Date: Sun, 5 Apr 2009 13:41:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jasper Cooper <jax.cooper@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Downfall of Nate Ramsey - part 6

                 THE DOWNFALL OF NATE RAMSEY

This story is a gay fantasy; no part of it is based in fact,
and none of the characters are intended to resemble real
persons. This story chronicles the humiliating ordeals an 18-
year-old high school senior is unwillingly subjected to.
Some of these humiliations have a strong sexual component.
If you are underage, or do not want to read about such
matters, you should leave this webpage at once. Assuming you
do not fall into either category (and you should not have
come this far if you did), I bid you: onward!

----------------------
CHAPTER SIX:
"Revenge is a dish best served hot."


For Bobby Rawlins, it was as if both Christmas and his
birthday had arrived early that year. The previous night,
when his neighbor's floodlights had come on, Bobby had
looked out of his bedroom window and could have sworn he saw
Nate's naked figure fleeing the floodlit lawn. His heart had
skipped a beat - could it really be possible? His hunky but
ever-cautious neighbor, actually streaking across his lawn?
Surely not! His eyes must be playing tricks on him. After
all, it had been some months since Bobby had laid eyes on
even Nate's bare torso, thanks to that jerk informing
Bobby's parents of his voyeurism.

Robert Senior had returned from his investigative trip to
the Ramsey house displeased and not at all forthcoming to
his son about the reason for the triggering of the
floodlights. But Bobby later overheard a conversation
between his two parents about the matter, and phrases like
"barely decent" and "practically obscene" had lent fuel to
the flames of Bobby's fertile imagination. He resolved to
keep a careful watch on the house next door for any further
signs of such activity. He was not disappointed when, the
next morning, a bunch of teenagers herded a naked Nate out
into his backyard, where he was washed with the garden hose
and then left to dry in the open air. The sight of his
arrogant neighbor at the mercy of a band of jocks had
provided more than substantial material for a jerk-off, and
Bobby climaxed twice between the times Nate was brought out
of the house until he was let back in.

When he had finally come down from the post-orgasmic high,
he tried to piece together what was going on in the house
next door. Some sort of team initiation perhaps? Bobby
wasn't in a sports team, but he had heard of such things
happening. However, the fact that more than half of Nate's
captors seemed younger than him made him doubt that theory.
He then debated going over to Nate's house and had just made
up his mind to do so when the occupants of the Ramsey house
had come out and driven away to parts unknown. Bitterly
disappointed, Bobby resigned himself to waiting. What if,
upon their return, Nate was fully clothed? That would mean
he'd missed his only chance to see the stud in the buff, up
close and personal.

But fortune smiled down on Bobby that day. The sound of
several cars arriving in quick succession on his quiet
street drew his attention away from his homework and to the
window, where he saw Nate, naked from the waist down, being
led back to his house. Determined not to let the chance slip
away again, Bobby hurried over, not even sure what his
excuse would be for appearing on the Ramseys' front
doorstep.

As it turned out, no excuses were necessary. He hadn't even
rung the bell when the front door swung open and a lanky,
older redhead ushered him indoors. "Come inside - Bobby, is
it?"

Practically in a daze, Bobby stepped into the Ramseys'
foyer. He estimated there were two dozen guys already in it,
but his eyes were instantly drawn to the only one amongst
them who was naked. He drank in the exquisite sight of the
tanned, muscular chest, the tight abs, the smooth groin with
dick and balls hanging low. Nate, as soon as he saw Bobby's
gaze upon him, hastened to cover himself up with both hands
but, to Bobby's surprise, the pair of twins standing beside
him immediately wrenched his hands apart, once more giving
Bobby a full-frontal look at Nate's nudity.

"Hellooo? Bobby?" Owen waved his hand in front of Bobby's
face, bringing him out of his stupor.

Bobby blinked, several times, before finally tearing his
eyes away from Nate and transferring his attention to Owen.
The questions came rushing out like a torrent."Who are you?
How do you know my name? And what in the world's going on
here?"

Owen grinned genially. "Let me answer your questions in
order. I'm Owen; this is Wesley; Jason; Troy; Ethan; Andrew
..." He gestured to each as he spoke. "I'll let the rest
introduce themselves to you later. As for how we knew your
name, that's easy: Nathaniel told us who you were - and yes,
he also enlightened us to what previously transpired between
the two of you."

Bobby looked up, alarmed, but Owen continued to speak. "The
answer to your last question is a bit more complex, but I'll
try to sum it up briefly. Ramsey here managed to piss off
quite a number of us, so, when the opportunity presented
itself, we decided to get back at him. You see, we have some
rather incriminating photos of him that he would rather not
have released to the general public, and that makes him to
do whatever we want ..."

"Whatever?" Bobby croaked, scarcely able to believe what he
was hearing.

Owen nodded. "I understand you yourself have suffered at his
hands."

This comment sparked a change in the previously-awestruck
Bobby. He angrily vented, "Yeah, he told my parents lies
about me being a peeping Tom, just because I happened to be
looking out my window when he was changing in his room. It
wasn't my fault he had his curtains open!"

Nate couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "You did a lot
more than look when my curtains were open, you little shit!
What about the binoc-"

Owen glibly cut him off with an elbow to his ribs. "So
THAT's why you have your bedroom curtains closed all the
time." He put a hand on Bobby's shoulder and started to lead
him into the den. "Bobby, I had this idea before you came
along and, now that you have, it strikes me that you're just
the person to ensure it's carried out."

"What plan?"

"From now on, Nate's bedroom curtains are going to be always
kept open. It doesn't matter if he's getting changed, or
jerking himself off -"

Nate looked at him in horror. "But my room doesn't just face
Bobby's, it faces the street too!"

Owen smiled in satisfaction. "Precisely. And you, Bobby, can
help us out by making sure Nathaniel here does adhere to
this rule at all times."

"You said - you said even when he jerks off," repeated Bobby
in disbelief.

"Ah, yes. Once each day, in the evening, at a time of YOUR
choosing, Bobby, Nathaniel will jerk himself off in front of
the window."

Bobby's eyes fairly popped out of his head at this. Nate,
however, was beside himself. "I'm not going to put on a show
for this pervert!"

"It seems to me you've been calling others perverts a lot
recently, Nathaniel, yet I suspect it will be YOU people
will regard as the pervert if they see those photos," Owen
remarked coldly.

