you're recognized. I'll take care of things here and later we can laugh our asses off at Nate putting on a performance for Derek Courtland."

The lights went down completely except for the spotlights illuminating the stage. The boys, minus Troy, made their exit under the cover of darkness. Troy moved to the rear of the room, where he could film the proceedings with minimal obstruction.

Claude walked onstage, beaming widely. "Welcome, gentlemen. I trust that you are all here to see our newest performer, whose fame has, in just one short week, spread throughout the county. It's rare that the hype lives up to the reality, but in this case I guarantee your expectations will be exceeded.

"Joining Robin on stage for a double act is one of your favorite performers, Woody. I can see you're all salivating at the thought of these two studs together so, without further ado, here are Robin and Woody in an ode to the Wild West!"

Claude disappeared behind the curtains as the audience erupted into raucous applause. The spotlights also went down, and the panorama of a dessert at midday was projected onto the back of the stage. The classic melody of a Western showdown played. Then Nate, dressed from top to toe in black - shirt, trousers, cloak, boots, sombrero and, of course, mask - ran out onto the stage. With his black hair and tanned skin he looked not unlike Zorro. The key difference was in the tailoring of his outfit: the shirt and trousers were a tight fit, teasing the audience with the outline of his hunky body under the thin fabric. They let out a collective whistle of appreciation.

Nate was trembling. He could see there were many more people in the audience this time around. Fags from near and far, waiting for their chance to get their paws on his once-pristine body. Claude intended to capitalize on that, get them really hot and bothered, by scripting a show even more salacious than the first. And Nate had no choice but to play along.

"Stop right there, you thieving bandit! Stop in the name of the Law!" came a cry from a backstage, and Liam emerged, dressed like a Wild West Sheriff (also in a skin-tight version of the khaki uniform). The audience hooted with laughter, and Nate wondered how Liam even managed to say the words with a straight face.

The next couple of minutes involved a chase around the stage, with Liam's Sheriff Woody persona nearly getting his hands on the bandit' at one point, or rather his cloak. The flowing black garment was ripped off and tossed aside. The chase led both hunks backstage and, as the music changed, only Nate returned to the stage, evidently having eluded' the sheriff. He gyrated across the stage, thrusting his groin in the direction of the viewers. Running his hands down his chest, he teased them by lowering the zipper on his shirt a few inches, exposing the sweaty cleft between his pecs, before zipping it back up. The audience groaned with unfulfilled desire, but they wouldn't have to wait much longer.

The sheriff crept out onto the stage while the unsuspecting bandit danced for the audience. Several members of the audience spotted him but, keeping with the fun of the act, did not warn the bandit. Liam managed to come right up to Nate's back and pressed himself against him. He brought his right hand around to Nate's front and pointed the gun at the middle of Nate's chest.

Now the music kicked into high gear, and so did the strip tease. Liam unzipped Nate's shirt all the way and helped him out of it. The audience cheered him on, thrilled by the homoeroticism of one hunk undressing the other. Once the shirt was off, Liam raised Nate's arms up above his head and slipped his wrists into cuffs hanging from the ceiling. The audience reveled in the sight of the shirtless hunk with his muscular arms rendered seemingly helpless. (In reality, Nate could have slipped out of the cuffs at any time. But Claude had predicted, correctly, that the illusion of a vulnerable muscle stud would whet his customers' appetites for what was to come.)

Meanwhile, Liam kept grinding against Nate, thrusting his groin into Nate's butt with more vigor than Nate believed was required. The audience, however, ate it up. As the music reached its crescendo, Liam pulled the trigger of the gun. The music died down, and there was an excited gasp from the audience. But the gun was simply a variation of the props used in Nate's Robin act the previous week: when the trigger was pulled, it squirted baby oil onto his chest.

Liam returned the gun to its holster, placed both hands flat on Nate's pecs and started the rub the oil into them sensuously. He spent extra time on Nate's nipples, tweaking them until they were firmly erect. Then his hands moved lower, oiling Nate's abs. When they reached the waistband of Nate's pants, the audience's chant increased in volume. "Strip! Strip! Strip!"

Liam was happy to oblige. The trousers were of the tear-away kind so he didn't even have to remove the black boots that completed Nate's ensemble. Divested of the trousers, Nate stood before his audience in nothing but a bright red thong. Liam pulled out the gun again and this time squirted oil onto Nate's back. Bringing his oily hands back to the front, he massaged the oil into Nate's upper thighs, occasionally brushing against his crotch. But it was when he transferred his attentions to Nate's butt that the audience really went wild. Watching Liam knead Nate's muscular butt, his fingers occasionally straying into the crack, was unbearably hot. It also had the predictable effect of sending blood rushing to Nate's groin and he could have died of embarrassment as the pouch of his thong began to fill. It was not noticeable except to the audience members closest to the stage, but in Nate's paranoid mind every single person in the club knew that he was growing a hard-on.

Luckily for him, the music changed again and Liam moved in front of Nate to perform his own strip tease. The sheriff's uniform shirt went flying. Rather than pull out the gun again, Liam went behind Nate again and rubbed up against his back, transferring some of the excess oil to his own chest - another little touch that the audience loved. Liam, who'd performed several times in the past but never received such a hearty reception, played up the homoerotic tension. Returning to the front of the stage, he stripped off his trousers, having first handed the prop gun to a member of the audience. The guy played his part by squirting Liam with oil, which he rubbed into various parts of his body. He paid special attention to his (consistently well-reviewed) bubble butt, which was exposed in all its glory by the pale blue silk thong he was wearing. Twice he parted his cheeks playfully, teasing the audience at the front with a potential view of his most private orifice.

Hanging from his restraints, Nate could only watch Liam's solo with a mixture of amazement and disgust. How could a supposedly straight guy pander to an audience of fags in this way? Liam didn't seem the least bit embarrassed or put-out to have all those gay eyes on him. Nate decided he had to be a fag himself. Why else would he get riled up at Nate's use of that word, anyway? Nate always used it in conversation with Tripp and his buddies. But why would Liam have lied about something like that? Last week's stripper, Harry, had not hidden the fact that he was gay.

Nate's reverie came to an end as Liam once again pressed up against his back for the act's final sequence. This was the source of Nate's greatest anxiety. Claude had decided to push the envelope that night, as a treat for his extra audience. Liam had been up for it, but Nate didn't actually have the option of voicing his protests. Liam plucked Nate's hat of the top of his head and brought it forward to cover his groin. Then, as the audience's cheers gained momentum, he undid the button on the side of Nate's thong and pulled it off, leaving Nate completely exposed if not for the hat protecting his modesty. Pressing his groin very closely against Nate's butt, Liam then unhooked his own thong and threw it aside. At this juncture, the noise from the audience completely overwhelmed the music. Here were two gorgeous young hunks, completely naked and grinding up against each other. The blond even had his bare dick rubbing in his black-haired partner's ass-crack! It couldn't get more homoerotic than that ... could it?

Claude emerged on stage once more, gesticulating for the audience to be silent. "Gentlemen! I take it you enjoyed the show?" The crowd roared its approval. Liam was undoing Nate's restraints.

"Well, the boys will now go around collecting their tips. You're probably aware that Robin has waived the no-touching rule -" He had to pause to allow another roar of approval to subside. "Do let the boys know how much you've enjoyed their show. They are both straight, so the hotness you've just witnessed on stage required no small s-" He had to halt again, for the audience had picked up a chant. It was not the "Strip! Strip! Strip!" that had echoed through the room minutes earlier. This time they demanded something even more intimate.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"You want Robin and Woody to kiss? Well, we're going to have to ask them." Claude looked at his two star performers with raised eyebrows. Nate was clasping the hat firmly to his groin while Liam, whose sheriff's uniform hadn't come with a hat, had to cover his crotch with his hands. Nate had absolutely no desire to kiss Liam and was pretty sure that if Liam was straight as he claimed to be, he wouldn't either. But Troy had told Nate he was to follow any instructions Claude gave, on pain of having his humiliations made public, so he reluctantly turned around to face Liam, intending to give him a quick peck on the lips that would mollify the chanting audience.

