Sorry about the delay guys but thanks for all the positive comments. Let me know if you like this one and hope it was worth the wait. zadara1@hotmail.co.uk
Topics: humiliation / stripping / hunks / cum / voyeur / bondage
PART 7 DAMIAN'S SHOW
McBride and the governor summoned the four brats over to the raised dais at the front of the auditorium and gave their cocks a good slapping. Matt's semi-inflated fuck tube still oozed copious gobs of orgasmic juice as the poor, used, sex toy blushed pink and having been made to spray his joy milk in every direction for the entertainment of these paying guests. It had been a birthday party to remember for poor Michel. Wolf whistles and catcalls greeted the lads, along with laughter and a great round of applause, as they were spanked roughly on their cocky, pert bouncing buttcheeks and skipped off to the showers to clean up after the show.
"Thank you so much for coming to the party," jested McBride, "It was so kind of you to show up and support such a good cause. Drinks and canapés continue to be served, but you will wish to be present in the main hall, where our charity sports and clubwear fashion show will start in 15 minutes promptly.
Much excitement ensued as the audience milled and asked for directions to the next doubtless horny happening. They couldn't wait to see what sort of sexy, depraved display the inmates would be forced to put on for them next. 18 year old lads wearing just white or black jockstraps and Hi-tops continued to hand out trays of champagne. The audience members enjoyed mercilessly teasing the slaveboy barmen, whose hands were otherwise occupied, by snapping the straps of their jocks against their tight little butts, or flicking their nipple rings, running their hands through the cocky boys' gelled up crewcuts or tipping a glass or two of cold champagne down the fronts of their skimpy underwear to exaggerate the outline of their solid, meaty, dicks. As the damp pouches turned translucent, the onlookers remarked and pointed out which way the organs were hanging or shouting embarrassing observations – "this cutie's hung like a carthorse", or "this one has 2 inches of overhanging skinflap – anyone got a cracker for some cockcheese". The lads, forced to endure and smile or grimace through these taunts thought the day was never going to end.
Almost immediately the main hall began to fill up. Chairs had been arranged either side of a long catwalk which extended thirty feet down the centre of the hall. Behind the seating area, a large roulette table was arranged for later entertainment, along with a card table, dunking stool and pool, wheel of fortune and other paraphernalia. There were barstools around the roulette table and, of course, a barman wearing just speedoes, yellow this time, and a reversed baseball cap in green. Australian colours, as our miscreant was from Melbourne originally. The incoming guests found him irresistibly cute as he greeted everyone with a beer and a "Gooday! Why dontcha squeeze me downunder!". He had been instructed that he had to say this ridiculous phrase of welcome to every guest, and thrust out his bulging ball package as he did so. The men squeezed his balls time after time and the poor lad couldn't help but develop a hardon from the incessant feel ups. Soon his cock snaked its way along the speedoes and after a few more guests had snatched at it, his pink cockhead jumped out the top of the waistband like an eager viper. "Top Oz boy's got a bone-on, guys, take a look at this rutting little snot", shouted a guest eagerly, as the boy winced with embarrassment and continued to offer drinks and repeat the embarrassing phrase. "G-g-goodday. W-w-why dontcha sq-squeeze me downunder?" It was really funny watching his embarrassment as he desperately continued anyway with his boner in full view of the appreciative queens, as they caressed his tough little Aussie football legs.
Six of the cockiest, best looking guys had been selected the previous weekend by the governor for the fashion show. They had been told that they could participate in showing off the designer sportswear, which they thought they'd get to keep, in return for abstaining from orgasm all week. They were on the housekeeper's hitlist for stickiest, crumbliest, flakiest sheeting and she was determined to put a stop to their incessant wanking. The governor assured them that if they kept their chastity cocklocks on all week, they would be allowed two hours with their girlfriends on Sunday, the day after the appropriately named Relief Day, to get their rocks off and spray their juices deep inside their chicks' fannies. The boys, unable to resist the dual lure of promoting and modelling new sportswear (they had no idea who or what for when they agreed to it) and screwing the tits off their girls on the following day, they agreed. A metal case jockstrap was fitted round each of the lads' equipment and bolted in place using a leather cord strip round their waists and under their crotches. They could piss only by letting go and crouching over a bucket in their rooms. Their piss was let out though a hole in the tip of the ingenious device. By this Saturday afternoon these hot boys' cocks were straining for release. They hadn't been able to touch their sex for 7 whole days and were quivering mounds of frustrated sexuality by the time The governor arrived in the makeshift dressing room to ready the lads for the fashion show. He lasciviously unlocked each cage and the 18, 19 and 20 year old fuck machines let out great sighs of relief as their big pieces of meat flopped and unfurled out of the encasements.
