Date: Tue, 30 Jan 2007 14:48:30 +0000
From: Trevor Martindale <attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: The Uncouth Youth - Part 2 (M+/t, Oral, Anal)

All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is
entirely fictional and contains explicit descriptions of
sexual activity between adult males and minors. READ NO
FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended by
such material.


The Uncouth Youth -- Part 2

By Trevor Martindale

I was back in the holding cell again the following Saturday
night. The evening's entertainment had been extremely
exciting and a little scary at times. In truth, it began on
Thursday morning when a summons from Paul arrived by post.
It instructed me to arrive at the flat on Saturday evening
at six o'clock sharp. I was to ring the doorbell, strip
naked and wait.

I was shaking like a leaf when I entered the building at
five minutes to six. I climbed the three flights of stairs
to the top floor and stood outside Paul's door on the dimly
lit landing. The neighbour that lived on the floor below
was a nosy old cow, so there was a very real risk of being
discovered and probably arrested for indecent exposure. I
drew in a deep breath, rang the doorbell and began to
undress.

As instructed, I placed my clothes in a neat pile on the
mat outside the front door. The windows of the stairwell
were glazed with frosted glass, so there was no chance of
being seen from the building opposite. However, the glass
wouldn't be able to shield me from someone coming up the
stairs.

I was still listening for footsteps on the stairs when Paul
opened the door, picked up my clothes and told me to `stand
and wait'. The shock of being ordered to remain on the
landing left me open-mouthed and totally crushed. I shook
from head to toe as the good doctor and my clothes vanished
behind a closing door.

I stood on the landing trembling with fear. The front door
had shut with a loud bang, so I prayed that the old lady
wouldn't decide to investigate. I was caught between the
devil and the deep blue sea. I couldn't gain access to the
flat and I couldn't leave the building in the nude - it was
just like one of those weird dreams.

I was clearly not ready for this sort of humiliation. The
urge to ring the doorbell and beg for sanctuary was
becoming irresistible. I wanted so much to take that first
step, but a voice in the back of my head told me to stay
put - I knew Paul wouldn't open the door, so why risk his
disapproval, and possibly an even longer wait on the
landing.

My heart leapt into my mouth as the sound of a door opening
on the ground floor echoed up the stairwell. I looked over
the banister and saw a man climbing the first fight of
stairs. This little stunt of Paul's was getting out of
hand. What if the old lady had called the police; what if
the man was her son, paying her a visit? I was in no mood
to stand around and wait for an answer, but where could I
hide!

Graham was a little surprised to find me wedged in the
narrow space between the concrete rubbish chute and the
wall. As a hiding place, it was a complete none starter; in
fact, it was the only place on the landing that gave the
people living in the building opposite a clear view of my
naked arse.

`What an idiot,' said Graham. `Get yourself out of there
and come over here, pronto!'

I did as he said, covering my genitals with both hands as I
shuffled across the landing to stand by the metal banister.

`I'm Graham, Paul's friend.'

I sighed with relief; but still I couldn't stop shaking.

`Paul said you were a handsome buck,' he said, grinning.
`He also said that you were a horny little fucker that
loved to suck cock. Was he right in that regard as well?'

I knew what was coming, but still I nodded and said `yes'.

`Right then, I want you to suck my cock .... but not here.'

A tide of euphoria swept over me. I was certainly glad that
Graham wasn't going to ask me to service his needs in a
semi-public place. Unfortunately, the euphoria didn't last
very long.

`No, I want you to follow me downstairs to the car park.
The back seat of my car is a lot more comfortable than this
draughty stairwell.'

I was mortified. How could he expect me to leave my clothes
in the flat and follow him down the stairs to the car park;
and what if he then wanted to take me for a spin in his
car! I knew that some people would have regarded the idea
as a fantasy come true, but in my book it was a definite
no-no.

`Don't tell me you would rather suck my cock on the
landing, Trevor. I'm sure the back seat of my car would
be...'

I didn't wait for Graham to finish his sentence. I stepped
forward and dropped to my knees.

