Date: Thu, 15 Mar 2001 21:47:37 -0800 From: TopLegal <toplegal@yahoo.com> Subject: gym-stud-5 Gym Boy Cum: 4 ============== By TopLegal WARNING This contains graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or you are not of legal age, do not read it. Any resemblance of characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental. (c) 2001, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via Usenet and the Web provided that the following two conditions are met: there is no cost to access this story, e.g. AdultCheck, pay site, etc., and the story is posted in full without modifications. Countdown to Release -------------------- So, sixty days was the count till release. My beautiful miner-gym-boy stud was adapting to the agony of the intensely long period without release of his sexual needs. At home Jason would stay naked--like my visiting brother Jeff, my other lover. Naked, his grimy (after work) and more muscular body was a stark contrast to Jeff's smaller frame. However, the matching black spider tattoos--my mark--was on both their necks. They were mine, Jason in particular. I had been keeping Jeff inside the house--and buck naked save his chastity belt--for several days now. His welts and marks from his punishment days earlier were fading. I could tell Jeff appreciated what I saw in Jason's somewhat uneducated, but brawny nature. Jason at first was calm but just five days into the longer chastity belt period of sixty days without release, he began to get quite frustrated at home. I knew that at some level he was thoroughly humiliated by his conversion from hetero-miner boy to sex-slave-boy-toy. Of course, he had to keep his job. It wasn't a financial thing. It was for my enjoyment of him for what he was: a brawny, strong miner. And what I could make him do, how I could control him. How he was now a stark contrast. Around his other miner friends I had noticed him becoming more submissive. It was not surprising to me in the slightest. Jason's ability to experience (traditional) male pleasures of orgasm and, now more recently, erections were totally at my control. Daily, he came home from the mines dirty, grimy, exhausted, a bit sweaty. He knew I preferred that he not shower at work. Once home, he would strip quickly inside the door and wait for me to come to him. He would service me. Lick me. Let me enjoy his smelly, dirty body. But mostly, I knew he hoped I might just take out his cock for a second to just touch it. Maybe flick a feather at it. But, as was more likely his cock, his sexual needs would go unfulfilled. Especially with an extensive cum denial torture session: hours of unsatisfying, almost painful stimulus of the boy's cock head but no chance of orgasm. Our Childhood ------------- Having Jeff around again was also a joy. Three years my brother's younger, we were unrelated by genetics, but brought together by adoption. Jeff, still, does not know I was adopted, and I prefer the he not know. Jeff was a scrawny 5'8" and a 30" waist to my 6'2" frame and 36" waist. Over the days--and weeks--of Jeff's visit, details of our childhood did emerge to Jason. We had grown up on a fairly rural farm in Iowa. Our parents had basically seen the writing on the wall with respect to family farming and were very concerned with our education and that we "make something of ourselves". [N.B. These diary entries include some details that for obvious reasons have not been shared with Jeff, or Jason. Jason would not know the Internet if he hit it with his miner's pick and Jeff does not browse so I feel safe sharing some details here.] It was in retrospect unusual for rural Iowa, but so was the fact that I was adopted. Later, I've learned that actually our parents were "refugees" from city life and the sixties, but that comes later. By the same token our parents, actually dad, had a quite old fashioned ideas about punishment. Jeff's scrawny size in farm country made him a frequent target of bullying as school. Me on the other hand, I was always a bit big for my age group (and was skipped ahead three grades over time as well) and tended to give more than I got. By the time I had been moved up to Jeff's grade in school, I had taken to protecting him from the bullies. That was sixth grade. I was eight, he was eleven. He would cry at night a lot and since we shared a bedroom, I would go to him and hold him to comfort him. Although our parents loved us both, dad definitely hit me harder and treated me rougher. The slightest infraction of dad's rules and I was naked, outside getting my ass beaten black and blue within seconds. Jeff on the other hand had to really cross a line and even then mom would try to intervene and talk about how frail he was. (He does not have any real disabilities, he's just a smaller guy with only the mildest asthma.) One exception to the general trend of