Date: Sun, 07 Jul 2002 16:15:38 +0000
From: Nake Body <nakebody@hotmail.com>
Subject: Photo Strip Chapter 13

Photo Strip

Chapter 13	Comings and Goings


We arrived back at the studio, and Harold frogmarched me straight to the
Punishment Room.
"What about lunch?" I protested.
"Never mind lunch.  Disrobe and get into your restraint bands at once," he
snapped, and walked off.  I could tell he was cross.  I'd hardly stripped
down to my trainers, and buckled on all my straps, when he returned with
Irene. He'd obviously told her what had happened - she had a look of thunder
on her face, and caught me one on my bare backside with her riding crop as
she unlocked the door.  Ominously, I noticed she was carrying a rack of four
test tubes.
"Fasten him down to the punishment bench!" she ordered Harold.  "Strap his
legs up in the air, so I can get at his arse.  We'll plug that first, then
we'll see if the bastard's still randy after we've administered four
punishment masturbations!"

Harold roughly pushed me down on to a low wooden table some nine feet long
and three feet wide.  At strategic positions on the legs and along the edges
of the surface, were rings for securing the clips on my leather restraints.
Harold pushed me into a lying position, fastened my wristlets to rings so my
hands were well out of the way above my head, unable to defend myself.  He
fixed my ankles to the edge of the table in such a position that my knees
were bent, and up in the air.  Then he tied a cord round each of my knees,
and secured each one to a ring in the wall, tightening the cords so that my
knees were forced about three feet apart.

Irene came to the head end and held what looked like a largish solid rubber
thimble towards me.
"Ever seen one of these?"
"Er, looks like a thimble," I faltered.
"Wrong!  It's a butt-plug.  I'm going to stick it up your arse."
She applied a thick layer of Vaseline to it, and walked around to the other
end of the table.
"This will ensure it goes right up," she sneered.
So saying, Harold held my cheeks wide apart, while Irene poked her finger up
my arse, liberally greasing it.  Then she inserted the plug further than I
thought possible.

Next Irene produced a gold cock ring, and passed it to Harold to put on me.
It was a good fit, no doubt chosen with my previously taken measurements in
mind.
"My!" exclaimed Irene, mockingly.  "Doesn't he look a sight!  Gold jewellert
aand no fur!"

With the metal ring encircling my testicles and the base of my penis, Irene
started to work me up.  With Harold twiddling my nipples at the same time as
Irene was concentrating at the other end, it didn't take them long for me to
achieve yet another erection.
"Aha!" said Irene.  "We've got you hard, and with that cock ring on, that's
the way you're going to stay for some time!"

She then brought over a box of electronics, from which trailed two wires
with crocodile clips on the ends.  One of these she clipped to the base of
the cock ring, underneath my balls.  The other she attached to a hand held
wand, with a fine wire tassel at the end.

Irene looked me straight in the eyes.
"You're all connected up now!" she whispered.  "And you're going to pay for
wasting our $250 worth of your semen, by coming when you feel like it.
You'll soon discover what $250 worth of electricity feels like!"

"Switch on!" she commanded Harold, and the box of electronics started
buzzing.  Then she teasingly played the wire tassel gently up and down the
shaft of my cock.  It tingled, bitingly.  Every now and again she would
brush it over my balls.  Occasionally the tassel would come into contact
with the cock ring, and there would be a crackling sound.

"More volts, Harold!" she snapped.
Harold turned a knob on the box, and Irene laid the tassel on my balls.
"Ouch!" I winced.  That did sting!  She removed it.
"Just a couple more," she told Harold, and he upped the voltage again.

Irene played the tassel up and down, and had my back arching and my arse
wriggling, trying to avoid it.  Then she started to whip me with the tassel.
  Every lash carried a shock as well as the blow.  And all the time my prick
was an erect, hard target for her, and was beginning to ache.

Thwack!  Another belt and lash to my balls.
Thwack!  That one wrapped itself round my shaft, and hung on frying my
prick.

"OK!" announced Irene.  "Switch off, Harold!"
But they weren't ready to release me, yet.
"Start ejaculation routine!" she said, and Harold passed her a new pair of
surgical gloves, and a test tube.  He removed my cock ring, and started
fondling my cock, which was soon oozing.

"Hang on a minute, Harold!" Irene interrupted, suddenly.  "What's on his
agenda for tomorrow?"
Harold pulled out the synopsis of the Dog Story shoot.  They both pored over
it.
"Hmm," mused Irene.  "We'd better not undermine his capabilities for the
shoot, or we'll be in trouble."  I noticed they deliberately weren't giving
away what I had to do.

"If we punish-masturbate him four times now, plus give him his scheduled
Physical Optimisation session this evening, he won't be able to perform
properly tomorrow," she observed.  "Then Jane we'll not only lose the $2000
hire fee for him, she'll charge us her costs for an abortive photo shoot,
which will be even more."
"How about skipping the PO session?" asked Harold, eager to spend the whole
afternoon masturbating me into the four test tubes.
"No good!" rejoined Irene.  "Clive and Jane want to be present to observe
this evening's session."

So they released me, removed the plug from my arsehole, and sent me packing
with a couple of quick lashes of the riding crop.  I left the punishment
room, and replaced my shorts and T-shirt.

