When he awoke the next afternoon, his body throbbed with the pain of the whipping but he still had his constant hard-on. Garth came in to send him on to his usual routine of work-outs with the other dancers. But this time was different. Garth didn't hand him his aphrodisiac drugged protein drink. It wasn't necessary anymore. He still got the nightly pill to keep his balls churning out the huge amounts of cum necessary to keep the clubs members happy, but he man had been reduced to a muscle-bound sex slave with a constant, dripping erection without any added inducements. His sex drive had been altered permanently. Ultimately, he wouldn't need the sex drug either - his body would change physically to match his sex drive. As for Wolf, Garth bided his time and spent a much of his time, befriending the redneck guard to keep him under control.
Wade had let Mitch's body hair grow back, but when it was still just stubble, he rented the big dancer to a club member in the Hollywood Hills for a private party.
Garth and Wolf accompanied him to the mansion. He had been given his old worn cutoffs to wear during the drive to the party, but they hardly fit him anymore. His body was so much bigger from the daily work-outs at the club's gym that he could only fasten the bottom three buttons of the 501's. His twelve-inch erection was half-exposed above the partially opened fly, and his muscular butt broke the center seam, exposing his ass-hole to public view. He only hoped the car wouldn't be stopped by the LAPD during the drive.
Mitch sat in the front seat of the big Lincoln, between the two uniformed guards. Garth was driving but used his right hand to continually massage Mitch's hard-dick head. Wolf amused himself by fingering the stripper's exposed ass-hole.
Mitch hadn't been out of the club since the body-building contest, and he didn't want to be arrested now for public indecency, no matter how horny he was. Garth was driving much too fast the on long winding road up the Hollywood Hills. Hell, Mitch thought, he wants us to get stopped by the police.
Sure enough, a motorcycle cop pulled them over at a bend in the road. Garth lowered the tinted window on the driver's side of the Lincoln as the helmeted cop sauntered up to the car.
He looked like a carbon copy of the big guard behind the wheel, except he wore a bushy black mustache. He had the same hulking body, straining the seams of his LAPD uniform, and the same cold, piercing, gray eyes.
"Looks like you got another hot one under your care, brother Garth -- you delivering the 'boy' to a private party?" The cop said, staring at Mitch's near naked body. The cop's eyes were riveted on the huge cock sticking out of the open waist of the man's tight cutoffs.
"Yeah, man, and his tight ass-hole matches his big dick and hot mouth." Garth replied as he used the thumb and fingers of his right hand to pinch Mitch's cheeks together forcing the stripper's sensual mouth into an "O".
"And he's an ex-marine and ex-copper too." He added, peaking his brother's interest even more.
"Get the big fucker out of the car, then, and let me see the rest of him." the cop said in a hot, breathy voice. I think he needs a lesson for disgracing the corps and the police.
Suddenly, Mitch knew this had all been pre-arranged. He asked in disbelief. "He's your brother, Garth?"
"Shut your fucking pie-hole, SLAVE!" Garth yelled, and slapped Mitch's shocked face, hard.
Wolf opened the passenger side door and slid out pulling Mitch with him. Mitch assumed an "at-ease" military position in front of the cop, legs spread, but with his hands locked behind his neck instead of his back. He had learned what was expected of him.
Garth's LAPD brother circled Mitch a couple of times and then reached for his baton and used it to rip the hunk's cutoffs open, pushing them down to his thighs. Twelve-inches of hard, thickly veined cock, freed from the denim shorts, and stood out at a forty-five degree angle from his stubble covered groin.
"Whoa, he IS something special," the cop said to Garth and Wolf, his eyes never leaving Mitch's big cock and balls.
"Why don't you take him for a little walk back in the bushes and check him out more thoroughly?" Garth told his brother. "Hell, he's not due to be delivered to the client for another half-an-hour. Take your time with him, but don't leave any marks. The client wouldn't like that, but if the fucker cums a couple 'a times while your 'inspecting' his hunky body, it won't matter. Those oversized low-hangers bumping against his thighs are fully charged and loaded with rich, sticky man-juice. He'll still be able to shoot a dozen more loads for the client and his party-guests tonight. Hell, he can go longer than the Eveready bunny."
Wolf and the cop laughed at Garth's joke, while Mitch just looked embarrassed. Yes, he could still feel embarrassed after all he'd been through. The other cops and marines who had used him at the club were older the he. This cop was younger.
The cop didn't think twice about his brother's generous offer. For the next half-an-hour he would have a high priced male-stripper, a male whore in his control, all to himself -- for free! He pressed the end of his baton against Mitch's bare ass, forcing the man to walk in front of him down a trail beside the turn-off. Mitch was hobbled by the cutoffs stretched around his thighs, but he kept on moving. His hard cock swung up and down with every step, and the cop kept goosing him with his club, using the dancer's ass-crack as his target.
"You know what this is don't you fucker," the cop said, "It's a standard police baton. The kind used to control scum like you. Feel it tickling your ass-hole. Well it can do a lot more than tickle." The cop laughed.