McBride, on the microphone next to the catwalk, meanwhile announced the first "model" as the hall had filled up and expectant onlookers awaited the show.
" Please let's have a large round of applause for our first model, 19 years old, Damian, who is a big boy, 6 feet 2 inches tall, and is wearing a black and grey jogging ensemble". Damien swaggered out as confidently as he could. Smooth as a baby's ass, muscular arms and shaved pits, he wore a black scally hat, oblong dark shades, a gold chain and cross around his beefy neck, a black cutaway vest and grey nylon jogging shorts. His pouting lips defiant and lush, a square jawline, cute ears, blond crewcut, a dream for this particular audience. "On his feet," went on McBride's mock serious fashion description," white sports socks and grey Nike Hi-tops." He moved as sophisticatedly as he could, given that the swishing of his sex starved cock against the material had now given him a monstrous hardon and the audience clocked it, their eyes out on stalks as he continued to prance and pose to the heavy house music that filled the hall with an expectant quake. Damien turned round and bent over, sticking his curvaceous butt out to emphasise the tightness of the little silver grey running shorts. He bit his lip with embarrassment at the thought that his full, tight balls had shown him up and given him this humiliating hardon in full view of these paying punters. He jumped round, jigged in his sneakers, posing and pouting as his gold chain bounced across his perfect chest. A large spot of precum had now spilled out the end of Damian's fat cock and was clearly visible, having not only leaked through his little cotton knickers but through the grey satin material. An embarrassing inch wide dark patch appeared at the front of the shorts as the cock flopped inside. Damian wanted to just squirm and hide. But worse was to come.
"Your bids please for this designer vest. May I start the bidding at £20?", announced McBride, as Damien danced on, glancing over nervously. "£20, do I see thirty? A hand shot up, more and more until the shirt was finally bought by an expectant punter for £65. "Sold to the man in the purple bow tie for £65 then. Take the garment off please, Damien." Damien thought he was going to be able to keep these clothes. He had no idea he'd have to sell them to the guys for charity and not only that strip off in front of them. Reluctantly he peeled the vest off, showed his pert nipples and rippled abs, and with a sneer hurled the top over to the winning bidder. Next, his hat was auctioned, another £30, revealing his spiky, cocky bleachblond crewcut and the small metal earring in his left ear. He stood there in just his trainers and shorts, the waistband of his black Jockey briefs protruding up to his waist. Still he gyrated, getting sweatier and sweatier, his torso glistening and muscles rippling. His cock tented the athletic shorts obscenely, but soon they too were under the hammer. Plenty of bids for those pants, predictably. Hands shot up all over the hall, in the realisation that he'd soon be standing virtually naked. They sold for a massive £110, and poor young spunky Damian was forced to shuck down his shorts and surrender them to some drooling old guy with a grey beard. Plenty of hooting and applause from the audience as his rock hard cock pointed seven inches out into his briefs, a puddle of jockspoo staining the front in a glossy, silky black patch.
"My,my, our Damian is very excited to have made so much money for charity, it seems," chortled McBride, as the governor beamed on excitedly, "there's certainly no stopping this boy's enthusiasm!". Damian's butt was almost completely revealed by the tight black jockies, and he shook and waved his butt at the crowd as master McBride instructed. Finally, the knickers were sold for a staggering £130, and the boy was commanded to whip them off and fling them to the winner. He hesitated as he faced the audience, now clapping in unison to see the boy's cock revealed. As he slid the briefs down his meaty thighs, the humungous dick swung free. Ooh and aahs greeted the big tool as it swayed back and forth; fingers pointed at the half inch silver Prince Albert adorning the tip of the foaming organ. A string of clear liquid spun from the end, dripping off as the lad posed naked and hard. A spontaneous round of applause. The music stopped as big, daft, Damian stood there nervously with his baby blue eyes fixed on McBride, who gave his round ass a playful slap.