He'd no sooner turned around when he was surprised by Liam grabbing his face firmly with one hand (the other barely cupping his junk) and kissing him full on the lips. Nate couldn't help thinking to himself, "I knew it! He's a fag!", but as he gazed into the blond stud's brown eyes, he saw only a playful glint, not lust.

Liam let Nate go, grinning widely. He could tell the audience was really pumped up by that little display; there would be some rich pickings tonight. He picked up the discarded thongs and handed the red one to Nate while he himself put the blue one back on. The two boys then worked different halves of the room, collecting tips in their thongs. They had to briefly retreat backstage to extract their earnings before tackling the other half of the room, for their pouches were too full!

It was during Nate's second lap of the audience that he made the terrifying discovery that Derek Courtland had been in the audience, watching his performance. Nate's heart nearly stopped when the rival player scrutinized him strangely, as if he recognized but couldn't quite place him. Fortunately for Nate, the dim light in combination with the mask ensured that his identity remained hidden. Derek satisfied himself with feeling up the stud's six-pack and grabbing a quick grope of his junk as he tucked a $2 bill into the thong.

"Good show you and Woody put on there," Derek told him. "That kiss was damn hot."

"Thanks," mumbled Nate in reply.

By the time Nate returned to the backroom (with his pouch filled to overflowing once more), Liam was already in the shower cubicle at the corner of the room, washing off the oil from his body.

"It was a great show, dude! They fucking loved us. I've never made this much in one night." Liam was beaming widely; it was obvious that what had transpired onstage had not bothered him in the least. His cheerful countenance irritated the heck out of Nate.

He crossly told the blond, "You didn't have to grind up against me like that with your dick in my butt."

"Dude, do you think we'd have gotten those awesome tips if we'd put on some tame show where we never came into contact?"

"It just felt so wrong. How can you say you're straight when you do that shit in front of people?"

Liam looked at Nate in concern. "Spencer, buddy. You don't have to constantly prove to people that you're straight, you know. If you're secure in your sexuality - and I am - it doesn't change that just because we kiss in the course of our jobs."

"Yeah, what was the deal with that?"

"Hey, you turned round to face me; I figured you were going to go for it anyway."

"Okay, so I was, but I didn't mean for you to stick your tongue down my throat!"

Liam raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who opened his mouth."

Nate was nonplussed. "No I didn't."

"Uh, yes, you did."

Nate was unsettled. Surely he hadn't actually invited Liam to French kiss him?

"Anyway, did you see the guys out there?" continued Liam, oblivious to Nate's confusion. "A chaste peck on the lips wasn't gonna do it for them."

"I guess," mumbled Nate.

There was a brief silence except for the sounds of the shower as Liam soaped up his body. "You gonna wash that gunk off or what?"

"Yeah, I'll wait for you to finish." Nate was still mulling over Liam's opinion of his job, which drew striking parallels to Nate's enslavement. Admittedly, he'd gone further than just kissing, but it was still part of a `job'. Then again, Liam hadn't mentioned shooting his load while being fucked up the ass ...

"You could always hop in with me," offered Liam. He cheekily added, "I could scrub your back."

"Fuck off!"

"Geez! Chill, dude, I was just kidding. You Virginian guys sure are insecure. No, that it isn't true of all Virginians. Brody Lawson is pretty cool, and he's from around here. Doesn't have any problems with sharing a room with a gay guy. In fact, they're best buds. You know, it's a funny thing," mused Liam. "His gay friend is the other guy I know named Spencer."

Nate's eyes widened. Shit! Surely not! But how many other pairs of roommates named Brody and Spencer could there be at MPSU? He really hoped Liam would not mention the `other' Spencer to the real one. And if Liam lived "down the hall" from Spencer, Nate would have to be careful not to bump into him whenever he visited Spencer in his dorm room. Otherwise he would have some serious explaining to do.

"Are you finishing up or what? I really need to shower. I can still feel those f- guys' hands all over me," Nate complained with a shudder.

Liam eyed him strangely as he got out of the shower. "Dude, you really are a mass of contradictions. I think you seriously need to consider another job. And if you're that uncomfortable with the customers feeling you up, why'd you waive the no-touching rule?"

Nate realized his error. "Um, the money, of course. My friend said this would be a surefire way of increasing my tips. I didn't realize they'd be such freakin' animals."

"Well, your buddy was right; you made a killing out there. But you can't really blame those guys for being all over you. You were the one who said touching was okay, and in a town like this, it's no wonder those guys would be all for it. I mean, this is probably the only place for miles where they don't have to hide their desires in public. Can't you imagine how that feels? Man, I'd go crazy too if I couldn't even hold hands with Beth unless we sneaked around. I hate to say it, but this town of yours? It's fucking oppressive."

Liam finished dressing and slung his bag across his chest. "Well, dude, I'm outta here. I guess I'll see you next week if you still think this place is for you. Goodnight!"

"Yeah, goodnight," mumbled Nate. As he got into the shower, his conversation with Liam continued to resonate in his mind. Just how much truth was there to his words, if any at all?

& & & & &

The next morning, Marsha Ramsey dragged her son to church. The sermon and the singing gave Nate the chance to think. He never listened to what Reverend Forsythe had to say anyway, and he wouldn't be caught dead singing a hymn. He had never felt more unclean than as he stood there in the midst of the devout congregation. What would they think if they knew what he'd been doing in just the past 24 hours?

He did catch some of what the reverend was banging on about. It seemed that the theme of the week's sermon was forgiveness.

"To err is human; to forgive, divine," Reverend Forsythe had quoted in his croaky voice. Nate rolled his eyes discreetly. Something more relevant to his current predicament would have been useful. Like an assurance that God would smite the wicked and return the righteous to their glory. But no divine help seemed to be forthcoming, even though God was supposed to protect the innocent (which Nate believed he was). Anyway, the reverend was always full of shit.

"Nathan, you've been awfully quiet this morning," Marsha noted as they drove home. "You're not sulking that you have to get your own lunch today, are you? You can always change your mind about coming with us to visit your cousin's baby."

Nate regretted having previously told his parents that he wasn't "spending two hours in the car to go see some stupid baby". Otherwise he might have pleaded it as an excuse to get out of what he had to do with Spencer. It was true what they said: hindsight is 20/20.

"It's okay, Mom. I've got other plans for lunch anyway."

"Going out, are you?" asked Mitchell, pointedly.

"Yes," replied Nate hastily; he knew what his dad was implying.

Marsha and Mitchell left shortly afterwards, promising to be home in time for dinner. Nate watched them leave and then went upstairs to do some schoolwork. He didn't have to meet Spencer until 1pm and, with no idea of what else his slave masters had planned for him that day, he'd have to use whatever free time he had as productively as possible.

Given the revelations of the previous day, Nate kept a wary eye out for Liam as he parked outside the Macpherson dorms and met Spencer in the lobby. Spencer seemed awfully eager to take Nate up to his room, which the latter gloomily predicted as a sign of some perverse act he had planned for the two of them.

So he was very much astonished when Spencer threw open his room door to reveal ... not some twisted bondage gear or torture implements, but rather a beautifully laid-out picnic lunch.

"I know we can't have dates out in public yet, so I thought I'd bring a picnic indoors for you. I admit, it's nothing fancy, but I did get spicy chicken wings from Chuck's, which I know you folk from around here love."