"This isn't fair," whined Nate. "Do you know how much
trouble I could -"

"You know what isn't fair?" interrupted Bobby. "Your
accusations almost got me sent to the shrink! If Mom hadn't
dissuaded Dad, I'd probably be in therapy right now." Then
his furious expression was slowly replaced by a grin.
"Though, after your behavior last night, I don't think my
dad will be in a rush to believe your lies any time soon."

Bobby's words confirmed one of Nate's worst fears: the
previous night's incident had tarnished his neighbor's
perception of him ... and what Owen was now ordering him to
do might well ruin his reputation to the rest of the
neighborhood.

"Bobby, do you by any chance have a camera?" asked Drew.

"Yeah, a pretty good one as a matter of fact," he replied.
"Why?"

"Well, I was thinking if you took photos of Nate, you could
upload them to the secure website I've built - you know, add
to our collection to help keep him in line."

"Cool!" exclaimed Bobby. "My camera has a wicked zoom
feature; I could take paparazzi-style shots from my window."

Nate didn't like at all where this was headed, but he was
the only one in the room with misgivings. Wes, smiling at
the younger boy's obvious gusto, had an idea. "That would be
perfect. Devlin, why don't you and Drew show Bobby how to
access the site?"

Startled, Devlin blurted out, "Me?" Wes nodded, and Devlin
glanced towards Bobby. The two boys exchanged shy smiles.

"Hold on a second though," said Owen. "First we have to take
care of another matter -punishment."

"Punishment?" echoed Nate.

"Yes, Nathaniel - punishment. As you may recall, we told you
to obey our every command immediately and enthusiastically.
There were several times this morning alone when you
hesitated to execute those orders, and for that you will be
punished. Let me get the paddle - oh, thank you, Clifford."
The freshman was already at Owen's elbow, paddle at the
ready. Owen took it from him and declared, "Everyone gets
one swat. Nathaniel, you know the position. This time over
the stairs."

Nate turned around and obeyed without protest; he was too
relieved that there would only be one swat per person. From
his experience some twelve hours ago Nate knew how to brace
himself for the blows, particularly for the hard ones that
the seniors would inflict. He did notice that the freshmen
and sophomores, who had never hit hard the previous night,
were even less inclined to do so this afternoon. The
indication that the tide was changing in his favor, at least
amongst the younger guys, gave Nate cause for optimism.
Maybe his torment would be over sooner than he thought. He
hoped this phenomenon had passed unobserved by Owen. He was
sadly mistaken. His chief tormentor had indeed observed, and
prepared, for this eventuality, as Nate would learn to his
despair later that day.

Owen noticed Bobby standing on the sidelines, entranced by
the sight of his hunky neighbor getting paddled. Nate's
smooth, bubble butt was bright crimson by this time, and a
fine sheen of sweat was forming on his skin. "Bobby, would
you like a go?"

"You mean I could?" asked Bobby excitedly.

"Sure. In fact, since you missed out on last night, why
don't you have two turns?"

He didn't have to ask the eager fifteen-year-old twice.
Hearing this conversation, Nate cringed, certain that Bobby
would not fall into the category of those inclined towards
sympathy for him. Sure enough, Bobby's pent-up rage came to
the fore as he faced his studly neighbor's back, and he
delivered a resounding thwack across each of Nate's
buttcheeks with a force that belied his slight stature.

"Alright, that's it," announced Wes when Nate's butt had
been paddled for the twenty-fifth time. "Why don't we all
chill out and watch whatever game's on TV at the moment?"

This suggestion was greeted positively by the guys who were
drowsy after lunch and most of them flopped down in front of
the widescreen TV in the den. Drew and Devlin sat on either
side of Bobby in front of the laptop to show him the videos
and photos. Nate, his butt smarting from the paddlings,
gladly welcomed the respite until ...

"Hey, who said YOU were getting a rest? You can go make us
something to drink," ordered Ethan.

This command roused a chorus of comments:

"I think I saw some lemonade in the kitchen."

"Yeah, iced lemonade would really hit the spot."

"You heard your order, slave: make us some lemonade."

Nate was perturbed by how seriously his teammates were
taking his `slavery' but, at the same time, he was relieved
that their orders were so simple and not as degrading as
they could've been. The thought was premature.

"Oh, Nathaniel," Owen called as he was about to go into the
kitchen. "I think I'd like a coffee instead. Black, with one
spoon of sugar. Make sure it's just above room temperature."

"Actually, I've changed my mind too," grinned Dave. "I want
a Coke. With ice."

"Coke with lemonade!" yelled Parker.

"A cold beer for me!" shouted someone else.

Within minutes Nate had over a dozen very different, and
very specific, drink requests.

"I hope you aren't going to forget or mix up any of those
orders," commented Owen slyly. "That would call for further
punishment."

Nate shuddered at the thought of his still-tender butt
taking any more swats with the paddle - or worse - and
prayed that he was remembering the requests correctly.
Unfortunately, the guys were not done with him yet.

"Oh, and you can deliver the drinks the way proper slaves do
- on your knees," said Troy.

"No, better yet, on all fours. Between here and the
kitchen."

"What?" Nate squawked in protest.

"You heard us. Get a move on," said Owen.

Over the next couple of hours Nate's duty was to crawl back
and forth between the kitchen and the den, balancing his
masters' drinks and, on occasion, snacks. More than once he
was sent back to the kitchen because the beverage he brought
supposedly didn't fit the requester's specifications.

There were other cruel tricks of course. As he crawled
across the foyer with a glass of lemonade in his hand Jason
maliciously gave him a boot in the rear. The unexpected
didn't make Nate drop the glass, but some of the lemonade
did splash onto the tiled floor.

Nate boiled with fury but he contained it in silence. He
stood up to fetch a drying cloth from the kitchen, but Jason
had other ideas. "Aren't you going to clean that up?" he
asked.

"I'm going to get a cloth from the kitchen," Nate snapped.

"Oh, I don't think you need to do that. Not when you've got
a perfectly good tongue for that job."

Nate stared at him. "You've got to be kidding if you think
I'm going to lick that off the floor."

"Did you hear that, Troy?" Upon hearing his name, their gay
teammate stepped into the foyer. Jason briefly explained the
situation to him, "Ramsey says he won't lick up lemonade
from the floor."

