Date: Wed, 22 Oct 2008 01:52:46 +0100
From: Stevie Zadara <zadara1@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Offender Relief Day part 7

Sorry about the delay guys but thanks for all the positive comments. Let me
know if you like this one and hope it was worth the
wait. zadara1@hotmail.co.uk

Topics: humiliation / stripping / hunks / cum / voyeur / bondage


PART 7 DAMIAN'S SHOW

McBride and the governor summoned the four brats over to the raised dais at
the front of the auditorium and gave their cocks a good slapping. Matt's
semi-inflated fuck tube still oozed copious gobs of orgasmic juice as the
poor, used, sex toy blushed pink and having been made to spray his joy milk
in every direction for the entertainment of these paying guests. It had
been a birthday party to remember for poor Michel. Wolf whistles and
catcalls greeted the lads, along with laughter and a great round of
applause, as they were spanked roughly on their cocky, pert bouncing
buttcheeks and skipped off to the showers to clean up after the show.

"Thank you so much for coming to the party," jested McBride, "It was so
kind of you to show up and support such a good cause. Drinks and canapés
continue to be served, but you will wish to be present in the main hall,
where our charity sports and clubwear fashion show will start in 15 minutes
promptly.

Much excitement ensued as the audience milled and asked for directions to
the next doubtless horny happening. They couldn't wait to see what sort of
sexy, depraved display the inmates would be forced to put on for them
next. 18 year old lads wearing just white or black jockstraps and Hi-tops
continued to hand out trays of champagne. The audience members enjoyed
mercilessly teasing the slaveboy barmen, whose hands were otherwise
occupied, by snapping the straps of their jocks against their tight little
butts, or flicking their nipple rings, running their hands through the
cocky boys' gelled up crewcuts or tipping a glass or two of cold champagne
down the fronts of their skimpy underwear to exaggerate the outline of
their solid, meaty, dicks. As the damp pouches turned translucent, the
onlookers remarked and pointed out which way the organs were hanging or
shouting embarrassing observations – "this cutie's hung like a
carthorse", or "this one has 2 inches of overhanging skinflap – anyone
got a cracker for some cockcheese". The lads, forced to endure and smile or
grimace through these taunts thought the day was never going to end.

Almost immediately the main hall began to fill up. Chairs had been arranged
either side of a long catwalk which extended thirty feet down the centre of
the hall. Behind the seating area, a large roulette table was arranged for
later entertainment, along with a card table, dunking stool and pool, wheel
of fortune and other paraphernalia. There were barstools around the
roulette table and, of course, a barman wearing just speedoes, yellow this
time, and a reversed baseball cap in green. Australian colours, as our
miscreant was from Melbourne originally. The incoming guests found him
irresistibly cute as he greeted everyone with a beer and a "Gooday! Why
dontcha squeeze me downunder!". He had been instructed that he had to say
this ridiculous phrase of welcome to every guest, and thrust out his
bulging ball package as he did so. The men squeezed his balls time after
time and the poor lad couldn't help but develop a hardon from the incessant
feel ups. Soon his cock snaked its way along the speedoes and after a few
more guests had snatched at it, his pink cockhead jumped out the top of the
waistband like an eager viper. "Top Oz boy's got a bone-on, guys, take a
look at this rutting little snot", shouted a guest eagerly, as the boy
winced with embarrassment and continued to offer drinks and repeat the
embarrassing phrase. "G-g-goodday. W-w-why dontcha sq-squeeze me
downunder?" It was really funny watching his embarrassment as he
desperately continued anyway with his boner in full view of the
appreciative queens, as they caressed his tough little Aussie football
legs.

Six of the cockiest, best looking guys had been selected the previous
weekend by the governor for the fashion show. They had been told that they
could participate in showing off the designer sportswear, which they
thought they'd get to keep, in return for abstaining from orgasm all
week. They were on the housekeeper's hitlist for stickiest, crumbliest,
flakiest sheeting and she was determined to put a stop to their incessant
wanking. The governor assured them that if they kept their chastity
cocklocks on all week, they would be allowed two hours with their
girlfriends on Sunday, the day after the appropriately named Relief Day, to
get their rocks off and spray their juices deep inside their chicks'
fannies. The boys, unable to resist the dual lure of promoting and
modelling new sportswear (they had no idea who or what for when they agreed
to it) and screwing the tits off their girls on the following day, they
agreed. A metal case jockstrap was fitted round each of the lads' equipment
and bolted in place using a leather cord strip round their waists and under
their crotches. They could piss only by letting go and crouching over a
bucket in their rooms. Their piss was let out though a hole in the tip of
the ingenious device. By this Saturday afternoon these hot boys' cocks were
straining for release. They hadn't been able to touch their sex for 7 whole
days and were quivering mounds of frustrated sexuality by the time The
governor arrived in the makeshift dressing room to ready the lads for the
fashion show. He lasciviously unlocked each cage and the 18, 19 and 20 year
old fuck machines let out great sighs of relief as their big pieces of meat
flopped and unfurled out of the encasements.