Nate was at a loss for words. He felt horrible for all the nasty images he'd conjured up in his mind. It suddenly occurred to him that he would be the one leading the way in nastiness by talking Spencer into letting him film them having sex.

"It's really nice," he said awkwardly. And he meant it, too. He'd never actually made any romantic gestures to anyone before. Sure, he'd taken Melanie out for a very expensive dinner on Valentine's Day, but that had only been because his mom's urging (and provision of the necessary funds).

"If I were you I'd limit the praise until you've tried my lame attempt at s'mores," laughed Spencer. "Unless you're not going to try even them because you have to keep that sick body of yours in shape."

"No, of course I'll try them," assured Nate. He was feeling strangely light-headed; perhaps it was the effect of the bright sunlight pouring through the windows. He sat down on the checkered picnic cloth and Spencer offered him a chicken wing.

"So what was your Saturday like?" he asked. "What did you do?"

Nate thought back to his ordeals of the previous day. "Nothing much," he lied. "Went to the hospital's fundraising carnival, but that was kind of lame. Then I just did some school stuff." He looked apologetically at Spencer. "I'm sorry I couldn't come and see you. My folks were on my back for coming home late on Friday."

Spencer waved the apology aside. "Not a big deal. Besides, I needed time to recover from our night together." He saw the guilt on Nate's face and laughed. "Don't look like that; I was kidding about the recovery time. Man, I don't think I've ever cum so much in such a short span of time."

Nate was relieved, especially since he had orders to make Spencer cum at least as many times today. "Maybe we can try for five today," he suggested in a suitably mischievous tone.

Spencer grinned. "If it were anyone else, I'd tell them it was impossible, but you turn me on like nothing I've ever felt before."

That kind of talk made Nate uncomfortable so he returned to the earlier topic. "So how was your Saturday?"

"Pretty much the usual: morning and afternoon shift at the pool, went to the library for a bit, and then hit the gym before bed. I probably could have been more productive, but a certain hot stud kept intruding into my thoughts." Spencer grinned again. "Oh, and there was one more thing. I found out that the cute barista at Cuppa is gay when he asked me out on a date."

Nate paused with a s'more halfway in his mouth.

Spencer laughed. "There's no cause for alarm. I told Elliott that I was already seeing somebody else. You didn't think I'd cheat on you, did you?" He reached out to cup Nate's chin. "Nate, I'm a one-guy kind of guy. I won't so much as look at another guy while I'm with you," he told him earnestly.

Nate smiled back at him, even as he felt the cold prickle of guilt. No, he was being an idiot. Getting fucked by his teammates didn't qualify as cheating on Spencer. Wait, why was he even thinking of it in terms of cheating? He didn't even have a real relationship with Spencer for him to be able to `cheat', for crying out loud!

"You've got marshmallow fluff on your lip," observed Spencer. Nate brushed his hand across his mouth. "No, you didn't get it ... here, let me." Spencer reached out and wiped away the fluff on Nate's upper lip. He examined the white smear on his finger for a second before licking it off. "Sweet," he announced.

"It's marshmallow fluff," pointed out Nate.

Spencer grinned. "Too corny? See, I would've taken you as a fan of that sort of thing, what with the candles and rose petals for your first time."

Nate could have kicked himself for failing to be consistent. The last thing he needed was to arouse Spencer's suspicions. "You want corny?" He picked a strawberry, dipped it in whipped cream and waved it in front of Spencer's face. The blond responded by sinking his teeth into the fruit, pulling it clear of the stalk which was left behind in Nate's grasp.

"Now you're the one with cream on your lip," stated Nate.

"Aren't you going to help me get it?" asked Spencer seductively.

Nate leaned forward and licked the cream off. He started to pull back, but Spencer wasn't having any of that. He lunged forward and kissed him.

"We're not going to finish this picnic, are we?" asked Nate as they came up for air.

"Depends on your definition of finishing it," replied Spencer. He dipped a finger in the bowl of cream and pressed it against Nate's lips. He traced his finger all the way down to the V-neck of Nate's t-shirt, leaving a white trail on the tanned skin. Then he followed the same trail with his tongue, licking it all up. "It would be easier if you didn't have this on," he added softly, indicating the t-shirt. Nate obediently pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

Spencer made him lie back on the picnic cloth as he spooned a little cream on to each of Nate's nipples and then licked them clean. "It tastes so much better on you."

While Spencer began to undo Nate's pants, Nate realized that he should have been filming the scene as commanded by Troy. He licked his lips nervously. "Spence? Can I ... ask you something?"

"Mm-hmm," mumbled Spencer, running his tongue down the central ridge of Nate's abs.

"Do you think we could, maybe, you know ... film this?"

Spencer's head snapped up. "What?!"

Nate hurriedly explained, "It's just that ... we have such hot times together and it seems like a pity we can't replay it. Like Friday night. That was unreal. Better than some of the porn I've watched. And yet I can't remember all of it. At the time I could only concentrate on so much, but I want to remember every thrust, every touch ... the sweat on your skin, the movement of your muscles, the look on your face when you cum ..."

He could see that his talk was making Spencer horny, but not horny enough to forget basic privacy. "Nate, that sounds fucking hot, but you've got to know the risk of sex tapes getting out. It could ruin both our lives and our reputations, especially in a town like this one."

That was Nate's cue to turn on the puppy dog eyes and guilt-trip Spencer. "You don't trust me. You think I'm going to leak this sex tape."

"No, that's not it at all," Spencer said immediately. "I do trust you. And I know you've got more to lose than me - that's why I'm worried more for you than for myself. A sex tape is not the way you want to come out to your family or friends."

"That's why I'd never leak it, and I know you wouldn't either. Who else is there who could? Nobody even knows about us, let alone about a sex tape with us. We're not exactly celebrities for strangers to break into our homes or hack into our computers. There's no way anyone but the two of us will ever know about it." Nate pushed aside any guilt he might feel from lying to Spencer (after all, six other people would know about the sex tape and doubtless watch it, too).

Spencer knew that Nate's argument was logical, and that he was being overly paranoid. He did sometimes feel like he missed things in the throes of sex that he would have liked to see. And the sex with Nate had been so mind-blowingly awesome that the idea of replaying it at leisure made his dick hard. "Damn, Nate, you drive a hard bargain. No pun intended."

"Is that an okay?" asked Nate eagerly.

"Only if you promise to guard it with your life," warned Spencer. "I can deal with the fallout of people finding out, if it comes to that, but you've got a lot more at stake."

Nate threw himself on Spencer, almost weeping with relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Spencer shook his head in wonderment. "Wow, you really get excited easily. It's kind of cute."

Nate set up the camera while Spencer cleared away the remnants of the picnic.

"It's kind of weird having sex on camera," remarked Spencer as he fumbled with Nate's pants. "It's like being watched."

"Just try not to think about it," advised Nate. "You'll soon forget that it's even there."

"Listen to you! You sound like an old hand at this. You haven't been holding out on me, have you? Any previous sex tapes I need to know about?" asked Spencer jokingly. Nate smiled weakly. If only he knew.

The pair fell naked onto the bed, kissing passionately. "What shall we do first?" asked Spencer. He ran a finger down Nate's spine and into his crack, resting it lightly against Nate's hole.

"Oh, I think you have a pretty good idea," replied Nate. Spencer didn't need further encouragement; he squirted a healthy dose of lube onto Nate's ass and worked three fingers into his hole. Then, while Nate lay on his back, Spencer plowed into him with long, tender strokes. That secured Spencer's first orgasm of the day, the outcome of which Nate dutifully swallowed.

Next it was Spencer's turn to lie on the bed while Nate sucked his dick. Nate, mindful of Troy's warning, had refused the offer of a 69. He tried to keep Spencer from thinking too much about it by stroking his pecs and abs, with special treatment for his nipples. It worked and a second load, delivered directly into Nate's mouth, followed.

