Date: Tue, 31 Jul 2007 18:33:10 +0100 (BST)
From: Andy Robson <andyrobson2006@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Paintball tales - part five (final)

VICTORY CELEBRATIONS

The dozen over the tree were quickly untied and made to stand in a line.
Kyle and I took the guns away and goggles were removed.  At Pete's
direction their hands were left untied, but they were blindfolded and
gagged.  Each of them was told to reach backwards with their left hand
and grab the cock of the boy behind him.  Of course the guy at the back
could only reach backwards, so he was told to put his left hand on his
head and keep it there.  Then they were told to reach forwards with
their right hands and push a finger up the arse of the guy in front.
The guy at the start was told to put his hand on his head.

This chain of people was obviously very awkward, so Pete insisted on
"practice".  He would order the chain to move forwards at a slow march
to his beat of "left, right, left, right" and every time someone let
go of a cock, or more likely let their finger fall out Pete would point
them out and shout for them to get five spanks.  A senior would grab the
unlucky kid, sling him over the tree trunk and spank him with the flat of
his hand.  Then the kid would be put back in the chain for more practice.

After ten minutes of practice and twenty minutes of pounding junior
arse with senior hand they had it sussed.  The "Loser Train" set off,
with every pair of buttocks glowing nicely red, led by Pete tugging on
the cock of the guy in front.

Ricky and Doug were going to be left behind so David tied Ricky to stop
him from escaping.  He tied Ricky in front of Doug, wrists on the same
branch, facing him.  They were both blindfolded and told to start making
out.  Some one would come back and check on them from time to time prior
to their collection.  If they weren't playing serious tonsil hockey with
their tongues and if their cocks weren't hard from being rubbed against
each other's bodies then it would go badly for them.  Very badly.

They started kissing, lips on lips, but this wasn't good enough for David.
He demanded full tongues in mouth and whipped both their arses until
they did.

Then they weren't rubbing their cocks against each other enough so he
whipped them again until they were pressing their groins against each
other, but they were both soft and their cocks were dangling between their
legs so there wasn't any pressure on them to get hard.  David reached
between them and took both their soft cocks in one hand and started rubbing
them together himself.  Soon they were both hard and he pressed the two
cocks between their bellies to let them take care of the rubbing.

"'Course, real lovers would be whispering sweet nothings in each others
ears," he told them.  "Ricky, tell Doug how hot his body is all covered
in cum."

A slap round the arse made it clear that he wanted to hear it now.

"Oh Doug, you're so hot.  All covered in hot, sticky cum like that.
God, I wish it was my cum.  I want to cum all over you and then lick it
all off.  The smell is really turning me on.  I love the smell of cum
on your hot, hot body."

He wasn't particularly imaginative, but he gave a minute of monologue,
while still rubbing his cock against Doug's and kissing him passionately
between sentences.  David had me video all this with full sound recording
while he did it.

I took some more photos of the two young lovers and then jogged to catch
up with the Loser Train.

The line of dejected, humiliated and very, very hot junior rugby players
had been led towards our site's main gates.  We're surrounded by a chain
link fence running about ten feet high with a pair of matching gates on
the way in.  These were open and, as we approached, I finally found Steve.

He was spreadeagled, tied to the outside of the fence by his wrists and
ankles, right next to our sign.  His boots had been removed and Pete
tugged off the goggles as he arrived in front of his opposing captain.
All Steve was wearing was a gag and four cable ties.

The Loser Train was stopped and one by one the losers were peeled off the
front and moved to the fence.  Each had their boots removed and were then
tied to the fence.  Finally the blindfold was removed so they could see
their situation.  They were still gagged, of course, and couldn't warn
their team mates.  Soon, thirteen young men were tied out the front of
our site, stark naked, overlooking the small road that goes past our
site between two farms.

Now I knew that the road sees very little traffic but the losers didn't.
There was a look of terror on their faces that they might be seen like
this by a random passer by.  Later, perhaps, I thought.

Then a thought hit me for some free advertising.  I turned to Pete and
asked him whether Doug and Ricky could join their team mates on the
fence at some point.

"Of course.  But Ricky may need to be carried and I wanted to spend some
special time with him too but that can wait.  What did you have in mind?"

I told him my plan and, after he had stopped laughing, he agreed and
dispatched some men to bring the two missing losers while I returned to
the office to get some equipment.

I came back to the front gate with a hand trolley, a camera, a trolley,
and some bars of the green and black body grease that over-paid executives
like to smear their faces with to pretend to be real soldiers when
playing with paint guns.

I looked at the fence.  Pete had nine losers to the left of the entry
gates, starting with Ricky and Doug, and six on the right, starting with
with Steve.  Ricky and Doug's hard cocks and bellies were slick with
pre-cum from their making-out session and their faces were a brilliant
shade of red.

I set up the tripod on the trolley ready to slowly move it along the road,
recording each of the losers in turn.  I did this once, taking around
five seconds over each loser, having each of them fill the frame for a few
seconds.  Then I moved it back, taking still shots of each individually.

Meanwhile, the winning team was getting impatient, so I started on the
next stage of my plan. I took the thickest of the black grease sticks
and wrote a large "P" on Ricky's chest and belly.  Then I wrote an "A"
on Doug's.

"Guys, there are plenty of grease sticks in the bucket on the trolley.
I want 'PAINTBALL' written on the guys on this side of the gate, and
'LOSERS' on the other.  I'm going to get myself an advert."

They fell on the losers with delight, and soon they all had letters
written on their fronts, ready to spell out their team's new name.
Of course, they took every opportunity to feel up their captives,
leaving them all hard and, in some cases, dripping pre-cum.

I was getting the camera ready when Pete came over to me.  "Has that
thing got a decent microphone?"  I told him it was good enough and quite
directional and asked why.  He smiled and turned to address the men tied
to our fence.

