Date: Tue, 9 Mar 2004 23:54:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Fuck Club

THE FUCK CLUB

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Chapter 1

I'd had a really good workout at the gym, followed by
a long swim in the pool there.  And as it was a Friday
night and my girlfriend was away, I wasn't in a hurry
to get back to the apartment and I'd stayed on and had
a sauna.  I felt really good:  tired, but in great
shape.  My muscled body strode along confidently
towards the parking lot, and my skin positively glowed
with good health after the sauna - it really does get
you clean, doesn't it?  My whole body felt shining
with health - well, it should, shouldn't it, at twenty
seven?  I take a lot of care of myself - eat the right
food, work out regularly, have great sex as often as I
can; and working in construction, I don't have a lot
of stress.  I think that burns a lot of guys out, and
even though they try to take care of their bodies,
living in tension all the time simply negates it.

Look, I know guys in high-powered jobs earn a lot more
than me, but who needs all the worry?  I never wanted
to go to college as I knew they'd try and make me get
a "nice" safe job in an office or somewhere, and I
actually like working out of doors, and using my body
as it was designed to be used.  All in all, I'm a
happy kind of guy, normally pretty relaxed, and
smiling a lot.  I may not have a lot of money, but I
don't have money worries, either: my wages easily pay
the rent, allow me to eat properly, pay the gym
subscription, and have a few beers occasionally.
Sure, I may not have a late-model car, but who cares
about that really - mine gets me around to the lake on
the weekends, and to and from the sites where I'm
working (well, actually, labouring.  Even on the most
mechanised sites there's some "grunt" work that needs
doing by hand.  A Lot of guys can't cope with it, and
just want to sit in a machine's cab all day, but I
never mind getting stuck in with pick and shovel.)

I suppose that if I got married and had kids it would
all have to change - the money just wouldn't be
enough.  But my girl friend's got a god job and she
doesn't want to get hitched, and that suits me fine.
Actually I don't think we'll be together too much
longer, and I'm kind of looking forward to playing the
field again - sex with the same person for too long
gets boring, doesn't it?  I know they say it should
deepen and strengthen the relationship, but all I
mostly want is a good fuck.

Anyway, I was making my way back towards my car,
feeling pretty good with myself, when a guy coming in
the other direction stops and asks me for a light.
I'm explaining to him that I haven't got one (well, a
fit young guy like me doesn't want to mess it all up
by smoking, does he?),  when the guy fumbles in his
pocket and there's this hissing noise.

My head wasn't hurting or anything when I came to, but
I knew something was wrong.  I was lying on a hard
concrete floor, and I picked myself up and shook
myself to clear my head and try to get my thoughts
together.  I was in a kind of cage - well, a square
enclosure, about five feet to the side, standing at
the side of a bigg-ish room with banked benches around
three sides and a big door on the fourth wall.  Where
the fuck was I?  What's going on here?  I shook the
bars of the cage to try to get them to move - and I've
got a lot of power in my arms, as you might imagine,
but no good:  it was completely solid.  So I tried
shouting for someone to get in there and let me out,
but the room sounded sort of "dead" - you know, there
was no echo or anything, and I got the impression that
the walls were so thick that no sound was getting in
or out at all.  I got mad, and pulled and kicked a the
cage harder and harder, and my shouting turned really
loud and violent, but it was all no good.  I realised
that I was stuck in there until someone came and let
me out.

My watch was missing - gone from my wrist - so I don't
really know how long I'd been "out", or what time it
was now.  I'd left the gym about nine, and it still
kind of felt like "today" - well, at least judging
from the growth of the hair on my face, and it was
probably about eleven now, I thought.  Suddenly the
door opened, and a  man strode in.  He looked as if he
was used to being in charge of things, as he had that
easy, confident air that says "just do as I tell you".
 I started shaking at the cage again and calling to
him, and he came up and looked at me.

"Hey, let me out of her.  Let me out now, else..."

