Date: Sat, 19 May 2007 13:42:56 +0000 From: Drin Whethers <cobradelight@hotmail.com> Subject: Payback - 1 Payback By Cobradelight B&D (Some characters from Royal Nightmare are present here.) The man woke up, groaned and tried to move. He instantly realized he was gagged, blindfolded and hanging from his wrists. His bare toes touched the floor and he was shirtless. The place smelled of dampness and sweat. The only entrance was a long flight of creaky wooden steps. What the fuck? Two years ago he'd left the family farm in Iowa with his best bud from high school to travel to Yemen. They answered an ad for single men wanting adventure and money. They became trainers of human camels -- slaves and prisoners who pulled carts and entertained visitors. He'd save $150,000 at age 24. Though he was a lady's man his social life was sorely lacking but for the occasional tourist gal he met at one of the clandestine bars for a quick shag, His labored breathing was the only sound as he stared, seeing nothing, yelling behind the gag. He had that all-American look - blond crew cut and lean hard body that was wet with sweat. It ran down his arms in rivulets, dripping from his nose and chin, rolled down his pecs, his back divided by a deep cleft. He had a square jaw, freckles and a two-day stubble. Long blond hair swirled in his armpits and between his legs where it grew much darker. His legs were powerful and covered with dark blond fur. He bit furiously on the leather gag despite the taste of Ryphel, the hard-on drug given to the camels. He swayed slightly, cock pulsing with no relief. He used to saunter before the gals and he continued to swagger in the public baths, proud of his body. Gals fell for his dazzling smile, athletic build, masculine, confident manner. All that did no good now as he fought to remain calm. His cock was trapped in his trousers, leaking and soaking his shorts. He lurched at the sound of a door opening from above and footsteps descending on wooden stairs. "How's it hanging?" A low chuckle drew close and he twisted as a hand squeezed his hard cock thru his trousers. "Hey ma, it's alive." He knew that voice but could not place it. "This is what happens when a hardon tells you what to do" Vaguely he recalled the woman he'd met -- Mindy, Wendy, no Cindy, that was it. Jesus, he'd been so pleased with his appeal, so sure she'd fallen for his charms in that dinky bar that he thought nothing of her squeeze to his hard bulge and an invite to her room. He was shaking with lust. She made him drink a beer to "cool down" and then things got fuzzy as if in a dream. He barely recalls being hoisted and carried out the door, thrown into the trunk of a car. There was a plane flight and then groggily he was carried down creaking steps. "You gotta stop thinking with your dick." He made a strangled sound and horribly, noted his erection and even excitement at the terror. His nips were pinched and his belly button tickled before fingers traced lightly over his hard abs. He jerked with each touch, yelling behind the gag. The man again grabbed his crotch and spoke contemptuously. "That pecker looks like it's trying to escape." Hands unbuckled his belt as he twisted wildly. He protested behind the gag but felt the zipper opened and thumbs in the waistband sliding his boxers and jeans to his ankles. His cock shot straight up and he shook at the loud whistle. "Is that thing for real?" His bloated, moist knob was closely examined. Embarrassment consumed him as fingers rubbed the bulging flesh then lifted his swollen testicles in a cold gloved palm. He gasped when they were rolled around in the sac gently. He sucked in air at the erotic touch as fear vied with shame. His nuts were bounced lightly and he heard chuckles. He squirmed helplessly, shivering at the intimate explorations. "Is this any way to greet an old buddy?" Now he remembered and tried to say a name behind the gag. "Yes, that's right, it's Rocky although you might just inherit that title." Fingers squeezed up and down the shaft and the glove gripped his dick and slowly pulled it down as it pulsed. His other hand lifted his chin and Eric jerked back with a snarl. "Watch your manners!" Still gripping the cock, the man's ungloved palm came crashing on the unprotected bare rump with a loud crack causing both men to yelp. "Damn, that hurt my hand!" The young man squirmed, fireworks in his head and tail. He felt the closeness, the hot breath on his face. The deep voice was disdainful and triumphant. "You remember popping my rump, Eric?" His cock was released and shot up to an upright position, quivering. Her hand slowly rubbed his rump and the young man shivered, trapped and vulnerable. . "You got a nice hand print on your pretty cheek." The hanging man began to plead and Rocky held the back of his neck, very close now. "You're scared and you should be." His nipples were hard and pointed in fear. The chain lowered slightly and the blond stood in a classic male position, legs separated, feet flat on the floor. He thrust his chest forward defiantly but with his pants around his ankles and a standing prick there was not much dignity left. Jere wrapped an arm around his waist and patted his stomach softly. "You went too far with the camels." So that's why he was here...immediate panic. He hadn't meant to snap the finger of a camel who had dared defy him. But he'd loved the reaction. From there it was a broken bone, a burn mark, forcing masculine men to kiss, suck and fuck one another, laughing as their sobs. He fixed chairs with dildos and forced them to sit, legs spread wide apart. They were blindfolded, gagged with unrelenting hardons. He let the crowds in and watched the frantic expression as the impaled man was mercilessly teased. It was almost a sexual pleasure, the power he held over these young men. He was warned by Wes, his best bud, but did not stop. . He waited then felt a soft scrape of a small brush between his legs, drawing into his crack, the hellish bristles scraping deeply in the sweaty swirl of blond curls. Then it scraped his untouched anus and he shivered. A small cry escaped no matter how hard he tried. A nipple clamp snapped on and he jerked like a fish on a hook. When his motions subsided the other nip was clamped. His body was awash in sensation as his bloated, sticky knob was steadily combed with the soft bristles. At the same time his balls were squeezed and he began thrashing about wildly. "Is it pain or pleasure, Eric?" The gag was loosened and the man inhaled deeply. The brush started at the base of his prick and slowly worked upward in little torturous strokes as he trembled. Jere watched the spasms with satisfaction. "We're only beginning, pal. I got two days to tease you then a big surprise. Can you guess?" Eric jerked, his body alive and defenseless. "Here, take a sip. You're all sweaty." He felt a bottle on his thick lips and drank eagerly, leaning forward, gulping. He kept opening his mouth as if to say something then thinking better of it, hardened his expression in a vain attempt to dispel fear. He had this overriding need to be manly and brave. The large "F" on his left upper arm offset the "U" on the other. Rocky sounded amused. "Hmmm, Fuck You" -- quite daring for the Sultanate." The hanging figure gasped a low "Please" though it was garbled. "Don't worry, you're not going to prison. You just fucked up." He pinched the nose and clucked. "Yep, a transfer to a new station is what you need -- just get out of that place and start over." The strapping young man was elated at the mild punishment, his relief overflowing. A hand gripped his bottom. "You are going to be a good boy, right?" The captive swallowed, choking in shame and nodded. "No, I want to hear the words from your mouth." He raised his stricken face, squirming at the hand on his bottom. "You better say `em, Eric." The guy almost choked out the pathetic words behind the gag. "I'm gonna be a good boy." He flushed to his blond roots and bridled at the chuckles and the soft strokes to his rump. "I was hoping you'd see it that way. A new start ought to bring a new attitude -- right?" Eric nodded slightly. "That's the spirit. Now we want you primed for your initial appearance so let's get down to work." He was not sure how to respond and then a gloved hand rubbed his hairy leg and they got down to work. The Iowa farm boy was teased unmercifully, his cock kept right at the edge. It didn't take a lot of exotic toys or wild imagination -- just a few touches at the right place. The heavy balls were tugged then left along only to have his right nut massaged slowly a few minutes later. It might be another 15 minutes and the left testicle would be slowly rubbed as he shook. It took 41 minutes before he began begging for relief. "I bet you're grateful not to be trapped with one of those injured camels who would do all sorts of unthinkable things to your hunky body." He jerked up, suddenly petrified and heard chuckles. "No worry, pal." He was on edge, his armpits tugged, hands roaming, dripping steadily. "Let's get up close and personal." He felt someone kneel behind him and fingers spread his bottom wide. "Eric, you need to