me getting the sharp end of a birch or a brutal thrashing with a razor strap was first quarter report card day in sixth grade. Dad especially expected us to achieve our best and neither of us was stupid. So best to him meant A's. Generally we got them, me more often than Jeff with pluses after. When we didn't we got punished. By the end of fifth grade with me only eight, Dad thought a "fair" punishment for me having received a single-B against four A-pluses was thirty odd licks with a strap. His justification: I was so smart I had skipped three grades, I had damn well better perform. Further dad's idea of thirty licks with a strap was not like what you see in some movie from the sixties or seventies where dad vaguely hits the kid with the belt and then feels bad and relents. No, dad believed in swinging hard, firmly and repeatedly until the boy's ass was tender and red. Oh, and not to mention the boy was howling, crying, and begging for it to stop. Sixth grade, first report cards were different. Jeff had gotten a "C". He had forgotten to study for a test in math (we were in the same classes with the same teachers at that point since the school was small). Addition and subtraction of fractions had really hosed him over. I had aced that test and had an A+ there, but our English teacher did not like my book report on "The Phantom Tollbooth" and had given me a B for the quarter. Worse yet, I had also got a B in Social Studies (loosely history for those of you reading this and not schooled in America). While my teachers were all impressed with my performance, I knew that my dad would feel otherwise. The long (it really was five mile) walk home was not fun for either of us. We talked nervously, once we were far from any other kids Jeff started crying about his "C", and I said not to worry. (Jeff had only gotten about 20 licks with the strap for two B's in fifth grade.) I on the other hand knew that I was looking at probably 50-100 and not being able to sit in school for a few days. But in an odd way, I think I also found getting punished a bit erotic. Sixth Grade Strapping --------------------- At home, Dad was out in the fields still. To this day I am not 100% certain how my parents made money from the farm, though I do suspect at times that marijuana may have been the cash crop. Mom took our report cards from us and by that point, Jeff was visibly shaking. She opened them up and looked at me and said something like, "Good effort, go wait outside for dad." It was cold outside, but I knew better than to argue for fear of getting it worse than usual. Mom started to cry when she opened Jeff's report card (I lingered on my way out). But unlike me, he got the favored treatment, "Stay here Jeff, I'll talk with Dad, I know you are doing well." I was pretty certain that mom would cry and beg and get Jeff off Scott-free from the ordeal while I would be the only one suffering. Worst of all for me, when mom's begging did work, and it did from time to time, the punishment was always worse than ever for me. I took my clothes off before stepping out into the coldish Autumn day and waiting next to the wood shed. Standing there, I was scared, especially if Jeff did not have to come out for punishment too. I was, after all, only eight. Even though I was facing the woodshed, I could sense dad coming in from the fields to the house. His disapproving glare seemed to bore through the back of my head and I almost started to cry. I heard the door to the house close loudly. Then shouting. Mom was trying to protect her "real" son. (Actually at that time, I just knew she favored and protected Jeff; however a few years later when I learned the truth it just made even more sense.) But something that didn't happen generally did. Dad came out with Jeff's small body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Mom followed out the door screaming at Dad not to hurt her "little boy". Dad ignored her and quickly reached the woodshed and grabbed me by my ear as he walked in with Jeff slung over. Jeff knew better than too kick or struggle, but he was already crying. Dad pushed Jeff off his shoulders with ease and bent my older brother over the back of a chair. This was the standard position. "Grip the chair Jeffrey," Dad said. It was an order. Jeff was bawling and Dad had not even swung a belt or birch yet. Through his tears he fumbled to grab a chair edge. Dad barked at me, "help him David." Naked, and nervous, I walked to the front of the chair and positioned Jeff's hands around the front legs so he could grip it. "Get his pants off," Dad said as he stepped out. He was going to cut some fresh birches for the punishment. This was not good for either of us. While Dad was out, I tried to get Jeff to calm down saying he would hit Jeff less if he quieted down. Jeff was not as naked as myself, when dad returned, but