* * *

Paul and Graham wasted no time in congratulating themselves
on the way they had conspired to humiliate me on the
landing; and to make matters worse, I was told that Paul's
neighbour was away visiting her daughter in Wales, so there
was never any chance of her seeing me in the nude. The two
friends kept going over the details of my humiliation as
they tied me to the bed and went to work on my cock and
ball sac with hot candle wax.

I was taken to the holding cell and placed in the wooden
chair when the two men had finished with me. Graham used
twice the amount of rope that was needed to secure me to
the chair, and tied each length a good deal tighter than
Paul ever did.

In the morning, I was released from my bonds and sent off
to the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for another
session on the bed. This time, I was ordered to sit on the
end of the bed with my feet apart; and as I did so, Graham
knelt down in front of me and fastened a pair of leather
straps around my ankles. The straps were then secured to a
metal leg-spreader and tied to the legs of the bed with
rope.

With my legs held fast, Paul told me to lie back on the bed
and spread out my arms. The two men then fastened leather
straps around my wrists and secured them to the bed with
rope.

`Right-tee-ho,' said Graham, as he held up a black leather
blindfold that was padded and shaped like the Lone Ranger's
mask. `With this on, you'll be ready for the party.'

`Party, what party?' I asked.

The two men laughed as Paul took hold of my cock in one
hand and my ball sac in the other.

`We've invited a few friends over for an afternoon of
debauchery. And guess what! You're going to be the life and
arsehole of the party.'

Graham's words echoed in my ears as the blindfold was
placed over my eyes. The crafty sods had set me up good and
proper. They were going to pimp me out to all their
friends, and I was in no position to object.

`I must be home by two o'clock,' I said. `I told my mum...'

`Impossible,' interrupted Paul, dismissively. `Just tell
her my car broke down on the way back from Teston.'

`Teston?' queried Graham.

`Yes, Trevor and I go night fishing there at weekends.
Well, that's what he tells his mother. We store our
imaginary rods and fishing tackle in Benson's old
boathouse.'

`The only rods in Benson's boathouse are those he uses to
chastise his wayward guests,' said Graham, as he tweaked my
left nipple. `Maybe we should take Trevor down there for a
real visit. We could introduce him to Peter and his two
dogs - now that's an idea!'

`No. He's not ready for anything like that,' said Paul
coolly.

`Like what?' I asked, intrigued.

`Well,' said Graham. `Peter's dogs like to fuck men; and
some of these men like to suck canine cock. Have you ever
seen a fully erect canine cock, Trevor?'

`No,' I replied.

`Well, Devil and Dain have really big cocks. Paul has a
film of them fucking a man at one of our little gatherings.
The poor sod wanted to have sex with one of our boys, but
he had nothing to trade. So I came up with the idea of the
dogs and the film. He wasn't too keen on the idea at first,
but I eventually persuaded him to give it a go.'

`How do the dogs do it?' I asked.

`With a good deal of enthusiasm,' replied Graham, laughing.

`No, I mean...'

`He knows what you mean,' interrupted Paul. `The man gets
down on his hands and knees and the dog mounts him from the
rear.'

`Just like he would a bitch,' added Graham.

`Stop getting the boy so excited,' said Paul. `Look, his
cock's rock hard.'

`Well, stop playing with it then, stupid!'

Paul squeezed my cock real hard before releasing it. He
then got off the bed and mumbled something uncomplimentary
about Graham under his breath. My cock began to twitch
violently as the image of a man being fucked by a big black
dog took hold of my imagination. I was becoming a real
pervert, and it didn't bother me in the least.

`Come on, Paul,' said Graham, opening the bedroom door.
`Let's leave the lad to stew for a while.'

Outside, a clap of thunder signalled the beginnings of a
storm that would rumble on for hours. I could hear the rain
beating against the window as I tested my bonds and tried
to make myself more comfortable. Unfortunately, Paul and
Graham had ensured that this wasn't going to be an easy
thing to do. The ropes and leather straps around my wrists
and ankles had been fastened real tight, and before leaving
the room, Graham had looped a rope around the base of my
cock and tied it securely to the leg-spreader.