"Silence!  Don't threaten me with idle threats.  Else
you'll do what?  Call the cops?  Hit me?  Have you got
a phone, or access to me?  Now, listen to me, and
listen carefully.  You've been brought here to a very
exclusive club.  A club for gentlemen who have, shall
we say, unusual and exclusive tastes, and the money to
indulge them.  You're part of tonight's entertainment,
that will be starting shortly, and provided you have
at least a minimum level of co-operation, you won't be
permanently harmed or damaged."

"You're crazy... Let me out of here, and let me out
now, before...."

The guy pointed something at me and pressed a button,
and I was knocked over as my whole body started to
writhe and spasm uncontrollably.  A wave of pain shot
through me, and I heard myself screaming at the top of
my voice.  I lay there on the concrete after a few
seconds, feebly moving my limbs and trying to get some
control back into them, and to try to get the pain to
stop.

"Get up!", he commanded, and then, when I just lay
there, "Get up, and get up now, before I give you
another shot."

I really struggled to get to my feet, and had to use
the bars of the cage to help me.  I stood there,
leaning against the bars, and he said "Now, let that
be a lesson for you.  This is a combination of tazer
technology and the kind of thing they use in cattle
prods and so on.  As you will have seen, it's
extremely effective over short distances.  We don't
like to use it in front of our club members as they
prefer you to be more, shall we say, involved in
what's going on.  But if you misbehave, or try to
escape, we'll zap you.  And that was only a half dose
- I suggest you try to be careful to avoid a full
one!"

I stood there, looking at him.  Inside I was seething
- I wanted to shake the cage, reach through the bars
and punch out at him.  I wanted to tell him to let me
out, to stop behaving like an idiot - you just can't
snatch guys off the street and cage them up, not in
America, can you?  And underneath, I suppose I was a
bit scared.  What the fuck did they intend to do with
me?  Did they really think they could get away with
it, whatever it was?  They must know I'd go straight
to the cops, and then they'd be hunted down and jailed
- kidnapping's some sort of federal offence, isn't it?
 So if they thought that, would they let me go at all,
or would... No, surely not.... Surely they couldn't be
so unconcerned, because they never let people go.
Were these unusual and exotic interests  connected
with killing people, then butchering them or
something?  I shuddered as I remembered that case of
the guy on TV who killed another guy then slowly cut
bits off him and barbecued them and ate them - was I
here to be butchered, then cooked? Or parcelled up
into chops and steaks to be taken home by the members?
  I started to tremble, as I liked life.  I was too
young to die.  And it would be bad enough to get
killed in a plane crash or something, but cut up into
small pieces....!  - and did they do this first, or
did they take little bits off you, slice by slice,
until you finally died?

"Look, just let me go.  I promise I'll say nothing
about it.  Just let me out of here, take me back to my
car...."

"No, we can't do that.  You're here for a very
specific purpose, to entertain our club members.
They've paid a lot of money for their tickets for
tonight's show, and we are not going to disappoint
them.  My advice to you is to co-operate, to do as
you're told, to only scream when it's really
painful..."

"No, please!  I'm too young to die.... Please let me
go.  I'm only an ordinary guy, I've never done
anything to hurt anyone... I don't deserve this,
please let me go, please...."

"Now stop being stupid!  You're not going to die.
We've never had a death yet, not even nearly one.
You're just here to entertain and amuse our patrons,
and when it's all over, we'll let you go.  And pay you
handsomely for your time this evening, I may say.  A
cool five hundred, for a little discomfort.  So stop
being stupid, pull yourself together, and try to think
constructively.  You can get through this - loads of
other guys like you have, and it will soon be all over
and you'll be out of here, back to your normal life."

I suppose I was a bit reassured, but, on the other
hand, he might just be trying to bluff me, to make me
feel it was all going t o be OK, when in fact they
were going to kill me.  So I tried to find out more.