pay more attention to personal hygiene." Oh God, this was so fucking embarrassing yet he had never been this hard. He moaned, thrust and whimpered, feeling his nakedness. The sweat gushed and they'd only just begun. The torment was gentle, taunting and teasing and Jere spoke up with in a delighted tone. "Anytime you want a nice jerk just give let me know." His heart clutched at the words, his heart pounding. "But listen real close, when you come it will be your last for a long time." He was going insane at the insistent fingers, brushes, sensations erupting all over his body and he screamed, pleading for someone to jerk him off. Jere teased with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck slowly with the other. "I'm recording you, Eric." His back stiffened as the man closely studied his suffering and longing. He moaned until his balls were tickled and then it came in a blazing eruption. He stabbed forward with a mind-blowing arch of hot sperm in the air, bellowing "Fuck", face flushed, gasping as another huge load fell to the floor. It was so intense he almost fainted and as he sucked in deep breaths her tongue soothed him. The chain was slowly lowered and he fell to his knees. Jere's hand on the back of his head pushed forward. "That's it, crawl^Ånow stick out that tongue. You need all your protein." Another mocking chuckle and he tried to get his breath. "Lick all that tasty cum, lover boy. You don't want to miss a drop." As the hand guided his head to the hot, sticky streaks he hesitated, the very idea revolting. He held his head above the smelly fluid, resisting. Jere spoke causally. "Eric, guys that don't eat all their protein get punished. If you're not licking that sperm in five seconds I'm putting your over my knee." He shuddered, shook his head swiftly, then dived for the good. He began lapping with his long tongue, starting the ignominious task as Jere slowly rubbed the place he'd smacked on his butt. The amused voice kept asking how it tasted. He sniffled, unable to hold back mortifying tears as he lapped warm sour fluid. He was guided around the room for every single drop then, just when he thought it was over. Jere announced merrily he'd found another streak. At last he rested, panting and then the chain ascended again for a new round. It continued for two days. Over the phone he was forced to apologize to the saucy lady from the bar, saying he was sorry his "hard pecker" made him act rudely. She squealed her enjoyment as he spoke, prodded by Jere listening and guiding him. He ate from a bowl on all fours and endured several enemas. The tough guy cried like a baby, apologized repeatedly for his sins, but Jere was relentless. Eric chewed the soaked bit that kept his cock in an upright position no matter his thought. That one time was his only relief. Otherwise his cock stood up, begging for attention. He was writhing in agony and desire after another session, blood pounding in his chest, when he heard voices above, hearty male laughter and the door opened. He braced himself at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A stranger was with Jere. He knew immediately it was a fellow trainer by his stance, demeanor and signature tight, white muscle shirt with the red border. He flushed deeper as his dick stood straight up in a salute before this grinning man with a twinkle in his eye. "Here he is, primed for you. He agrees that a change in location would do wonders." Eric looked away so that he wouldn't have to face the man who exuded a vigorous, masculine air. He was about Eric's age, another blow to his ego. He'd seen men break down at this point, beg for mercy, plead pitifully. He vowed not to do that but instead would face his trials with manly resolve. They evaluated his body and attitude, squeezing muscles and limbs, discussing him. He suddenly realized they were treating him as a camel and his blood chilled. He looked up as Jere handed the man a black rubber paddle. "How much time I got?" Oh fuck. Jere told him 30 minutes and he began swinging the paddle in the air, practicing, yelling "Pow!" as Jere chuckled. Eric froze, sweat popping out of his brow, gulping behind the gag. Jere smirked and gave a thumbs up as he climbed the steps. "I'll be waiting upstairs, have him in the car at 2:00 sharp. Now you two get to know one another better." He snorted loudly and slammed the door as the trainer slapped the paddle in his palm. Eric stared in utter misery, waiting as the trainer took a wide-legged stance and lifted the prisoner's chin until they were face to face. "I'm gonna blister your pretty bottom and when I finish you're going to kiss this paddle like it was your bitch!" This was it -- pure misery in this lonely place, sever discipline by a plain-speaking guy his own age and it would be a whopper. The first lick crashed before he finished speaking and the second came almost instantly afterwards. The result was mind-boggling, a sizzling sting amid the white-hot blaze of the strap. All camels were given a customary thrashing before transport but this was something special. He clinched his jaw in vain, yelping at the force of the licks. The unbelievably loud whacks reverberated in his ears. This guy was an expert who knew how to inflict pain. Sizzling heat and shame spreading outward, rising exponentially. He couldn't stop the shouts and when he began to wail the man paused. "First thrashing, Eric?" He felt a large hand rub his back almost tenderly. "I hope you remember this lesson." He sniffled and a choked sob broke forth as the strap sought out tender targets -- neck, armpits, nipples, abs, chest. Even his upright cock was smacked several times by the whirring lash. The paddle would fly upward, smacking into his sensitive crack so hard he jumped in the air, shouting. His thighs were savaged as well. The man did not talk but worked steadily until Eric was dancing frantically, flinging beads of sweat in every direction, yelping and gasping. His performance had the man in stitches that were audible even over his own wails and the roar of the smacks. "We got one minute, pal." It was a full force attack, swinging and yelling in triumph as he was slapped form ankle to neck. His back was on fire but the concentration was on his poor rump. "Swing that red tail, dude!" When he finally stopped the hot belt was raised to his lips and he kissed the hot leather as he bawled and jerked with spasms. He was sprayed and lathered and rinsed in less than a minute. A metal collar locked in place and his hands were cuffed to it as he stood, knees shaking. Deodorant was rolled in his armpits and the trainer gave his broiling behind a loud smack "Up those stairs!" He raced frantically, stumbling up the steps, burning with shame at the appearance he presented - crying, naked, quivering, his hardon full force again and his shiny, beet red behind wiggling. Jere smiled when he fell into the room upstairs. "Sounds like you two were having a little party." The trainer laughed as Jere took hold of Eric's arm and turned him around for an inspection, touching his blazing tail. "You better thank this young man who took off from a busy schedule to give you a friendly welcome." Eric bit his lip and a choked sound emerged. Jere made him repeat it. "Thanks", he managed to croak, quivering with barely-contained sobs. The man was American of course. He wiped the sweat from his own face and chest The man still held the paddle and placed a hand on his shoulder. Eric bridled at the attention -- the man reminded him of one of those guys always slapping and jostling. "By the way, you two are from the same town." I went cold at those words but Chad was interested. "I graduated Fulton in 2013, played halfback all 4 years. You?" I managed to croak out a low "Reed". He paused^Å."Eric Haffstrade^Å damn, you were defensive tackle, MVP. Dude, we fucking played each other in the district finals and you guys won!" I couldn't bear this news. Suddenly we were not strangers. "You hear that Jere, we probably knocked each other around on the field." He grinned and slapped my back. "Damn, a fellow jock and here I thought you might be a poof with that cock. We're gonna get along just fine. I'm taking you to the new camel farm of King Nikos." Eric turned to Jere with a horrid expression that was comical. Jere could barely contain his glee. "Why Eric, you told me yourself that a change of location would be beneficial." The blond prisoner's eyes were wild as he looked from one man to the other for any sign of joking. "When King Nikos married Alexandra of Athens he chose to move there. I had to apply a little persuasion but the king could not resist the revenues. It's a win-win situation -- prisoners get reduced sentences, people get entertainment, all those jobs and last but not least, a steady flow of income to the throne." Eric lowered his head which was pounding. This was all so horrible and yet so real. He slowly shook his head back and forth, begging and pleading his cause that he deserves a second chance, just this one time, he'd make things right^ÅThe handsome trainer pulled him aside for a little chat, man to man. He kept a hand firmly on Eric's shoulder. "Eric, I