"The deal was that the losers would do whatever the winners wanted for the
rest of the day.  Well, all we want you do do now is say a simple line
to camera.  As the camera is on you you will say 'My name is so-and-so,
and I lost at paint ball.'  Got it?  Oh, and Steve, you should add
'team captain' after your name.  And I want full names, guys."

And so I ran the camera with microphone running to record an advert
for select audiences.  I have a good camera.  The details of the abuses
their bodies had suffered were clear, as were their faces.

"My name is Richard Brooks, and I lost at paintball."  The flogging lines
across his abs showed up as brilliant red in the sunlight.  His groin
showed a general nettle rash and the tip of his cock peeked through his
foreskin to show itself almost purple.

"My name is Douglas Jennings, and I lost at paintball."  The mix of cum,
sweat and spit had dried into a thin crust, streaked below his eyes
where he had been crying.  His cock and arm pits were clearly hairless.

"My name is Simon Jackson."  He choked back a sob.  "And I lost at
paintball."  This one was hanging almost limply in his bonds with a
vacant look on his face.  Emotionally and mentally he had been crushed.
If you like your bottoms to be quietly obedient, this one would have
been for you.  If you like them with some spark to crush then he was
beyond the point of use.  He could always sink lower, of course, and I
wondered just how cruel the winning team might be.

"My name is Trevor Tilney, and I lost at paintball."  Trevor, on the
other hand still had some fight in him and struggled at the cable ties
holding him to the fence.  The sun glinting off sweat highlighted the
tightening of his muscles beautifully as he tugged them.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see somebody talking to Jimmy and Luke
by the gate.  My puzzlement was solved as I got to the end of the word.
The double L at the end was provided by the brothers.

"My name is James Walker, and I lost at paintball."  He paused for a beat.
"And this is my elder brother Luke."  He turned his head to look across
to Luke.

Luke had his head turned to face his brother.  As the camera slid in
front of him he turned to face it.  "My name is Luke Walker.  My brother
and I lost at paintball."

I moved in front of the gate and took pains to make sure the sign was
in focus as I passed it by.  Then I came to Steve.

"My name is Stephen Perry, team captain, and I lost at paintball."
There was a dead tone in his voice suggesting that whatever Pete had done
to him in his "time alone" had been fairly devastating.  The camera picked
up the streaks of dried cum on his chin and even below his left nostril.
A thicker trail of cum ran up his abs and stopped between his pecs.
I wondered if that was his or Pete's.

And so it continued.  Each loser was forced to give his full name and
have their humiliation recorded for the sadistic pleasures of whoever
wanted to see it.

I finished with some panorama stills of the two halves of the team
and one of the whole team, hoping that I might be able to make up some
posters or web banners from them.

The senior team had been holding back all this time, letting me have
my fun.  Then I turned to them to thank them and let them get back to
their own schemes.

"Hang on," Pete said.  "There ought to be some photos of the winning
team too.  Then we ought to have the hand shake as well."

The winners formed the traditional two rank line up in the gateway and
I took some photos of them too.  But then came the "hand shake".

At the end of any sports match the two teams file past one another shaking
hands.  Pete's version of this involved them filing past the bound losers
and shaking them vigorously by the cock.  While they were there they
would tug the balls, tweak a nipple and so on.  I couldn't photograph
them all, so I focused on Steve while Kyle took stills of Ricky.

Steve had fifteen men all willing to make him suffer and I stood by
taking fifteen photos of men letting their anger go.

SNAP! His balls being tugged hard by a rough hand.

SNAP! Strong fingers pinching and twisting his nipples.

SNAP! A slap across the face.

SNAP! An arm pit pushed to his face he had to lick at.

SNAP! An earthworm lowered into his mouth that he was made to swallow.

SNAP! A punch in the guts from one of the guys he'd whipped.

SNAP! A knee in the groin from another.

SNAP! A gentle squeeze of the balls, almost a caress, from Adam.

SNAP! A thumbnail dug into his foreskin.

SNAP! Pubic hairs pulled off his scrotum.

SNAP! A spit into his open mouth.

SNAP! A whipping across his stomach with a stick.

SNAP! The electric razor shaving a stripe through his pubes.

SNAP! A tugging on the cock pulling his arse almost two feet off the
fence.

SNAP! A stream of urine splashing over his pubes and cock.

At the end of this, the losing team was hanging limply in their bonds,
disheveled, humiliated, and in pain.

Pete strode to the far side of the road, so he could see them all clearly.
Then he started talking.  He didn't shout, but he had that clarity of
voice that meant everyone could hear him quite clearly.

"Listen up, Losers!"  He paused while they gathered their wits to pay
attention to him.

"You went O-T-T with us and you're paying the price.  You do what you're
told today and tonight and we'll call it quits.  But it's going to be
tough.  We're going to fuck your arses, your mouths, and your minds!
If everyone of you does everything we say it will be over and what
happened here will stay here.  But if one of you so much as hesitates on
any order by any winner then every photograph will be sent to all your
families, friends, girlfriends, bosses and everyone else we can think of.

"Got it?  All or nothing!

"Do you accept our terms?"

He looked along the line of losers.  Some of them nodded their heads.
A couple whispered yesses down towards the ground.

"Steve, I can't hear your team."

Steve pulled his head back.  There was even a brief look of defiance in
his eyes and he barked back an answer.  "We accept!"

"Good.  Now we can have some real fun!  Chris?"

Chris walked up to Ricky and smiled evilly at him and pulled a steel tape
measure from his pocket.  He stroked Ricky's tender cock and, despite
the nettle hell it had already been through, it rose to a decent degree
of hardness.  Then he measured it.