McBride, on the microphone next to the catwalk, meanwhile announced the
first "model" as the hall had filled up and expectant onlookers awaited the
show.

" Please let's have a large round of applause for our first model, 19 years
old, Damian, who is a big boy, 6 feet 2 inches tall, and is wearing a black
and grey jogging ensemble". Damien swaggered out as confidently as he
could. Smooth as a baby's ass, muscular arms and shaved pits, he wore a
black scally hat, oblong dark shades, a gold chain and cross around his
beefy neck, a black cutaway vest and grey nylon jogging shorts. His pouting
lips defiant and lush, a square jawline, cute ears, blond crewcut, a dream
for this particular audience. "On his feet," went on McBride's mock serious
fashion description," white sports socks and grey Nike Hi-tops." He moved
as sophisticatedly as he could, given that the swishing of his sex starved
cock against the material had now given him a monstrous hardon and the
audience clocked it, their eyes out on stalks as he continued to prance and
pose to the heavy house music that filled the hall with an expectant
quake. Damien turned round and bent over, sticking his curvaceous butt out
to emphasise the tightness of the little silver grey running shorts. He bit
his lip with embarrassment at the thought that his full, tight balls had
shown him up and given him this humiliating hardon in full view of these
paying punters. He jumped round, jigged in his sneakers, posing and pouting
as his gold chain bounced across his perfect chest. A large spot of precum
had now spilled out the end of Damian's fat cock and was clearly visible,
having not only leaked through his little cotton knickers but through the
grey satin material. An embarrassing inch wide dark patch appeared at the
front of the shorts as the cock flopped inside. Damian wanted to just
squirm and hide. But worse was to come.

"Your bids please for this designer vest. May I start the bidding at £20?",
announced McBride, as Damien danced on, glancing over nervously. "£20, do I
see thirty? A hand shot up, more and more until the shirt was finally
bought by an expectant punter for £65. "Sold to the man in the purple bow
tie for £65 then. Take the garment off please, Damien." Damien thought he
was going to be able to keep these clothes. He had no idea he'd have to
sell them to the guys for charity and not only that strip off in front of
them. Reluctantly he peeled the vest off, showed his pert nipples and
rippled abs, and with a sneer hurled the top over to the winning
bidder. Next, his hat was auctioned, another £30, revealing his spiky,
cocky bleachblond crewcut and the small metal earring in his left ear. He
stood there in just his trainers and shorts, the waistband of his black
Jockey briefs protruding up to his waist. Still he gyrated, getting
sweatier and sweatier, his torso glistening and muscles rippling. His cock
tented the athletic shorts obscenely, but soon they too were under the
hammer. Plenty of bids for those pants, predictably. Hands shot up all over
the hall, in the realisation that he'd soon be standing virtually
naked. They sold for a massive £110, and poor young spunky Damian was
forced to shuck down his shorts and surrender them to some drooling old guy
with a grey beard. Plenty of hooting and applause from the audience as his
rock hard cock pointed seven inches out into his briefs, a puddle of
jockspoo staining the front in a glossy, silky black patch.

"My,my, our Damian is very excited to have made so much money for charity,
it seems," chortled McBride, as the governor beamed on excitedly, "there's
certainly no stopping this boy's enthusiasm!". Damian's butt was almost
completely revealed by the tight black jockies, and he shook and waved his
butt at the crowd as master McBride instructed. Finally, the knickers were
sold for a staggering £130, and the boy was commanded to whip them off and
fling them to the winner. He hesitated as he faced the audience, now
clapping in unison to see the boy's cock revealed. As he slid the briefs
down his meaty thighs, the humungous dick swung free. Ooh and aahs greeted
the big tool as it swayed back and forth; fingers pointed at the half inch
silver Prince Albert adorning the tip of the foaming organ. A string of
clear liquid spun from the end, dripping off as the lad posed naked and
hard. A spontaneous round of applause. The music stopped as big, daft,
Damian stood there nervously with his baby blue eyes fixed on McBride, who
gave his round ass a playful slap.