importantly for Dad's purposes, my older brother's buttocks, thighs, and even calves were fairly well exposes for punishment. Dad glowered at me as he began to lecture Jeff. "A C is totally unacceptable... There is no excuse..." Jeff had failed to gain composure while dad was out cutting the birch and the lecture caused him to let go of his grip on the chair legs. "Hold his hands down," Dad said firmly to me. When I hesitated Dad raised his hand to slap me and I quickly took the ordered place and my stronger, larger body was easily able to hold Jeff's arms where Dad wanted them. The punishment was shockingly brutal for Mom's favorite son. It lasted much longer than any punishment Dad had ever given me and was much more severe. Jeff was getting punished not just for his C, but also for Mom's coddling. Fifty strokes into the punishment there were lines of blood visible--dad had never drawn blood from me. At hundred Jeff's ass looked like bruised red meat and there were dozens of lines on his thighs and calves. Dad told me to stay put and carried Jeff back into the house naked--and up to his bed to stay. I was already bent over the chair by the time he had come back. Just fifteen strokes in with the strap he relented and with some scolding sent me to my room with the admonishment not to leave it this weekend and to do better next quarter. I kissed him and promised to do better. In our shared bedroom, I could tell mom had visited. Jeff's buttocks had iodine on them to prevent infection and a yellowish tinge was visible. I laid down in the bed next to him, we were sleeping together most nights now. At this point it probably was not sexual as such, but to this day there is no man quite as sexy to me as Jeff. I hugged him and told him that I knew dad loved him but that if he wanted to avoid anything like that again he would either need to get mom to stop protecting him or behave like an angel. Jeff nodded and stopped crying, then he kissed me. This was our first non-brotherly kiss that I can remember. Then we just stayed embraced into the night. In the morning, mom came in and wasn't surprised we were laying together. She was going to put some Vaseline on Jeff's now swollen buttocks but Jeff spoke up and said, "No, mom, it just makes dad angrier, if David can take his punishments than I can too." Mom started to cry and ran out of the room. Dad came in and inspected Jeff's buttocks. "Put some Vaseline on Jeff's butt," he barked at me then he leaned down and kissed Jeff on the forehead. That was the last time my mother directly tried to stop dad from punishing Jeff; however, that did not stop more subtle kinds of manipulation: minimizing Jeff's misbehaviors and maximizing mine. Or keeping things Jeff did from my Dad till I did something worse. As Jeff and I grew closer, as lovers, those things bothered me less. Besides, I would always have sixth grade report cards. First Fuck ---------- Being older, Jeff reached puberty--and sexual maturity--earlier than me. At thirteen, with me just ten, he sometimes would have erections. Mom and dad had taken to checking on us less frequently so it was easier for us to sleep together--it was expected after a punishment of either of us. Although, we made a point to mess up both beds and frequently bed hop before morning. As he would more regularly have erections, Jeff's fascination turned to whether I could have one. He would play with my cock, kiss around it, even lick it to try to give me an erection. One, at the time, unintended consequence of all of this was that he would _not_ handle his own cock. So while he would have erections and I would sometimes play with it--resulting occasionally in boy spunk--he never really developed an intensely orgasm/cock focused sexual identity. As we reached high school, I was finally becoming old enough to hit puberty myself. My first erection had been in Jeff's accommodating mouth. And my first orgasm into his mouth. He swallowed, we kissed, hugged, etc. The second time I had an erection, I fucked him. I had planned the event all day and just before curfew I had snuck into the bathroom and taken the Vaseline and some hand towels. After mom came in for lights out, I applied the Vaseline and stroked my cock to an erection. When I went over to Jeff's bed after about fifteen minutes, I put a hand on his mouth and then got between his legs and lifted them in the air. I knew what I wanted. I fingered around his fuckhole to lubricate it slightly and then forced my cock into him. I pushed forward to I could kiss him as I worked my young shaft inside him. He stayed fairly quiet as I fucked him, but he smiled and even developed a bit of an erection from the stimulation. That last year or so at home--before college--was a nightly fuck fest. My favorite time to fuck him was right after an ass whipping from dad. His butt was