"Six and a half inches!" he shouted.  To make Ricky's humiliation even
worse he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a black permanent
marker pen.  He wrote "6 1/2" just below the navel in two inch high
letters.

There was a moan from the losing team.  The writing was high enough that
it would be clearly visible over a waist band.  "Tut, tut," was Dave's
only reply.  "You guys said 'anything'.  Well, this is only a taste of
what's coming!"

The other winners moved up to the fence and started caressing the losers'
cocks.  Within minutes the entire team was hard and Chris could make
good progress down the line, measuring each, shouting out the length
and writing on their bodies for all to see.

Fifteen men hung off our fence.  All naked.  All marked with their
dick lengths.  All terrified that someone else might see them.  To add
to their fear, Dave announced the winners' departure.

"Now, we're going to pop back inside and set things up for the party.
See you guys later!"

To the cries of protest from the losers, tied to the fence and completely
helpless, we all returned into the main site.

Now, the road outside our site is pretty much deserted like I said, but
if you pick up a mobile phone and if you phone the local farmers, and
if they happen to know the games you play behind the chain link fence,
then maybe, just maybe, the road can see more traffic than usual.

After half an hour we had set things up ready for the barbecue that
ends the session and we went out to fetch them.  There were half a
dozen cars out there with people taking photos left right and centre.
Nearly half of the junior team were weeping.  They had no idea that the
guys taking photos were all friends of mine and that the photos would
get a very restricted circulation.

Dave walked over to the opposite side of the road so he could shout at
the entire losing team and be heard clearly by the photographers too.
He had his team line up over there too.  The juniors would have to raise
their voices to speak to them.

"You get a choice, each of you individually.  You can either be taken
inside to be fucked up the arse by a real man's dick away from all these
cameras, or you can stay here in the open air and only get fucked by the
golden dildos - I mean tokens - from game two.  Your choice.  If you want
to go indoors all you have to do is ask a member of the winning team,
by name, to fuck you up the arse.  If you want to be stuck outside with
a metal prong up your arse as we phone your families to drive by with
cameras then all you have to do is keep quiet."

And they did. The juniors asked to be fucked.  And the seniors didn't
make it easy for them.

Ricky started.  "Chris, please take me inside and fuck me up the arse."

Chris, over on the other side of the road, cupped his hand to his ear.
"Pardon?"

"Chris! Please take me inside and fuck me up the arse!" Ricky bellowed at
the top of his voice.  There were cheers and jeers from the crowd watching
this little show as Chris untied Ricky from the fence and led him inside.

Doug went next.  "Craig, please take me inside and fuck me up the arse!"

Craig was a cruel bastard, though, and turned him down.  "No.  I think
you'd be a lousy shag," he said.

"What?"  Doug was stunned.  He hadn't for a moment considered the
possibility that he might really be left outside with a golden token up
his hole while phone calls were made to his friends and family.

"No, I'll be a really good fuck!  I've got a young, sweet hole and I'll
really work for you.  I'll be the best fuck you've had.  Please fuck me!"

"Nah.  Let's see who else wants to be fucked by me."

Trevor leapt at the chance.  "Craig!  I've got the hottest arse on the
team.  You really want to fuck me.  I got good core muscles; I can really
push and pull.  I'll be the ride of your life!  Come on, Craig, look at
my hot, tight body and tell me you don't want to fuck my brains out."

He started to twist in his bonds, flexing muscles under tight skin
glistening with sweat, showing off his body to his potential rapist.
Either he was oblivious to or chose to ignore the video cameras,
presumably with microphones, lapping up his performance.  His six-pack abs
clenched as he pushed his groin forwards into the air in front of him,
his semi-hard dick flapping in front of him.

He open his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out, wiggling it it in front
of him.  "You can fuck my mouth too.  You want my tongue on your dick!
Both my ends are yours if you want them."

He kept on trying to sell himself like a cheap whore and was finally
successful.  Perhaps he was a bit too successful as Craig looked to his
side where Adam was standing.  "Wanna take an end each?  Maybe swap if
we get bored?"

"Yeah.  Let's."

Craig and Adam untied Trevor and pushed him inside.  Of course, if two
seniors left with one junior there were fewer to select the boys still
hanging there.  This fact wasn't lost on the losers hanging there and
suddenly they all started shouting at once, all competing with one
another to tempt members of the winning team to fuck their arses.

Bodies got thrust forwards.  No end of claims were made about just how
much better a fuck each man was than his neighbour. I just stood back
and let the sounds wash over me as I saw taut, toned muscles showing
clearly under shining skin, thrusting themselves forwards.  I saw
wrists and ankles tugging at their bonds.  I saw biceps and triceps
alternately tense and relax as people moved their bodies as best they
could to advertise their delicious physiques to fussy buyers.

One by one they were taken down, mostly by individuals.  Sammy invited
Kyle to join him in one junior's fucking.  A couple of times two seniors
took two juniors in "as a pair" for some more complex interplay.

Finally Pete took Steve down from the fence to lead him indoors, leaving
me outside with Doug and the Walker brothers still hanging on display
and half a dozen friends of mine taking in the view.

"One of me and three of you," I remarked.  "So what am I offered not to
leave you on display?"

I turned for a moment to look at my friends.

"Screw 'display'.  What's it worth not to to leave you here to be
gang-raped by six horny strangers?"

"What?" Luke looked at me with clear disbelief in his eyes.  "Bad enough
we've been fucked over by the senior team, but no way are you offering
us up to a bunch of people we've never met before.

"Wrong answer," I told him.

"Guys," I turned back to my friends.  "Come over here."

They approached, their eyes eating up the image of the two helpless
youths in front of them.

"Do anything you want that doesn't take them off the fence," I said and
walked away as six pairs of hands and six probing tongues fell on their
captive prey.