"Look, please... What's going to happen?  What's this
all about?"

"I've told you - we provide entertainment for our
members, our members who like to see strong,
healthy-looking men like you experience new things.
Now there's nothing to worry about - we do all the
work, and you just have to experience it, and accept
it, so don't be concerned about not knowing what to
do, or how to do it.  Most men really hate it at
first, but some get to like it and find it changes
their life.  My advice to you is to stay calm, to do
as you're told, and obey us - that way it will be over
with the least fuss and trouble, and everyone wins:
you and the customers."

"Yes, but what's going to happen?"

"I've told you not to worry.  You'll find out soon
enough."

As he said this his cell phone went off, and he
answered it.  Turning back to me at the end of the
call he said "Well, no time to talk now.  The members
are mostly here and have had a drink in the anteroom,
so we're going to let them in to take their seats.
Now, as I said, try to enjoy it - although I don't
suppose you will - and behave."

He simply walked away, leaving me standing there in
the cage, and the main door opened and men started to
come it - mostly older guys, all kind of expensively
dressed.  Some were in fancy business suits, and some
in denims, but they all had that air of sleek
self-assurance that only the successful, rich and
powerful have.  They were talking to each other and
joking and so on, and as they took their seats around
the small arena they started to gesticulate and point
at me, as if they were discussing me.  Several of them
still had half-filled glasses with them, and it was
clear that some of them were mildly drunk.

I stared at them, and they stared back, and I tried
shouting out "Hey, you guys, let me out of here...
Call the cops.... Look, I've been kidnapped.", but it
only caused them to laugh, and to get more riotous in
their pointing and mocking.

More and more men came in and soon all the seats were
filled, and the noise level, with all the laughing and
joking, was very high.  I could no longer be heard
above it, even if they'd wanted to listen.  It all
went very quiet, suddenly, though, when a guy in a
tuxedo came in, followed by two very big,
tough-looking guys dressed in tight leather shorts and
those kind of harnesses that you see pictures of gay
guys wearing -  the sort that go over the shoulders
and their pecs, and kind of emphasise their muscles.
The leader evidently had a radio mike of some sort as
when he started to speak everyone in the room could
hear.

"Good evening, gentlemen, fellow members...."  There
was an answering roar from the crowd.  "Tonight we've
got our normal Friday night fun-fest for you - there
in the cage, waiting patiently, is this week's prey,
Steve.   We've been watching him for a couple of
weeks, and I can tell you that he's twenty seven,
lives with his girl friend, and works as a labourer in
construction. I think we can all see that he's well
built, and our spies at his gym tell us that he's good
to look at - although we shall find that out for
ourselves soon, of course.  One of our operatives made
a sexual advance to him in a bar last week and was
almost floored, so taken with the evidence that he's
living with a woman, I think we can assume that he's
probably still a virgin."

What the fuck did he mean, I wondered.  I'm no virgin
- I've been fucking since I was fourteen. I did
remember the guy in the bar, though - started talking
to me and bought me a beer, but then he got too close,
rested his hand on my arm, and I guessed he was gay
and left.

There were whistles and catcalls from the audience,
and a great bout of cheering.  The man in the tux
continued "So, it probably is going to be a great
evening.  Performing with Steve we have Todd, well
know to us here at the club, and always guaranteed to
put on a spectacular show for us.  However there's a
double treat in store for us - Todd's son Joey is
sixteen this very day, and he's eager to follow in his
dad's footsteps in the entertainment industry.
Consequently we have invited Todd and Joey to perform
together this evening for your greater pleasure - as I
said, it's Joey's first time:  not only first time
here, but first time anywhere.  Todd assures me he's
been coaching Joey, but I want us all to give him a
big welcome, make him feel really glad to be here,
and encourage him in every way we can.  I'm sure a lot
of us can remember our first time, and it's really
good of Joey to come along and share it with us."

"Before we start, however, let's have the draw for
tonight's lucky seat number."