For the third, Nate buried his face in Spencer's ass, eating out his hole with a passion while also giving him a handjob. The resulting cum shot spattered Spencer's body, mingling with his sweat, and Nate spent several minutes licking it clean.

"I need a breather," moaned Spencer, "if you're serious about milking me five times today." Nate was nuzzling under Spencer's arm, sucking the sweat from the tangle of blond pit hair.

"Okay," said Nate. Perhaps this was an appropriate time to broach the question of Spencer's sexual fantasies. "Spence, if I ask you a question, you've got to answer it with total honesty."

"Of course, babe. You don't deserve anything less," panted the blond hunk, which only made Nate feel like crap once more.

He doggedly continued, "What's your deepest, darkest sexual fantasy?"

Spencer blinked. "Wow, that's a ... pretty tough question. I've never really thought about it."

"You have to have something," insisted Nate.

"Well, all the stuff I used to think was hot I've actually done with you. We've had sex in my car, sex on my desk, foreplay with whipped cream ... Honestly, my biggest fantasy is to cuddle with my boyfriend after making love to him."

Nate gritted his teeth in frustration. The one time he needed a depraved sex freak he ended up with a guy whose fantasy was cuddling. Fuck cuddling! That wasn't going to fly with Troy.

"Haven't you ever thought about ... I don't know ... a threesome? Bondage? S&M?"

Spencer frowned. "I get that some people are into that but I don't really see the appeal myself. I believe in monogamous relationships. Tying up could be fun, but anything more than that ... I can't get off watching someone in pain."

Nate fervently wished his tormentors could have shared Spencer's view on the latter.

"What's your fantasy?" asked Spencer suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Sexual fantasies. What's yours? You must have one, since you were asking about it."

"Oh. Right." Nate thought quickly. "I like the idea of outdoor sex. It just seems exciting and scary, all at once."

Spencer nodded slowly. "Yeah, it does seem like that. You know, there is something I feel that way about: exciting and scary, all at once."

Nate perked up. Maybe he would avoid a nasty Troy-patented punishment after all. "Oh? What's that?"

Spencer looked at Nate a little anxiously. "Don't judge me, okay, but ever since I saw it in porn, it's held this strange fascination for me. It seems insane, and potentially painful, for a guy to fit two dicks in his ass at the same time. But I'll be damned if that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Nate's mouth went dry. He suddenly wished he'd been satisfied with the cuddling solution. "But I thought you weren't into threesomes. So how would you get two dicks at once?"

"Oh, I imagined we'd use a dildo in place of the second dick," explained Spencer. He caught sight of the look on Nate's face and hastened to add, "I don't mean we' as in you and me. It was just a hypothetical we'. I don't expect you to take my dick and a dildo at the same time. I wouldn't even have mentioned it if you hadn't asked about dark sexual fantasies. Now I've freaked you out. I'm sorry."

"No, of course not," Nate forced himself to say. "I was just trying to figure out the logistics of it. So we can try it the next time."

"Nate, we don't have to. I was just talking aloud about a weird turn-on. I can't expect you to satisfy my fantasy about double penetration. I mean, Christ! You've barely even been broken into regular anal sex as it is."

Nate winced, remembering all the dicks he'd taken up his ass in the last eight days. "Don't worry about it, Spence. I wasn't talking about trying it out right now. But I do want to try it, and when I'm ready I'll let you know."

"You're serious? You'd do that for me?"

Nate wanted to growl that he didn't have a choice in the matter; Troy had been pretty clear about what he had to do if he wanted to keep his dirty little secret. So instead he smiled down at Spencer and said, "Of course I would. I love you, remember?"

Spencer brushed a sweaty lock of hair off Nate's forehead. "I love you too." He lifted his head up for a kiss.

"Round 4?" asked Nate when they broke apart.

Spencer looked down at his dick, which was semi-erect. "I think little Z's ready to go again. But let's try something different this time." He got off the bed and sat down on the swivel chair. He fiddled with the backrest until it reclined at a 45 degree angle. Lying back on this, he requested Nate to sit down on his lap, facing him.

Nate recognized where this was headed and begged for a moment to reposition the camera.

"Again with the damned camera," grumbled Spencer, but his dick grew a little harder. Once Nate was happy with the camera's new position, he straddled Spencer's lap and gingerly lowered himself onto the rampant dick.

"Kiss me," instructed Spencer when Nate let out a whimper. Nate hungrily mauled Spencer's lips; it was a welcome distraction from the pain of his impalement on Spencer's dick. At first, his own dick was flaccid but as Spencer began to gently bounce him on his lap, his dick began to stiffen.

Please, no, begged Nate silently. Not again. I can't cum while he fucks me. I can't be queer.

But as Spencer's thrusts gained force and their mouths melded together in a string of passionate kisses, Nate knew it was a battle he was going to lose. Their bodies were pressed so close together that, with every bounce, Nate's hard-on brushed up against Spencer's washboard stomach. Between the friction this generated and the frequency of Spencer's dick hitting his prostate, Nate was lucky to be able to hold off on his orgasm for as long as he did. But orgasm he did, splashing both their torsos with his spunk.

The visual of Nate climaxing without touching himself was the stimuli Spencer needed to achieve his own orgasm, and he came with a roar.

"God, I fucking love you," he said when the sexual high had worn off, and he kissed Nate again. With broad strokes of his tongue, he licked up the cum that had spattered the underside of Nate's chin and worked downwards as far as his nipples. Then he gazed into Nate's eyes and told him he was a champ.

"Come on, get back on the bed and I'll clean off the rest with my tongue."

"Only if I can return the favor," replied Nate.

"Done!"

Nate hopped off Spencer's lap but, before returning to the bed, he had one more thing to do. Being very careful not to spill a drop, he removed the surprisingly full condom (it was, after all, Spencer's fourth load in less than two hours) from Spencer's dick and emptied its contents into his mouth.

Spencer watched him while stroking his chest. "Don't swallow yet. I want to kiss you again with my cum in your mouth."

Nate agreed to the request. Just as they were swapping the cum-and-spit mixture between their mouths, his phone began to ring. "Give me a sec, it might be my parents." Spencer nodded, and Nate fished his phone out of his pants. His heart sank when he saw the caller ID: Troy.

He answered it while keeping an eye on Spencer. "Hello?"

"Hey fucktoy, you still with Spencer?"

"Yeah," replied Nate guardedly.

"STILL not done with your lovefest? Boy, you sure love spending time riding that monster schlong. Did you pump five loads out him yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Get a fucking move on then. And call me when you're done. Your slave duties aren't finished for the day." With that, Troy terminated the call.

"Was it your mom?" asked Spencer curiously as Nate put the phone away.

Nate shook his head. "No, a ... friend from school. We have this assignment that we have to hand in soon," he lied. "He was asking if I'd done my bit yet."

"Oh. You should go if you've got work to do, you know. I don't want to keep you from your schoolwork."

Nate quickly backtracked. "No, I don't have that much left to do. Besides, I said we'd try for a fifth load today and I like to keep my word."

Spencer groaned. "Well, you can try but I don't know if I can perform to your expectations."

"I'm not leaving this room till I get you to cum again," promised Nate. "But first let me clean all that cum off of you." Kneeling between Spencer's legs, he gave the blond a complete tongue-bath, tasting both cum and sweat on his tongue. Nibbling Spencer's nipples helped send a rush of blood to his groin, but he was still not nearly hard enough. Nate lifted Spencer's legs up and placed them on his shoulders, granting access to his furry hole. A second rim job followed, with Spencer moaning loudly as Nate alternated between sucking on his hole and tongue-fucking it.

"Put a couple of fingers in," urged Spencer. "That always helps." Nate obeyed, fingering Spencer's hole with two fingers while transferring his oral ministrations to his balls.