I walked over to Doug.  "Of course I could just leave you here too."

"No, please!  Fuck me!  Fuck me really hard.  I want your dick up my
man-pussy.  I want to be your bitch, your whore, your slut!"  he was
desperate and his attempts at dirty talk suggested that he didn't do
this often.

No matter.  We could train him today.

I took him off the fence and pushed him down onto his hands and knees.
I had him crawl back to the offices so I could see his arse wiggle as
he moved.  He didn't disappoint.  Firm buttocks and rear thigh muscles
flexed for my pleasure.  With each "step" I got a teasing glimpse of his
hole, tempting me to jump forwards and fuck him right now.

He crawled up the path, and we reached the scene of the barbecue.  Well,
there was a barbecue in there somewhere, but all I saw was orgy.

On the first table I came to, three juniors were spread belly down
with the guy in the middle facing in the opposite direction from the
two on his side.  Three seniors were along the "two arses" side of the
table fucking two holes and a mouth.  The junior in the middle, Mark,
probably thought he was getting off lightly, only having to suck dick
rather than take cock.  But what did he know?

Just as I was passing by the senior in the middle came, shooting his
first shot into Mark's mouth.  "Don't swallow yet!" he said.

Then he pulled out, shooting the second load over Mark's smooth face.

This seemed to be the trigger for the guys on the sides.  They pulled
out suddenly, on the verge of ejaculation, and tugged off their condoms.
This extra sensation was enough to send them over the edge and, as the
middle senior held Mark's mouth open, they dumped his second and third
loads into his mouth more or less simultaneously.

"Swallow," he was told.  Mark did so, his face squeezed into a grimace
of disgust and horror.  All three cocks were then presented to him to
lick clean.

I sat on a nearby sturdy chair where I could watch a number of the tables.
I rolled a condom onto my own firm member and patted my lap for Doug to
join me.

I positioned him with his legs spread over mine, facing away from me.
I placed his hands palm down on his head as his strong legs slowly
lowered himself down over my hard cock.  He whimpered slightly as the
head of my cock pressed through his virgin sphincter.

"Don't worry," I whispered in his ear.  "Just relax the muscle as if
you were going to take a shit."

He relaxed slightly and he slid down until my head was fully in and the
shaft was just starting to go in.  I started running my hands over his
pecs, fingering his nipples gently.  They were so hard they might have
had pebbles in them.  I let one hand drift down to his abs and start
feeling their contours with the tip of a finger.

He continued his descent and as my second and joined the first on his
abs I was three inches in.  I started to stroke the tops of his thighs
too and ran my hands up his sides, tickling him a little.  He giggled
and relaxed a bit more, sinking down another couple of inches.

He was over halfway to taking my whole eight inches when I spoke again,
in an altogether harder tone of voice.

"Of course, you're not taking a shit; you're being fucked like a whore."

I suddenly jerked my legs apart, making him completely lose his footing.
With a yelp, he suddenly dropped the remaining three inches to be fully
impaled.  I guided him down for the half second it took with my hands
firmly gripping his sides.

"Don't move your fucking hands, bitch!" I snapped at him.  I was tipping
back slightly in the chair so his toes couldn't quite reach the ground.
He had no support except for the cock penetrating his guts and his upper
thighs resting on mine.

"If your feet touch the ground, if your hands leave your head for even
a second, if you do anything to pull off my cock then it's game over,
photos published.  Got it?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

I started to thrust, as slowly as I could managed up and down inside
Doug's glorious hole.  If his mouth had been satin, his arse was velvet.
His skin would have been smooth too if it hadn't been for the dry,
crumbly mix stuck to its sweat.  I didn't mind.  The reminder of just
how often this kid had been spunked on was a real turn-on and my dick
started to throb, ready to breed again.

Meanwhile, opposite us on the table, Mark's torment was about to
get worse.  The three seniors' cocks had all gone soft again and they
pointed them at his face.  Then after a count of "one, two, three"
all three of them let rip a gushing stream of piss onto his face.

When they were finished, they picked up a marker pen from the table
and signed their initials on the backs of the three guys they had face-
or arse-fucked.

Then the two from the sides moved round to the other side of the table.
Two mouths and an arse awaited them, while their mate wandered off for
fun elsewhere.

They wasted no time at all pressing their limp dicks into the two
mouths and as they were being sucked started playing with Mark's freshly
fucked arse.

Meanwhile, I was starting to get Doug hard, despite himself.  I kept my
hands clear of his cock for now, though I enjoyed feeling his balls roll
around in his low-hanging sac.

I ran my hands over his taut belly and pulled him back into mine.
As I let my hands fondle his torso it was like regaining my youth.
Those were my abs, my pecs.  Just as I had done ever since I was a kid,
I let my hands wander down my body glorying in the fitness it found on the
way, slowly creeping down to my dick - well Doug's dick, but it belonged
to me for the time being - and very gently closed my fist round it.

Doug twitched, right through to his core.  His arse squeezed my cock
tightly and I nearly came right then.  But I wanted this to last.
I began a slow stroke on his cock, in time to the rhythm my hips were
keeping as they pistoned my cock inside Doug's guts.  My other hand
continued its teasing exploration of Doug's body, slowly working its
way back up his torso from the base of his cock.

My gaze was drawn back to the table in front of us.  I whispered some
instructions in Doug's ear: "Describe the scene on the table in front
of us, would you?  There's a good bitch."

Doug knew better than to question an instruction.  "Derek's got his
cock in Bernie's mouth.  Sammy's got his in Dylan's and his hand on
Mark's backside.  He's rubbing it."

"Look closer," I told him.  "Look at the fingers."