I lay on the bed for what seemed like hours. I could hear,
over the sound of the mounting storm, muffled voices in the
hallway from time to time, but no one came into the room. I
began to think that Paul and Graham had forgotten about me
completely. Some party, I thought. What if the two sods...

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the
bedroom door opening and closing. I strained to hear if
someone had entered the room, and sensed that they had.

`Nice,' said an unfamiliar voice. `You're all trussed up
like a real chicken.'

I was as scared as I was excited, and my whole body shook
when the man's hand closed around my semi-erect cock.

`This feels nice. Do you want me to lick it into shape?'

`Y-y-yes, please,' I replied gratefully.'

`Okay. But you must suck me off first; that's the rule.'

The man clambered onto the bed and took up a sixty-nine
position above me. From what I could feel, he was
completely naked and very hairy. His cock was pencil-thin
and bone-hard; and when it entered my mouth, it just kept
going.

`No slacking now, boy,' he said sternly. `Take it all in!'

I gagged when his ball sac cut off my air supply -- my nose
was being crushed under his body weight and there was
nothing I could do about it. I though about biting his
cock, but decided against it: I sensed that he was the type
of man who would enjoy doing the same to me, or worse.

I rattled around in my bonds and tried to break free. It
was then that he finally raised himself up and let me suck
in some fresh air. However, a few minutes later I was back
in the same position again.

`Come on, boy,' he snapped. `If you don't do it properly,
I'll be obliged to piss down your throat.'

I gagged again as I tried to service his needs in the best
way I knew how. The man cut off my air supply three more
times before coating the back of my throat with sperm. He
then declared that I was a slacker and promptly left the
room.

The next man to enter the room was far less demanding. He
squatted over my face and encouraged me to work on his
arsehole with the tip of my tongue. Unfortunately, he too
left the room without taking care of my needs. The third
and last man to take advantage of my pent-up frustration
was Ancient Harry: a man in his seventies who couldn't get
it up any more.

Harry kept me on the brink of a climax for ages. He filled
my head with vivid and detailed stories of how, when
working as a teacher, he had persuaded dozens of boys to
get naked and have sex with him. He then went on to tell me
about the orgies he had attended, and how Graham, a fellow
housemaster, had turned some of the boys in his care into
obedient sex slaves.

Harry untied the rope around the base of my cock and told
me to beg for relief. I gratefully complied, and in
addition, promised to take good care of all the cocks that
were waiting outside the room to shag me that afternoon.
Harry immediately went back to work on my cock with his
tongue and lips; and as he did so, a deluge of sperm
erupted from my knob and disappeared down his throat.

I recall raising my head off the mattress and whooping like
a monkey as the old man took care of my needs. My whole
body shook as his fingers gently caressed my ball sac,
encouraging it to give up more and more of its seed. He
continued to milk my ball sac for several long minutes; and
when he had finished, my cock was just as hard-standing as
it was before the climax.

I mumbled a few words of grateful thanks as Harry loosened
my bonds and told me to get some rest. He then left the
room.

>From the sound of it, the storm was getting worse. A sudden
clap of thunder made me start as I tried to settle down and
recover my strength for the forthcoming fuck-fest. A
favourite fantasy then began to drift through my mind as I
lay in the dark, listening to the rain beating rhythmically
against the bedroom window.

* * *

In the fantasy, which was based on `The Coral Island' by R.
M. Ballantyne, I was Ralph Rover, a cabin boy shipwrecked
on a South Sea island with two friends: Jack Martin (18)
and Peterkin Gay (14). Ballantyne wrote in the book that
the three lads `...became the best and staunchest friends
that ever tossed together on the stormy waves'.

With the storm over and the ship lost, the three of us
found ourselves on a sandy beach with nothing but an axe,
an oar and a telescope - all else, including our clothes
had disappeared beneath the waves with the Arrow. Over the
next few days we quickly discovered lots of things to do
with our time as we explored the island and each other's
naked bodies.