agree with you 100%. Everybody deserves a second chance and you'll get one. In fact, I'm willing to bet you'll be the best damn trainer around after a six months camel duty." The former trainer's eyes opened wide as he flushed and looked away to hide the tears that blotted his vision. A large, strong hand lifted his chin and looked him in the eye, smiling confidently. They stood face to face and his cock stood rock hard. There was no hope and that thought was crushing. "Jere, I wanna thank you for giving me this dude. I love a good challenge." He slipped a big arm around Eric's broad shoulders, squeezed him close and his insides rolled. He knew this type, the conscientious and tireless trainer committed to bringing out the best from a camel regardless of what lengths it took. "He'll probably be a little problem at first but I'm going to be right there supplying some much needed discipline. I may have to put you over my knee a few times but you'll turn out fine." Eric almost swooned at the thought of this hometown boy hauling him over his lap for a spanking. He caught his breath when he again faced the big grin and white teeth gleaming in the light as his own dick twitched uncontrollably. Chad looked down and grinned at the pumping organ. "You're learning, dude. That prick stands tall for your trainers and drivers." The man gave his scalded rump a hard pinch and laughed as he jumped with a squeal. He felt shame, horror and terror, unable to fathom it -- this friendly guy from his home town had just given him a royal thrashing and was now his boss 24 hours a day. Worse, he'd just been told that he would sport a hardon at all times. Eric was pushed in the right seat. His collar was locked into place with a click and Chad chuckled when he tried to lift his broiling behind above the seat. The trainer simply pulled the seatbelt tight, his cock back against it, forcing his behind against the rough surface. He'd been gagged again and the sticky goo leaked down his upright shaft. The door closed and he was alone with his thoughts for a few seconds, helpless and doomed. "Ready to roll?" The trainer hopped in the driver's seat and pulled on his wraparound sunglasses. He complained about the fucking heat, the tourists, the food. "I'm Chad but you call me "Mr. Trainer" Eric shook when the man leaned and spoke to his cock. "And you better be a good boy and keep your leaky oversized head raised high" Eric groaned, burned to the quick. The man was unaware how much this conversation affected him, reminding him of how fall from grace. "^Åso I went to the farm in Yemen with Jere -- he's cool. We made some changes, nothing major. It's more public in Athens, the crowds much larger and you're always surrounded by people." The man looked over and grinned. "You won't believe the profits from the Whipping Post. With over 1,500 camels, someone's almost always being punished and if not, a volunteer draws a name. We even sell pizzas and beer!" I shuddered thinking about that lonely trek before an appreciative audience. Every word increased my anxiety. He leaned out the window, calling to a couple of sexy young things who pranced by in shorts and halters. "Hey babes, lookin' fine!" They turned, saw his handsome mug and waved. One even shook her boobs and puckered her lips suggestively. He hooted and then was yelling at the driver in front of us. "Come on, man, either fucking turn or park!" He weaved in and out of traffic and I gasped at the sign. "Camels, 10 KM ahead." My cock throbbed in awful anticipation. The traffic was heavy but he took a side ramp labeled "employees only". I looked around frantically, praying for a good Samaritan but the entrance gate stopped that foolish thoughts. He slowed and I could not take my eyes off the horrifying scenes. Naked men waited in front of carts. Others were gathered as groups of 6 or 8 for larger carriages. Tourists were everywhere, staying behind ropes, pointing and laughing. All visitors had their ages verified and I saw a group of women, giggling, pointing and screeching as an especially endowed camel passed by, trying to hide his erection. A training contraption was in use - large spokes radiating from a central bar, camels tied to each, marching while two guards shouted instructions and punctuated their remarks with thick straps. It seemed men liked this area, gathering and chuckling as the poor prisoners struggled, urging the marchers to go faster or trot with more vigor. Three college guys in fraternity muscle shirts watched while a crying prisoner was "tailed", wailing when the thing slid deep inside him and was fastened in snugly. The trio circled him, pulled on the tail and slapped his back, offering encouragement. "Here we are, Eric." He parked, got out then opened my door. "Time to rock and roll, dude." I shook my head, shivering, barely hearing him. He almost gently took my arm and it was like electricity, each touch. I wore only my black dress shoes and looked so foolish and naked. Hot, salty tears streamed as we walked, cock pumping in agitation and fear. At least there were no visitors here to watch my debasement. Chad greeted several of the workers, shook hands and slapped backs. He pulled me beside him, his hand on my shoulder, guiding me. When he brushed my crimson rump I realized my exposure. We came upon a small kiosk with a worker behind a desk. "Got a new one -- Eric Haffstrader, USA, six months." The man checked the info on his PC and looked me up and down with a wide sneer -- I wanted to die on the spot. "Looks like he's ready to start this minute. Usually takes a few hours to get those cocks standing but this one's ready to go." When I moved he added, "Hey, already been given a good thrashing." I wanted to run but there was nowhere to hide. My heart pounded as I stepped on the scales, stood to be measured, trembling violently as waves of remorse and terror washed over me. The man handed Chad a shiny metal tag and my back stung when he shot something inside me. "Stall 94 -- you're with another newby who arrived this morning, a Southern hick who's making the gals cream in their panties. I bet this pair will require some special training." The words had the desired effect -- a head-swimming dizziness. I took a deep breath as I was led into the enormous structure down a long hall and then a turn down another hall, still in nothing but the dress shoes. Visitors milled in designated areas and I heard a noise, looked up. People walked across sky lanes, watching over the railing at the proceedings below. It was appallingly true -- I was there not only for punishment but also entertainment. "Straighten up, Eric." I quaked when a guy asked about the trip. Chad said it was a pick up and rubbed my back before giving it a friendly slap. His indifference only added to my misery and my dick refused to relax. In the stall, a guard stood smoking and behind him, facing the wall, was my roommate, hay around his ankles. He was fully equipped except for the tail. His back was broad and tanned and he had round, athletic hips and hairy, powerful legs. The black fur in his crack stood out against his white, round rump. My eyes locked on the bolts into the wall at a place where wrists and ankles would fit nicely. Beside it, hanging from a beam, were three straps in increasing size and a wooden paddle. "I'll take over from here, Vince." The guard nodded and left and Chad turned to me, "You know the drill, Eric. I want to get you trotting ASAP. The sooner we start, the faster you learn -- agree?" I muttered a harsh "Yes sir" in such a bitter tone that he shook his head in regret, walked over and took hold of the back of my neck with his large, powerful hand, a gently grip. "Eric, Is that what you'd call getting off to a good start?" The reprimand literally took my breath. My knees shook as my cock danced to this trainer's amused gaze. I shook my head slowly, agreeing it was not a good start. "You'll get no special consideration from me." He waited while I repeated the words in a subdued tone. Satisfied, he gave my red tail a light pat. Indignity rocked my brain but he was holding a leather contraption similar to the equipment I'd used. "You can turn around, Jake." The man slowly turned and he was flushed from ankle to ears. Chad walked over and tugged on a strap. "See, this is simpler, more economical, no hump." Mt eyes widened at the trussed camel. The guy shuddered with each touch and his magnetic attraction was evident. He exuded manliness, the type always horsing with a gang, whooping it up at a Nascar race or shooting hoops with his buds. His eyes were dark, brooding with long dark lashes. I could make out his square jaw even though his head was half-hidden. He was about my age but already had black curls from his throat to his abs. His black bush spread in every direction, thick and lush, surrounding a huge upright prick. He rocked on muscular, furry legs, shrugged wide shoulders. "Jake, meet your roomy, Eric." The man growled behind the bit and Chad laughed, told him to speak up. He turned me around and replaced the metal collar with a thick leather one, raising my chin high. My chest rumbled as I realized the transformation from trainer to camel was under way. I was startled by a loud voice right above me. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're in luck. A new camel has joined the lady's favorite and I am told -- get this, folks - he is a former trainer himself. I bet he's familiar with what's happening, right Eric?" The crowd chuckled as I appeared stunned. An amused voice called out, "How's it going, Eric?" as if we knew each other. I melted a little at the jauntiness of the tone and fought for steely resolve. The guide's voice boomed. "His door code indicates a crime of violence. He's lucky to have been assigned to Trainer Chad, one of the best." Incredibly, Chad looked up, smiled and waved at the crowd eliciting hearty cheers from the men and admiring catcalls from females. The announcer's voice sentenced me to my doom. "Let's pause here and watch a good trainer in action as this young man switches roles. Looks like he's already had someone's attention on his rump." Chad chuckled and turned me around so they could get a good look. He strapped on a thick belt around my waist then pulled me over a beam, kicking my legs apart. "Spread em, boy!" yelled a male voice from above followed by genial laughter. He led Jake to the beam, bent him over and also kicked his legs wide. "Brunette and blond cracks -- lemme take a pic." I heard a camera click. Chad grabbed two tails, held them up to the crowd who instantly quieted. They were oiled and shiny in the light. I caught the small bristled rings on the dildo. He touched my red rump and I spread my legs further. It was evident from our reactions that our rears were virgin territory. I bucked as it thrust inside, the little bristles scraping my rectum. It seemed enormous and I feared it would split me apart. I cried out with a long "ooohhhh" as it slid in, drawing laughter. The crowd cheered as he held it in place and moved behind the other camel. I was gasping. Jake suddenly stood and turned, unable to submit. Chad spoke into a small phone and in 30 seconds three men rushed in. They threw him over the bar, holding him as he was roughly impaled. He bucked and snorted but was held firmly as the tail punctured his anus, riding deep. Strange sounds came from his mouth, wonder, pain, anger and humiliation. I blushed that I had given in so easily. Although Chad held tight to both tails, the other guy swung his ass wildly in a desperate attempt to dislodge the thing. The crowd loved it. I was raised, trembling violently, swallowing and gasping. Two straps on the sides of the collar crisscrossed my chest and threaded a loop in my belt at the base of the spine. I felt them attached to the tail. He stood back, admiring his work, the feeling indescribable. Any movement of my head caused a shift of the thing inside me. I looked around and the thing wiggled deep inside my rectum, the bands of bristles itching madly. My wrists were pulled back swiftly, arms crossed and bound tightly. I was feverish, sweating like a pig, breathing like a freight train as the crowd applauded the performance. I bit hard on the leather releasing yet more of the stiffening agent. A voice rang out from above. "Poor guy can't decide which side to present us -- that blistered bottom with the bushy tail or that standing log." I was in a stupor, the blood pounding so hard I could not hear a thing, lost in my own little world, thinking of high school football games. Suddenly a hand delivered a mighty slap to my rump. I cried out as the crowd howled in delight. "Pay attention, Eric. I said to face me." I blinked hot tears, caught in uncontrollable twitches. He gave me a quick grin and carefully buckled on a cock ring, every touch sending shivers down my spine. He hung a tiny bell from each aching testicle. A loop under the purple, wet dick head was bound to my belt, Finally he tied a long red ribbon to the base of my cock as the guide explained this signified a new camel. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I was unable to keep still while he laced up the heavy black boots. The head piece was the last straw. The thick bit was inserted and buckled tight behind my head. A second short strap went over my ears, buckled to the sides of the collar. A third strap from the back of the collar came over my scalp, feeling odd against my short blond stiff hairs. It parted at my nose and wrapped around under my eyes to the back of my head where it was pulled taut. I felt stupid and ugly and mortified all at once. My anus itched terribly, my nuts ached, my rear end burned and my nipples throbbed when he snapped on clamps holding a thin chain. "Come on, Eric. Think of it as the locker room fun we all had." He turned us around for the benefit of those overhead and they gave a nice round of applause, commenting on the fine fit and unrelenting stiffness. Our tails drew several comments as they bounced deep inside us. I was being fucked. He led us to the corridor with a firm order to "March." Every step was torture and I was in front. I heard the smack of the strap on the new guy behind me. He hollered and almost knocked me down in a rush to get ahead but I knew better than to vary my speed. He couldn't avoid the onslaught of wallops that followed us. My stomach churned when we passed thru a line of grinning strangers who encouraged Chad, yelled for me to keep my dick hard and taunted Jake for his obvious desperation. I waited at the gate as the thrashing continued. I knew this moment and that only made it worse rather than alleviate the tension that had control of my thoughts. In fact I was petrified, unable to move. I could barely stand still with the tail. How in the hell was I going to trot with it jiggling and rocking? Chad guided me to one of a pair of small one-man carriers. Jake was gasping, sweating and shuddering as it all became real -- his new life and his exposure. Actually he was no worse off than me. We stood mutely listening to comments on our appearance. Chad was busy gathering the reins, a craftsman at his trade. "You two fellows are attracting lots of attention. That's what you get for being big-dicked studs. Jake, I bet you get elected King of Camel Town." He shuddered, crying behind the bit, the poor bastard. His rump was well striped and he could not keep still. His rugged face, black curls on his chest, furry legs and muscular body all highlighted his rampant virility. Despite all this his deep sobs were quite audible. Only a robot could have kept its cool under these conditions. "Listen up you two. I want this first run to be something memorable. You're strong men. Show me what farm boys have in them." Chad grinned and said he knew we would trot like pros. He came over for a final inspection, placed a baseball cap backwards on our heads. He jerked the tails, checked the tethers and smirked when we yelped piteously. Finally he wrapped his arms around our broad shoulders and looked very serious as if imparting knowledge from on high. "Camels who trot together become inseparable, supporting each other after a hard day, consoling one another after a punishment. Together they perform without shame, together they accept praise and together they gamely take their discipline." He waited for a second, letting us absorb the words then began coating our rumps with thick oil. "Your behavior and your dicks are out of control and need restraint. This experience is an opportunity to learn and grow. Now it's time to get started." We were suffused with fever and shame and when he squeezed our bottoms affectionately it only got worse. My teeth clicked rapidly and my tears streamed, running down the leather straps that divided my face. He rubbed our faces with a cloth and told the drivers we were ready to roll. I was confused as fear and shame vied for control of my emotions. I tried to get over the idea of my nakedness but the red ribbon from my hardon was a constant reminder. I was being ground down and a horrible thought burst into my head - this was only the beginning. I'd preen and march for strangers who would punish me without a second thought. The two drivers, guys around 30, poured water bottles over our head, joking and telling us we needed to cool down. They squeezed our knobs and noted the stickiness. Two women yelled they would be in the gift shop when they finished. Jake looked shocked and then the dildo wiggled when I turned and my dick pumped again. My butt burned with a constant throb, the tail feeling as big as a baseball bat. The robust young men climbed up in the carts, side by side, carrying on like a fucking holiday. The reins jerked, the strap crashed across my bottom and we took off. "Let's go, man, step to it!" I'd watched the camels run, frantically hopping as the strap popped and the dildo rocked in agitation. Now I knew why they were so desperate -- it was one long prostate exam. I could hardly stand the continual explosions in my rectum. Fireworks went off in my skull at the sensations, making me shiver and gasp and the strap crashed furiously across my rear end with a shout to "get with the program". Oh fuck, next I'd be hearing about goddamn synergy. The other driver worked Jake over well. They