Date: Sun, 30 Jun 2002 12:39:52 +0000
From: Nake Body <nakebody@hotmail.com>
Subject: Photo Strip Chapter 12

Photo Strip

Chapter 12	Rented Out

"Enter!"
Irene's voice rang out from inside the Physical Optimisation Room.  I opened
the door and went in.  It was like entering a dream world.  Soft music and
dim warm lighting greeted me.  At one end of the room seemed to be a wooded
bank, with a waterfall and the sound of trickling water.  Naked nubile girls
frolicked between the ferns, laughing and splashing each other with the
water.  To my right was a bar area, with a handsome young bar man wearing
only a bow tie and the tightest imaginable pair of shorts.  His bronzed
muscles rippled, and his bulge fought against the restrictions of his
shorts.  He gave me a small glass of liquid, which I drank, and he looked at
me suggestively, giving his straining shorts a stroke.  I followed his
example, and gave them a stroke too, feeling his nice firm cock underneath.

A seductive voice beckoned me with musical tones.  "Come right in.  Take
your clothes off ..."
I took a few paces nearer to the waterfall, and slowly stripped, watching
the tits and bums of the nymphs bobbing around.  I slowly undressed, I
confirmed to anyone watching that I already had a hard on.

"Lie down, Ian, why don't you?" continued the seductive voice.
There was a soft welcoming divan bed near the grassy bank, and I lay on it.
The bed seemed to float upwards, and then, suddenly, the illusion was
shattered.  The music stopped, the bar and waterfall disappeared, together
with their inhabitants, the soft lights went off, and I found myself under
the focus of a harsh spotlight, staring into the faces of Harold and Irene.
My hard on instantly disappeared.

"Rule Seven," announced Irene.  "The trainee may not offer any resistance to
any therapy applied to him in the Physical Optimisation Room.  In other
words, if Harold tries to fuck you, you will let him.  Any time I am
masturbating you, you will remain in the position instructed without
impeding me, until told you are free to move.  This applies even just after
you've come.  And come you will, many times, in this room."

I was back to reality with a bump.  Irene picked up my clothes from the
floor, and put them in a cupboard which she locked with a key attached to a
cord around her neck.
"You won't be seeing them again until after your first Physical Optimisation
session tomorrow," she smirked.

She then produced a tape measure, and measured the length and girth of my
limp penis.  She wrote the figures down on her clipboard.

She turned to Harold.
"Start the ejaculation routine," she ordered him.
Harold went to a cupboard mounted on the wall, and took out a test tube,
which he gave to Irene.  It was bigger than your average test tube, with a
diameter of about two inches, and calibrations down the side.

Harold next took a bottle of oil off the adjacent shelf, and squeezed a few
drops onto my balls.  Irene pulled on a pair of surgical gloves, and rubbed
the oil in, spreading it up my shaft, and round the rim of my glans.  Before
long I was straining, and eager for Irene to continue.  She stopped, and
took a new set of measurements.

"Take over, Harold," she said.  Harold now put on a pair of surgical gloves,
and gently wrapped his hand around my shaft, sliding it up and down on the
oil.  Irene appeared in view again, carrying the test tube.
"Tell me when, Harold," she said.
As soon as Harold could feel the start of my spasms, he said "Now!"
Irene quickly wiped the head of my cock with a sterile medicated wipe,
whilst Harold's gloved hands moved down to massage my balls.  Irene then
guided the head of my prick into the mouth of the test tube.  Sliding her
hand lower, and holding my cock still at its base, she kept me in position
while I spurted into the glass tube.

When I had finished, she removed the tube, covered me with a tissue, and
said "Good boy, Ian.  Well done!" in a patronising way.  She held the test
tube up, and read off the level of the semen against a calibration on the
side of the tube.  Again she recorded the result.  They both peeled off
their gloves, discarding them in a metal waste bin.