He came over with a deck of what looked like playing
cards, but which on closer inspection proved to be
cards with a big number on each.  He stood there,
ostentatiously shuffling them, then held them out to
me sot that  I could cut them, and shuffled them
again.  Then he fanned them out, and held them out to
me, inviting me tot take one.  I couldn't guess what
was happening, but took one, and the guy read it and
announced "Tonight's lucky winner is the holder of
seat one hundred and twenty seven.  Come on down, one
two seven, and meet the prey!"

The crowd all cheered as a guy in his late forties
left his seat and made his way across the arena
towards us.  He we wearing Jeans and a semi-formal
shirt, and was tanned and affluent looking.  He
approached, and shook the guy in the tux warmly by the
hand, with that confident grip that some guys seem to
have.  Then he came over and thrust his hand through
the bars of the cage holding me, and somehow I
couldn't help shaking it, too.   The crowd cheered
again.

"Are we ready?", came over the PA system, and the
crowd roared a big "Yes."

The two big leather-clad goons approached and opened
the locked door of the cage, and gestured for me to
get out.  I did, and I thought about trying to tun
away, but it seemed hopeless- the two guys were really
close to me, there was a long way to run to the door,
and the crowd would presumably block it before I could
get there....  So I just stood there.

"Right, gentlemen.  As is traditional, we will have
the inspection of the prey, and then the warm-up
session with lucky member one two seven.".  Another
huge roar of approval.

"Right, Steve, undress!".  The order came as a
complete shock to me.  I thought I had misheard at
first, until one of the two goons repeated "He said to
undress.  Strip. Get naked."

"No, I can't... All these people...."

"Steve's a little shy", the man in the tux said, his
words echoing around the  room.  "Shall we encourage
him...?"

"Strip.... Strip.... Strip..... " the crowd started to
chant, and the goon standing on my left said to me,
rather menacingly, "You heard them... Now, get those
fucking clothes off, or else we'll have to use the
tazer on you...."

"Come on, Steve", the voice boomed over the PA again.
"We're all guys here, and we know from observing you
at the gym that you've got nothing to be ashamed of
dick-wise.  Come on, get those clothes off, so that
everyone can take a good long look at your body."

"Strip... Strip... Strip.... ", the chanting went on.
And I just stood there, not believing what I was
hearing.

My mind was made up for me rather suddenly, though -
one of the goons made a grab at me, and held me whilst
the other quickly knelt in front of me.  Before I
could think about kicking out at him, he had one foot
in his hands and pulled off my trainer.  Quick as a
flash he did the other one, then he stood up, and
before I could even think of stopping him he undid the
belt on my Jeans, and simply pushed them right down.
He was kneeling again then, and he quickly pulled my
Jeans right off.

As my tanned legs were exposed (I work a lot in shorts
in the hot weather and I get the sun), the crowd's
cheers got louder.

"Right, Steve... Now, the shirt."  When I still didn't
make a move they grabbed me again, undid my shirt
buttons ,and pulled it down over my shoulders.  I was
standing there then in my socks, boxers, and my T
shirt (I always wear one of those under my shirt, as
it helps keep the shirt clean and wrinkle-free).  I
felt so stupid - yes , that's it, stupid, standing
there in my underwear, surrounded by a big crowd of
cheering, dressed, guys.

"Lose the T, Steve", one of the goons said.  "Now, you
can either do it yourself, or we'll do it, and we'll
be a lot rougher in pulling it over your head!"

So what could I do?  I reached down and took the hem
of my T, and pulled it up and over my head.  As my
flat belly was revealed I could hear the crowd getting
louder and louder, and when I took it right off so
that they could see all my torso, whistling and
clapping joined the cheering.