never tired and with each lick we straightened, screeched and raced harder. The drivers spoke of working out in the company gym and if my backside was any indication, they spent a lot of time there. They whooped and hollered, having a grand time and then they'd remember the straps in their hand. We marched side by side and stole glances at one another Already we had started down that path I'd seen so many times, stall mates becoming as close as brothers. "These camels really get thirsty out there and they soon learn to lap water as easy as drinking from a glass. It's all a matter of practice." So said the lad who led us to the water trough when we stopped. He'd chuckled and rubbed my blazing behind, pulled my tail as I reveled in the cold liquid. "Look at the hair on this one." He raised Jake up. His driver remarked he'd be a werewolf by the time he was 30. Jake couldn't resist. "I got hair like real men -- what ya'll got?" The driver snarled and raised his hand but his buddy warned him and whispered something to which the man nodded in agreement. We were soon trotting again and it was a continual trial. My dick never flagged with the jiggling dildo and I was tired and hot. The licks fell unevenly and they seemed to grow bored after a while. I felt enclosed by the straps and my dickhead itched terribly..Jake was breathing harshly, drops of sweat on his chest hair. His crotch was very wet. At last I saw the large building and despite my fear it was relief of the known I felt. My anus buzzed with sensation and my cock stood firmly. Chad sat atop a fence, smoking lazily, waiting for our return. His open shirt and tight jeans made him look like that Marlboro dude. He flicked the cigarette and hopped off, approaching in wide strides. "How'd they do?" My driver said that I was really good. Jake's driver was upset at his "smartass mouth" and said he was insulted. Chad reddened and apologized and the man pulled him over to the side. Chad nodded and loudly assured him that of course he could watch. We headed back to our stall, hot and wet and scared. The two drivers followed, laughing and my heart again pounded like an anvil. "First off is discipline - no resting, washing or eating until it's out of the way." Jake panted as he waited for his fate to be announced. Chad jerked off the equipment and popped his red rump. The driver whooped and jumped in front of the poor guy. "You need to straighten up, boy, and I don't mean that pecker!" His carousing attitude was hard to take as was his calling Jake a "boy". Chad was in a fury. "Get against that wall, spread eagle, facing me." He was shaking and the two men were in their element, teasing and taunting him, telling him he was in for it now. Chad moved efficiently and purposeful with a minimum of words, letting the drivers have their say. They pulled hair from his pits and pubes. "You don't fuck with the customer, macho man. Time you learned a lesson." Jake faced me, wrists and ankles locked wide. He writhed, head back, thrusting his crotch out trying keep his broiling bottom from touching the rough boards. His sturdy, hairy legs flexed and he looked like a sweaty animal in heat. Chad held an object I knew well. Jake's expression was one of horror. The driver cackled gleefully and pulled a few chest hairs. "Relax, it's just a pair of clippers." I jumped at the sudden buzz and the defeated man twisted, mouth open, vulnerable. He struggled wildly, jerking at the bonds. Chad pressed the cold metal to his neck and came down, just to the right of center. He cut a stripe thru the thick pubes to the knees. The bare skin blazed against the black curls like a road sign. The driver had an idea and Chad nodded, gave him another stripe an inch over on the left leaving a thick trail from neck to dick. Jake had a 2 day growth of beard which on him looked like 4 days. His feet were raised high in the air and tied up over his head. He hollered at the utter exposure. Chad handed the driver the shears and the grinning guy made a show of stepping up and tugging on the long, thick hairs in his crack between the red globes. He was exposed as never before. The man slowly trimmed his crack and they laughed at the heartbreaking sobs. They loved how he dissolved into pathetic sails. The shears ran up and down his shaft, removing all the curls that grew there. His slit opened wide, cum streaming steadily as he wept. This proud dude hung with a fiery, shaved behind. "Dude, that dick looks like that a poster child for steroids. You can see your hardon so much better now. Just what you wanted, right smartass?" Jake shook his head, defeated at last, blubbering and no longer defiant. He was unbound, striped like a zebra. "Next time it's a body shave. Now get to those showers -- you two stink!" I blushed as the men waved, giggling at us and Jake's stripes. We were scrubbed and crawled to dinner where we were fondled as we ate. A harsh male voice broke the air. "Leave their fucking dicks alone, babe. Who knows where it's been -- maybe up the ass of his boyfriend." I felt Jake tremble at those words as we ate from a single bowl. As was the case, folks paid money to see us lap up our bland meals. "I gotta jerk so fucking bad." Jake whispered to me as our faces pressed close together while we ate. I nodded, unable to believe the permanent feeling of desire. We slowly lowered our rumps so that our steel shafts brushed the hay. Just the merest touch was electric and he groaned. "What's going on?" I froze -- it was Chad. He walked up behind us, raising a foot under us until our butts were high in the air. "You two weren't doing something wrong were you?" We shook out head with quick "No sirs". Jake swallowed, buried his pride. "Mr. Trainer, when can we spurt? I really need to get off." It was almost humorous -- the deep Southern twang of the punished camel, his courteous manner of addressing our superior and the question itself. Chad knelt and rubbed our backs. "Not soon. You really pissed me off talking to a customer like that. If I hadn't been so busy I'd have taken you to the Whipping Post." He paused and let that sink in. Jake trembled visibly and Chad gripped his striped rump. "Next time there won't be any hesitation." Jake nodded, bobbing his head, agreeing wholeheartedly. "I'm giving ya'll a ringside view." We followed him to a room with a large window. We sunk to knee pads, arms behind out backs, chins resting on soft leather of the window sill. "You two know better than to try anything -- there's always someone looking and eager to report." We answered with "Yes sirs". I glanced at Jake and he was a mess -- sweat beading the chin of his handsome, rugged face, his striped chest red, rising and falling with strangled deep breaths. His cock was like mine, jutting straight up in the air leaking steadily. Chad rubbed my scalp, told me to watch myself and left. The clatter of folks overhead was quite clear and I shook, knowing I was being watched. We had a direct view of the infamous Whipping Post and it made my blood race. Two Greek lads hawked gyros, pizza and beer, fanning thru the crowd that waited impatiently for the next "performance". The atmosphere was festive with much drinking and loud conversation. Snatches could be overheard. "You see where we're meeting at Aritano's for dinner tonight?...Man, that smartass, the muscular one, did you see him dancing up there^Å.yeah, I didn't think that dude was ever gonna put down that strap^Åhey, there he is, the whipper. I'm going over and talk to him a sec." Suddenly there was a commotion in the back of the crowd, shouts of "Man Up". . "Pete, a new one's coming, save me a place up front." A tall, brawny man was being dragged, resisting, thru the crowd by three sturdy trainers. He bellowed his displeasure and the crowd immediately began taunting, reminding him of what was happening, glad to have one with spirit. He was naked, bronzed, lean and muscular like most of us with dark, thick untrimmed pubes and a whopper of a dick. It drew immediate attention, as big a as a thick snake and fully erect. He was gagged and his wrists bound in front of him. His eyes betrayed his terror and absolute humiliation as they roamed wildly over the crowd. Up on the platform his wrists were hung high above his head and his ankles bound wide. The crowd began chanting, "No gag, No gag." The thrasher tore off the gag and threw it to the mob. People circled round on all sides, , some with folding chairs. I could only imagine how he felt as they joked and laughed and called out for another beer.. The guy picked up the wicked looking black strap and took the mike, reading from a paper. "Folks, we got Andy Whyett, from the US state of Florida, 28 years old. He's here for Touching Without Permission^Åbut I DO have permission to touch." The crowd screamed and without pause he stood back, took aim and the first lick took the record for the loudest this side of the Atlantic. The crowd cheered and people gathered closer, yelling at both men. Visitors streamed thru the gate throwing money at the entrance fee. It was almost all male, guys getting a big kick out of the raw hiding of a criminal. Even better was his reason -- trying to masturbate his unrelieved dick. The thrasher paid no attention to the protests of the camel or the yells of the crowd. He worked steadily with an even pace and stunning force, smacking the rump with startling detonations. One astonishing slap made the guy raise his chin and howl to the sky delighting the crowd. He stood with wide-spread legs, straining at his bonds, muscles bulging and shiny with sweat in the late sun. He roared like a bull as if that would block the sound and sight of grinning men comparing his performance with earlier camels. When he finally broke down cameras came out to record his deep sobs in high def. He bucked and brayed, threatening and pleading. His backside was the reddest I'd seen and now he bounced up, hollering, when the strap exploded between n his tender crack over and over. A final crash of the paddle and he writhed, squalling loudly. The crowd closed in with hard, mocking tones, taunting his weeping, raw flesh and still swollen organs. "Time for bed. You two will be busy from dawn to dusk tomorrow." Chad guided us back to the stall and pulled back a sheet revealing a cage that seemed barely big enough for one. He gave me a shove. "Hop in, Eric." I scrambled inside on the wooden floor. "Now you, bad boy." Jake hesitated and when Chad unbuckled his strap he rushed. I pulled him in and he fell against my chest. "Get that ass in there." He pressed into me and the door shut, forcing him into my arms. We were trapped in a fucking embrace, rubbing hairy legs, sweaty torsos, skin against skin. Our dicks rubbed and his hot breath was in my ear. Our anger was mixed with a deep humiliation and pent-up desire.. "You two nice and comfy?" We roared at him, our anger fueled by our helpless intimacy with another guy. "You boys quiet down and get in position for a good night's sleep." We writhed, a rolling ball of hot, sweaty male flesh. His hairs pricked my skin and I swallowed at the shame. He shook, burying his head in my shoulder as I tried to comfort him. I began to weep in the arms of my camel mate. We sat cock to cock, legs circling each other's waist, heads resting on shoulder. I felt his heart pound against my chest. The bits were still attached and we were so horny we could scarcely think. Our hands roamed, silently responding to touches that had never even been imagined. In the dark we pinched nipples and scratched deep into sweaty pubes, rubbed backs and hugged one another tightly. It all ran together -- the guy at the Whipping Post, trotting, the tails and now holding another dude in a loving embrace. In the stillness we shot our wads on each other and slept. By 9:00 the next morning we were dripping with sweat and dust, struggling to pull in the sun. I kept thinking that with each passing second I was closer to release. For 3 months we raced morning, noon and night -- the anxiety never ceased nor really subsided. Jake's hair finally grew back. Visitors paid to see us in our stalls and inevitable they forced us to kiss and smooch. I could stand this but one night a group of drunk college guys wanted something more. "You, blondie, sit on his prick." I looked at them, not believing the command. "Hurry up, you bastard, get your boyfriend's dick up your ass." I shook my head, no way. They got the guard on duty who threatened dire penalties. I rose awkwardly, our wrists were bound behind us, and the men were whooping at the impending debasement. I raised my hips and felt the wet tip on my anus. A hand reached into the cage, holding the cock steady. They made us look at one another as the cock inched inside me. I shuddered at the feeling and spread wide, my knees in his armpits. This was a public rape. Jake said he was sorry and he was every bit as huge as the dildos that had stretched me somewhat. I sunk lower, trembling and it grew silent as they watched and listened. I lost it in front of these bastards as two men reached in and pulled me onto the pulsing dick, speared to the max and squirming in his lap. Another guy's dick was inside me and I lost it. The raucous men watching and laughing loved it, called us fags and asked if we practiced birth control. We wept bitterly as we obeyed their orders, locking lips. Each morning Chad's appearance awoke butterflies inside me. They continued to flutter as were fed and outfitted. He'd chuckled when our cocks rose to the occasion. My throat constricted just thinking about my huge hardon in public. I was really terrified of the drivers. Most were robust young men eager to show off their power to their buds and girl friends. They took lessons in how to handle the strap. It would land with a tremendous pop that always sent us scurrying. I was caught unaware with smacks to my knees, sides, flat abs and red tail. Jake and I drew closer, massaging one another's sore muscles, oiling our swollen rumps, commiserating with our inability to masturbate. Side by side we'd whisper, trying to talk each other into coming. The trouble was someone always was looking and that included the awful enemas. The third day Chad guided us to a small area with slowly spinning tables. My head pounded at the sight of expectant strangers. "Hop up, men, on your back." Slowly we obeyed, every eye following our movements. Our arms were bound to the sides and our legs pulled over our head and secured. We stared, eyes bulging, as he hung two bags overflowing with suds right above us. My mouth was dry as I waited, spinning slowly, aware of the many onlookers. The long, dangling tube from the bags hung down right in front of our eyes. Jake stared open-mouthed and glanced at me, red and breathing harshly.. When I felt my rump pried open and heard a rising excitement from the crowd it became dreadfully clear. We begged him not to do this in front of this raucous bunch but he simply rubbed our scalps with his knuckles and pulled our ears in jest. "It's not so bad, boys. Think how good you'll feel." The long tip was corrugated and we shook as it pierced us, rectums feeling every single rise and wave of the surface. I was impaled and open to the world, shaking in small convulsions, the cat calls rising at my inability to keep my tail still or to stop my toes from wiggling. Suddenly grinning faces stared down. "Open those eyes, boys, and say hello to your guests." Oh God, I saw their expressions of glee and tears rolling down my cheeks. My chest heaved and I was wet with sweat yet I could not ignore my itching rectum nor the soapy liquid that poured inside me. When I cried out loudly people laughed and Chad rubbed my aching stomach and red tail. When the bag was empty we were allowed to stand on the ground, still impaled, as the crowd applauded. Fresh tremors shook when we were ordered to sit on buckets and release the water. The room grew quiet except for our choked sobs as we sat, raised our faces and exploded. We were rinsed and sent racing with new drivers. My greatest trials were not the daily grinds of pulling carts but the appearance we made in our capacity as royal camels. I can barely even think of the visit to the king's palace without a wave of panic. Several of us were called out and mutely stood waiting for the trainers. I noticed we were the tallest, most muscular camels. Besides our thick belts the long boots that were laced tightly our only adornment was a ghastly cock ring and the little loops under our knobs that held our dick straight up in the air. Our arms were tied behind our backs, folder onto one another. The trainers quickly prepared us, chuckling when I tried to back up to avoid their intimate touch. This tactic backfired however and I was teased and stroked slowly, the grinning lads knowing full well we were under their total control. Two trainers stood side by side in front of Jake and me, cajoling one another as we inhaled quick gasps, exhaled low "oooohs" and hissed in helpless response to the gloves fingers gently masturbating us to the very edge. At last they grew tired and gagged us with t1ick leather that had been soaked in the hardon juice. Chad and another trainer climbed into the back with us as we sat in a circle around the sides, watching with growing panic the increased traffic, the larger crowds and the growing activity as we approached the city. Nakedness in the empty countryside was terrible but that did not compare to this. Tourists flooded the streets, snapping pictures and when they caught sight of the camel logo on our van they rushed it with cameras raised, shouting loudly. Visitors streamed into the royal palace when we arrived. We drove to the back and awkwardly hopped out, hands still bound. Under my breath I whispered to Chad to let me wear something. He looked at me and grinned, threw an arm around my neck and pulled me close, his voice a rough whisper and rubbed my chest. "And cover that handsome body? Man, you should be proud of this!: He flipped my cock playfully and I shivered with helpless dread. "Most fellows would give their right arm for this physique and that hard cock -- you better keep that standing nice and tall the whole time." I caught my breath, stunned at his friendly and relaxed attitude. I looked out over the group and was shattered. We