"Shower!" barked Harold, and pointed to a door at the end of the room.
Inside was a shower area big enough for four people.  After I had showered
and dried myself, Harold fitted me with a plastic box, rather like a cricket
box, but it had large perforations, and was secured by two metal braid
straps, the centre one having a loop through which passed the waist strap.
Harold affixed a padlock where one end of the waist strap met the corner of
the box.

"To stop you from playing with yourself!" grinned Harold, pocketing the key.
"But what if I need a piss in the night?" I protested.
"Piss through the holes, and dip yourself in the bidet to wash it out!" he
shrugged.

I was told I was free to get a meal, and to return to the Recovery Room for
the night.
I went to the Food Room and ate, and then I lay down on my bed, and drifted
off into sleep.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

I was rudely awakened by Harold.  I could hardly believe it was a quarter to
eight.
"PO Therapy in fifteen minutes!" he ordered.
I dragged myself out of the bed, still naked bar the cricket box, and went
back along the corridor to the Physical Optimisation Room.  It was just
about eight o'clock.  I knocked on the door.
"Enter!" Irene ordered, and in I went again.

There were the lights and music again.  I looked over at the waterfall.  The
naked nymphettes were still frolicking in the water.  The barman undid the
padlock on my chastity device, stroked my prick lovingly, and offered me a
drink, which was already on the bar counter.  I took it and sipped.  I felt
slightly light headed, and relaxed.

"Come closer, Ian, and watch us play!" cooed a seductive voice.
I walked over to the waterfall, and watched the naked ladies.  They giggled
as they fondled each other's breasts.  Then a handsome man surfaced in the
pool at the base of the waterfall.  He too was naked, and the girls gathered
around him, and rubbed him all over with the cascading water.  Before long,
his well proportioned penis was pointing to the sky, and he lay one of the
nymphettes down by a rock pool, and slid it slowly into her.

Suddenly the illusion, if that it was, was gone.  I was standing under a
harsh floodlight, with Irene pacing around me, studying my growing erection.
  As I stood there, she paced around me, surveying my naked form, as if for
inspiration.

Suddenly, she had it.  She stripped herself naked, lay on the floor with her
legs spread, and ordered me to excite her clitoris with the tip of my penis.
  As I teased my cock head around the little bulge at the top of her cunt
lips, Irene started moaning, and my erection matured.

"Commence ejaculation routine!" she called out from under me.
At this point, Harold approached, and passed Irene a pair of new surgical
gloves.  She pulled them on, without interrupting my attentions.  I noticed
Harold was already wearing a pair as he passed her a test tube.  He gently
held my balls as I continued my penile massaging of Irene's clitoris.

Before long Harold could feel my ejaculation commencing, and called
"Coming!" to Irene.  She took hold of my prick in her gloved hand, lifted it
off her clitoris, wiped the end with a disinfected wipe, and then introduced
cock head into the top of the test tube just in time for the first spurt,
once again catching it all.

When I had finished coming, she passed the tube back to Harold, and begged
me to finish her off.
"Shag me properly, now!" she implored.
I was shocked.  This not only seemed highly unprofessional, it went
completely against the training ground rules that she had laid down for me.
Besides, there was no way I could regain a hard on at that moment, so I
carried on with my fingers.
"That's no good, I want fucking!" she screamed.  "Don't you know how to
satisfy a girl?" she asked.  "Then fuck off, and let a real man take over!"

Feeling utterly humiliated, and wronged by the fact that she herself had
rendered me temporarily impotent, I withdrew.  Harold wasted no time in
stripping off, and, already sporting a goodly erection, slid it into the
depths of her cunt and gave her a good seeing to.

What had things come to?  There was my own ex-girl-friend who I still
fancied, forcing me to arouse her, so she could be shagged by another man in
front of me!

When they had finished, they sent me to the shower room, and joined me.  The
steam and the proximity of other naked bodies started arousing me again.  I
approached Irene, sporting another erection.
"Now for that shag!" I said, triumphantly, waving my stiff cock at her, a
gleam in my eyes.
"How dare you!" she protested, indignantly.  "This is sexual harassment.
Catching your boss naked in the shower and trying to take advantage of her?
A court would make mincemeat of you!  Punishment room - now!"