Turning back to Nate, he said, "You've drunk cum - twice now
- and a smoothie made with a banana that was up your ass. I
don't think you can draw the line at lemonade that's been on
the floor. Not even ..."  His eyes never leaving Nate's
face, Jason very deliberately placed his bare foot in the
puddle of lemonade. "... if I step in it."

Nate looked pleadingly at the pair of them. They stared back
at him mercilessly. Wearily, Nate got back down on his knees
and started lapping at the ring of spilled lemonade around
Jason's foot, doing his best to avoid it. But Jason was
having none of that. As Troy filmed the latest degradation
to befall Nate, Jason mashed his sodden foot in Nate's face.
"Lick up every drop, slave. Don't forget in between my
toes."

Nate almost sobbed in rage and despair. He could not for the
life of him figure out why the normally easygoing Jason
seemed to have it in for him. A thought suddenly crossed his
mind ... but no, surely it was impossible that Jason knew
about that? She'd sworn she would tell no one, not even him.

Meanwhile, Troy had spotted an ice-cube in the puddle of
lemonade and, stooping to pick it up, he viciously shoved it
down Nate's rear end. Nate's two tormentors didn't let him
go until they were satisfied that both the floor tiles and
Jason's left foot had been licked clean of lemonade. They
left behind an utterly demeaned slave, with water from the
melting ice-cube dripping down his crack ... and also an
increasingly puzzled Wes, who, after observing the episode,
remained in the dark as to the reason for Jason's animosity
towards Nate.

Of course, Owen was quick to reassert his position as the
biggest sadist of all, when Nate served up his coffee. "Wait
a second. Stand up." Nate painfully got to his feet, his
knees sore from all the crawling.

"You remember how I told you to prepare my coffee, right?"

Nate wracked his brains, trying to recall Owen's exact
instructions. "Yes ..."

"Good. Then come closer." Nate approached him nervously. He
was soon proved right to be cautious. Without warning, Owen
grabbed Nate's dick and dipped it into the steaming liquid
inside his mug.

Nate screamed. He was fortunate that the coffee wasn't
scalding, but it was still hot enough to deliver a painful
shock. His scream provoked some laughter, but there was a
greater number of concerned looks. Several freshmen and
sophomores looked distinctly troubled by this sadistic
trick.

"Just above room temperature, I said," Owen coolly reminded
Nate. "I'd say this is markedly above room temperature,
wouldn't you?"

Nursing the tender head of his dick, Nate had no choice but
to nod in agreement.

"Well then, YOU can drink this up, and go and make ME the
coffee I told you to."

Nate obeyed, blinking back tears of pain. Returning to the
kitchen, he found Devlin waiting for him. "Are you alright?"
the freshman asked anxiously. "I mean, you weren't scalded,
right?"

"No - luckily. But it did fucking hurt. Owen's a bastard."

"He shouldn't have done that to you," agreed Devlin. "That
was mean and totally uncalled for."

"Oh yeah? Then how come you've been happily participating in
all the stuff they've been doing to me?"

Devlin winced and said weakly, "It was just a bit of fun.
The guys didn't mean any harm! Sure, they were a little
pissed with you and you can't really blame them. I mean, you
never bothered with us younger guys unless it was to boast
about yourself."

Nate couldn't believe his ears. "So, for that, you trap me
naked in my own house, grope me, make me jerk off in front
of you guys, and when you're not content with that, you make
me do this stuff to me in public too? All this because I
BOASTED about myself?"

Devlin wilted under Nate's forceful accusations. But Nate
wasn't done with him yet. All the rage that had been
simmering under the surface without any outlet now came
pouring out on the hapless freshman. "Stop lying about why
you did all that shit to me, Dev! You just wanted the chance
to see me naked and touch my dick, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?
You fucking fag-"

Wes appeared suddenly in the kitchen. "That's enough, Nate!
I believe you still have a few drinks to serve up. After
which you can check with Owen for further instructions.
Devlin, come with me." Putting his hands on Devlin's
shoulders, he steered him out to the foyer and halfway up
the stairs, where he sat down and gestured for the freshman
to do the same.

"Are you okay, Dev?" He had felt the boy trembling as he'd
led him out of the kitchen. "Don't pay Nate any attention;
he's just venting his frustration and I'm sorry you had to
bear the brunt of it."

"But he was right ..." said Devlin so softly that it was
barely audible.

"Trust me, Devlin, you haven't had to put with him for as
long as some of us have, or you wouldn't be so quick to
sympathize with him."

"I know how the other guys feel about Nate. The thing is, I
don't really feel the same way. I know he could do with some
attitude adjustment, but some of the stuff we've been doing
... it hasn't really been fair, and lately, it's been cruel
even."

Wes glanced at the younger boy. "You know, Dev, if you don't
feel comfortable doing this, you can always leave."

Devlin looked up, startled. "I can?"

Wes laughed. "Of course! Don't sound so surprised. We're not
expecting anyone to take part in stuff they're not
comfortable with."

"Except Nate," Devlin pointed out.

"Except Nate," Wes agreed. "There is just one thing though:
you've got to keep this whole thing within the team, okay?"

"No worries on that score, captain," Devlin assured him. "I
promise it'll be a team secret."

"Attaboy, Dev." Wes ruffled the freshman's hair fondly.

Devlin got up and started to descend the stairs and then
paused to look back at his captain. "Cap? You won't ... do
anything worse to Nate, will you?"

Wes hesitated for the briefest of moments before replying,
"No, Devlin, we won't."

Reassured, the freshman returned to the crowd inside the
den. Wes, however, was feeling less and less sure of himself
by the second.

                          & & & & &

Meanwhile, inside the den, the Hamilton twins moved the
exercise bike from where it stood in a corner of the room to
the space in front of the large window. The floor-to-ceiling
glass faced the front lawn, and while it was set some way
back from the street, it was still possible for someone
walking their dog to get a glimpse of the bike in its new
position.

"Now, we've already said that your becoming a slave doesn't
mean you should miss out on your daily exercise," stated
Owen.

"Yeah, we don't want you to lose that six-pack," said Ethan
sarcastically.

"You've got to look your best the next time you end up naked
in public," added Lucas.

"Which I'm betting will be very soon," finished Dave.

Parker came into the den, holding something gingerly in his
right hand. "Well, I couldn't find the towel you asked for,
Owen, but I did find something even better." He brandished
the object in his hand: the cum-encrusted rag from Nate's
nightstand. The boys hooted with laughter as he carefully
laid it as a covering for the seat of the exercise bike.