were all primed, very stiff with flushed chests, faces and cocks. We bunched together, mortified at being singled out for attention. We were marched thru the door to a large room that looked out over the crowded plaza. I wondered if we were to be plugged. Chad had only used the small size and sometimes, after an exceptional report, we were allowed to trot without tails altogether. We pressed closer, our sweaty bodies jostling against one another, hard, pointed nips and cocks rubbing. We sought both protection and safety from this exposure. Two trainers wearing the snug, purple sleeveless tops stood across the room, laughing at a joke. My heart stopped. I knew, even from the back, oh my God. Sure enough, when he turned there was that broad smile as familiar as my own. It was Wes, my best bud from Iowa, who'd received a promotion and now worked here for the king. "Please, please, don't let him see me like this." You cannot begin to imagine my feelings at this point, being paraded in this state before my best pal. I prayed to anyone who would listen. I'd not talked to him since my capture so was not sure what he'd been told. He tossed his head, scratched his crotch and then his scalp lazily, still talking to his pal. "OK, bring `em over and let's have a look." He finally noticed us and my heart could not have pounded any harder or faster at that sudden recognition. He broke into a wide grin that sent chills down my spine and I blinked, unable to face him, keeping my head down. Chad popped my chin with an admonition to keep my face raised. "Dude, I don't fucking believe it!" He strode over and I literally whimpered, shrinking in his presence. He was not two feet away and I trembled. He grabbed my cock. "Didn't I tell you this thing was gonna get you in trouble, bro?" I was barely able to nod my head I was so overwhelmed. Grinning ear to ear he slapped my back and pulled me close for a big hug. His hand pressed the back of my neck to him and still holding me close. I whispered for help and he clucked. "Didn't I warn you about abusing the camels?" He looked at his fellow trainer. "Casey, meet my best bud from home. I heard this thing got him in trouble." That got Chad's attention. "Dude, did you play football too?" Wes replied he was a wide receiver and the two gave a high five when Chad told him of his exploits. I blinked back the tears, stung at their festive mood. This intimate touch was so unnerving, so devastating. Our past kept flashing before my eyes -- jerking off together in the barn, stealing my dad's car late one night, playing sports, swimming at the lake, drinking and carousing and whoring. Now I was this distraught human camel and my cock was literally dancing in excitement. He saw the terror in my face at his next words. "My bud's getting ready to blow his wad -- I know that expression well." His tone was jocular as he wrapped his arm around my trembling shoulders, pressing me to him tightly, chuckling as I struggled to control my excited organ. My nakedness was never so real as when I stood beside these clothed men with this throbbing erection. Chad frowned, drew close and placed a hand on my shoulder. "He better not come. He knows full well the consequences and this time our hometown connections won't save you. In fact, I'll be really pissed if you come." Wes and I looked each other and my eyes opened wider at the inexorable rising sensation. I shut my eyes, desperate to ward off this growing pounding in my loins. Chad watched steadily. "Open your eyes, dude." I bit my lip, trembling and saw his lopsided grin. Wes pulled my shoulders, pressing me into him. My purplish prick hopped up and down, growing ever more excited, spewing small little drops of cum as I neared an eruption. Chad turned to Casey, the other royal trainer. "Dude, better fetch me that board. Looks like I'm gonna be needing it real soon." I stared, dismayed, when he returned with a shiny paddle 2 feet long. He smirked as Wes gave me a new squeeze. My best pal must be enjoying this at some level. In the silence, the trainer slowly smacked the wood in his palm, grinning ear to ear, waiting patiently. He handed it to Chad who said, "Thanks, pal" in an upbeat mocking tone. They looked at me, then at each other, pleased with themselves. Wes rubbed my back and leaned close as I bit my lip, trembling. "Ah, dude." Those words broke the dam and I spurted. The shot was gigantic as if my cock was a high pressure hose and the cap had been removed. I cried out in elation and shock and relief, not thinking for a few seconds. Wes slapped my back as I shot more loads. . "Dude, that's a no-hands spurt for the record books. What a fucking shot -- just like old times. Remember when we found that porn and jerked off all day in the hayloft?" His straight, white teeth blazed in the sunlight and he slowly turned me to face him, brushing my hard nipples. He loosened my gag and I was furious and ashamed.. "It's not fair, god damn it. I eat that hardon shit then you get pissed when I can't hold on. Wes, you know this ain't right." He nodded slowly and shook his head. "Let's get that discipline over, Eric. I keep telling you to control that prick." I was very agitated and he looked at Chad. "I'm staying right here with my bud while he takes his licks. That OK?" This act of kindness was an enormous indignity that blew my mind. Chad said it was fine. I could not stand still, shaking and moaning, gasping for breath. He took hold of my shoulders, old friends, and whispered in my ear. . "Calm down, man. You know what's going down." He patted my bottom softly and I felt my knees go weak. Chad's hand touched my back and I braced myself. I was beside myself with misery, choking back tears, pleading. "Wes, please, not like this where the whole fucking plaza can see. I've never gotten the wooden paddle before. Please, man, anything but this," He held my upper arms tighter, shaking his head regretfully. "You brought this on yourself, bro. Take it like a man." I'd been taut, so charged up and then suddenly I collapsed in his arms, felt myself go weak. The first lick was so loud I screamed more in surprise than pain. It was only after a second that the sizzling sting exploded in my head. I bit hard on the leather in my mouth as it smacked again, a huge upward swing that made me hop on my tip toes. I was astonished at the heat already being generated from my behind. The sound was almost deafening in the room. "It's OK, man. Your best pal is gonna be right here the whole time. You can start things right by demonstrating a willingness to accept this deserved discipline. In this case your trainer feels a good paddling is what you need." I buried my head in his shoulder, hoping against hope our long friendship would make him stop this somehow. The board landed and I cried out again. I'd taunted other camels who broke down during punishment and when I looked at the group of guys waiting, they were ferociously erect but smiling to a man. Wes held my head tight, pressing my face into his shirt. His other hand held my wrists that were bound behind me, pulling me close. I recalled that smell from when the gang used to wrestle in the back yard. It was a combination of maleness and sweat. "Spread those legs, stand proudly, Eric. You're a camel now." Incredibly I obeyed his command and wailed louder as a shattering crack drove my crotch into him. The curls on his arms rubbed my bare flesh as he squeezed. My spirit was broken and I was awash in sensation. It all swirled -- the room, seeing Wes, my public orgasm and finally being supported and encouraged by my best bud as I received this harsh, bare bottom spanking. "You're here for a whole month, bud, and I'll be right beside you the whole time." The words burned into me every bit as bad as the furious licks from the board. It landed across both buttocks at the same time, full force, each lick more powerful that a dozen with the strap. The paddling was endless and I thought of all the others watching, anyone who happened to stroll by. I hollered and bawled like a baby as Wes held tighter, our rough beards rubbing and his lips whispering into my ear. "We're getting close, bud. You're learning your lesson well." My tail burned and stung as never before. The fury of the paddle was such that each lick was a separate visit to hell eliciting loud bellows from deep within. The pain was indescribable and I chewed the soaked leather like there was no tomorrow. Already it was having the desired effect. I was heaving, broiling hot as if I'd just finished the Marathon, sweating and unable to stop the little spasms that hit. His hand pressed against the blond stubble on my head, pressing me into his shirt. Something deep inside me cracked open. He brushed my rising cock at a final ear-splitting lick landed. "That's it, Eric. Get that fat pickle back up." He held me tight when it finished, assuring me it was over. I was nearly choking, trying to get control. He pulled me back, looked down. "Dude, it's tough and I never thought about it. You gotta stay hard but you can't spurt. That's a bummer but you'll do all right, I know it, bud." I could not stand still as continual