She got out of the shower, dragged me behind her, unlocked the cupboard, and
pushed my clothes at me.
"Dry yourself at once and get dressed!" she yelled, throwing a towel at me.
I dried off to her hysterical screams of "Now!  Now!  Punishment Room!" and
was still pulling my shorts up as I headed out of the room and down the
corridor.
When I got to the room, I removed my shorts and T-shirt and placed them on
the hook.  I attached my neckband, wristlets, and anklets.  Irene was
running full tilt down the corridor, a look of fury on her face.  She
unlocked the door, and violently pushed me inside.

"You NEVER, NEVER, get to shag me!" she screamed.  "The only thing you'll
ever get near to shagging is an unwiped male arsehole that's just had a bout
of diaorrhea.  Over to the wall, pronto."

She secured me to the rings in the wall, and fetched a box of wooden clothes
pegs.  These she clipped to me, starting with the loose skin at the base of
my balls, working her way up to the tip of my prick, the pegs being
positioned tightly together.  They pinched excrucatingly.  Then she started
slapping them violently from side to side.
"Cock's comb!" she said, triumphantly.
She released me and sent me, still wearing the painful cock's comb, to the
food room for breakfast.

Our tame chef brought me a full English breakfast.  I had just started
tucking in, when the Harold put in an appearance.

He sat down and ate alongside me.
"Why the surgical glove routine each time?" I asked.
"Not that it's any of your business, but your semen must be kept sterile for
selling to the sperm agency," he replied.
"Sperm agency?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes, they've a shortage of donors, so Irene negotiated a contract with
them.  We get $250 per sample."

That meant they had made $500 out of me already.
"That's outrageous!" I protested, "making money out of me coming."
"Under the terms of our franchise and your contract, we can do what we like
with you.  If there was a market for your shit we could collect it and sell
it for a profit."
"Well, I shan't come for you again!" I warned, as Irene walked in and
ordered her breakfast.
"You haven't even started coming yet!" mocked Irene.  "But you have earned
yourself yet another session in the Punishment Room.  Report there as soon
as you get back from your assignment."

An assignment was news to me.
"What am I booked for?" I asked

"You're in the Dog Story photo shoot tomorrow.  But your pubic hair needs
re-shaving, or the continuity from the previous episode will be terrible.
I've arranged an appointment for you with the School of Trichology.  Harold
will take you there.  On your return, you will report to the Punishment Room
for threatening to withdraw your co-operation in Physical Optimisation."

After breakfast I was led out to a waiting car by Harold.  I felt a bit
stupid being driven through the city streets wearing my outfit, the head of
my dick plainly visible however I adjusted my shorts.  We parked in a small
yard at the back of the Trichology School, and went in through the back
door.

"Ooooh!  You've brought him!  Isn't he beautiful?" oozed Gavin, the very
camp hairdresser who greeted us.  "Such a lovely arse, too!" he added,
sliding his hand up inside the back of my shorts and squeezing one of my
cheeks.

"Follow me, love!" he said, dismissing Harold.  He led me through a
corridor, and down a flight of stair to the basement.  He ushered me into a
small changing room.  "Well, my love, I'd better explain the procedure.
Your agent, Irene, has booked you in as a live model for the Pubic Hair
Management module of our course.  Naturally we pay the fee direct to her."

"She didn't explain the procedure," I replied, fuming inwardly that she had
hatched yet another money making scheme at my expense.
"It's quite simple my love," he explained.  "Today we're on Lecture Two,
Male Pubic Hair Management, Final Cut."
"That doesn't mean a lot to me," I said.