I stood there  in my boxers and socks, and then the
voice boomed out over the PA system "Gentlemen!  Now,
the moment you've all been looking for, the moment of
revelation, as we say.  It's a big moment for a guy
like Steve, when he first exposes himself, so let's
give him a little quiet, shall we?"  The noise
stopped, and the guy in the tuxedo's voice came again
over the PA, but quieter and softer this time, "Come
on then, Steve - drop those boxers.  All of us guys
here want to see your dick and your arse, so don't
keep us waiting......

I still hesitated ,and one of the goons fell to his
knees behind me.  Before I could do anything to stop
it, he yanked my boxers down over my hips, and I was
standing there in front of all the men, naked except
for my socks.  As the huge guy stood up his body
brushed against mine, and I felt his hot sweaty skin
nudge my arse and the middle of my back - I almost
jumped a mile: well, when you're naked at the gym, you
go to huge lengths to avoid touching other guys in the
showers and so on, don't you, and so I wasn't use to
the feel of another man against me.  A huge roar of
approval went up, and, I suppose it's reflex: I kind
of cupped my hands in front of me, to hide my dick and
balls.  The two goons came and held my arms, though,
and moved them to one side so that I was s clearly
visible to everyone, and then they led me around so
that I had to walk in front of all the rows of seats
all sides of the arena.  As the MC had pointed out,
I've got nothing to be embarrassed about at all,
really, as I'm well above average in the dick
department, but, even so, being displayed to all these
men like that was too much.  I felt myself going red
with embarrassment, and I absolutely hated it.

After my circuit, they stopped me, and told me to take
my socks off.  Well, I suppose it is a bit stupid,
isn't it, to wear socks when you're otherwise totally
naked and exposed?  I did as you do normally and kind
of hitched up one foot to pull the sock off, then
stood down on that bare foot and hitched the other up.
 This simple action, something we all do every day,
seemed to really excite the crowd, and I realised it
was because as you do this you cross your ankle over
your knee, and that means that anyone looking at you
from the side or from the back gets to see your balls
hanging down, silhouetted against your thigh.

Still, there I was, now without a stitch on, and
obviously the source of enormous interest to all the
watching men.  I was led into the centre of the small
arena area and a bar,  on a chain, came down from the
ceiling.  The goons cuffed my wrists to the end of the
bar, and then it moved upwards - My arms were raised,
and then had to go above my head, and finally I was
standing there, my arms spread wide open by the bar,
but stretched almost as high as I could go - if they
hadn't stopped raising the bar, I'd have had to go on
tiptoe, and then my feet would have come up off the
ground!  They hadn't finished yet, though - one of the
goons had gone out and come back with a similar bar,
and he now knelt in front of me and roughly pulled my
feet apart, and attached the bar to my ankles so that
my feet were spread about two feet apart.  The top bar
then started to move upwards again, and first my arms
and legs were stretched, then my whole body, then I
had to raise myself up on my toes..... I started to
sweat and my breathing got difficult as my weight was
hung from my arms and I couldn't force my diaphragm
down to get air in.  I started to panic, and would
have cried out except that there was little enough air
to breathe as it was, and I couldn't spare any!
Fortunately  - well, I say fortunately, as I'd much
rather not have been there at all - fortunately the
goons seemed to know what they wanted to achieve so
they lowered the top bar a little until my whole body
was stretched taught and I had to stand on my toes,
but not so taught that I couldn't breathe.  I
realised, though, that I was now completely helpless
and that I was totally exposed to view.  Any movement
on my part, for example to kick out with my feet,
would mean that I was no longer supporting my weight,
and I'd not be able to breathe.  I couldn't shield my
dick and balls from the men's gaze as my hands were up
in the air and wide apart, and I knew that my
wide-open legs must mean that the men behind me would
be able to see my ball swinging between my thighs.