On one exploration, Jack and I spotted two war-canoes
approaching the island at speed. Two naked black men in the
foremost canoe were being chased by a larger canoe
containing a dozen or so naked warriors. When the canoes
reached the beach the two men were run to ground, spread
out on the sand and repeatedly raped by their fearsome
looking captors.

Following their ordeal, the two men were tied together in a
sixty-nine position and forced, at spear point, to suck
cock. Meanwhile, a group of five warriors were dispatched
by the chief to secure the canoes and make camp. It was
then that a warrior collecting firewood discovered Peterkin
lurking in the bushes some distance away from where Jack
and I were hidden.

The fourteen-year-old boy tried to escape but tripped on a
tangled root and was seized by the arm. He tried to reason
with the warrior as he was thrown over the man's shoulder
and slapped hard across the buttocks.

The cannibal continued to slap Peterkin across the arse-
cheeks as he walked back to the makeshift camp. Jack and I
looked at one another in disbelief and concluded, in a
whisper, that Peterkin's rescue would be impossible to
achieve. Therefore, we decided to keep our heads down and
see what happened to our young friend.

The two cock-sucking captives were forgotten in the
warriors rush to welcome back the man carrying Peterkin. A
cheer of joy went up as the chief ran his coal-black hand
over the youngster's smooth, white bottom. Peterkin knew
his fate was sealed - the cannibals would rape him for
sure, then spit-roast him over an open fire. The captain of
the Arrow had told him all about the natives of the South
Sea Islands. `They like to tenderise their food before they
eat it, son,' he would say.

Jack and I watched as Peterkin was lowered to the ground
and forced to stand in the centre of the group. Every inch
of the youngster's body was then squeezed, fondled and
stroked by the men around him. Fingers were pushed into his
mouth and rectum as the warriors pinched his nipples,
squeezed his arse-cheeks and fondled his ball sac.

Peterkin moaned and fluttered his eyelids when a long,
black finger entered his inner sanctum. The warriors around
him smiled as he sucked hard on the finger in his mouth.
Peterkin wasn't stupid: he knew that the chief and his
underlings might want to keep him around if he co-operated.
He could become their special bum-boy, the white-skin who
loved to suck black cock.

Peterkin dropped to his knees and sucked each warrior's
cock in turn, ensuring that no one was left out in his
enthusiasm to become their special bum-boy. Jack and I
could see the logic behind our friend's plan, but believed
it was doomed to failure.

A few minutes later, the chief broke away from the group
and scanned the irregular line of palm trees and bushes
that bordered the beach. He believed that there were more
white-skins hiding in the undergrowth, and so, taking up a
spear, he decided to investigate. Jack and I panicked when
we saw him running up the beach toward us. We knew he
couldn't see us, but still we broke cover and headed inland
like frightened rabbits.

A loud war cry went up behind us as the chief called upon
his men to join the hunt. Jack and I decided to split up
and go our separate ways. We hastily agreed to stay away
from our camp and head for the other side of the island.
Needless to say, we were both captured within the hour.

The man who stayed behind to look after the cannibals'
dinner was busy tenderising Peterkin's bottom when Jack and
I were carried into camp. Like captured deer, we each hung
from a long wooden pole by vines tied around our wrists and
ankles. And to make matters worse, the four warriors
shouldering the two poles had dragged our arse-cheeks
through every kind of prickly bush they could find on the
trail.

We were unceremoniously dropped on the ground and tied
together in a sixty-nine position. It was then that the
fantasy suddenly ended: the bedroom door had been opened
and the spell broken when someone said, in a rather excited
voice, `Lumme! Look at that stiffy'.

`Now gather round you reprobates,' said Graham, clapping
his hands together to gain everyone's attention. `This is
Trevor, the young man with "the stiffy".'

`He's a nice looking lad,' said a man on my left. `I like
`em tall and skinny.'

`Yeah, he sure is skinny,' said another man on my left.
`How old is he?'

`He'll be seventeen next month,' said Paul.

