Date: Sat, 17 Sep 2005 03:30:36 -0700 (PDT)
From: L R <kink_330@yahoo.com>
Subject: No Break Part V (bi authoritarian)

This story is total fantasy, based on some of my experiences.  Part VI is
not finished, so it could be a couple of days after this before it's
posted.

You can contact me at kink_330@yahoo.com

All rights reserved.  I'm submitting this to the Yahoo group
menstrippedanddisplayed, to the Nifty Archive for the bisexual
authoritarian section and to Altairboy because each of them serves a
different audience that might be interested in this story.  I give each of
these sites a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and
non-cancelable license to display the work.  Contact me if you think this
should be posted anywhere else.  I might enjoy discovering new story sites
rather than not knowing where someone else has posted.

*********

No Break
by Master Lou

Part V

Mark woke Sunday morning with his once-a-day wood.  Since I locked him into
the CB2000 chastity device on Tuesday, he had spent his first two days
physically prevented from any erection except for the involuntary morning
hard-on that caused him unbearable pain in his cock until it was iced down.
Thursday, Friday and last night, the cage had been removed at night to
spare him that cock torture.  He had come to accept the price of that
relief.  He was required to watch me jack off and then help me clean up all
my cum with a towel and washcloth in exchange.  He also accepted that, with
the cockcage removed at night, I demanded he be tied down to his bed in the
hotel room, unable to reach his cock with his hands or even rub it against
anything.  So after two days without any erection, he had endured the next
three days with this once-daily boner each morning.  This was way less than
the 21 year old, testosterone-loaded college wrestler was accustomed to
having.

His body must have make up for the greatly reduced *quantity* of erections
by giving him outrageously fine *quality* wood the one time each day it was
possible.  I knew the hunk's frustration had to be enhancing that quality.

I heard Mark firmly calling me to wake up.  Looking over, I saw him yet
again laying on his back on his own bed with arms stretched spread-eagle,
tied by his wrists, bare-assed and vulnerable.  His cock stood stiff as the
sturdiest 2X4 you could find.  His legs were bound just as strongly as his
wrists but with more slack for movement.  I saw by the clock that we were
barely on time for the morning jog we had committed to taking and I guessed
Mark had been laying there awake, waiting for the time to arrive and
enduring his complete frustration in the face of the solid morning
erection.  I didn't question what was going through his mind.  That was up
to him to deal with unless he asked for my help.

If my reader is bored by now with my report of this daily ritual, skip the
next few paragraphs and continue from there.  As for me, I was excited by
it.  Each morning presented new possibilities for exposing him and I
savored the significance of Mark's acceptance.  Like the Pavlovian dog at
the sound of the bell, he was being conditioned to tolerate and even expect
his morning humiliation.

At least he knew where to find the ice machine that morning.  However, he
was betrayed by his accurate timing in waking me.  The two twinkies across
the hall in the hotel anticipated when to expect him.  With hands tied
behind his back and the boner curved once again toward the ceiling, he held
on to his ice bucket the best he could as he stepped, still nekked, into
the hallway.  He hoped the ice would once again give him some relief from
the insistent hardon.  The fags across the hall hoped to catch his
magnificent vulnerability for the second time.  They succeeded.

Their door was propped open once again.  I took the opportunity to grab my
room key and step into the hallway myself in my usual boxers to introduce
myself.  The guys were noticeably wary of me.  My gym-built muscles were
probably the least of the reasons for their intimidation.  They saw me
dominating Mark's powerful body, sending him hard and bound into the public
hallway each morning.  They must have worried about just how kinky I could
get.  They warmed up enough to at least introduce themselves as Greg and
Shannon when I suggested their interest could be put to good use each
morning if they wanted to help me with Mark's training.

So, when Mark returned from the service room with his full bucket of ice
held behind his back and his even more full cock straining for some
attention, he looked taken aback to find the three of us waiting for him in
the hallway.  He waited meekly for me to remember the cardkey in my hand
and open our door.  Shannon and Greg might have been disappointed that I
ushered them into the room ahead of Mark because they had to turn their
backs on Mark's magnificent physique.  I wanted to prolong Mark's exposure
in the hall and to make him realize up front that these two young gays
would participate in a bigger part of his humiliation.

Our neighbors were most willing to hold the bag of ice against my
roommate's stiffie and balls.  They showed disappointment that I wouldn't
let them actually play with Mark's cock.  For Mark's part, he accepted his
new abusers resignedly, wanting simply to get things done as quickly as
possible.  He even agreed, as the chastity cage was put back in place, that
Greg and Shannon would be his "deputy keyholders" and could check up on
Mark to make sure he was behaving and staying locked up securely.  He
figured he had no real choice and he was not thinking clearly because of
his embarrassment.

Mark dashed for his own underwear the moment his hands were untied.  Just
for fun, Shannon insisted on practicing his duties and taking a last look
down the front of the boxers before returning to his own room.  Obviously,
Mark was still locked into the cage just like he should be.  I admired
Shannon's taking the game to heart.  I let the twinks know that Mark would
most likely need the ice at the same time each morning.

On the beach that afternoon, it was fun to watch Mark eyeing the sexy women
in their tiny bikinis.  Especially fun because both he and I were aware
that if he connected with any beyond an on-the-beach acquaintance, he would
not have his cock to satisfy her with and he'd never get the orgasm he had
grown to expect for himself.  He looked powerful and sexy as hell.  I
believed his sexual frustration was making him even sexier to everyone, not
just to me.  Everyone lets go of their inhibitions and acts a little wilder
on spring break.  The year before, that had lead Mark to an arrogant,
full-of-himself attitude.  This year, the attitude was completely different
because of the cockcage and repeated humiliations.  His sexual charge was
obvious.  Yet instead of acting aggressively, he was more attentive to all
the scantily dressed women and men on the beach -- especially to me, his
keyholder.  He simply *was* sexy, not trying to act that way.