I went along to the food room, to see what chef had on offer.
"My, we're all dressed up this afternoon, aren't we?" he smiled.  I don't
think he'd ever seen me with any clothes on before.  After I'd eaten, I made
for the Recovery Room, and lay down on my bed.  I'd hardly been dozing for
ten minutes, when I became aware that  Irene and Harold were standing over
my bed.  The minute it was clear to Irene that I was awake, she shouted
"Strip off!"

I leapt off the bed, and removed all my clothes.  Noticing that I hadn't got
a hard on, I followed the rules, put my hands on my head, spread my legs,
and said to Irene: "Make me hard, please."
Irene stood behind me, slipped a hand between my legs, and viciously gripped
my balls.  Her other hand crept round in front of me, grasped my prick, and
started pumping it vigorously.  Before long I was hard, but it wasn't a
pleasant experience after the strenuous session earlier in the Punishment
Room.  Irene stopped, and walked round in front of me, surveying her
handiwork.
"Dress!" she commanded, and left the room.

Twice more they plagued me in this way, before I had to make my way to the
Physical Optimisation session.  At the appointed time I knocked on the door.
"Enter!" intoned Irene.
This time there were no soft lights, no music, no waterfall, no bar.  Just a
small room with a kitchen type sink and work surface, with some wall mounted
cupboards, and a hydraulically operated massage table.  Clive and Jane were
standing by the table.

"Strip off!" commanded Irene.
"Make me hard, please!" I requested when I had shed my clothes.
"All yours," offered Irene, looking at Jane and gesturing towards my prick.
"On the massage table, Ian," smiled Jane, "and place your legs apart!"
As I climbed on the table, she removed the jacket of her smart suit, and
rolled the sleeves of her blouse up.  Soon she was rippling her fingers
lightly and randomly between my knees and my navel, but studiously avoiding
my genitals.  It took less than a minute before I was hard.

Jane then turned away towards Irene.  They started talking about me as if I
were livestock.
"He erects quite quickly," observed Jane.  "What ejaculation level do you
have him on at present?" she asked.
"We're getting him used to two a day to start with," Irene replied.
"Unfortunately, he had a little accident whilst being shaved at the
hairdressers this morning, so he's already had two today, and not yet had
his evening masturbation."

"Hmm ..." said Jane, stroking her chin.  "With the erection recovery rate
he's displaying, I reckon you could push him up to three a day straight
away, and still allow for accidents!  He looks as if he's good for one now,
anyway."

She turned towards me, and kept me on the boil by stroking me gently a few
times, every now and again, while she continued her conversation with
Irene..
"Have you started him on his exercise programme yet?" she asked.
"Not yet," replied Irene.  "We thought we'd get him through this important
Dog Story shoot first, then get him into his proper routine."

"Sensible," observed Jane, casually stroking my prick again.  "Clive and I
would like to personally test his initial performance before he starts the
exercises, so we can judge the value added by your training.  There could be
a good bonus in it for you if he does well.  How's his co-operation
co-efficient?"
"Quite co-operative so far," commented Irene to Jane, still talking as if I
wasn't there.  "I'd like to observe his cooperation under a severe
punishment regime," said Jane.

"In that case, I could offer you a special punishment session by bringing in
a Consultant," suggested Irene.  "There would be an extra fee, of course."
Of course there would, I thought.
"Who have you in mind?" asked Jane.
"A very experienced consultant with a D.P.A. to his name," Irene replied.
"Sorry, a D.P.A?" asked Jane.
"Yes, Diploma in Punishment Administration ," explained Irene.  "An evil
fellow by the name of Captain Flint."
"Aha!  A military type!  Sound good to me!  I'll pay up to an extra $1000
for the morning session.  Let's say Monday morning, when Ian's routine has
had time to settle down over the weekend.  We'll meet in the exercise room
at seven thirty, benchmark his performances, and then move on to his PO
session.  After that we'll pack him off for the rest of the morning to the
Punishment Room and put him under the complete control of your Captain
Flint, D.P.A."

"Fine!" beamed Irene.  "Now, do you wish to stay to watch this evening's
ejaculation?" she asked.
"Watch?" Jane laughed.  "Clive can't wait to administer it!"

I noticed that Clive was slavering, looking at my straining cock, glistening
and devoid of hair.  Irene explained to Clive that he was free to go to work
on me, provided he informed Irene just as I was on the verge of coming, at
which point he must stand back and watch.  She took a test tube, a wipe, and
a pair of the thin rubber surgical gloves, out of the cupboard, and put the
gloves on.

Clive removed his jacket, and decided to continue and strip to the waist, to
ensure he didn't get any sticky juices on his smart designer clothes.  Then
he went to work on me, and I must say, he had the touch for it.  I had
become something of a connoisseur of masturbation techniques, and there was
no doubt Clive knew what he was doing.  He must have had plenty of practice.

First he lowered the table, and then he took my cock in his hand, and
inserted it in his mouth, licking away expertly, whilst gently stroking my
balls with his finger tips.  After a while, he told me to lay down whilst he
administered the final strokes by hand.

It wasn't long before he stood back and said "Here it comes!"
Irene moved fast - she wasn't going to lose this one!  My cock head was
quickly cleaned with a disinfected wipe, and then she held my prick just
below the head, guiding it and kneading it with her gloved thumb and
forefinger.  Her timing was perfect, and she collected another $250 worth as
I into her test tube.

"Shower and bed!" Irene commanded, and soon, relaxed after the hot shower, I
was lying on my bed, wondering what I had lined up for me the next day that
was so demanding they had been careful not to drain me today ....


					To be continued ....