"In Lecture One, we taught the students how to carry out a basic trim of the
pubic area, leaving a nice short furry fuzz behind.  This lecture takes that
fuzz down to bare skin over the whole area," explained Gavin.  "Strip off
and let's have a look at you," he suggested.
"Here we go again," I thought, removing my T-shirt and shorts, but leaving
my trainers and socks on.

Gavin teased his fingers over my newly growing hair.
"Oooh!  It feels lovely!" he cooed.  "Just right for the lecture!  Now wrap
this towel round you dear, and we'll go down to the lecture theatre.  The
students are already there."

We entered a room very much like a lecture room, with a small platform
facing the audience.  Centre stage was a small raised platform with curtains
all around, open at the front.  On it was a wooden upright chair, on which
three spotlights were focussed.  The seat had a semi circle cut out of it in
the front, and on the platform beside it was a table with a bowl of water, a
small towel, a can of shaving gel, and a razor.  I looked out to survey the
steeply raked lecture theatre, which was populated by a couple of dozen
students of both sexes.  Plus Harold.  I wasn't quite sure how to categorise
him, now.  Gavin motioned me to sit in the chair.  My legs were supported,
but there was a gap under my arse and bollocks, which were currently covered
by the towel.

A female lecturer stood on the platform, alongside a flip chart.
"Last week we covered haircutting in the pubic area of the male," she told
the students, recapping.  "We trimmed down the long unsightly hair in the
rectal, testicular, penile, and abdominal areas, reducing it to an
attractive and enticing fuzz."
Wow!  I didn't realise they taught this sort of thing at colleges!
"But that isn't always enough for some people, who like completely smooth
hairless flesh to play with!" she smiled.

She continued.  "We've invited a different model along this week, whose
genital hair is at the length we trimmed down to last week," she said.  "And
today, we're going to show you how to shave that right down to smooth skin
level.  Gavin," she gestured to him.

Gavin took to the platform alongside me and faced the audience.
"Thank you, Emily," he said.  "Let me introduce Ian," he continued, looking
towards me.  Bear with me while I pull the curtains to preserve his modesty
whilst I adjust his towel."
With that Gavin pulled a cord to draw the curtains.

"Right!" he whispered, "out of the towel, quick."
I stood up and took the towel off.
"Sit down again," he continued, "and put your feet in the two stirrups on
the ground."

I sat down.  The stirrups were positioned to keep my legs apart.  Gavin
covered my lap with the towel, wrapping the ends around behind me, covering
the back of my bum.  Then he inched the edge of the towel up over my balls.
He held the towel in place over my prick, so that just my balls were visible
from the front.  With his other hand he pulled the cord again, and opened
the curtains.  He pressed a button, and a motor cut in, tilting the whole
platform up at the front, giving the audience a better view of my balls and
the lower part of my arse underneath them.

Emily addressed the audience again.
"First we'll shave the remaining hair off the scrotum and base of the anal
chasm," she told the students.  "What's the first rule of shaving?" she
asked them.
"Stretch the skin!" came back the reply from the students.
"How will we do that in this case?" she asked.
"Stimulate the subject sexually to tighten the scrotum!" they chanted.
"Good!" she said.  "I can see you have all done your homework.  Now if you'd
like to form a queue at the front, you can each take a turn in achieving the
stretch."

I could hardly believe this!  Two dozen students, male and female, were
going to pass by and have a feel of my testicles!  One hand after another
touched me, some tickling, some stroking, some squeezing gently, and all the
while Gavin held my prick in position under the towel, to keep it from
prying eyes.  Every now and again he would change his grip, and with all the
feeling going on, it was growing.  Thank goodness it was covered!

When they had all had a grope and returned to their seats, the lady at the
front continued.
"Next, to shave the testicles," she said.
She approached the platform, and put her hand in the bowl, then applying
them to my testicles to moisten them.  Next she squirted a bead of gel on to
her finger tips, and massaged it into me, until my testicles were covered in
lather.