"Another finger," gasped Spencer. "I can even take a fourth."

Nate thought to himself, I'm not even a fag and I can take four fingers in my ass, so you damn well should be able to! Spencer was right, however, for as Nate squeezed a fourth finger into his moist, tight hole, his dick grew to a full erection. Nate enveloped it in his warm mouth, sucking for all he was worth. Another fifteen minutes passed, and just as Nate was about to give up hope, Spencer grabbed him by the hair and yelled, "Fuck!" Hot cum blasted into Nate's mouth; it was admittedly a small amount but with significant pressure behind it.

Panting, Spencer let go of Nate's hair and wiped his hand across his sweaty brow. "Damn! That was probably the longest I've ever taken to cum in my life. But man, it was also one of the most satisfying climaxes. I've just got one request. More of a plea, really."

"Yes?"

"Don't tell me we have to go for six the next time."

Nate laughed, but he was a little worried. He wouldn't put it past that bastard Troy to make that demand of him next.

Spencer took his hand and gently licked the fingers clean. "We both need a shower. I'm pretty sure my balls are dry, but if you join me we can try to get another load out of you."

"Thanks, but I really should get home and try to finish that assignment. It's not like I'm lacking jerk-off material now." Nate tapped the video camera, which was still recording. He switched it off.

"Right. I'd forgotten about that."

"I did say you would. Shall I load it into your computer, and then maybe we can take a quick look?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Spencer vacated the swivel chair for Nate. He popped the camera's memory card into the computer and downloaded the video from it. Spencer stood over him, massaging his shoulders while they waited for the download to finish.

"Alright," said Nate when the computer pinged. "Shall we watch our performance?"

Spencer nodded, so Nate pressed play. The opening shot was of the two of them, naked while making out on the bed. Then Spencer began to fuck Nate.

"Wow, look at that. You can even see my dick going into your ass," exclaimed Spencer. Any doubts he'd had about filming this were all but forgotten; he was completely engrossed by the passionate sex onscreen.

Nate felt queasy; watching this unfold on a computer screen drove home how much they looked for all the world like a couple of faggots, going at it like rabbits. There he was, getting fucked up the ass. Sucking cock. Eating ass. And seemingly enjoying all of it, if his hard-on and frequent making-out were anything to go by!

"You can continue watching it," he told Spencer unsteadily, "but I really have to get home."

"Okay, babe." Spencer gave him another deep kiss. "Remember to keep that memory card safe, alright?"

Nate nodded and began to pick up his clothes. Five minutes later he was outside the dorms. He pulled out his phone and looked for Troy's number in his contacts. As he scrolled through the Ts, he paused momentarily on T.J. Powell. What would T.J. say if he saw the sex tape Nate had just filmed? They'd spent a lot of time together before T.J. had moved away. They'd even slept over at each other's homes. Nate's parents had liked T.J. and his family. Nate had once overheard Mitchell tell Marsha that T.J. was a "good kid", who helped keep Nate "grounded", whatever that meant. It was not surprising that they'd had such a high opinion of T.J.; he was always amiable and got along well with everyone. Nate wondered, not for the first time, if things might have turned out very differently had T.J. still been around at the onset of his enslavement.

Two names below T.J. was Tripp van Hansen. Nate didn't have to guess how HE would react to the sex tape. Shuddering at the mere thought of it, Nate scrolled down to the next name on the list and pressed Call.

"It took you long enough," was Troy's opening salvo. "We're waiting for you at the park. Come straight there." The line went dead.

So much for the "breather" his slave masters had promised him yesterday, thought Nate while he drove to the park. As he parked his car, he couldn't help but remember, with a shudder, that this where his downfall had begun. It seemed like a lifetime ago, instead of just over a week. The park was decidedly more crowded today, with picnicking families enjoying the spring sunshine. Nate's six tormentors were hanging around in the parking lot, leaning against their cars.

"Well, well," drawled Troy. "Looks like our slave boy finally managed to tear himself away from the tender ministrations of his lover. Camera?" Nate handed it over. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"What are we doing here?" asked Nate. "I thought today was my day off ..."

He was bemused when his masters responded by laughing.

"Listen to him," Ethan chortled. "Day off! Ha, ha, ha!"

"Dumbass," sneered Owen. "Slavery is a 24/7 commitment. You don't get a day off."

"But we are giving you a lighter task today," stressed Wes.

"Yeah, the chance for you to tone those muscles," added Troy. "After all, part of the fun of having you as a slave is the fact that you're such a muscle stud and yet completely at our mercy," he commented.

"We expect a complete workout. Pull-ups, sit-ups ... the full works," said Jason.

"I'm glad to see you're dressed as instructed," noted Troy. Nate was wearing a tight-fitting V-necked top and a very baggy pair of cargo pants, with bright orange bikini briefs underneath. "But it's too nice a day for you to keep your top on," he continued. "And you can lose the briefs too ... surely they're a bit restricting?"

Nate stared at him in dismay. Without a top or underwear, his sagging shorts would surely reveal his shaved groin and butt crack to all and sundry. The pull-ups in particular would expose his hairless armpits and cause his shorts to slip even lower.

"Get `em off," ordered Drew when Nate hesitated. Very aware of his lack of privacy in the parking lot, Nate ducked back into his car to take off his pants so that his briefs could be removed. Of course, his tormentors were in no hurry to let him put the shorts back on and they had him lie on the backseat, naked from the waist down, with his legs spread wide so they could see his hole. Only after Drew had snapped a quick shot of his sloppy anal orifice was he allowed to put his pants back on. Once he'd discarded the t-shirt as well, he tried futilely to hike his pants up; they rested so low on his hips that an observer would be left in no doubt that Nate wasn't wearing any underwear.

He was led to an exercise station next to the crowded picnic area. Over the next hour, he proceeded to perform a complete workout in full view of the picnickers. He spent an inordinately long time on the pull-up bars after the boys caught on to his problem with the sagging shorts. Nate witnessed several picnickers ogling his half-naked body as he worked up a sweat which glistened on his bare skin and ran down his back and between his butt cheeks.

He also suffered his fair share of taunts. A college jock doing crunches on the wooden platform cracked that "it must be laundry day", in reference to Nate's obvious lack of underwear. His pal asked if Nate hadn't heard that "deforestation is bad for the planet". Nate ignored them, even as he felt his insides shrivel in shame.

At one point his pants slipped so far down that the root of his dick was briefly visible. Nate hastily pulled them back up, but a quick-witted college girl who'd been watching his workout with great interest managed to snap a photo of the `wardrobe malfunction' on her camera phone. Nate worried that she would show the photo to all her friends.

His relief was palpable when his tormentors signaled an end to his workout. He wanted nothing more than to escape the derisive scrutiny of his audience. Back in the parking lot, he looked wistfully at his t-shirt in the backseat of his car but (wisely) did not put it on without being instructed to.

"Well, that's it for the day," Wes told him. "Now you can have the rest of the evening off."

"Except for the window jerk-off at 5pm," Nate pointed out.

Wes was puzzled. "You do realize you don't have to do that anymore, right?"

Now it was Nate's turn to be confused. "Since when?"

"Since Bobby Rawlins opted out of it, of course. Wait, you did know this, right?" Wes turned to face Troy accusingly. "Troy! You were supposed to tell him!"

Troy affected innocence. "Oh, yeah ... I forgot." Wes narrowed his eyes at him but didn't say anything.

Nate could not have been more thrilled by the news of Bobby's discontinued participation from his enslavement, but it also didn't make sense to him. The little twerp had positively enjoyed making Nate squirm. "Why's Bobby opted out?"

"Don't ask so many questions, fucktoy," responded Troy. "You don't want us to find someone new to keep tabs on you at home, do you?"