"Oh, god!  He's got a finger up Mark's hole.  Yuck!  No!  He's pushing
it in further.  And he's sort of twisting it round.  And Mark's kind of
twitching and squirming.  Christ!  Mark's gone hard.  Jeez!  How could
he get hard from that?"

I lent back and positioned Doug so that my cock started to rub against
his nut.  His cock jerked suddenly in my hand as his body prepared
to ejaculate.  He gasped with surprise.

"Like that, perhaps?" I teased.  "Keep up the commentary.  What can you
hear from your team mates?"

"There's a slurping noise from Bernie and Dylan and Mark's kinda grunting.
I think he's gonna cum soon."

I thought so too.  I started playing gently with Doug's cock head,
feeling the beginnings of the final spasm building up inside him.
I let both hands' fingertips play on his cock, with one on the glans
itself and the other running up and down his shaft, joining the other
hand at the top and stroking his taut balls when at the bottom.

Doug was right at the edge and I was having so much fun keeping him there.

"Keep up the description," I told him.

"Ah... yes... OK." he started, breathless with the tension of his
impending orgasm.  "Ahhh!  Derek is pushing backwards and forwards with
his groin into Bernie's mouth ...nnngggg... like he's fucking a woman.
...oh... He's fucking Bernie's face!"

"All the way down his throat by the looks of it," I remarked, amused
by Doug's horror at the thought of the cock being shoved in rather than
just sucked.  Boy, did this kid have a lot to learn!

"Sammy's got his head round Dylan's head and ...ah... and he's pulling
Dyl down onto his cock.  Oh god, let me cum!  Please!"

"That's not a description," I told him and took both my hands off
his cock.  I twisted his nipples hard as a punishment, though not as
hard as I would have if they hadn't been so slick with the cum and spit
mixture made greasy again with his fresh sweat.

"Sorry!  Sammy's really pressing his finger in, and Mark's starting
to moan."

I put my hands back on the boy's quivering dick, almost vibrating with
the need to shoot its load.  I kept him back from that release though,
mostly because I enjoyed tormenting him, but partly because I wanted
him to feel himself cum at the same time he saw Mark do it.

"Mark's grunting louder!  ...ah... He's all tense. ...oh!...  I think
this is it!  ...ah!  He's gonna cum.  He's gonna cum!  AAAHHHH!!!"

Mark came.  I'm pretty sure Sammy and Derek came.  I know Doug came
because both my hands caught almost all of his hot, sticky boy juice on
their fingers and palms.

Doug collapsed limply against me, his back falling softly against my body.
I kept up my slight thrusting with my own cock.  I didn't want him coming
too far off the boil.  I rubbed my hands over his body to rub most of his
cum onto him.  Then I held them up to his face one at a time for him to
lick clean.  As the three seniors signed their work a second time and
walked off I pressed each of my fingers into Doug's mouth to suck each
of them, letting his tongue run round them.

The next table along had only one junior on it, Chris, tied belly up with
his legs loose at one end and his head tipped back over he other.  Craig,
the huge, black senior was pumping Chris' arse with his legs lifted up
and pressed against his chest and Simes was going to town on his mouth.
They were in sync and the table was rocking backwards and forwards as each
pushed in turn from his end.  I saw Adam come over to join them, fresh
from fucking another junior, and stand by the side of the table looking
down on Chris' body rocking backwards and forwards in front of him.
He held out his hands, palms own over Chris' abs and I thought for a
moment that he was going to start tickling him, but instead he started
slapping out a crude tune on the tight stomach beneath him as if he was
playing the bongos!  He was only using the flats of his hands rather than
gut-punching with his fists but he was still slapping very hard and I
could see Chris turning red where the palms were landing.  His cock was
long but soft and flopped to and fro as the table bounced him around.

I turned the chair slightly so that Doug and I were facing straight at
the double fucking and gave him his instructions.

"Start fucking yourself on my cock.  Keep to the rhythm they're setting."

He had very little leverage but his thighs were powerful and I really
enjoyed they way they squeezed my legs as he started a crude up and
down motion on my pole.  I rested and let the sensation run over me.
He was a little unsteady at first and I had to help him keep straight
for the first minute or so until he had it right and I could let my
fingertips wander over his body again.

This time I concentrated on the sides of his body, tickling his arm
pits for a minute, and then moving slowly down his sides, tracing out
the contours of his obliques, to his buttocks where I lingered for a
minute more, letting my hands move in and out with the alternate tensing
and relaxing of his muscles.  Then I ran them down the outsides of his
thighs to the sides of his knees, around the knee caps and back up the
insides of his working thighs, moving more and more slowly as I did it.
All the way I was making small circles with my fingertips, tickling him
slightly and reinforcing his sensation of the sticky goo that covered
his whole body, and much of mine now too.  As I approached his throbbing
dick I pulled my fingers away at the last moment, just as they were
about to touch his balls.  The small cry that passed his lips spoke of
lust and disappointment.

"What do you want?" I whispered in his ear?

"You gotta jerk me off again.  Please.  I'm busting."  His voice trembled.
In part it was exhaustion.  Mostly it was the shock that he had made
such a personal admission to a man he had met only a few hours earlier,
a man on whose cock he was now fucking himself.

"First you get me off.  Same rhythm, but really work those arse muscles.
Make me cum.  Move further up and down than you are at the moment.
Grip more tightly.  You give me a good enough fuck and I'll give you a
cum shot they'll talk about for years."

He started working on his style and put even more effort into it.
He started grunting in time to the beat and started to draw attention
from the seniors taking a rest from the relentless fucking around them.
I'm not a fan of having an audience myself, but all I had to do was keep
hard and under the circumstances that was no trouble.  Doug, on the other
hand, was mortified.  His style was completely disrupted for a moment.
I pushed him back into position and pointed over to Chris' table.

"Keep rhythm," I told him sternly.

"Yeah!  Keep the bouncing going, Doug," one of the audience shouted.
"Fuck yourself good and proper!"

They started a chant of "fuck! fuck! fuck!" in time to Doug's self-rape
and Chris' double rape.  I saw Kyle point the video camera at us,
immortalising Doug's shame.

I could feel myself starting to lose control and I gripped the sides of
the chair firmly as I willed myself to last just a short while longer.

But it was no good.  An eighteen year old super-fit stud fucking himself
on my cock while fighting the twin pressures of lust and shame has that
effect on me.  I shot my load.  God, it was good!

I shook in the chair.  I'm surprised I didn't rip the chair apart.
I felt the hot, liquid ooze of cum in a rubber around me.  Doug knew
it was over too and collapsed back against me, dripping with sweat and
sticky with everybody's cum.  The audience around us cheered and saw
camera after camera click away.

Normally, I would have waited to enjoy the moment, but I was here to
make their twisted dreams come true, not mine.  I gathered my remaining
strength and pushed Doug forwards off my dick and onto his knees on
the ground.  His hands came off his head as he broke his fall.

I pulled off my condom, squeezing my fingers round my cock as I did it to
keep the cum in the sleeve and to push out into it any more I had left
in my cock shaft.  Then, as Doug panted in front of me, on his knees,
facing away with his hands on his thighs, I squeezed the cum out into
his hair.  Then I turned it inside out over two fingers and held it in
front of his mouth.  Unbidden he started to lick it clean.

Some of the guys watching us wandered off, presumably inspired to fuck
some more helpless losers, but a couple stayed to watch what happened
next.  I put Doug's hands back on his head, pressing his right palm into
the cum pooled there.

"Rub it in."  He did.

I had him close to where I wanted him: crushed of all self-respect and
utterly obedient.  His cock was still rock hard and as I took him by
the shoulders and lifted him up to standing.

"Please," he whispered, peering over a shoulder at me.

"Repeat what you said to me earlier out loud and I'll do it."

"Jerk me off again.  Please.  I'm busting."  This time he said it clearly,
facing his audience of senior rugby players, facing the camera that was
still running and facing the table where Simes was cumming in Chris'
mouth, in a fountain of cum that only partly went in Chris' mouth.

I stood up behind him, which took more effort than I thought it would.
I was still exhausted after one of my life's top ten orgasms.  I stood
behind him, resting my cock between his two buttocks.  I reached round and
held his cock firmly.  I think I tugged it fewer than ten times before
Doug's body took over and shot a load into the palm of my other hand.
I brought my hand up to his face and he licked it clean for me, swallowing
his own cum.

I turned him round to face me.  My body was covered with the cum, spit
and sweat mix where it had rubbed off him onto me.

"Now lick me clean.  Head to foot."

Working from my forehead down, Doug started giving me a tongue bath.

Once my face was clear, and Doug was working on my neck, I started
looking around again.

Simes was signing his initials on Chris' left pec.  Craig was pounding
away, near the edge from the look on his face.  George was pissing in
Mark's face while he smacked away at the two adjacent arses with a pair
of leather belts.

Over at the edge of the trees a "tug of war" was being prepared.
Two juniors - I couldn't make out their faces from this distance - were on
hands and knees facing away from each other.  A skipping rope was lying
between them, with its shaped handles stuck up their arses.  They had to
crawl apart from one another and keep their holes tight enough that the
handle not pop out.  It didn't take long for there to be a winner and
he was required to fuck the loser's mouth while a senior fucked his arse.

Another game being played was the "push of war".  Two juniors were
on hands and knees again, with their arses almost touching.  One of
our golden dildo tokens was pushed two inches into each arse, leaving
eight inches clear between them.  The competition was to crawl backwards,
pushing the dildo into both arses.  By keeping tighter than your opponent,
more would go into his arse than yours.  The loser was the first to beg
for it to stop and was double fucked again.

I was distracted from my observations as Doug finally made it below my
waist.  "Blow job," I said simply as his tongue started work on my cock.
Obediently, he opened his mouth up and took my cock in.  I felt I had
at least one more shot left in me.

Another "race" involved three juniors sucking on cocks.  The last to to
get his senior to cum had to suck off both the other juniors too.

I started to feel my next orgasm coming on and as soon as it was certain
I pulled out to shoot my rather small load into his chest.  I didn't
let him do anything to register what had happened but simply had him
continue the tongue bath immediately.

Despite these various occasional sophistications, it was mostly just
men fucking men.  The sets of initials on the juniors' bodies started
to grow.  There was one column running down the chest for people who
had fucked mouth while the junior was on his back.  A second column,
marked the people who had fucked arse.  There were two columns meaning
the same on their backs for people who had fucked them while they were
playing doggy.  The juniors were carrying records of their more-or-less
non-stop rape written on their own bodies in indelible ink.

After an hour or so, even with all the distractions around him, and just
as Doug was finishing my toes, Kyle was finally ready to serve food from
the barbecue.

"Juniors serve Seniors and beg for scraps!" Pete announced.  "Oh and,
Greg, could you nip out and fetch Jimmy and Luke.  They're probably
hungry by now."

Truth be told, I'd forgotten about them.  I pulled up my uniform and
kicked Doug away.  "Beg scraps off somebody else.  Make sure your opening
line is 'I give great blow jobs.'  'Cos you do."

I walked out, not even turning round to look at Doug and went to see
how the brothers were getting on.

The short answer was "not very well."  The long answer was that they
were still tied in place but a couple of the farmers had fetched their
dogs which were happily lapping up dog food smeared all over their inner
thighs, balls and cocks.  The Walkers looked beside themselves with fear,
shame and disbelief.