"Get on the bike, then," ordered Jason. Nate climbed onto
the seat of the bike, agonizingly aware of how exposed he
was to people outside his house from his location.

"It's not going to be all fun and games either; you're going
to have targets that you have to meet, or face even more
punishment." Owen gave an evil grin. "Don't think I've
forgotten that you owe me for that mistake with the coffee."

Nate gulped. Spotting Wes reentering the den, Owen asked
him, "Wesley, do you want to set Nathaniel's first target
then?"

Wes had been distracted by his thoughts. "Uh, yeah, sure.
Fifteen kilometers in half an hour?"

Owen grunted. "It'll do for a start, I guess. You heard your
master, slave; start cycling!"

Nate hastily obeyed, pedaling for all he was worth. After
watching him for a few minutes, his teammates became bored
and returned to what they were doing before. Even Ethan had
set the camera up to record from a nearby bookcase. Nate was
tempted to slack off, but he knew the penalty would be
severe. And at least exercising on the bike - even naked -
was far less demeaning than getting paddled or having
objects shoved up his butt.

Fifteen minutes into the regime, Owen came over and, upon
observing that Nate had cycled nine kilometers already,
turned up the difficulty level. Nate had to pedal doubly
fast to ensure he achieved the target. With the sweat
pouring off of him, his body glistening with it and his
muscles stretched taut as he bent over the bike, he looked
good enough to eat - though no one in that room was about to
tell him that! They did, however, burst out into raucous
laughter when Nate got off the bike at the end of the thirty
minutes, because the cum rag had become entrenched in his
buttcrack. Blushing furiously, Nate pulled it out.

Owen was quite disappointed that Nate had managed to meet
the goal, and thus wasn't going to need punishing, but he
didn't let it show. Instead, he ordered Nate to get on the
floor in front of the window and do five dozen crunches.

"Can't let your abs turn to flab," he declared cheerfully.
"You have twelve minutes."

Of course, Nate was exhausted from the cycling and, as hard
as he tried, twelve minutes later, he'd only managed 57
crunches.

"Please, just give another minute, I can finish 60!"

Owen shook his head. "I said twelve minutes, and that's all
you're going to get. But if it's any consolation, we've
decided to allow your punishments to build up before we
execute it at some later date."

Nate didn't know whether to be relieved or not at this
pronouncement. "Can I get some water to drink?"

"Sure, but you don't need to go to the kitchen, not when
there's plenty on you already."

Nate looked down at his body, dripping with sweat as it was.
He wanted to say he wasn't that thirsty, but then he
remembered what Jason had said earlier. Wearily, he scooped
up as much sweat from his skin as possible and lapped it up
from his palm. His teammates made disgusted faces at his
depravity.

"I was only kidding, you know," said Owen, belatedly and
insincerely. "But since you seem to like the taste of bodily
fluids so much I guess you might as well continue what
you're doing."

Nate felt extremely stupid. He sheepishly lowered his hand
from his mouth, just as Drew announced, "By the way, guys,
Bobby here has a suggestion he wants to share." He gave the
bespectacled sophomore an encouraging look.

Bobby spoke up a little hesitantly, "Well, I was thinking -
since I live next door anyway - I could watch out for Nate
if he's going to sunbathe in his yard."

"It's not like you don't do that anyway," Nate muttered
under his breath.

But Bobby hadn't finished his suggestion yet. "Except maybe,
next time, he could leave off the shorts."

Owen guffawed at this. "You know, that's a great idea.
Nathaniel can work on those unsightly tan lines."

"You can help him out with his tanning lotion too, if you
want," suggested Troy. "The ball's in your court with this
one; roll with it any way you like."

Nate groaned silently, knowing better than to protest. It
was bad enough having to put on a wank-show every evening
for Bobby; now he'd have to endure the little pervert's
hands all over him as he sunbathed naked in his yard!

Almost as if he could hear Nate's thoughts, Jason suddenly
said, "What's the time? We must be getting close to Nate's
appointment with his dick and a bottle of lotion."

"You're right," replied Ethan, looking at his watch. "It's a
quarter to five."

Owen jumped into action. "Right! Robert, do you want to pop
back over to your house and gear up at the window?  I trust
Andrew told you how to upload any images you take onto the
website?"

Bobby nodded. "Thanks for inviting me into this. It's been
great!"

Owen waved his hand magnanimously. "Oh, don't thank us.
We're just glad we could help. Don't forget, if you get any
trouble from Nathaniel, call me or Andrew." He shot Nate a
hard look. "Though if the slave knows what's good for him,
he won't give you any."

"Speaking of which, please take the slave to his bedroom,"
Jason told Shane and Stuart. The twins frog-marched the
naked stud up the stairs and to his room, the rest of the
entourage (minus Bobby) following behind them.

Nate's bedroom featured a large corner-window, one of those
intended to showcase the architect's prowess in not needing
a column at a corner of the house structure. The shorter
expanse of glass had pretty much the same view as the den
below it: of the front lawn and the street beyond. The
longer length of glass faced the adjacent Rawlins residence,
and Bobby's room in particular. Nate's study table was
located below this portion, its top surface just coming up
to the windowsill.

"On top of the table and on your knees," instructed Owen.
That way, Nate's entire body would be visible full-frontal
from Bobby's room, and side-on from his own lawn.

Seeing no way out of his predicament, Nate obeyed. The fear
of being seen by people on the street weighed heavily on his
mind; he could only hope his neighbors would keep their eyes
at ground level and not glance up towards his first-floor
window. Gazing out towards Bobby's room window, he could see
the brat already in position, a powerful-looking camera in
hand.

Someone passed him the bottle of lotion from his nightstand.
"I don't think you need explicit instructions on what to
do," joked Troy.

"A couple of caveats though," added Owen. "Take your time
with this one - at least twenty minutes." Nate knew this
meant twenty minutes where he'd be observable from the
street, naked and stroking a hard-on. He swallowed back a
sob.

"And when you cum, make sure you spray your stuff onto the
window. That way, Bobby can be sure that you did jerk off to
climax."

Mindful of his audience, Nate squirted some lotion onto his
right hand and began to stroke his dick with it. Working up
an erection was difficult for, every time he tried to think
of sexy things, his mind went instead to the humiliating
torments of the past 24 hours. And that had the opposite
effect of deflating his dick.