Nate hurriedly shook his head.

"But we ARE owed one daily jerk-off from you," Owen mentioned slyly. "We're just going to shake things up a bit by having you do it in a different setting every day." Nate's euphoria at no longer being under Bobby's thumb faded.

"Like today," rejoined Drew, "you're gonna jerk off for us right here."

Nate's eyes widened in horror, but there was worse to come.

"And in keeping with tradition," Ethan continued, "you're going to jerk off onto a window ... in this case, your car window."

"And then you're going to lick it up," finished Jason.

"I can't possibly do that here! There are people!" hissed Nate.

"We didn't say we wouldn't help you," said Wes. "We'll stand around so that you're blocked from view."

"But we're only going to do that for a limited time," added Troy.

"If you don't finish within that time ..." Owen let the sentence trail off menacingly. Nate gulped.

His tormentors had him retract the roof on his convertible so that he could stand up inside the car and jerk off onto the driver's side window. The human shield they formed around Nate and his remote parking spot (at the far edge of the lot) provided some measure of privacy, but he also had only eight minutes before they disbanded and left him without any cover.

Nate knew the only way he could be further humiliated today was if other people saw him jerking off; these six guys had seen him do everything. So he pushed aside any thoughts of discovery and perpetrated the gross indignity of shoving two spit-slicked fingers up his ass.

"Man, he certainly gets right to it, huh?" teased Troy. "Wriggle those fingers around! Show everyone how much you love it."

What Nate would have loved to do was ignore him, but sadly he knew that Troy was correct. For some perverse reason (Nate did not want to think too deeply about it), having things shoved up his ass turned him on. While stroking his dick with his free hand, he thoroughly finger-fucked himself. He was grateful for the lube left over from Spencer's very generous application to his asshole. However, it took the addition of a third finger for him to cum, and even then only at the very end of the allotted time.

"Wait, you guys!" Nate yelped in terror as his masters started to move away from the car, leaving his naked body exposed to the parking lot. He hurriedly pulled his cargo pants up.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Drew, pointing to the cum running down the window.

Nate groaned but bent down to lick up the white smear on the glass. He was almost done when a woman walked past him to her car; she clucked with disgust when she saw him licking the window. There wasn't any cum left on the window so it was anyone's guess what she thought he was licking (if anything) but it was abundantly clear that she thought him a freak. Nate's tormentors waited until she'd moved out of earshot before collapsing into giggles.

"Thanks for that, Nate," Troy grinned. "You're always good for a laugh."

Nate scowled. How many more people in Mount Pleasant would decide he was an exhibitionistic pervert before his slavery was through?

"Now get your ass home and I'm sure Wes will contact you with any special instructions for tomorrow."

"Actually, there's something I wanted to say about that," Wes interjected. Everyone turned their attention to him. "We've got our big game coming up this Friday, so I was thinking we should give Nate the day off -"

"Hey!" Owen interrupted to complain. "But that's my day!"

Wes held his hand up for patience. "I'm not saying you need to give up your day, Owen. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask any of you for that. So I'm giving up my day instead, and we'll just move things up by a day for this week. How does that sound to everyone?"

Jason looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. He could tell that Wes was very disappointed not to have a day alone with Nate but was compelled by the responsibilities of his captaincy to make the sacrifice. Jason personally thought it was probably for the best; a few days' break from Nate might give Wes perspective and help him realize the jerk was not worthy of anything deeper than lust. He hated seeing his best friend in the thrall of that prick.

However, he also hated seeing Wes disappointed and, ultimately, that won out. He spoke up. "You don't have to do that, Wes. I don't really need a day to torment this little fucker anyway. Just take me off Wednesday, and Drew and Owen can move their days forward."

"Are you sure?" The gratitude was evident in Wes's blue eyes and Jason knew why he had folded so easily. It didn't stop him from wanting to scream in frustration, though, even as he assured Wes that he was positive.

"Alright then, you've heard the plan for the week - now fuck off before we think of something else to do to you," snapped Troy. "Teabagging sounds like a good idea ..."

Nate leapt into his car and drove off in such haste that his slave masters were once more left howling with laughter.

& & & & &

When he got home from dropping Wes off at his apartment, Jason found his sister pacing the foyer excitedly.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Look what I found while I was turning out Dad's coat pockets to send it to the cleaners." She waved a piece of paper in front of him excitedly.

Jason took it from her and scanned it briefly. It was a receipt for a pair of diamond earrings from the local jeweler, Bergendorf's, dated two weeks before. He handed it back to his sister. "I don't see the big deal. Dad probably bought it for your birthday or Julie's - or maybe even Grandma's."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Since when does Dad buy birthday gifts months in advance? You know we're lucky if he remembers it on the day itself."

Jason knew this was true; their dad was seldom aware of the goings-on outside the hospital. "Then who did he - Oh! You think he bought them for a girlfriend! But we haven't seen any sign of a girlfriend."

"That doesn't mean there isn't one; it just means he's seeing her secretly," Jessie retorted matter-of-factly. "And I'm going to find out who it is!" She sailed upstairs, presumably to pry further in their father's bedroom.

Jason slowly walked up to his room, deep in thought. There was something that had jogged some vague memory he had, something he'd heard not too long ago, something to do with a pair of earrings ...

It struck all of a sudden and brought him to a halt. Of course! But it couldn't be ... Surely not! With trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed Wes's number.

Wes picked up on the third ring. "Jase? What is it? Did I leave something -"

"Wes, you told me your mom had received fancy earrings for her birthday from her secret boyfriend. Do you know if they were diamond earrings from Bergendorf's?"

"Yeah, they were diamonds - Mom's birthstone, you know - and they were definitely from Bergendorf's; I saw the box. But how'd you know that?"

"Because my dad had a receipt for them in his coat pocket!"

There was a silence. Then Wes exclaimed, "Shit! You're not saying -"

"My dad's been secretly dating your mom? That's exactly what I'm saying! If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. They've got so much in common. They're both lonely; both single parents; and both have no life outside work, which - coincidentally - happens to be the same hospital!"

"It's not a bad argument," Wes conceded, "but I still think we might be getting ahead of ourselves. I mean, our parents have been in each other's orbits for years, not just professionally but personally too. We call each other's parents uncle' and aunt'. Heck, my mom is even Julie's godmother!"

"Are you trying to support or discredit my theory? Because everything you just said seems to support it!"

Wes had to agree. "Gosh! Do you think I should just ask Mom if she's seeing Uncle George?"

"No, don't," Jason said quickly. "They'll tell us when they're ready. I'm sure they're just waiting for the right time. Maybe we could drop some hints though. They have to know that they don't need to worry about our reactions. Jessie and Julie will be thrilled, and so am I."

"Are you sure?" Wes asked quietly. "Sure that you're okay with this, I mean? I am, and Griff will be, too. But it's different for us - our dad abandoned us. Your mom didn't want to leave you guys."

Jason swallowed. "I know Mom would have wanted us to be happy. And I like Aunt Hope. It hasn't been an easy couple of years for your family either, but she's always been there for us. Frankly, she's been like a second mom to all three of us, especially Julie. You know the one thing better than getting Aunt Hope as our stepmom?"

"What's that?"

"The two of us would actually become brothers."

"Oh, yeah, I didn't think of that." It didn't occur to Wes to correct Jason that they would actually be stepbrothers, and even that only if their parents' relationship resulted in marriage. He sighed, "That would be so cool."

& & & & &

Brody Lawson found his roommate lying on the bed, dressed in only boxer briefs and staring up at the ceiling with a dreamy look on his face. Spencer didn't even seem to notice when Brody came through the door. With a grin on his face, he edged closer to Spencer and slapped him, hard, across his stomach. That got his attention.