I waited until the dogs had finished, which was only polite I thought.
It took slightly longer than it might because some of the food had been
smeared into the boys' holes and as the dogs licked them out Luke came.
So the dog had to lick that up too.

I noticed one of the farmers with a camera, so I would be getting a
copy of the fun, I was sure.

Once the dogs were over I felt I had to stop the fun.  "Sorry, guys,
but I have to take them indoors now.  They've not been gang fucked by
fifteen rugby players yet, and I'd hate them to miss out."

I turned to the losers on the fence.  "Unless you'd prefer to hang around
out here and play with the dogs?"

"Please!  Take us in!" Jimmy begged.

I unhooked them and apologised again to the guys who had had their show
interrupted.  I made Jimmy and Luke thank the dogs too with a quick pat
and then took them in.

"Here's the deal," I told them as we walked in.  If, between you, you
can give a blow job to every single member of the senior team then I'll
keep quiet about the dogs.  Fail and I'll spill the beans.

I didn't wait for an acceptance of my offer, I just slapped them both
on the buttocks and shouted "go!"  They ran.

As I walked back in, I found the two Walker brothers already on their
knees with their faces plunged into the groins of a couple of
surprised-looking seniors.  I saw Doug in front of Pete sucking on his
dick, while Pete wore an expression of sheer bliss on his face.

Elsewhere juniors were begging for their scraps.  Some were lying
belly-down in front of their feeders, kissing their feet.  Others were
on their knees kissing, licking or sucking dock.  Craig had a junior
sucking his cock and another rimming him.  Three seniors were even
eating some food on their own, chatting to Kyle.  This looked quite
normal until I saw them throw a scrap of burger on to the ground and
two juniors, on their knees with ankles bound and wrists tied behind
their backs started scrabbling on the ground to bite into it.  After a
few seconds of fighting like dogs one of them got it and swallowed it
down.  There was laughter from everyone around who wasn't tied up on
the ground fighting for scraps.

Over the next hour the food did actually get eaten.  A typical
scenario was like this: I was eating a burger when Ricky crawled up to
me on his hands and knees, looking like the winners had really gone to
town on him.  He stopped in front of me and looked up.  "Please, sir,
may I have some food?"  There was a look of terror in his face.  I saw
a whole string of initials written on his body.  I wondered what he
had been made to do so far for his dinner.

I sat on a chair and patted my lap.  "Lie back on my lap."

He took his place.  I slid him down a little so that his buttocks
rested on my legs and his cock pointed up straight at my face.  I held
his legs down with my left hand and held the burger well above his
head, dripping juices onto his lips.  He opened his mouth wide and
swallowed them up eagerly.

"Here it is, come and get it."  I wiggled the burger over his head.
Getting the idea he performed the perfect sit up, straining his
beautiful abs for me, raising his head up and seizing one bite of the
burger.  I lifted it up a little higher for the next bite and he
didn't disappoint.  Young rugby players have magnificent bodies and I
was determined to see them demonstrated to their full.  The third bite
was higher still and he only got a small nibble before falling back.
Bite after bite, his abs were getting weaker and weaker.  By the time
he had finished the whole thing, he was seriously fatigued.

We use citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes away from the food.
Picking one up from the food table I lifted it over his exhausted six
pack and slowly dribbled wax onto it.  He squealed with the shock and
tried to clench his muscles against the pain, but didn't have the
strength.  As I dribbled wax with a candle in my right hand, I started
idly stroking his cock with my left.  I don't think he had any more
cum in him but he could still get hard.  I got his cock fully engorged
and then held it still as I moved the candle hand down a little.  The
first drop landed straight on his piss slit.  His shriek carried
around the whole camp and some people turned to watch me torture
Ricky.  I let the wax drip elsewhere on his glans next, and then I
move onto the skin of the shaft.  This seemed to hurt him less until I
reached his scrotum where he started wailing again.  Round and round
his scrotum I dribbled hot wax, a drop at a time and his cries of
pain, drop to drop, merged into a single, drawn out cry.

To give him some light relief, I moved the candle back onto the shaft
of his penis, having more or less covered his ball sac in orange wax.
He could deal with the pain better here so I lowered the candle a
little to increase the temperature of the wax on his skin.  I'm not an
absolute bastard; I was watching his face carefully to see just how
much pain he could really take.  He was a tough bugger.  Drop by drop,
dribble by dribble I covered his shaft's skin with wax.

Once that was done I dripped wax over his torso again to give his dick
time to recover without letting him have any mental recovery time.
Each time a drop landed somewhere new he would tense up, flexing his
abs and pecs under my watchful eyes.  His nipples were obviously more
sensitive than the rest of his chest but the hot wax hitting the
grease of the "N" on his chest melted it in turn and pushed it that
bit further into his skin's pores carrying the heat with it.  I traced
out the letter with the candle wax.  This was as bad as his scrotum
for him by the look in his eyes, bulging almost out of their sockets
with the pain.

When I was done spelling out his letter I paused for a couple of
seconds and let one drop fall in his navel.  This was when he cried
out most loudly.  I looked up at me and started to plead.  I
discouraged him by the simple approach of dropping more wax on his
body just below the navel.

"I'm going to keep pouring wax," I told him conversationally.  "If you
keep your cock soft, I'll dribble a line from your navel down to your
cock's base."  He looked at me quizzically, unable to work out where I
was leading.  "But if you get hard," I continued, "and your firm,
young man's cock gets hard and in the way, then I'll cover your cock's
head with wax until it matches the rest of your cock."

I flicked his cock a couple of times with my fingers.  "It's kind of
fifty/fifty at the moment," I observed as I let another drop of wax
fall below his navel.