The "lucky" man, one two seven, now approached.  I
could see a film of sweat, sweat of excitement, all
over his face and he was glowing bright red with an
eager earnestness.  He stood right in front of me,
then started to run his podgy, fat hands down me,
starting off by resting them on my shoulders as his
thumbs probed the muscles in my neck, and then moving
on down - I squirmed as his sweaty palms ran over my
nips.  He almost caressed my belly, and I thought for
a moment he was going to actually touch my dick!  But
he stopped, then went around behind me and I felt his
horrible hands run down over my back, feeling my
shoulder blades, and then cupping my arse cheeks as if
he was testing the power and muscles in them.  He
probed at my thighs, too, testing to see how my long,
powerful muscles reacted as his fingers pressed into
them.

My dick hadn't escaped, as it so happens, as he came
back around to stand in front of me, then, as he
stared into my face, his hand went down and he grabbed
hold of my balls and started to kind of move them up
and down, as if he wanted to know how much they
weighed.  I've got big balls, and they hang low in
their sac under my dick, and it seemed like an age as
his hands continued to grope and caress at them.
Look, I'm not gay or anything, but when a guy's
playing with your balls, you're so sensitive because
at any moment you think he's going to do you a serious
hurt (it's easy enough, isn't it, when your hand is
full of another guy's balls?), and that makes for
tension, and tension starts to make you go erect.  I
hated it, as I thought that all the watching men must
be thinking that I was enjoying this - believe you me,
I waasn't!  But I could feel my dick kind of getting
heavier and heavier - it wasn't erect yet, but it must
have been swelling as the blood flowed into it.  Oh,
fuck me, please don't let this happen, I prayed.  I've
never been erect in front of another guy - well, not
so he'd know!  I mean I've never been naked and then
erect, when other guys can see me - I've had erections
under my Jeans when other guys have been in the room,
as we all have, but they wouldn't have known.   Didn't
get a choice, now, though!  One two seven now let go
of my balls and took my dick in the palm of his hand -
I could feel the dampness and the heat surrounding my
manhood.  He was kind of rubbing with his thumb as my
dick lay there, and I realised what he was doing - he
was skinning me back.  I felt that faint coldness as
the air of the room hit my moist dick head, and that
was it - it was too much:  I just couldn't help
myself, and I felt my dick rising up, out of his hand,
straining for the sky.  All the men watching me
cheered, and one two seven kind of rotated me around
through three hundred and sixty degrees, so all of
them got a good view - I had to shuffle very quickly
on my feet so that I could keep breathing, as he
tugged at my dick to force me to rotate.

The two goons , the guy in the tux - I suppose he was
the MC - and one two seven now all withdrew slightly
and the lights in the arena dimmed  and a spotlight
came on so that my naked body was brilliantly
illuminated.  I could see the four men debating, then
one of the goons went out and came back carrying a
small table  with a box on it.  The table was put by
the side of me, and one two seven approached again.

"Now, Steve", he said, as if it was the most normal
thing in the world to be standing there having a
conversation with a totally naked man.  "Now, I've
always wanted to do this.  I've always wanted to be
able to decorate a man's body.  Haven't you always
wanted a decoration of some kind?"

"No!"

"Ah well, you can't please all the people all of the
time", as the saying goes.  Still, it's my choice, not
yours, so I guess you're going to have to learn to
live with it.

He stood by me, up real close ,and started to play
with my left tit, taking the nipple between his thumb
and forefinger and rolling around, and gently
squeezing it.  I would have backed away, but there was
no way I could do so without having difficulty in
breathing, so I just had to stand there, taking it as
best I could, and wriggling my body as much as I could
to try to get some relief, to get away from his
teasing fingers.  As he did this, of course, my
erection seemed to get harder and harder - it was
almost as if they were directly connected via my
brain.  I didn't know what to do - I  was in some
discomfort from his assault on my nip, my dick was
starting to ache it was so hard, my whole body was
stretched and at the limits of endurance, and I was
blushing all over - I'm sure the initial embarrassing
red hue on my face and shoulders must have spread all
down me by now.  Still he went on, and I was powerless
to halt it.  I tried pleading with him, begging him,
moaning, groaning, and then shouting, but it was all
useless.