"If you can't get it up, Ramsey, you don't need us to tell
you the surefire way of getting past that," Jason reminded
him.

Nate knew alright; he'd just hoped it wouldn't be necessary,
not in his current position. But he could sense his
teammates getting impatient and, wary of the penalties he
might add to his present tally, he had no choice but to
grease three fingers of his left hand with some residual
lotion and begin sliding them into his asshole, one at a
time. It worked.

Across the distance between the two houses, Bobby Rawlins
was ensuring that he captured every second of his neighbor's
torment. What his camera couldn't capture was taken care of
by Ethan's camera, which recorded the stud finger-fucking
himself. Put together, the two videos would be the
definitive visual aid to humiliating a helpless jock.

To the jeers and taunts of his teammates, Nate came, pumping
his sticky load onto the window pane, as instructed. But if
he thought that was the end of his ordeal, he was mistaken.

"Now lick it up," commanded Owen. Too emotionally numb to
even protest, and already accustomed to the taste of his own
cum by this time (though he still found it disgusting), Nate
leaned forwards and licked the glass clean.

"Alright, boys, that'll be it for today," announced Wes when
he was done. To the volley of disappointed groans that
greeted this statement, he mentioned, "Don't worry, guys;
we'll upload the pics from Nate's clubbing `adventures' onto
the website."

This seemed to mollify somewhat the under-18 crowd, who
weren't of legal age to enter clubs. Owen added, "Anyone who
still wants to join us tomorrow can meet us at the Atlantic
Parade at twelve. We'll be shopping for Nathaniel's new
wardrobe, among other things."

This suggestion earned several chuckles, as the boys debated
whether Nate would be more embarrassed to be caught in a
leopard g-string or lacy panties. The crowd began to
disperse, spreading out to hunt for anything they might've
left behind in the rooms where they'd spent the night. Owen
gave them one last reminder to keep the whole affair within
the team.

"Go Marlins!" the boys chorused. The ringleaders grinned,
satisfied that the secret would be kept.

"Well then, Nathaniel, time for you to hit the shower," said
Owen. "I think he can manage unsupervised for once, don't
you?"

Nate stumbled down from the table and ran off to his
bathroom, relieved that, for once, he could escape the
constant surveillance.

"Make sure you clean yourself thoroughly!" called out Troy.

"Unless he wants to be hosed down outside again," said Drew.

"His neighbors would get a free show with their dinner if
that happened," laughed Ethan.

Nate emerged from the bathroom a half-hour later, a towel
wrapped tentatively around his waist. He was hoping he might
be allowed to keep the towel on, but no such luck.

"Hey, naked slaves aren't supposed to cover up!" protested
Dave, who was about to go downstairs. He ripped the towel
off, returning Nate to his natural state. Nate sighed in
frustration. Following Dave downstairs, he found that half
the team had already left, and half the remaining number
were about to follow suit.

"Well, enjoy yourselves, guys," said Parker, slinging his
bag over his shoulder. He looked disappointed to be leaving.
"Not you though," he added suddenly, looking at Nate.

Lucas directed his words at the six 18-year-olds who were
staying behind to continue Nate's ordeal. "Give him hell for
us."

"C'mon, Cliff. Out you go, bro," said Dave, leading his
younger sibling out. As they passed Nate, Dave groped his
dick roughly - setting the tone for his teammates' farewell
gestures to the enslaved stud. Nate received a smack on his
butt, a slap across the abs, a vicious twist of his nipple,
and a squeeze of his balls (in that order) as they filed
past him and out the front door.

"We've ordered Chinese, so I guess you'll have some more
cleaning to do after dinner, but I suggest that you get this
out of the way first," said Wes, gesturing to the dirty
crockery lying around the room."

"In the meantime, I'm going to take a shower," Troy informed
his friends. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing some of
your clothes for the club?" He didn't wait for Nate's reply
before disappearing up the stairs.

Over the next hour, Owen, Wes, Jason, Drew and Ethan each
took their turn at one of the house's three bathrooms,
making sure Nate was never left unsupervised. When the
Chinese takeaway arrived, Nate had to answer the door naked.
His masters had thrown him a bone this time by allowing him
the tiny piece of fabric he used as a cum rag to cover his
dick with. That didn't stop the Asian delivery boy from
gaping at Nate's nudity, but at least it was less
embarrassing than the full-frontal view the pizza delivery
boy of the night before had gotten.

His face burning with shame, Nate paid the delivery boy and
brought the food into the den. He found the boys watching
the video of his first masturbation on the laptop, laughing
their heads off as the onscreen Nate pumped the banana in
and out of his ass.

"You can have your dinner sitting on the floor," said Wes.
Nate was just grateful that he was getting dinner at all. He
noticed that his six masters (he couldn't believe he'd
started thinking of them as that!) were dressed in the best
clothes from HIS wardrobe. He wondered what club they were
going to, and what sort of `adventures' he would have there,
as alluded to earlier by Wes.

It was only after he'd been seated in Owen's truck (still
naked, on top of his folded clothes from that morning) that
he gathered his courage to ask where they were headed.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," was all Troy would say,
though his wicked grin as he spoke made Nate's heart sink.

The drive into town was uneventful; the seats in Owen's
truck were raised so there was less likelihood of Nate's
nudity being noticed by other road users. This didn't mean,
however, that Nate was at ease with being naked on a public
thoroughfare. He was trembling with fear by the time they
pulled up in front of a nightclub in one of the seedier town
quarters. Wes and Jason, who'd traveled there in Nate's car,
parked behind them.

Looking at the exterior of the club, Nate found his concerns
to be more than justified. It was obviously a gay club.

"I've never been to a gay club before," mused Drew. "What do
you guys do for entertainment?" he asked Troy.

"Well, tonight, NATE is going to be the entertainment," Troy
cackled evilly. "Put your clothes on then, or do you really
want to enter a gay club naked?"

"Whatever happens inside," added Owen, "you say yes. If at
any point you disagree with us, the website goes public and
your parents, teachers and Melanie get pictorial proof of
your perversions. Understand?"

Nate understood. With shaky hands, he pulled on his t-shirt
and shorts. His consternation grew as Troy led them into the
club, not by its front entrance, but rather the back door. A
stout and balding middle-aged man, who was going over some
accounts at a desk, looked up as they entered.

"Troy! I know you said a guy your age but I didn't expect so
many!" the man exclaimed.

Troy grinned. "Not all of them, Claude, just this one here."
He nudged Nate forward. "The rest of us are just here for,
um, moral support. Guys, this is Claude, who owns the club."

Claude was not interested in introductions; he was eyeing
the young stud appreciatively. The tight, sleeveless tee and
low-slung shorts looked particularly good on his muscular
frame. Claude looked sharply at Troy. "You're sure he's
legal though?"

Troy dug into Nate's short and extricated his driving
license from the wallet within. "All of eighteen years and
two months," he proclaimed.

Claude whistled as he took a look at the license. "Christ! I
know you said fresh meat, Troy, but I didn't think you meant
this fresh."

"As fresh as they come," Troy said, barely keeping the grin
out of his voice.

Nate flinched, hearing himself discussed in such terms in
front of a stranger. It really brought home how his
teammates now thought of him: a piece of meat.

"Let's see what he's got then."

Nate looked at Troy, who seemed to be the leader in this
particular expedition. He gave the slightest of nods.
Resigned, Nate stripped off his tee-shirt and, after a brief
hesitation, pulled down his pants as well. Since he wasn't
wearing any underwear, this rendered him completely naked
for Claude's eagle-eyed gaze. He walked around Nate slowly,
giving him the once-over. The naked stud nervously twisted
the discarded shirt in his hands as he waited for the visual
inspection to be over.

Claude was clearly quite taken by the sight. "He's certainly
got a fantastic body. I have got to agree that it needs to
be showed off. Real pity about the no-touching rule we've
had to put in, thanks to some strippers insisting on
`personal space' or some such rubbish. I bet the boys
would've loved to run their hands over this one's bod."

Troy and Owen looked at each other. Troy spoke. "Well I
don't think Nate minds a little touching, do you?"

He was still smiling, but Nate caught the hard glint in his
eye that reminded him of the repercussions any refusal to do
as he was told would bring. "No," he croaked, "I don't
mind."

Claude shook his head in wonderment. "Well, the boys are
certainly in for a treat then!"

Nate looked desperately at Wes. "Um, I think Troy spoke to
you about the issue of anonymity?"

Claude glanced at Wes briefly. "Yes, he did. As a matter of
fact, I have an idea that will go perfectly ... a superhero
theme ... I've found that to be quite popular with the
clientele, and the mask will protect his identity at the
same time." He gave Nate another lecherous look. "Just come
into the backroom whenever you're ready and we'll get you
suited up."

As soon as Claude disappeared into the backroom, Nate rushed
to Wes to make a last-ditch attempt at saving his dignity.
"You can't seriously be expecting me to strip in front of a
gay crowd!"

"That is exactly what we expect," Jason answered for him.

"But what if someone recognizes me? You said you wouldn't
let this spread beyond the team, and you've already let in
Bobby Rawlins -"

Ethan rolled his eyes. "You heard what Claude said: you'll
be wearing a mask. No one will recognize you. Why would
they? Unless you've been frequenting gay clubs in your spare
time that similar club-goers should recognize you?"

"Of course not! But this is way beyond what we agreed!"

Owen decided to put an end to the argument. "Nathaniel, your
options are simple: either you go out there and put on a
show for a club full of gay guys, who won't recognize you
and probably won't even remember you by tomorrow night, or
you can choose to become jerk-off fodder for every gay guy
between here and China for years to come. The choice is
yours."

Put like that, Nate's choice became obvious. He gave one
last pleading look at his tormentors, before conceding
defeat and approaching the backroom.

"Don't worry, Nate. We'll be in the audience for moral
support as promised!" Troy called out. The other boys
giggled. "Ethan, you brought the camera, right? Claude said
it's okay for us to film Nate's act."

Ethan tapped the saddlebag containing the camera, and Troy
led them round to the front of the club, where they waited
for Nate's debut on the gay club stage.

                          & & & & &

"Gentlemen, please welcome on stage, our newest performer,
eighteen-year-old Robin!"

Claude got off the floorlit platform that ran halfway down
the middle of the room as, from the curtains behind him,
emerged "Robin". Dressed in the Batman sidekick's trademark
outfit, the top half of Nate's face was hidden behind a
black mask, with only his bright blue eyes showing. The rest
of the costume was so tight-fitting it might have been
molded for his body.

Doing his best to emulate the moves Claude had gotten
another stripper in the backroom to teach him, Nate made his
way down the platform to the pole at the end of it. He was
one of the first acts of the night, and the crowd - mostly
men thirty and over - were thrilled to have a beautifully-
built teenaged stud performing for a change. They voiced
their appreciation with catcalls and wolf-whistles. Ethan,
from the back of the room, zoomed in on Nate grinding his
crotch against the pole. All six boys were smirking at their
slave demeaning himself like this in front of a crowd of
people he instinctively disliked.

After a few minutes of pole-dancing, Nate saw, out of the
corner of his eye, Claude giving him the signal to begin the
next stage of his act. Reluctantly, he reached behind to
unzip the costume from the back and peeled it down to his
waist. The crowd became even more enthusiastic as he ran his
hands over his tight abs and slid one hand down under the
waistband to grab his crotch. The crowd's cries of "Strip!
Strip! Strip!" were beginning to drown out the music.

Claude gave the next signal and Nate, with even greater
reluctance, began to shimmy out of the costume completely.
All he had on underneath was a tiny, yellow thong, with red
sequins forming a bullseye on the pouch at the front. It
left his perfect, bubble butt utterly exposed, and the sight
of those muscular glutes sent the crowd wild. But there was
still one more delight to come. Before stepping out of his
costume, Nate extricated the pair of prop guns attached to
the belt around his waist and handed them to two onlookers.

Both club-goers had clearly been there before, and knew
exactly what to do with the props. They took careful aim at
Nate's almost-naked body and squeezed the trigger. Nate was
spattered on the chest and on the butt - with baby oil!

As he'd been told to, Nate rubbed the oil into his bare
skin, giving it a sheen that highlighted his charms further.
He thought he'd felt humiliated by the things his teammates
had made him do in private, but it was nothing compared to
being turned into cheap titillation for a crowd of horny gay
club-goers.