Like the day before, a contest in the evening provided the most intense
experience of the day.  Mark and I noticed an advertisement for a wet
t-shirt contest at a bar not far from us.  Last year, we got rowdy and
appreciative of the babes who showed off their racks in the nearly
invisible shirts and then joined in ourselves for the men's version that
followed.  I had won a beer and $50 for my own efforts.  The DJ announced
the contest for this bar and it sounded pretty similar.  Mark and I showed
our appreciation for a couple of the beauties with their chests moistened
to dripping, their young firm tits stretching the fabric and their nipples
erect from the cool water as they danced on the stage at one end of the
bar.  As hot as I was from the very good show the women were putting on for
the crowd, I was focus more on the anticipation of getting Mark on the
stage in his cockcage.  It was easy enough to talk him into it after a
couple of beers and a reminder of our success last year -- both on stage
and with two of the girls from the audience afterward.

Here, the girls had been provided with identical white t-shirts and pink
thongs for their costumes, so we weren't surprised when the male
contestants were asked to gather in the employees' locker room before our
own contest began.  Mark froze up when each of us guys were given a long
white "A" style shirt with a blue number printed on them.  Mark was number
"7" and I was "6".  We also were handed a new royal blue men's thong with
the tags still on them and a leather strap about seven inches long with a
couple of snaps on the ends, each sealed in plastic packaging.  He wasn't
prepared to change his pants in front of a group.  It took a little
encouragement from me, reminding him it was just another locker room and
that the women were going to want to see his ripped muscles.  So what if a
couple of guys noticed his unit.  They might not even see if he changed his
shirt first.

Mark collected his nerve and stayed with the group of eight men who got
selected by the bar manager.  A couple of them were average guys and the
rest were above average in looks.  The manager eliminated the few others
that might have been booed off the stage before the show even got off the
ground.  We were then told that we would all wear the same costume,
including the leather cockstraps.  We should be thankful for the straps, he
told us, because they'd help us show off a little more for the women when
the water in our shirts and thongs cooled off.  No guy wants to be faced
with shrinkage in front of a crowd and the women had certainly not been shy
about showing off as much of their assets as they were permitted.

The employees' locker room was too small for eight guys at once and in his
concentration to get the leather strap fixed around the base of his cock
and balls the guy right next to Mark collided with him.  The guy felt his
butt hit the solid cockcage and looked to see what he'd bumped.  His
laughter and loud exclamation about the hard plastic contraption locked
with two small locks on Mark's equipment brought everyone's attention, even
the manager's.  Mark turned three shades of red and turned his back on the
room as I stepped in front of him and joked that it was what happened to
the loser of wet t-shirt contests and Mark was looking forward to passing
it on to the chump who finished behind him tonight.  The guys shook their
heads and laughed, two or three of them making nasty comments about "loser"
and "queers".  Still, Mark and I looked to be the strongest of the bunch
and nobody acted in any way that was actually threatening toward us.  By
the time I stepped aside, Mark was in both the thong and the t-shirt.  The
bar manager agreed that the cockstrap would have been pointless for him.

The DJ brought on a woman as emcee for the male contest.  She introduced
each of us by first name and school as we swaggered on to the stage.  When
the music started, we danced provocatively for the crowd in our shirts and
underwear as each of us got sprayed with water.  Our arms were already
exposed in the sleeveless shirts.  The water revealed our chests and abs
and even the outline of our cocks, plumped up and held out by the
cockrings.  Obviously, Mark's crotch showed only an unremarkable lump.  The
song ended and the pretty emcee walked over to the guy numbered "1" with a
microphone.  A short bit of small talk allowed him and the next contestant
to demonstrate a little of their personalities.

The emcee's question for the third barely dressed male was, "What is the
strangest thing you've seen here in Florida?"

Mark turned as white as his shirt when the guy responded, "Contestant
number 7."  He then went on to tell the whole crowd that Mark was wearing a
chastity device.  The crowd roared.

I don't even remember my own brief conversation with the emcee after that.
Everyone was in a hurry for her to get to Mark.  Then the crowd started
chanting, "Take it off!"  The emcee stated into her mic that there'd be no
health code violation if Mark took off his thong.  He'd still have his
penis covered.  Three of the other contestants held him while a bartender
produced a pair of scissors and the emcee with much flourish snipped away
the last of Mark's dignity.  The shirt was long enough to covered his
crotch.  However, it was soaking wet and see-through and the emcee made a
point of snatching at the bottom to lift it up a couple of times while she
spoke with him.

Mark regained a huge amount of his dignity by keeping his cool and joking
with the woman about his stupidity in making a bet and about how wild his
equipment was that locking it up was the only way to tame it.  By the time
number "8" had a chance to speak, the crowd was really excited, laughing at
Mark and encouraging him with cheers at the same time and ignoring the last
contestant.

The final dance music was perfect for a bump-and-grind kind of show, with
each of us flexing our muscles and pumping our hips in time with the song.
The crowd was watching Mark the whole time, men and women both trying to
catch another glimpse of Mark's exotic cage and appreciating his
magnificent wrestler's build.  I shouldn't have to tell you who won the
male event.  Mark drew many times the amount of applause than the rest of
us together.

My only regret was allowing Mark to hightail out of the bar straight from
the locker room after we dressed.