`Nice to meet you, Trevor,' said a man on my right, as he
took hold of my throbbing cock and gave it a squeeze. Two
more men did the same as Paul and Graham were congratulated
on their new find.

I later discovered that there were five naked men in the
room -- the three other boy-lovers, the ones that had
visited me earlier, were in the living-room taking care of
another sixteen-year-old boy.

`Release those straps from the leg-spreader, Ian,' said
Graham. `Let's get his legs up in the air.'

Someone tightened the ropes that secured my wrist-straps to
the bed and made sure the blindfold I was wearing was still
doing its job. I then felt two pairs of hands take hold of
my legs and lift them into the air - the image of a giant
wishbone being broken in two suddenly flashed through my
mind again.

`Get his arse up,' said Graham.

Howard and Ian, the two men holding my legs, doubled my
body over and held it in a jack-knife position, with my
arsehole pointing up at the ceiling.

`Look at that ball-sac,' said Ian. `It's so round and...'

`His arsehole is the real prize,' interrupted Howard.

`That's true,' said Graham, as he ran the tip of his finger
over my bum-hole.

I lifted my head off the mattress and gave out a long, low
moan of pleasure, which I repeated when Graham ran his
finger over my anus again.

`That sounds so fuckin' sweet,' said John. `C'mon, let me
have a go.'

John eased my arse-cheeks apart and used the tip of his
tongue to replace Graham's finger. I gasped and tugged at
my wrist-straps when the tongue sent a shockwave of
pleasure surging through my body. I had never felt anything
like it, and was keen to experience the sensation again,
and again, and again.

`Hold him steady,' barked Graham. `We don't want him
bouncing off the bed and out of the room.'

`Look at him go,' said Paul. `The little sod can't get
enough.'

The sensation had swallowed me up whole. My entire body
ached, and yet I was quite happy to stay bent over and let
the man work on my bum-hole with his warm, wet tongue.

Suddenly, John stopped what he was doing and released my
arse-cheeks. My cock twitched and bounced around in mid-
air as I raised my head up and implored him to continue.

`You've turned him into an addict, John,' said Ian. `He'll
be bending over and spreading his arse-cheeks for everyone
now. Ain't that right, son?'

`Yes, yes,' I said breathlessly.

`Okay, Trevor,' said John. `Once more round the block; then
we get to fuck you.'

Howard and Ian tightened their grip on my legs when John's
tongue went back to work on my anus. My whole body buzzed
with excitement as the sensation suddenly returned and
wiped me out for a second time. And then, when a bottle of
poppers was waved under my nose I lost it completely and
began drooling at the mouth like a mad fool.

`Fuckin' hell,' said Ian. `He's having a fit.'

`Nonsense,' snapped Graham. `He's just over excited.'

`Yes,' added Howard. `The poor sod's in need of a good old
fashioned gang-bang. So let's give him one.'

I was still on cloud nine when the first of the five cocks
entered my well rimmed hole. It slipped in effortlessly -
thanks in the main to John's hard work and a good coating
of Vaseline on the stem. With my legs now bent at the knees
and held less securely, I was in a far better position to
take on a five-star rogering.

`C'mon, John,' said Ian. `Keep pounding that sweet little
hole. I want to see it red raw by the time I get a taste.'

I shook my head from side to side and groaned as John
increased his stroke rate and began power ramming my `sweet
little hole'. Every inch of my body was now dancing to his
tune. I was there for his pleasure, and that's why my cock
was leaking so much pre-cum and threatening to shed its
load unaided. I was being fucked by an alpha male with an
insatiable appetite for the weak and willing, and boy, was
I weak and willing!

Paul and Graham were totally mesmerised by John's vigorous
performance. They watched, green with envy, as his powerful
buttocks pounded my body into the mattress.

`Look at him go,' said Paul to Howard.

`Yes,' added Graham. `The man could fuck for England.'

`He gets a lot of practice,' said Howard. `In fact, Ian and
John work together at the same children's home, so they're
always practising on the boys in their care.'