always sore and as I would slam against him, he would make a little "ouch" sound. I loved it then, and I love it to this day with any boy. We went to college together--both of us to Columbia without any financial aid/loans. (Further proof of my belief that marijuana was the origin of my parent's money.) During the application process for Columbia, I had discovered the fact of my adoption. Mom had left the house for the day and while Dad was in the fields and I was doing a college application at home, I went into her dresser out of boredom. At the bottom of the dresser, I found paperwork for my adoption (it took place in New York City) and a picture of a young woman, presumably my mother. I put the papers away and have never talked about them with my adoptive mother or sought my real mom. Hey, as I see it I came out ahead for the bargain, after all if I had not been adopted I would never have met Jeff. Snap Back to Present -------------------- At the thirty-day mark, Jeff was doing fine without any attention to his cock, but Jason was constantly angry and irritable. This resulted in several over the lap spankings for attitude adjustment with only minimal impact. As horrible as the now extended chastity was making it to be around Jason I knew that if I gave in even by a day I would lose my credibility to control him. By day forty, Jeff was offering to do Jason's remaining time twice over to improve morale. With twenty days remaining till Jason's next schedule release that would push Jeff's out forty on top of the twenty he had remaining for 100 days of chastity (and regular orgasm denial). Tempting as the offer was, I rejected it and forced Jason to attend to my minutest sexual needs. Extended foot massages, foot licks, full body licks, full body massages, extended regular blow jobs (with swallowing), having to clean me in the shower, licking my sweaty arm pits, standing in humiliating positions (e.g. standing in the ground floor window with the curtains open), and then some. Our sex was wild and animal-like. Fucking him he would push and buck into my thrusts, hungry for my massive shaft. Home from work he made a point stay sweaty and grimy from work to rub against me, knowing I loved the salty, dirty taste of his skin and having his mine grime rub against my clean body. But, I resisted all temptations. College Years ------------- Back to the past, in college, we had been assigned to a shared double dorm room, and being brothers our closeness was not questioned much. Columbia's core curriculum resulted in my last strapping (from my dad). A rigorous study of classic works of literature, philosophy and music was not exactly a perfect fit for my more scientific bent. In my first year, I got a C in one of the core classes. At only 15, I was upset to get a C, but when my dad told me he was coming out to New York to visit, I knew I was "in for it". My dad did not "disappoint". In a large suite at the Ritz Carlton, Jeff and I went down to see our Dad in the "city". On the top floor, we went into the cavernous suite, and Dad asked for our transcripts. Jeff handed his in 3.7's and one 3.3, not bad. Mine was 4.0's and one 2.3. Ouch, for me. Dad's response was as expected and led both of us towards a back room within the suite. I dropped my pants without question and quickly felt the razor strap several dozen times, and quite violently. The odd thing this time was I found myself getting erect and not crying. After my buttocks were quite bruised and I humored my dad with a yelp. Perhaps sensing my erection, Dad put a hand on my back and told me to stay put. Jeff was soon next to me and bent over. As had been repeated several times over the years with me bearing the brunt, Jeff got off easy with just a dozen or so cracks of the strap. Dad left us there for a few moments and then explained that he and mom were going to be taking an "extended" vacation to Argentina. Dad lifted me from the dresser and leaving Jeff, my older brother, bent over the dresser took me back to the living room to talk. It was a frank talk. (Except about my adoption and my sexual relationship with my brother.) I was put in charge of about half-a-million dollars in foreign accounts and told to watch out for my brother. It ended with, "you've always looked after Jeff, we'll be back when things pass." A peck on the cheek and Dad was on his way to the airport and I had a luxury suite at the Ritz Carlton and my older brother naked (and already spanked) in the other room. I did the only decent thing one can do in the situation. I fucked Jeff's brains out through the night and when we checked out in the morning we headed back to campus. Two days later, the FBI came to campus and got both of us at once--no time to get stories straight. Jeff fortunately had nothing useful to say. I was less than forthcoming. I acknowledged we