Of course, there was a reason why there was a sequined
bullseye on the front of Nate's thong. As the oil-squirting
props were passed around, several members of the audience
took a shot at it. The result was that the thin, yellow
fabric began to turn translucent and heavy with the oil. The
thong started to droop, revealing the root of Nate's dick to
the onlooking crowd. His attempts to pull it up were futile.
Like the Speedos he'd worn only that morning, the thong made
no secret of the fact that his crotch was shaved bare, or
that his dick was circumcised. Nate's blue eyes filled with
tears at the number of people who were finding out these
intimate details about his body. Luckily, the eyes of the
audience were on Nate's magnificent physique, not his
tearful face.

However bad the exposure of the past few minutes had been,
the worst was yet to come. Claude climbed back onto the
stage briefly to make a small announcement. "Gentlemen, I'm
sure you'll be as pleased as I was to hear that Robin is
waiving the no-touching rule."

The cheers at this proclamation were quite deafening, and
the hapless Nate instantly found himself the target of many
wandering hands. He was molested and groped in every way
possible: there were fingers in his crack, hands trying to
get into the pouch of his thong, palms rubbing the excess
oil into his abs ...

"I almost feel sorry for Nate," remarked Drew from the boys'
vantage point at the back of the room. "He looks positively
terrified."

"Good," said Jason quite ruthlessly. "I hope it scares the
wits out of him."

A patron had somehow managed to pull Nate down onto his lap,
and was grinding his crotch against Nate's ass. Nate was
quite sure the man was going commando under his jeans; he
could feel the hard dick rubbing at his crack through the
denim. It freaked him out and he hurriedly climbed off the
man's lap. The man, however, was clearly pleased with his
one-on-one time with the naked stud, if the ten-dollar bill
he stuffed into the pouch of Nate's thong (grabbing a quick
feel of his dick at the same time) was anything to judge by.

Deciding he'd had enough of this, and no amount of blackmail
was going to get him to endure any more pawing, Nate tore
himself away from the crowd and disappeared behind the
curtains, much to the disappointment of his audience. He
found an ecstatic Claude waiting for him in the backroom.

"Well done, my boy!" exclaimed the club owner, clapping Nate
hard across his bare back. Upon seeing Troy and the rest
entering the backroom, he rushed across to them. "An
excellent find, Troy, I don't think I've ever seen the crowd
get so worked up. It would be a pity if this was his only
performance ..." he suggested.

Troy glanced at Nate and then grinned at Claude. "Oh, I'm
sure we can manage a regular booking every Saturday from now
on ..." Nate stared at him in horror and shook his head
frantically, before Owen gave him a sharp nudge. Claude
hadn't seen, and Troy was still talking. "My friend here
actually took some really great shots of the Robin act;
maybe you could use some of them as promotional material for
next week. You know, really draw in the crowd ..."

"That would be fantastic! I'll even give you a better rate.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go and introduce the next
act. A bit of a letdown after this hunk of flesh, no doubt,
but it can't be helped ..." Claude gave Nate's bulge a
friendly grope on his way out.

Alone in the room with his six tormentors, Nate vented his
anger. "That was absolutely -"

"Humiliating? Demeaning? Degrading?" supplied Owen. "But, my
dear Nathaniel, that was the point."

Nate knew there was no point in trying to reason with Owen.
He turned his attention to Troy instead. "You never said
anything about this being a regular act!"

His gay teammate shrugged. "I could hardly say no to Claude
now, could I? He seemed to really appreciate your, er,
talents."

"So did the crowd out there," added Drew. "You should be
glad that you're of SOME use."

Wes located Nate's discarded clothes nearby and tossed them
at him. "Get dressed. We've still got stuff to do back
home." He glanced at Owen. "We'll meet you back at Nate's?"

Owen nodded. Wes and Jason exited the club and got into
Nate's car.

Jason started the conversation. "That was kinda fun, huh? I
mean, seeing Nate squirm on the platform with all those
oblivious guys around him totally focused on his body?"

"Yeah, it sure was," replied Wes. In his mind's eye he could
see Nate, naked except for the thong, rubbing oil into his
torso. He blinked to clear the vision and turned his
attention back to the road.

"So," Jason began very casually, "how long have you been
attracted to Nate?"

Wes almost lost control of the car. It swerved dangerously
into the adjacent, empty lane before Wes managed to regain
control of the wheel.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" he blustered, avoiding eye
contact with Jason.

"Come on, Wes. We've been best buds since the fifth grade.
I've seen the way you look at him in the showers. Back there
in the club, the look on your face was identical to those on
the patrons' faces."

Wes knew he couldn't lie his way out of this one. "Okay.
Maybe I am attracted to Nate. So what?"

"So nothing." Jason shrugged. "I just never had you pegged
as gay."

"You're getting ahead off yourself, Jase. I never said I was
gay. I still like girls, and Nate's the only guy I've ever
been attracted to."

"Fine, bisexual then. I can see where you're coming from.
Nate may be a jerk, but I can't deny that he's got a good
body. As long as you don't tell me you're in love with him."

Wes snorted. "I'm not. Lust, maybe, but not love."

"Thank God. I can deal with lust, but not my best friend
being in love with that fucking asshole."

Wes looked sideways at Jason. "You know, since we're being
so honest here ... why don't you tell me why you hate his
guts so much?"

"Uh, that." Jason cleared his throat nervously. "Look, if I
tell you, you've got to keep it a secret, okay?"

"You know you can trust me."

"It started last summer. I had this feeling that my sister
was seeing someone."

"Jessie? Whoa, don't tell me this is going where I think it
is!"

"Just ... hear me out, okay?" Jason waited for Wes's nod
before continuing. "So one day, I see this envelope pushed
through the mail slot at home, and I pick it up. It's got
Jessie's name on the front - nothing else. And I thought it
was going to be one of those cheesy love letters freshmen
write to one another. I called her to come down and started
opening the envelope, wanting to tease her about whatever
bad lyrics her secret boyfriend wrote for her. Only ... it
wasn't a stupid poem, or anything romantic at all."

Jason paused, and the silence went on for so long that Wes
had to prod him for the rest of the tale. "What was inside?"

"A photo ... of Jessie ... She didn't have any clothes on.
The bastard took it while she was asleep."

"Oh my-!"

"Can you imagine seeing your kid sister like that? My
sixteen-year-old baby sister! I couldn't even bring myself
to look at the photo properly. I just wanted to rip the head
off the bastard who took and sent the photo to her."

"It was Nate?"

"She wouldn't tell me. She came down and saw me with the
photo, and she started crying. I told her to just say the
guy's name and he'd wish he'd never been born, but she said
that he'd threatened to distribute the photos to the entire
school if she revealed who he was, especially to me. From
that I knew it had to be someone I knew."

"So how'd you figure out it was Nate? I mean, I know he's a
jerk, but I wouldn't have expected this from him -"

"Oh, it was him alright. The one thing I remember from that
photo - I had to look somewhere other than at Jessie - was
the pair of guy's underwear lying on the bed. It was pretty
distinctive. I can tell you that, from then on, I kept my
eyes peeled for anyone wearing designer bikini briefs like
those ..."

"Wait, did you say bikini briefs?" Realization dawned on
Wes. "Like the ones Nate was wearing yesterday!"

Jason nodded. "The moment I saw him in those, I knew. No one
else I know wears those but him. And when I saw his bedroom
- the same one in the photo - it sealed the deal. I promised
myself the fucker would pay for terrorizing my sister. And
when Drew snapped that photo to blackmail him with - it was
like karma, catching up with him."

"Shit, I can't believe he did that to Jessie. He's an even
bigger bastard than I imagined. Here I was thinking his
attempts at displacing me as captain were bad -"

"He tried that?"

"Yeah, Owen told me. You mean you didn't know? Then again,
I'm not surprised; he's not that stupid to think you'd
support him over an old friend."

"That fucking bastard deserves everything he gets," spat
Jason. "I'm going to fuck the living daylights out of him."
He glanced at Wes. "You're not going to go soft on him,
right?"

"Hell no! Truth be told, I was starting to feel a little
sorry for him, but now that I know what he did to Jessie ...
it just makes me sick. He'll pay for what he did, you can
count on that."

                          & & & & &

The two best friends arrived at the Ramsey residence after
the others in Owen's truck, due largely to the distraction
of their conversation about Nate's past misdeeds. Troy let
them into the house.

"We've got him tied up in the guest bedroom," he informed
them. "We didn't want to do it upstairs in case young Bobby
next door gets more than he bargained for if he looks out
his window."

The two boys nodded and followed Troy into the ground-floor
bedroom where Nate was spread-eagled, naked, on the queen-
sized bed in the room's center. His four limbs formed an X
as they were secured to the corners of the bed. The oil on
his body had not been absorbed by the clothes he'd
presumably been allowed to wear for the journey home, so his
skin still gleamed with that oily sheen.

He kept raising his head, trying to see what the guys were
doing. Drew was setting up the camera on the edge of the
writing desk, so that it could capture the side view of
Nate's body. Owen brought his bag of provisions in from the
den and set it down on the floor next to the bed. Nate's
heart was pounding in his chest.

"Guys," he asked tentatively, "what are you doing?"

"Only what we always meant to do," replied Owen. "Teach you
a lesson you'll never forget." He glanced at Wes, who
recognized his cue. He stepped up to the foot of the bed and
began to unbuckle his belt.

Nate's eyes were bugging out in fear as he babbled, "I've
learnt my lesson, guys, I promise. I'll never act like a
jerk again."

"Oh, we know you won't," responded Jason. "Because we're
going to make sure that arrogance is knocked right out of
you."

Wes stared unwaveringly at the captive stud as he slid his
jeans down to his ankles and stepped out of them. After a
brief contemplation, he unbuttoned his shirt as well and
stood there in his boxers, thumbs inserted into the
waistband and ready to pull them off at any moment.

The reality of what was about to happen to him really hit
home and Nate went beserk. He struggled wildly against his
bonds, shouting, "Let me go, you bastards! You can't do this
to me! This is rape! Let me go, you fuckers!"

Ethan, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable,
interrupted. "Wait, guys. Can we have a time out?"

Owen had prepared for this possibility and led him out into
the foyer. "What's the problem, Ethan?"

"Nate is right. God knows I'm the last person to stick up
for that bastard but if we're going to do what I think we
are, it will be rape. We could all be in serious trouble if
he reports it."

"Do you think he'll report it? You think he's going to go to
the cops and tell them he let himself be fucked at both ends
by six guys?"

"I don't want to fuck him, Owen. I'm not even into sex with
other guys."

"Neither are the rest of us - well, except Troy, for obvious
reasons.  This here isn't about sex; it's about power,
teaching Ramsey a lesson. If you don't want to participate
in the fucking, fine. But think about it this way: if your
positions were reversed, do you see Ramsey sticking up for
you?"

Ethan's eyes met Owen's, and he knew it was true. "Okay. I'm
just going to watch though. I'm not going to fuck him."

Owen held up his hands in concession. "Hey, that's fine. If
you change your mind, just say so."

The two boys returned to the bedroom, where they found Nate
still thrashing against his bonds and yelling profanities at
his captors. Wes had already stripped off his boxers and was
stroking his dick to hardness before sheathing it in a
condom.

Owen walked over to the side of the bed and, calmly, slapped
Nate across the face. That stopped his shouting. "Listen up,
slave. You can either do this the hard way or the easy way.
The hard way involves a lot of pain and you getting fucked
dry. You can make things easier on yourself by agreeing to
give us each a blowjob and maybe - maybe - we'll slick up
our dicks before we put it in you."

He glanced at Wes and the team captain climbed onto the bed.
Lifting Nate's legs up to gain access to his asshole, Wes
pressed the head of his dick against Nate's tight sphincter.

The stud winced and glared at Owen with a mix of anger,
disbelief and fear. "You sick bastard! You may think you can
rape me, but there's no way you're getting me to open my
mouth willingly to suck you off."

Owen sighed. "Pity. I knew you'd be difficult, which is why
I came prepared." He brought out a taser from his bag of
provisions and held it against Nate's abs. Nate looked in
terror from the taser to Owen's merciless face.

"One last chance to make it easy on yourself, Nathaniel. So
what will it be? Either way, you're fucked - literally!"

                    To Be Continued . . .


I know I promised the rape in this chapter but this was too
good a cliffhanger moment to pass up. And it has the
additional benefit of leaving you excited for the next
installment ;-)

Suggestions are always welcome, and I'd love to hear what
you thought of this chapter. I'm sorry I couldn't respond to
every email I got the last time (there were so many!) but
thank you to everyone who wrote in. I promise to try and get
back to each of you, especially if you have questions. My
email address can be found at the top of the page.

Special thanks to Andy Robson [author of "Gym Slave"] for
inspiring the licking-cum-off-the-window scenario. (Andy, if
you're out there, please continue your story! Love, A
Faithful Fan.)