"Who's going to volunteer to shave him?" she asked.
A shapely blonde called Naomi was chosen.  She came over, wiggling her arse.
  She took the razor from Emily, and bent over me to commence action, her
hardly covered breasts resting on my face.  She had a very light touch, and
scraped the razor gently across my sack, shaking it in the water every now
and again.  Then she dipped her hand in the water, rinsed me off, and patted
me dry with the small towel.

"Well done!" said Emily.  "There will be a short break while Gavin adjusts
Ian's towel for the next part."
Gavin pulled the curtains closed, levelled off the platform, and whisked the
towel off me.  This time he hung it between my legs, and draped it over my
prick.  He tucked the ends of the towel under my thighs.  This, both my
balls and prick were discreetly covered, but the area from navel to the base
of my prick was exposed.  He pulled the curtains open again.

Another volunteer was requested, and young Adrian came out, obviously a
popular lad from the cheer that went up from the assembled crowd.  He walked
over jauntily, and riffled his fingers through the hair.  He wetted me, and
rubbed in the gel with relish.  Then he meticulously shaved it all off,
rinsed me, and patted me dry, before returning to his seat.  He only just
made it.  With my prick constantly rising, it would soon have been pressing
the towel against the shaving area.

Gavin pulled the curtains closed, and tilted the platform once again.  He
removed the towel from me and replaced it, leaving it laying loosely over my
lap.  I could hear Emily continuing.

"Because we've respected Ian's natural modesty," she said, "at all times
some part of the target area has been covered.  But there comes a time when
the requirements of the job override the requirements of modesty.  In other
words we need to check now that there is no hair left in the small areas
near the edges of where the towel was placed, particularly around the base
of the penis."

Gavin pulled the curtains open.
"Gather round, everybody, and check the site." invited Emily.
All twenty four students left their seats and formed a tight circle around
the platform.  Without warning, Gavin whisked the towel away, exposing my
half-hard prick.  Emily used her pointer, and lifted my penis from side to
side with it.
"Yes, we see short hair growth around the base," she announced.  "Let's have
two volunteers, one of each sex."

Two students stepped forward, and she asked the lad to hold my prick to one
side with one hand, stretching the skin with the other, while the girl was
instructed how to dry shave the remaining hair from around the base.  By the
time all the remaining hair had been removed, my erection couldn't have been
much stiffer.  The girls put down her razor, and checked my balls and around
my prick, for stubble, her smooth hands gently caressing the newly shaved
sensitive skin.

"Uh!  Uh!  I'm coming!" I gasped.  The two students jumped back in
amazement, and Gavin, instead of pulling the curtains closed, instead tilted
the platform a bit further, so the students could get a better view.  He
leaned over my shoulders and stroked the shaft of my prick with the other.
Thus my whole genital area was displayed, and by the look on their faces as
I spurted all over my stomach, they had never seen an actual ejaculation by
someone else before,.  I felt so embarrassed and humiliated as Gavin then
took my cock head between his thumb and forefinger, and continued squeezing
and moving up and down, until every last drop was spilled.

Finally, he pulled the curtains shut, dried me with the towel which he then
wrapped around me, and led me off the stage as Emily wound up her lecture.
I could hear her saying: "That isn't supposed to happen, but when carrying
out this sort of work, you must always be ready for it," as we went back to
the changing area, where Gavin showed me to a shower.

I was soaping myself when I heard Harold's voice outside.  He was furious!
"Can't you control yourself, you randy bastard?" he shouted.  "You've just
cost us $250!"
"You put me in this position," I rejoined.  "In any case, I bet you made a
profit on the deal.  How much did you hire me out for?"
"$500.  But that's irrelevant - we've lost $250 anyway.  You'll pay for
this!  Mark my words!" and he stormed out of the room.

When I was dried and dressed in my regulation shorts and T-shirt, he drover
me back to the studio, still sulking.
"We'll get you for this!" he kept muttering.

He sounded extremely serious.  I wondered what evil plan he had in store for
me when we arrived back at base ....


			   To be continued ....