`True, true,' said Ian. `But it's not always a good idea to
fuck a boy at the home. That's why we use Howard's cottage.
It's in the middle of nowhere and the perfect place to
consummate a new relationship.'

`Maybe we should pool our resources one weekend and arrange
an orgy,' suggested Graham. `We could meet up at the...'

It was the words `Yes! Yes! Yes!' that interrupted Graham
in mid-sentence. John had reached a climax and was eager to
share the news with everyone in the room, if not the flat.
I began to tug at my wrist-straps and whoop like a monkey
as he released his seed.

Howard was quick to step into the breach and take over from
his spent friend. His hard-standing cock slipped
effortlessly into my bum-hole; and although it didn't stay
there for long, it did leave quite an impression.

`Any objections to turning the lad over?' asked Ian, who
was next in line to take me for a ride. `I want to bum him
doggy style.'

`I'd like to fuck him that way, too,' said Graham.

`Okay,' said Paul, `release those straps, turn him over and
get him up on his hands and knees.'

Of course, I had no say in the matter. However, I did
welcome a change of position - being bent over double
wasn't doing me much good in the old aches and pains
department.

`Okay, chaps,' said Ian. `I'm going in, so wish me luck.'

Several men laughed as Ian took hold of my hips and pushed
his cock deep into my rectum. I felt his cock-head enter my
inner sanctum and rub against my prostrate gland. He then
began power ramming my hole for all he was worth.

`C'mon you slack bastard,' barked Graham. `Tighten those
arse muscles and give the man a ride to remember.'

I thrust out my arse and clenched my anus as tight as I
could, which did prompt a grunt of approval from Ian.

`Give him some more poppers, Paul,' said John. `He might
need a little boost.'

Paul opened the bottle of amyl nitrite and waved it under
my nose. My head began to swim the second the vapour hit my
sinuses.

`That's it, Trevor,' said John. `Let the nice man fuck your
arse and fill it up with spunk.'

My head dropped as I gave out a long, low moan of
satisfaction. I didn't want this moment to end, but Ian had
other plans. His climax wiped me out completely; and as
sweat poured from my body, he thrust forward and filled my
rectum with semen.

I collapsed onto my forearms and used the bed sheet to wipe
away the sweat from my face. It was then that Ian's cock
was withdrawn and replaced by another hard-standing member.

Graham fucked me like a man possessed. He slapped my
thighs, pulled on my hair and called me all the names under
the sun. This was Graham at his classic best: the adult
master dominating his teenage slave. The sight of seeing
those from another circle fuck me [see `Playing Hooky,
1963' for more information on the Southend-on-Sea circle]
had triggered one of his best performances. My rectum was
now awash with four lots seed.

Paul was more of a sucker than a fucker, so when his turn
came, my shattered body was spared another full-blown
rogering. Instead, I was treated to a fuck-suck fest.

He pushed his hard-standing cock into my well lubricated
hole and kept it there while someone wiped me down with a
damp cloth. He then told me to lie flat out on the bed,
which I did by collapsing onto my front, with his body on
top of mine, and stretching out my arms and legs in slow
motion.

Paul kissed the back of my neck and playfully bit my right
shoulder as he humped me slowly. The tiredness in my arms
and legs all but vanished as his cock gently rubbed against
my prostrate gland. In just a few minutes he had breathed
new life into my body.

`How does that feel, son?' he asked.

I mumbled a few words of grateful thanks and sighed when he
suddenly raised himself up and removed his cock.

`Now turn over, son. I need to take care of that cock of
yours.'

I didn't waste any time in complying: my poor cock had been
neglected for far too long. It had been throbbing and
twitching throughout the entire session, but no one had
touched it until now. Unfortunately, it was only in Paul's
mouth for a few seconds before it released a deluge of
semen that nearly choked the poor man.

* * *

A week after the gang-bang at the flat, Paul asked me to
help him salvage an observational project that was going
awry at the hospital. He lost me in a jungle of jargon, but
kept emphasizing how important the project was to him, and
how he was hoping to write a paper on it.