This was when I started to play dirty.  I used the hand that was
bracing his legs to start to tease his balls.  Of course, he got had
again.  The thin layer of wax started to crack as the flesh beneath
it began to swell again.  He whimpered but every attempt to talk to
beg me to stop was met with hotter wax as soon as the first syllable
was out.

Irresistibly, his cock started moving itself into position to be
tortured again.  As my dribble of wax came down from the navel, his
cock head rose to meet it.  "Almost there," I taunted him.  "Next
drop, maybe next drop...  This drop!"

I let a drop fall onto a patch of bare, purple, tortured glans.
He screamed.  His torso tensed and his shoulders and chest leapt up
from their bent back position, up though the horizontal and beyond,
almost knocking the candle from my hand.  I love having strong, toned
men at my fingertips to torment.  Their struggles are all the more
sexy because I can see their strength being used all to no avail.

"Lie there and take it or we release the photos," I reminded him.

I slowed down the rate at which I let the wax fall as I covered his
cock's crown in its entirety.  His head was back so he couldn't see
the drops.  I made them fall irregularly so he couldn't predict when
they were going to fall.  The torture was as much mental as physical
with the anticipation of the next moment of agony being at least as
terrible as the moment itself.

Finally he started sobbing, incoherent in the shock and pain, so I
rolled him off and onto the table where I fucked him doggy style.
Well, it had been at lest ten minutes since he was last fucked and I
didn't want him to think it was over.

As soon as I had cum in his arse I pulled out, signed my name and sent
him on his way with a firm slap on his rump.  He'd barely got two
paces before Simes grabbed him round the waist and flung him over
another bench for more fucking.  This time he was on his back, so my
wax work could be admired.

Simes was steadying himself with his hands flat on Ricky's chest.
After a minute or so's hard thrusting he took a break, though he left
his cock in place, and instead started to pick at the wax with his
fingernails.  Ricky's chest was essentially hairless so this was no
big deal, but after a bit he moved down to the pubes.

Here he met some resistance as the few drops of wax there were mired
in the hair.  But then he moved on to the balls and the fun really
started.  He pulled off a small piece, tugging out the hairs with it.
Ricky squealed again, so Craig who was walking by with burger in one
hand and beer in the other, tipped Ricky's head back and filled his
mouth with cock.  As Simes pulled off another piece of wax and Ricky
squealed, Craig would push his cock in harder, going all the way into
Ricky's throat, nearly choking him.  As Simes pulled the last bit of
wax from Ricky's scrotum, Craig came, shooting a river of cum down
his throat, causing Ricky to cough and sneeze, pushing the cum out
through his nostrils.

Craig signed his initials and pulled out leaving Simes to start
fucking his arse harder.  As Craig wandered off to enjoy his burger
and beer in peace, Simes came too.  Again, he just signed and left,
leaving Ricky, shattered on the bench, panting to get his breath back.

And so the rape and humiliation of the losing team carried on.  There
were equal numbers on each team so the juniors weren' completely
overwhelmed, but for the next three hours for every junior taking a
rest another was being double ended.  The lists of names written on
their bodies grew and grew.

AFTERMATH

All good things must come to an end and eventually we approached
closing time.  The showers were turned on in the men's changing room
and the seniors took their time washing down, leaving the juniors with
their wrists tied behind their backs kneeling in a line outside as
Kyle and I got our cocks sucked by th entire team in order.

Eventually the seniors walked out, fully clothed in their normal
attire.  Each had an additional bundle of clothes under their arms.
Pete walked out to address the juniors as the seniors started tossing
the juniors' clothes into their coach.

"Stand up over there by the wall," he shouted, pointing at the side of
one of our buildings.  He untied their hands and made them lean
against the wall, feet wide apart and hands equally spaced resting on
the wall.  He ripped the wax from those who had any left, ignoring the
pained noises made by his victims.

Then Andy walked round with a hose pipe in his hand and pointed it at
the losing team and shouted "now!" to Craig on the tap.

The jet of freezing cold water shot over them as they were hosed down.
Soon they were all clean on their backs apart from the names on them
in indelible ink.  Some care weas taken to hit every arse hole and the
backs of every dangling ball sac.

"Turn round, hands high over your heads on the wall."  The hose played
over their fronts, lingering this time on the fronts of their balls
and the ever shrinking cocks hanging in front.

"One last forfeit and we're done," Pete told them.  They didn't have
the energy to cheer and, besides, it would have been premature.  "Back
outside," he told them.

They did have enough energy to groan.

The shivering wretches were led back outside and retied to the fence,
this time on their knees, with their wrists behind their backs and
looped through the chain link.  Their feet were left free.

A few more photos were taken and cocks stuck in mouths, but the
seniors were exhausted.  Of course, so were the juniors but nobody
cared.

"You're ours for the rest of the day,' Pete reminded them.  "We reckon
that ends at midnight.  In the mean time, have a nice rest."

Ignoring the protests being shouted by the losers tied to the fence,
they went inside go into the coach and drove off, pausing only for
another round of photographs.

"Kyle and I are locking up for the night now," I told them.  "The road
is pretty empty at night except for a few people walking dogs.  Once
it gets dark you won't be visible from the road so long as you don't
move a muscle.  If you do the security lights come on and you're
floodlit.

"Good night."

Kyle and I walked in and spent a couple of hours tidying up and
getting ready for the next day.  As we locked the gates the sun was
going down.  As we drove past the juniors started shouting and tugging
the fence.  The lights burst into life and we took a few more pictures
before driving off and leaving them behind for four hours of terror.

Next day they were gone, or course, but according to the CCTV the
lights went off over two dozen times, and on six of them there were
men walking dogs.  Clips from that added the final touch to the
"PAINTBALL LOSERS" advert.



So, do you want to play paintball?




[ Author's note: This has been my first ever story.  I would really
appreciate constructive feedback. ]