"Ow! What the hell, Brode?" Spencer complained, rubbing his abs as he sat up in bed.

"I should be asking you that question, dude. I leave you alone for a couple of days and I come back to find you totally zombified. Who is it?"

"Who is what?"

"Oh, come off it, Z. You know what I mean. You've got that goofy, I-just-got-laid-and-it-was-fucking-awesome look on your face."

Spencer blushed. "Is it that obvious?"

Brody rolled his eyes. "Duh. So who is it that's got you all loved-up?"

"Um ... I can't tell you."

"Of course you can! I'm your best friend."

"It's not that. I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. He's not exactly ready to come out just yet."

A worried look crossed Brody's face. "Uh oh. A closet case? Z, you said you weren't going to date those after your first boyfriend."

Spencer winced. He really wished Brody hadn't brought up his first boyfriend, back in Massachusetts. They'd started dating in secret towards the end of high school, but he'd eventually dumped Spencer because he claimed he'd just been confused and wasn't really gay. Yeah, that had been very believable after all the times they'd had sex together, with him frequently begging Spencer to fuck him harder! The truth was he hadn't had the guts to come out to his family; it was easier to pretend to be straight.

"This is different," Spencer assured Brody. "Yes, he's still in the closet but he's promised to come out after things settle down in his personal life."

"And you believe him?"

Spencer nodded. "He just needs a little time. It's the only thing he's asked of me and I can't deny it to him. He's so unselfish in every other way. I've never had a guy who puts my needs ahead of his before. And he's just so sweet and earnest ... not to mention hot."

Brody cocked an eyebrow. "Balls-out hot?"

"Balls-out hot," confirmed Spencer with a grin.

"Well, in THAT case, I'm glad for you, Z."

"You're just glad I'm not moping around our room anymore," laughed Spencer.

"That too," grinned Brody. "I'm kinda disappointed to be relegated down your list of priorities, though. It was nice being your number one guy for a while there."

Spencer punched him playfully on the arm. "Aw, Brode. You know you're always my number one guy." Brody smiled smugly.

"You know Carly's going to be thrilled, right? She was just talking about how we need to hook you up with someone. We were about to scour the campus for single gay men."

Spencer laughed. "You know, that reminds me. Do you know that senior, Elliott? I don't know his last name, but he works in the coffeeshop on Fifth and Pine -"

"The one who's got a kid? I think his last name's Gardner. Yeah, I've seen him `round campus, but I only met him last summer, at the funeral."

"You mean the funeral of his son's mother?"

"Yeah, apparently Carly knew her; they were at school together."

"Oh. Did you know he was gay?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me. I did kinda get that vibe from him." Brody eyed his best friend. "He's not your guy, is he?"

"No, but he did ask me out. I had to turn him down `cause I was already seeing, er, my guy."

"When it rains it pours, huh?" joked Brody.

Spencer shrugged. "I was just surprised to learn that he was gay."

"Well, that's why Carly said you needed our help. For a gay guy, your gaydar sure sucks."

"Gee, thanks," said Spencer sarcastically.

"Seriously! Do you remember how thrown you were when Derek first asked you out? And how you weren't sure which of Carly's brothers was the gay one? A guy could put your dick in his mouth and you'd still be convinced he was straight."

"You're one to talk! I wasn't the one shoving my tongue down Piper Ellis's throat, freshman year, without realizing she was a lesbian!"

"Ah, but in my defense, it was the one time AND I'm not supposed to have gaydar anyway," retorted Brody.

Spencer knew Brody had him there. "Alright, my gaydar sucks worse than yours. Are you happy now?"

Brody grinned. "I love that we still get to compete in stuff, even if it's not girls. Especially since I usually win."

"Asshole," said Spencer, but he was grinning too.

"Okay, I'm gonna grab a shower, and maybe by the time I'm back you could put some clothes on so I don't feel quite as bad for missing my workout this past couple of days?"

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Spencer repeated Brody's words back to him. "I love that we still get to compete in stuff. Especially since I usually win."

Brody gave him a look but didn't bother replying since he was getting undressed. Wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing his shower gel, he headed for the door but paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Z?"

"Yeah?"

"I really am glad for you. You deserve a guy who makes you happy."

Spencer smiled at him. "Thanks."

"And if he ever stops making you happy, just say the word. I promise the cops will never find his body."

"Brody!"

& & & & &

Nate had a surprisingly pleasant couple of hours before his parents returned. For one thing, he had something to look forward to: his first humiliation-free day since his enslavement began. For another, he no longer had to gaze fretfully out the window, expecting to find Bobby Rawlins leering at him like he was a tasty piece of meat. Nate did wonder why Bobby had turned in his slave master badge. It was most unlike the little bastard. He had been positively salivating over having reins over Nate's body. Nonetheless he was grateful to have one less master to serve. Perhaps things were finally looking up for him.

He was watching ESPN with his dad in the den when the doorbell rang. They both kicked back, expecting Marsha to answer it. She didn't, and the doorbell rang again.

"Your mom must be in the shower," said Mitchell. "Can you get that? It must be the pizza we ordered on the way home. The money's on the foyer table."

Nate grumbled under his breath but didn't want to push his luck with his dad. He got up to answer the door. As it turned out, that was a big mistake. His own parents had, unwittingly, set him up for another fall.

The moment he opened the door he knew he was in trouble. The delivery guy standing on his doorstep was no stranger. Just last week Nate had sucked him off in a storage closet.

Zack Rosen grinned widely when he saw Nate. "I thought the address looked familiar! Although," he added cheekily, "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

Nate wanted to shut the door in his face. He controlled himself with an effort. "Look, can you just give me the pizza? I've got the money right here, tip included."

"Money?" echoed Zack. "Come on, man, you can do better than that. Last week's tip was awesome."

Nate glanced worriedly over his shoulder, afraid that his dad might overhear the conversation. "I'm not into that stuff, alright?" he whispered.

"Pull the other one," said Zack skeptically. "Your buddy told me you were a regular cock hound, and as far as proof goes, that blowjob you gave me was pretty out there."

"That was a one-off, okay? I'm not doing it again. Now will you please just take the money and leave?"

This was not going the way Zack had planned. On the drive over, he'd dreamt about the cock-sucking slut at 38 Hillcrest Drive, and consequently he had a hard-on in his pants that said slut now claimed he wasn't going to service.

"Just one blowjob, man," he whined. "I promise you'll love it. You did the last time. I mean, you even had me film it and you gobbled up my cum like it was the tastiest thing ever."

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Nate.

"Nate, is that the pizza? What's taking so long?" Mitchell yelled from the den.

"Yes, Dad!" Nate called back. "Just ... sorting out the change." He turned back to Zack and was dismayed to see the flash of comprehension on his face.

"He doesn't know, does he? He doesn't know his son is a cock hound."

"I'm not!" snapped Nate. "And you're not going to tell him shit that's not true."

Zack held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Man, what do you take me for? I'm not going to rat you out to your folks. But you've obviously got an itch, and I'm more than happy to scratch it for you."

Nate was disgusted. "I'm not a fag like you! Just take the damn money and fuck off!" He instantly regretted being so rude but there was no way he was going to take it back.

Zack's eyes narrowed. "Okay, you really need to work on that attitude. Denial much? Maybe you do need help coming out of the closet ..."

Those words sent a shiver down Nate's spine. "You said you wouldn't."

"Yeah, I'm generally against outing my fellow gays against their will, but you don't make me feel real warm and fuzzy towards you with that attitude. I could be convinced to forgive you, though ..."

"That's blackmail," said Nate weakly.

"Blackmail's such an ugly word," chided Zack. "The way I see it, you like sucking dick and I want my dick sucked. Seems like a win-win situation. Tell the `rents something and meet me in my van; I'll park down the street so they won't get suspicious."