"I'm sure we'd all like to thank lovely Damian for being a super model,
wouldn't we, guys?". Unanimous cheers and bashful acknowledgement from the
lad himself. "But wouldn't you like to tell everyone why you have such a
large erection?", he asked in a mock matter-of-fact fashion, as if
enquiring whether Damian had come by boat or plane.

"Not really sir, no". More hysterical laughter from the crowd.

"That's an order. Tell them nicely why you are in this state of ridiculous
arousal." More dops of clear goo ran out of the boy's aching piss slit.

"I ain't wanked for a week."

"Masturbated boy, masturbated, good God use the correct terms boy,"
continued Mcbride ."And why is that?" More giggles.

"Do I `ave to sir? It's embarrassing."

"Tell them politely what you have been doing, son," goaded McBride.

"Housekeeper kept on at me for wankin'..."

"It's MAST-UR-BAT-ING. Can't you just be polite in front of these gentlemen
for a moment?" admonished McBride, with his tongue firmly in his cheek. The
audience noticed he was mocking, but poor Damian and his big juicy muscles
didn't.

"... sorry sir, kept on at me for masturbatin' and makin' me sheets
dirty. So I had me cock – I mean me penis – locked up for a week so I
couldn't shoot."

"Ejaculate, ejaculate," corrected McBride.

"Yeah, ejaculate. But me girlfriend's comin' tomorrow and governor said I
could screw her."

"I think the technical term is `make love', but I can see we're going to
have to overlook the fact that you don't know all the proper terms."

"And I can see you're looking forward to that, lad."

"Oh, very much so sir!". His cock bounced and twitched against his belly
button and he smiled and rolled his eyes as he thought about it. He was so
turned on he was just basically 6 feet of tingling, expectant dick.

"Well, I think before you get your treat tomorrow, you should get a little
punishment beforehand just to make sure you learn your lesson for making
such an appalling mess of your bedclothes on a regular basis."

"Sorry, sir, what punishment?"

"Well, I thought perhaps you'd like to go for a little walk."

"Oh, fine, no problem, great", smiled the stupid punk, with no idea what
was about to happen.

"Nurse," called McBride.

Nurse, a portly woman in her fifties, arrived with her box of goodies, and
started to thread a 15 foot length of transparent nylon fishing line wire
through the ring at the end of his cock. She doubled it round and tied it
to a lead which was handed to a member of the audience, who basically now
had full control of Damian's glans from the end of the leash. A devious
device. The transparent nature of the wire meant that as members of the
audience led him up the catwalk, his cock appeared to dance of its own
accord, whilst he was completely in their control. The movements caused the
little brass ring to revolve and stimulate his cockhead so within 30
seconds he was putty in their hands. Cockslop funnelled out of his dick as
the terrified rude boy pushed his hips out and his cock bobbed and weaved
lewdly from side to side. The audience were cracking up as they passed the
leather lead around and led Damian up and down the catwalk in just his
sneakers and socks. It was a hot sight. They teased and teased the boy and
hoped for a gusher. It wasn't long in coming. The incessant massaging of
just the very tip of his big cock was incredibly humiliating for him, but
he couldn't help but be turned on as the little metal ring revolved around
his purple, glistening glans.

"Oh my God, oh my God. I'm gonna blow."

"You mean you are about to reach a powerful orgasm," chastised McBride, who
smacked the naughty boy's ass, causing the cock to bounce even more.

"Shit, shit, no, God, oh help," squealed the sexy brat. A couple more tugs
and with ho hands at all the sexy punk's cock suddenly erupted and a week's
worth of white juice barrelled out of his pistol.

"Aargh, no, no, jeez, no," shouted the athletic lad, oblivious now to all
but his shimmering orgasmic release. Seven days of thick boy globs rushed
out of his boiling manhood and slapped against the black vinyl
flooring. His balls bounced, his cock danced in ecstasy as the guys
continued to pull at the line. More cum slopped up and creamed over his
silky smooth abs.

"Save some for that bitch tomorrow, Damian," laughed McBride, as the
exhausted, humiliated boy sank to his knees and nurse unwound the wire from
his Prince Albert.

"Lots of applause please for our first model, Damian, and thank you for
your worthy contribution to charity. Take a bow Damian and go and get
cleaned up."

The boy took a bow and swung round, his curved, perfect, tanlined butt
smiling and bobbing as he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Our next model will be up and ready soon guys, don't go away, we want your
money and we've all sorts of fun lined up," joked the governor.

more fun and frolics in part 8