After a five minute walk, the cop teasing Mitch's ass-hole all the way, the two men entered a clearing hidden from the public road by a grove of trees. The cop ordered Mitch to take off his ragged cutoffs. Mitch bent over to pull them down off his thighs, raising one leg and then the other to remove them from his bare feet. He gave the cop a really good look at his shaved ass-hole. He had learned his male-stripper craft very well at the club. He just didn't understand why he way applying it to this situation. He wasn't in the club - he wasn't being paid to do this. But somehow, intuitively, he knew he had to do it.
He dropped the cutoffs on the dirt path and stood up, facing the cop. He spread his legs, wide, and placed his hands behind his head, showing off his bulging biceps and broad shoulders. His dick stood out above his low hangers - dripping precum.
"Down on your knees in the dirt, ass-hole, and 'entertain' me real good!" the cop shouted at the naked hunk.
Mitch did as instructed. He knelt, keeping his hands behind his head, and his mouth level with the cop's bulging crotch. It didn't take long for Garth's brother to unzip his uniform pants, push them down his hairy thighs and shove his dripping thick dick deep into Mitch's throat. The brute shot his first load almost immediately, making the male-stripper, "whore", kneeling before him swallow every drop of it.
The cop, breathing hard from his orgasm, but still hard and horny, ordered Mitch to "hug" a nearby tree-trunk with his muscular arms -- bending over, spreading his legs, wide, until his butt-cheeks were also spread to reveal his tight little ass-hole.
Mitch couldn't see what was happening behind him, but he could feel the hard pressure of a fleshy, wet cock-head pressing against his rectum. He tried to relax as the head and shaft of the cop's hard dick was forced into his anus.
Mitch groaned, loudly, as the big, foreign object pressed against his prostrate. The cop gave him a painful "reach-around" as he fucked the dancer He squeezed the man's hard twelve-incher with his right hand. It was the roughest stroke-job Mitch had ever received. Even the club members hadn't been this rough. The cop used his thumb to torture Mitch's weeping piss-slit as he long dicked the stripper's ass.
Mitch shot two loads of his hot cum over the man's calloused hand by time the slow-fucking cop had shot his own load up the stripper's ass-hole, filling Mitch's bowels with heavy, sticky cop-spunk.
The cop rested the full weight of his body on Mitch's back, pressing his leather jacket against the naked flesh. When his spent dick softened in the stripper's ass-hole, he pulled it out and told him to pick-up his cutoffs and hand them over.
He cleaned his dick with them, tore out more of the back-seam and tossed them to Mitch. "Clean up your dick and ass with them and put them back on."
Mitch did as he was ordered. His cock was still hard and showed above the partially open fly and waistband. The denim was sticky with cum and his ass and balls hung out of the ripped seam, but it was the only clothing he had for the rest of the trip.
Garth and Wolf were leaning against the Lincoln when Mitch and the cop reached the car. The four men stood there with Mitch in the middle, his head bowed in shame.
"Well, baby brother, the stripper's a great piece of ass ain't he?" Garth said, smiling at the cop. "I don't know if he enjoyed it much, the strippers at the club are trained to cum whether they enjoy the sex or not, but it looks like you did."
"Oh, man, it was memorable! What's the chance you get me a pass to the club and I get to do a repeat performance with the fucker?"
"I can probably arrange that. The manager likes to keep on friendly terms with the cops. He even pays the dancers' tips for 'friendly' LAPD officers. What you just got a taste of, costs a couple'a grand for a full night's 'activity'. And of course, you can do anything you want with him -- even leave a few temporary marks for that price." Garth said, still smiling. "And of course, you could always talk to dad about it." The cop gave Garth a dirty look.
"I'm glad you arranged this little meeting, I never knew what I was missing. This guy is a better fuck than my girlfriend." The cop said, still a little coolly to Garth, staring, openly, at the hunky, half-naked muscle-man he had just fucked. The motorcycle cop gave Mitch a hard slap on his ass and climbed on his bike and drove off.
"Get in the car, 'boy'!" Garth snarled. "And try not to get any of that spunk you're covered with on the upholstery." Mitch climbed back into the middle of the front seat.
Mitch still didn't like being called "boy". Hell, he thought, he was a thirty-four year old man, but he wasn't in any position to complain. The fact is he had had a good time getting off with the handsome cop and wouldn't mind a repeat performance, even if it were rougher next time. In fact, he wouldn't mind "doing it" with the two guards -- especially Garth. This was very different from the club experience. He was paid to what he did there. This time he just did it because he was ordered to.
He had come a long way from his first male-stripper show for men as well as women at that country club in Texas. Then, he had avoided the men who wanted to do more than just admire his sexy body. His experience at the private strip-show for Mafia Don and his goons, had signaled a change in his attitude toward homosexual behavior, but when it was over, he had rejected it. Now, after having been lured by money to work for Wade Jackson, he had learned to perform all kinds of homosexual acts for the Wade's strip club clients. He had been fed drugs to keep him horny since he'd arrived at the "club", but that just released his inhibitions. It didn't explain why he had grown to like sex with men more than with women -- especially when the men abused him.
All these thoughts filled his mind as the Lincoln drove through the gates of the estate where he was to perform tonight. He didn't know it but this was going to be his final degradation.