He put his mouth close to my ear, so that I could hear
him above all the noise from the audience  as he asked
me in a soft, low voice "Can you stand a little pain,
Steve?  Just a little, for a few seconds?"

"Fuck you!", I said, as I wasn't going to start
playing mind games like this with him.

"Well, remember I asked", he said evenly.  "And
remember that sometimes you need to suffer in the name
of art...."

He didn't seem to want to touch my other tit, but I
could feel it straining as it, too, was hard and
jutting out n sympathy with its fellow.  He went on
and on, rolling my nip around, and I thought that I
might faint from that exquisite mixture of pain and
pleasure that it bought me.  But then he stopped,
opened the box that was standing by the side of him,
and got out something: glinting under the spotlights
was a long, wickedly-sharp stainless steel needle,
with a handle on one end so that he could hold it.
Almost before I realised what he was doing,  he help a
cork up to the side of my nip, then with a lightning
stroke thrust the needle through me, from side to
side.    I'm not ashamed to say that I screamed, and
this was greeted by a burst of applause from the
watching men.

He drew the needle out and held it up for me to see -
there it was, still shining in the light, but now with
smears of my blood all over it.  I looked down, and
there was also blood dripping, quite slowly, from my
tit.  "Excellent", he said to me in a low voice, as if
intending that only the two of us should hear.

He reached into the small box at his side and now drew
out something small and shining.  I could hardly see
it as the sweat rolling down my forehead and face was
almost blurring my vision.  My whole body was on fire,
not just because of the pain from the needle, but
because the effort of having to stand, fully
stretched, on tiptoe so that I could breathe, was
causing acute muscular cramps in my arse muscles, my
thighs and my calves.  I desperately wanted to be able
to stand flat on the ground, and to lower my arms, but
it seemed unlikely that his was going to happen.   As
I looked closer, though, I could see he was holding a
ring in some shiny metal, well, almost a ring - the
two ends were open.

"See, Steve", he crooned at me.  "This is the finest
stainless steel.  Premium grade.  Some men are
decorated with gold, or silver.  But real men, big,
handsome tough men like you, deserve the simplicity
and elegance of stainless steel.  Now, this is going
to hurt a little more, but not for much longer now..."

He placed one of the open ends of the ring against my
painful, bleeding nip, and pressed.  I squirmed and
tried to get away, but of course could not.  A fresh
wave of sweat broke out all over me, and I could feel
it running almost in rivulets down my ribs, all cold.
I could almost smell the stink from my pits, cruelly
exposed as my arms stretched way above my head.  It
went on and on, painful, but not yet so painful that I
could not prevent myself from crying out:  even now I
did not want these men to know that I was not able to
take whatever they could dish out.    He carried on
fiddling around, and the pain went on and on, but
finally he stopped.

It took him only moments to smear something on the
open ends of the ring, which I could now see hanging
from my nip a I looked down my body, then he took a
pliers-like device and used it to squeeze closed the
end of the ring.

New waves of pain went through me as he then rotated
the ring around in my nip, and again he pressed his
mouth close to my ear to say "Does that feel rough?  I
don't want there to be any rough places that will snag
and tear your flesh - I want to get he edges smooth
and neat after the gluing..."

"It doesn't matter, fucker!", I snarled.  "It will be
off, the moment I'm out of here."

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure of that", he replied
equably.  "Now you've had it done and endured the
pain, you might find you like it. A lot of men think
that a flash of steel against their skin makes them
look very sexy, especially when they're otherwise
totally naked.  I think you'll find you'll get all
sorts of admiring glances from other men when you're
in places like the showers at your gym."

"Now, one more thing...."  A new pain shot through me,
sharp and clear, and my whole body winced with it.
"There, all done....", he continued.  "That was just a
little antiseptic to make sure the wounds all clean
and fresh.   Now, every couple of hours or so for the
next two or three days just rotate the ring to make
sure that the scar tissue forming in your nipple
doesn't adhere to the ring itself - it shouldn't,
being stainless steel, but better to be safe than to
be sorry.  After a couple of days the swelling should
have gone down and the pain gone away, but the ring
will be very noticeable at first, until you really get
used to it - so I wouldn't let your lover fiddle with
it too much..."

"Look, fucker, I told you it's off, as soon as I get
out of here..."

"Boy, I do a lot of men.  Most of them come to me
voluntarily, and some are brought to me by drunken
buddies after a big night out - they think it's really
funny.  And very few of them take the ring out, as I
said:  most men actually like their bodies with an
ornament like this, after the initial shock of it."

"So why did you do this to me...."

"The sheer fun of it.  The pleasure of ringing a man
without his permission, when he's not drunk, but
helpless to do anything about it.  And I enjoyed
seeing how you coped with the pain - it wasn't too
much, was it?  Most men are wimps and want me to
deaden the tissue before I spike it.  Just count
yourself lucky that I didn't decide to ring your cock
- Prince Alberts hurt a lot more, especially when
you're not sedated!"

As he said this, I involuntarily shuddered, and I felt
my balls contract as they do when you're really
scared.  Somehow the thought of a man putting a ring
through my dick made me feel almost physically sick.


One two seven stepped away now and had a word with the
MC, who announced "Gentlemen, our lucky winner tonight
has finished.  Now, next week, don't forget to buy
your tickets again - who knows, you may be the lucky
winner who gets to carry out his wishes on the
helpless prey.  A big round of applause for lucky one
two seven, for that skilful demonstration of ringing a
man.....  And for our prey here, who has shown us he's
a worthy specimen for tonight's show.... We'll
continue with the main part of the programme after
you've had an opportunity to freshen your drinks...
There will now be a short intermission."

The applause and cheering and whooping rang out, but
I'm not sure I wanted to be applauded like this for
being a "worthy specimen."  I saw most of the audience
leave through the doors, and the goons came back
together with the MC.  The chain holding my hands so
high above my head was relaxed and I could at last
stand flat on my feet again and breathe normally - a
new wave of discomfort went through me as my strained
muscles were at last able to relax, and as the
sensation returned, I was glad to be able to shuffle
around and try to get proper feeling back into my
cramped muscles.

They had a towel with them, and one of the goons now
rubbed my body briskly all over, getting rid of the
sweat off me.  I felt better, actually ,with my body
feeling more "normal", even though I was naked.  But
this feeling was soon shattered when one of the goons
asked, quite casually, "Need to pee?"

"Yes...."

He had been holding a small plastic container, I now
saw, and he casually picked up my dick and held it
into the container.  I couldn't believe it - surely
they didn't want me to pee here in front of them all?

"Pee away", he said cheerfully.

"No, I...  I don't want to..."

"Hey, buddy, it's a long night still.  And let me
advise you that for what's to come you'll be a lot
more comfortable with an empty bladder.... Now, piss
away.  We're all guys here, and we've all seen other
guys pissing.  And we always offer this service to
prey like you, so it's nothing new to us."

"Please... What's going to happen...?"

"Now don't worry about that.  Just empty your
bladder... Come on, start pissing..."

Well, I had got those initial twinges of discomfort
when you know that you need to piss at some point
soon, and I didn't know how long I was going to be
kept there.  So I made a huge effort to try to start
pissing, and, of course, once the first few dribbles
were out, it was almost impossible to stop.  I smelt
the fumes from my piss coming up to me from the open
container, but the goon holding it didn't seem to mind
or care.  And when I'd done, he was completely relaxed
and casual about shaking my dick to get the last drops
of piss out of me.

Just then I heard the MC announce "Come on gentlemen,
back to the arena.  Part two of tonight's programme,
the part you've really been waiting for, will begin
shortly."

Oh, fuck me, I thought.  What were these bastards
going to do to me now?


End of Part 1