had seen him, but said we were told he had to head back to Iowa. Turned out there had been a terrible bomb blast at the farm. I guess with my past its ironic that I ended up doing corporate compliance, but perhaps that's what enabled me to do it so well. Jeff and I moved off campus as soon as possible and lived quite a hedonistic lifestyle. Fifty Nine Days --------------- By the fifty ninth day, Jason was like a lunatic. Day after day of denial of orgasm had cut to his core. Jeff on the other hand was quite calm about it all. In a sense "denying" Jeff orgasm was almost a joke since I had controlled his sexuality for so long he hardly cared whether or not his dick got erect or touched. That's of course slightly an understatement since he had allowed himself some libation during his last job. But, it was basically true. I called Jason in sick for work the next day--cold. And we then drove to the gym with Jason ducking down in the back of the car to avoid being seen. Once I established that my one employee had gone home, we entered the gym and made our way to the basement. Still dirty and sweaty from a day's work, I strapped Jason to the exam table. Legs spread. Ass exposed. Arms restrained far from the cock. I inserted a vibrating butt plug and with Jason's chastity belt still attached, strapped it so it would stay in place. "Jeff give him water once an hour. If he needs to urinate you can put the funnel near the opening in the belt," I instructed. Jason would spend the last eighteen plus hours of his denied release with a vibrating butt plug stimulating him and his cock firmly ensconced against even mild erection. It would be an awful eighteen hours. Jeff gave me a blow job before I left and then I locked the door to the room--from the outside, and headed off. Working the gym the next day was rough on me. I found myself quite sexually aroused throughout the day. I also quite badly wanted to go down to the secret room and see my pretty boys. Later Jeff reported Jason's pleas, offers of bribes, and the like to escape the belt and have release. But how would Jeff have released Jason? Cutting it open? Hardly stealthy. When six o'clock came around, I hustled the remaining stragglers from the gym with more gusto than usual. Then I composed myself and headed downstairs. Jason was sobbing softly and Jeff was caressing him gently reminding Jason how much "I loved him." When I entered, Jeff quickly got to his knees and sucked me off. I opened Jeff's chastity belt quickly and told him to straddle Jason's chest and jack himself off immediately. Jeff complied eagerly and was stroking his nice shaft in front of Jason's face--Jason was now hyper stimulated from the butt plug and in no small amount of pain. After about fifteen minutes of steady stroking action, Jeff delivered my requested orgasm. I quickly used a cool towel on his groin to calm his cock head and told him that if he behaved he could be off chastity-belt again. He got off Jason, thanked me for the privilege and promised that he would behave. Since as a whole he did it seemed fair, plus the psychological impact on Jason who was going to have to continue to wear a belt was worthy of consideration. I undid the chastity belt and though exhausted and in some pain from struggling and over stimulation of his anus, Jason's cock came to attention. But it was only six thirty or so in the evening, far to early for Jason to orgasm. Jeff was assigned the delicate job of applying ice cubes to the studly miner boy's cock head to prevent orgasm. No person-to-person physical contact with Jason's cock occurred that evening. For six hours (and mind you Jason had not slept already that day) Jeff reliably and without hesitation applied ice cubes to prevent the now excruciatingly painful stimulus of the vibrating butt plug from leading to an orgasm. Finally close to midnight, Jeff told me he was out of ice. I had been talking to Jason for the past hour or two, telling him how proud of him I was, how much I loved him, how good he had been about servicing me, and how I was proud of him for making it sixty days. He was crying when he finally orgasmed and without prompting Jeff quickly applied a cool cloth to calm the area. I shook my head imperceptibly to Jeff signaling that there would be only one orgasm and as Jason sobbed like a little boy with our heads close together, Jeff reaffixed the chastity belt. "Ninety days," Jason whispered to me. His tears were filled with mine grime and had rubbed onto my face. I nodded my head against his and kissed him on the lips. Jeff undid the restraints and I carried Jason back to the car. Completely fatigued from the experience, he was already asleep when we got home. Write the Author ---------------- These stories are e-mail'ware, show your appreciation by dropping some feedback to the author at toplegal@yahoo.com.