We arrived at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning and left
around three in the afternoon. Beyond the main gate, the
hospital grounds seemed to go on forever. Old Victorian
buildings filled the entire site, and most of them were in
desperate need of renovation. I sat in silence as Paul
drove his Bentley to the psychosurgical unit.

Once there, we made our way to his office. Paul put on his
white coat and picked up a bunch of keys from the desk. We
left the office and walked up several flights of stairs and
along a wide corridor to our destination, which was an
interview room on the top floor of a building that held,
amongst others, a Mr Lance Worthington.

Worthington was on Paul's current list of patients. He was
scheduled for experimental psychosurgery which, it was
hoped, would reduce his sexual urges and curb his
aggressive behaviour toward the weaker sex, i.e. young men
like me who couldn't fight off his amorous advances.
Worthington was a sexual predator, but he was nowhere near
as mad as those held in Broadmoor; however, Paul was taking
a big risk by letting him loose on his young slave.

Once inside the interview room, which had no windows, I was
told to strip naked. I was then ordered to stand in a
corner of the room with my legs apart and my hands behind
my back. I clenched my teeth and shuddered when the light
went out and I heard the door open and then close behind
the psychiatrist. Paul locked the heavy wooden door behind
him and went back to his office to fetch a hospital gown
and a pair of regulation slippers.

I stood in the darkness for what seemed like forever. Paul
had switched off the light, locked me in the room and
carried off all my clothes. My vivid imagination began to
focus on the motive behind the good doctor's visit to the
hospital. What if I was being set-up? Paul may have
arranged for me to be sectioned under the Mental Health
Act, and no one would be able to question the decision.
After all, what would a sane person be doing wandering
around a psychiatric hospital in the nude, and when
questioned, have no idea why he was there?

I considered leaving my post, but Paul and Graham had
taught me well. Besides, where could I go, even if I did
manage to get out of the interview room?

The sound of a key turning in the lock brought me back to
reality. Paul opened the door, switched on the light and
told Worthington, the man standing behind him, my name and
age. The deal they had struck was quite straightforward:
Worthington would comply with all the hospital rules for a
month and agree to undergo a few painful tests, and in
return, he could fuck a wimp while the good doctor looked
on.

Paul locked the door as Worthington took off his gown and
slippers. He then watched the burly nutter grab hold of me
like a hungry bear. I was lifted off the floor and carried
to the centre of the room, where a wooden table was bolted
to the floor. I was laid out on the table and had a finger
forced into my mouth. It was then that the nutter grabbed
hold of my ball sac and squeezed it real hard.

`Don't you go biting, boy,' Worthington warned. `I'll rip
off your bollocks and stuff `em into your mouth if you do.'

`He won't bite, Lance,' said Paul firmly. `He likes being
bossed around; he's famous for it.'

`Good. That's good,' said Worthington with a smile.

The feeding frenzy went on for almost two and a half hours.
The nutter pushed and pulled me around as if I were a
child's rag doll. I didn't resist his advances or complain
about his heavy-handed tactics, but equally, I didn't
comply with his demands as readily as I should have done.
Later, I put this lack of enthusiasm down to the resentment
I was feeling toward Paul at the time, and the way the
arrogant bastard had casually pimped me out to a convicted
rapist.

The walk back to the office, dressed only in a hospital
gown and slippers, was a very uncomfortable journey for me.
Paul led the way through the security doors and down the
stairs. We passed no one on the way, which saved my blushes
as I hobbled along the corridors in the ill-fitting gown. I
swore under my breath as I recalled how Worthington had
used and abused my body, and how Paul had encouraged him to
do so.

My cock twitched as I remembered how helpless I had felt
during the ordeal. It twitched again when I recalled the
moment I was impaled on Worthington's sex starved cock,
which was as big as Craig's but far more demanding. My cock
began to rise beneath the gown as I realised how exciting
and dangerous it had all been. Being thrown in at the deep
end had initially made me angry, but now I was warming to
the idea of being pimped out to randy, dominant men.

- - - - -

Copyright Trevor Martindale, January 2007

All comments welcome (attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk)