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    

 

  