convulsions wracked my frame. As I trembled in my bud's strong arms, I heard his request for some butt cream. "You got a fan section." Sobbing, I turned and saw several gleaming faces close to the window, carrying on like it was New Years. I whirled back, unable to abide the thought. Chad threw him a tube and Wes began to roughly coat my squirming behind as the onlookers laughed. Still rubbing, he began questioning Jake. Through tears I saw my roommate's grizzled face, masculine stance, hairy body and shiny, wet torso. His cock pumped hugely and helplessly, a walking advertisement for testosterone with the ribbed, abs covered in black fur, enormous bush and powerful broad shoulders. His legs were powerful and furry. Chad told Wes we were roommates and Wes welcomed him warmly. "I'll be training both of you." He turned to Jake with that big, white smile again. "Damn, I bet you have to fight off the gals. They love that fucking Southern accent." He tested the muscles of his upper arm as Jake reddened further, chest rising and falling as he stood silently. Wes casually lifted the huge balls in his palm, bouncing and rolling them around. The poor guy's dick twitched out of control. . Casey, the other palace trainer with Wes, was a cocky young man 19 years old. He strutted over to us, folded his arms, spread his legs and nodded slowly when Wes told Chad they would handle it from here. In five days we would be "house trained" and ready for the public. He reminded us of the pain chip that had been shot into our bodies our first day and had us line up in a single file facing the wide window. Someone joined them and I gulped. We looked out on the crowded plaza and the lucky few who got a close look. Cameras were raised everywhere I looked and I heard greetings in many languages. I felt so exposed and thought of what we camels must look like, legs kicked wide apart, bottoms quivering, hands locked obediently behind our necks. I heard a loud gasp and trembled in awful anticipation. Hands touched my shoulders, my chest, squeezing and testing. A hand pressed on the back of my head, bending me over until my chin rested on the wide window sill. The spasms were almost impossible to control. I heard a low chuckle and froze. My blistered rump was roughly pulled apart and I yelped at the searing pain. Immediate tears spilled, such a degrading position. Fingers explored, scratching my anus slowly. I quivered when fingers pulled lightly on the blond curl circling my anus. Every touch was a new blow to my dignity. They finally moved on but came back later. "He's a former trainer who was hurting the camels. He has a six month stay." Casey's voice sounded respectful and I heard a "hmm" from my examiner. "Yes, take him, that hairy one, the red head and the one with the huge balls. Send them to the restaurant and start their training immediately. The queen and I will probably dine there tonight and I expect superb food and service." So this man with the same accent as Jere was King Nikos. I was raised and pulled to the side with Jake, a red head and a guy with brown hair. One look at our faces revealed our utter misery. We were all the same height and build. Were we chosen for our bodies or hair color? My eyes widened as Wes showed Jake a long rod composed of metal globes. He said something and the young man blushed furiously, turned and bent over. It was inserted inside him and he was told to hold it tightly. I braced myself but still cried out at the pain when my rump was opened. I drew in my breath at coldness of the metal. It was shoved in a good 7 inches, one metal ball slipping in after another with 3 sticking out. He raised me back up and patted my stomach as I shuddered, jerking at the touch, hearing the dreaded voices of the crowd.. When all were plugged he lifted a device and immediately the steel knots began vibrating inside us. We gasped and groaned, stunned and on edge. Wes and Casey reviewed the four of us.. "Raise that chin^Åstraighter^Åthrust that chest out, dude you must've really been a gym freak..." Casey, blond and blue eyed like me, pinched my hard nips and sounded a lot older than his age. He had a low, serious voice and a firm manner. He gave my shoulder a firm slap and looked me up and down as I trembled, hating his utter control. "Doing fine, Eric. Some guys really love their camel time and you must be one of the them!" I quivered as he stroked the blazing red flesh and grinned. He was merciless. "I see that despite blowing your wad you're stiff again -- that's the man!" I was petrified as he reached out and gently squeezed the bloated, sticky tip. He tied a ribbon to the end of the rod in Jake's ass and stuffed the other end in my mouth. The same was done to me. I felt the slightest movement from the red head and I tried to stay still for Jake's sake. Wes tied floating balloons to our cocks so that the crowd could follow our progress. We stood, tears flowing steadily, gripped with a consuming anxiety. He told us to follow him and took off swiftly, the tension rising, heart pounding. I heard the noise of the plaza as we drew closer and my apprehension rose to record levels. "This way, men!" He strode down a hallway with us in tow, squeezing our butts tightly on the metal, vibrating rods, holding the ribbons in our teeth. We passed palace workers replacing a light, dusting, the maids screeching with glee when they saw us. Men repaired the tall windows and gave us enough smirks and unwanted attention to last a lifetime. Someone reached our and swatted the rod sticking from Jake's ass and he pranced on tip toes for a second. Wes opened the door and I hesitated in fear. He threw an arm around my neck, pulled me close with an affectionate, "Hey, bro" as he lazily rubbed my scalp, our heavy beards scraping. I'd seen camels like this, terrified, sobbing, pleading with cocks dancing, petrified of strangers. I'd taunted them, driving them to new depths of humiliation. He raised my head high and I shook with deep sobs, choking back pleas. "Sorry, man, we gotta get moving." I could have withstood it except for the intimacy, held by my best bud as he lazily scratched my prickly scalp. Our faces rubbed and his voice was soothing and supportive, reminding me of all we'd been thru and he knew I'd hold up. He gave ma a concerned look then grinned and squeezed my raw tail gently. "It's happening, bro." He pulled me forward into the bright sun. The wind rustled my bare skin, my curls and I was almost blind with tears. I simply stared at Jake's back. Catcalls, snapshots and screams surrounded us. My cock was rigid again and the loud clicks of our boots attracted attention. The roar of the crowd was a constant as the blood pounded in my ears and loins. "Look at that red ass!" Several guys ran along side, asking how my butt felt or telling Jake he looked like a fucking fool with the balloon. Some commented on the big balls of the handsome sandy-haired young man and I heard the loud sobs of the beefy redhead. We panted, scarlet with humiliation, unable to ignore the screams and attention from the strangers. I kept moving, seeing the string of the balloon, thinking this had to end at some point. We marched and the groups young men were merciless, noting our wiggling rumps from the vibrators, laughing at our tears, threatening to do things to us. We were four, athletic naked young men with shiny metal bars protruding from quivering bottoms connected to the man behind. Red balloons tied to our hard cocks floated above our heads. Our entire bodies -- cock, abs, face, ears - beet red. Our chests rose and fell rapidly, dangling the chain that hung from our aching nipples. Our Adam's apple bobbed and thoughts of our exposed furry loins was devastating. Every guy was sobbing in the afternoon sun, all former toughness now vanished. "Let's go, men." Wes held a wooden door open and we entered, shivering and so very grateful to escape the crowd. We followed him to a room and I noted with gloom that these must be the "waiters". Two men were being turned by a trainer who checked their appearance -- and what an appearance it was. They were dressed exactly opposite. One man was entirely naked but for a purple, stretchy cloth over his private parts that accentuated his hardness. The other man had a dick gag that kept his mouths stretched in a huge "O". His arms were bound to his collar and a tray was bound on his chest. He had a long thick tail, high boots and nip clamps with streaming purple ribbons. These ribbons also fell from small clamps in his armpits. In shock I saw a little rod sticking from his upright cock and it held another purple ribbon. An almost invisible cock ring kept his organs lifted and hard. They left and we followed their progress in the restaurant. They approached a table and the diners turned. The naked one greeted them, introduced his buddy who shivered, mute as the four diners grinned. They made the man turn and played with the tail. He could not keep his rump still, wagging it in their faces. They took orders and returned, drinks resting on the bound tray and served by the other server. I understood how it worked. The only question was which one I would be.