Nate was sick to his stomach. He drifted back to the den like a zombie and deposited the pizza on the coffee table in front of his dad.

"I'm gonna go out for a jog before dinner," he mumbled. Mitchell nodded absentmindedly, his attention more on the television screen than on his son. Nate wandered back out into the foyer and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. What was he doing? He didn't have to go through with this. It wasn't like that fucking delivery boy had any evidence of Nate engaging in homosexual activity. He could easily call his bluff and send him on his way.

"Fuck him," muttered Nate as he exited the house and walked down the block to where a stationary pizza delivery van stood with its lights off. When he approached it the back door swung open and Zack gestured for him to come in. Nate didn't accept the invitation.

"Look," he said firmly. "You don't have anything on me. It's just your word against mine. So you can just get lost; I'm not sucking you off."

Zack was flummoxed. He'd felt Nate was opening up to the idea of another blowjob and now he was back to acting like he didn't want it. What the fuck was up with the guy? It wasn't like he disliked sucking dick. Maybe it was just Zack's dick he didn't want to suck (again). He probably thought Zack was a loser and he, being the hot stud that he was, shouldn't be sucking losers' dicks. There was more than one reason Nate reminded Zack strongly of the jocks who'd bullied him all through high school. Well, Zack had a surprise in store for Nate.

"Sorry to break it to you, Nate," - the stud winced at Zack's use of his name - "but I do have proof that your folks might be interested in seeing. In fact, I've been jerking off to it every day this past week. The video's pretty hot stuff: you naked, sucking my dick, cum all over your face, eating it up ..."

Nate stared at him disbelievingly. "You don't have any video! You recorded that blowjob on MY phone."

"You really think I'm an idiot, huh? A hot stud like you gives me a blowjob and I don't think to keep a memento? It only took a few seconds to Bluetooth that video over to my own phone." Zack could see that Nate was still skeptical, so he pulled out his phone.

"You wanna watch it?" he challenged. The video was easy enough to locate; it was at the top of his list of most-watched clips. Nate watched in horror as it began to play. His face was framed perfectly on screen, with an anonymous dick stretching his lips.

"You believe me now, don't you, slut?" asked Zack. He saw Nate eyeing the phone as if he wanted to snatch it from him and trample it to pieces underfoot. "Don't think that's the only copy," he warned. "I have another on my computer back home. It would be a real pity if it got posted on XTube with your name and home address." Zack felt guilty about how thrilled he was to be in control of the arrogant hunk.

By this point Nate knew he was well and truly fucked. "What do you want from me?" he asked, barely suppressing a sob.

"I told you: a blowjob," explained Zack patiently. "Don't look so fucking miserable. You know you'll enjoy it, once you can get past that stupid macho pride of yours. Hop in the van."

Nate reluctantly obeyed. The van door slammed shut with a foreboding finality. Inside, Zack ordered Nate to strip naked while doing so himself. An embarrassed Nate tried to avert his eyes, which amused Zack.

"You might as well get a good look now," he told Nate. "Soon you'll know this body as well as you know your own." Nate shuddered.

Once they were both naked, Zack lay on his back and instructed Nate to get on all fours, with his face over Zack's groin and his genitals above Zack's face. "Now suck me off, slut."

As Nate got to work, Zack eyed Nate's dangling junk. It swayed ever so temptingly as Nate bobbed up and down on his dick. He wanted to reach up and wrap his lips around it. Truth be told, Zack was a bottom. But tonight he was determined to lock those desires away, for having Nate bottom in their sexual encounter was far more satisfying. Throughout his high school years, Zack had been taunted and tossed about by a gang of jocks. Their ringleader had been buff, black-haired and blue-eyed - not unlike Nate. He'd taken a sadistic pleasure in tearing down Zack at every opportunity, even though he'd done nothing to him. Well, besides the crime of being gay, that is.

Zack could remember, in excruciating detail, the day Todd Moore had shoved him, naked, into a locker in the boys' changing room. It had been an agonizing couple of hours before one of his classmates took pity on him and let him out. In the meantime, Zack had dreamt of all the things he'd do to his tormentors when he got out. Of course he never did any of them. But chief among his revenge plans had been getting Todd Moore naked and on his knees, sucking Zack's dick.

Lost in the memory, Zack grabbed a fistful of Nate's thick, black hair and shoved his head down on his dick. "Suck on that, fucker," he snarled. Nate nearly choked. "Yeah, take it all down your throat. Not top dog now, huh, Todd? How does it feel?"

Todd? Nate had no idea what was going on but with a mouth full of dick he wasn't in a position to voice his protests.

Zack ran his free hand down Nate's body, twisting his nipples and polishing his rock-hard abs. (His other hand held his phone, recording the blowjob.) But it was Nate's butt that held the greatest attraction for Zack. It felt like solid muscle under his touch. He parted the ass-cheeks and searched for the hole. He expected some resistance from Nate's sphincter muscle, but his finger slid in easily. He could even feel traces of lube (Nate had had a shower since returning from the park, but he'd been too ashamed to stick his finger up his chute and clean it thoroughly.)

"Not a fag?" snorted Zack. "Sure, man - that's why your ass feels like someone drove a truck through it." Nate flushed with shame, and it only got worse when Zack forced a second finger up his ass, followed soon after by a third. Nate's treacherous dick began to stiffen.

"Man, you really are a slut!" declared Zack, finding himself enjoying Nate's humiliation more than he would have liked. "How many guys have you had up this hole today? Fucking hell! And it looks like little Nate really enjoys it.

"I should fuck you," he said suddenly. "Would you like that, slut? I bet you would."

Nate tried to shake his head, but he couldn't deny his erection as a result of Zack's fingering of his hole. Zack grunted in sheer ecstasy as he came, coating the inside of Nate's mouth with his spunk. There was so much of it that Nate couldn't swallow it all; some of the creamy liquid dribbled down his chin.

"Don't wipe that up," ordered Zack. He snapped a still photo of Nate's wretched face. "Now lick that stuff up." As Nate obeyed, Zack kept ramming his fingers up his hole.

"So how about it, slut? Can I try out your other hole next? I've got you all loosened up."

Nate was spared having to reply by the sound of the radio in the driver's compartment. "Rosen! Where the fuck are you? The orders are piling up here!"

Zack groaned in frustration. He clambered, still naked, into the driver's seat and picked up the receiver. "Sorry, boss. Got a bit held up. I'll be right over."

"You'd better!" snapped his employer.

Zack replaced the receiver and sighed. He looked over his shoulder at Nate. The hunk's ripped body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His pecs were heaving and his dick was still semi-erect. Zack ached to throw him down and fuck the living daylights out of him.

"I guess you'd better go," he told him regretfully. "I'll owe you that fuck some other time." He grinned. "After all, I do know where you live. Maybe next time you can dial down the self-hating crap, okay? You'll enjoy it a lot more if you accept who you are."

Nate quickly pulled on his clothes and got out of the van. Zack hadn't intended his parting remark as a threat, but that was what it had sounded like to Nate. As he trudged back home, he wondered if this was his life now: falling at the mercy of every fag on the planet. How had he gone, in the course of two hours, from celebrating Bobby's departure from his enslavement scheme to admitting another master to replace him? He hadn't even needed those bastard teammates of his to sanction Zack's authority over him! Why the fuck hadn't he resisted more strongly? Why hadn't he denied everything to Zack and beaten the crap out of him if he hadn't believed him?

There was an obvious answer to those questions, but it was not one Nate wanted to even remotely contemplate.

To be continued ...

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

I love hearing from you guys so please do write me at the email address at the top of this page. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, and will be taken into account when writing the remaining chapters. Finally, I wish you all a happy Easter!

Copyright: ---------- All Rights Reserved by Jasper X. Cooper (2011)

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