"I'm sure we'd all like to thank lovely Damian for being a super model, wouldn't we, guys?". Unanimous cheers and bashful acknowledgement from the lad himself. "But wouldn't you like to tell everyone why you have such a large erection?", he asked in a mock matter-of-fact fashion, as if enquiring whether Damian had come by boat or plane.
"Not really sir, no". More hysterical laughter from the crowd.
"That's an order. Tell them nicely why you are in this state of ridiculous arousal." More dops of clear goo ran out of the boy's aching piss slit.
"I ain't wanked for a week."
"Masturbated boy, masturbated, good God use the correct terms boy," continued Mcbride ."And why is that?" More giggles.
"Do I `ave to sir? It's embarrassing."
"Tell them politely what you have been doing, son," goaded McBride.
"Housekeeper kept on at me for wankin'..."
"It's MAST-UR-BAT-ING. Can't you just be polite in front of these gentlemen for a moment?" admonished McBride, with his tongue firmly in his cheek. The audience noticed he was mocking, but poor Damian and his big juicy muscles didn't.
"... sorry sir, kept on at me for masturbatin' and makin' me sheets dirty. So I had me cock – I mean me penis – locked up for a week so I couldn't shoot."
"Ejaculate, ejaculate," corrected McBride.
"Yeah, ejaculate. But me girlfriend's comin' tomorrow and governor said I could screw her."
"I think the technical term is `make love', but I can see we're going to have to overlook the fact that you don't know all the proper terms."
"And I can see you're looking forward to that, lad."
"Oh, very much so sir!". His cock bounced and twitched against his belly button and he smiled and rolled his eyes as he thought about it. He was so turned on he was just basically 6 feet of tingling, expectant dick.
"Well, I think before you get your treat tomorrow, you should get a little punishment beforehand just to make sure you learn your lesson for making such an appalling mess of your bedclothes on a regular basis."
"Sorry, sir, what punishment?"
"Well, I thought perhaps you'd like to go for a little walk."
"Oh, fine, no problem, great", smiled the stupid punk, with no idea what was about to happen.
"Nurse," called McBride.
Nurse, a portly woman in her fifties, arrived with her box of goodies, and started to thread a 15 foot length of transparent nylon fishing line wire through the ring at the end of his cock. She doubled it round and tied it to a lead which was handed to a member of the audience, who basically now had full control of Damian's glans from the end of the leash. A devious device. The transparent nature of the wire meant that as members of the audience led him up the catwalk, his cock appeared to dance of its own accord, whilst he was completely in their control. The movements caused the little brass ring to revolve and stimulate his cockhead so within 30 seconds he was putty in their hands. Cockslop funnelled out of his dick as the terrified rude boy pushed his hips out and his cock bobbed and weaved lewdly from side to side. The audience were cracking up as they passed the leather lead around and led Damian up and down the catwalk in just his sneakers and socks. It was a hot sight. They teased and teased the boy and hoped for a gusher. It wasn't long in coming. The incessant massaging of just the very tip of his big cock was incredibly humiliating for him, but he couldn't help but be turned on as the little metal ring revolved around his purple, glistening glans.
"Oh my God, oh my God. I'm gonna blow."
"You mean you are about to reach a powerful orgasm," chastised McBride, who smacked the naughty boy's ass, causing the cock to bounce even more.
"Shit, shit, no, God, oh help," squealed the sexy brat. A couple more tugs and with ho hands at all the sexy punk's cock suddenly erupted and a week's worth of white juice barrelled out of his pistol.
"Aargh, no, no, jeez, no," shouted the athletic lad, oblivious now to all but his shimmering orgasmic release. Seven days of thick boy globs rushed out of his boiling manhood and slapped against the black vinyl flooring. His balls bounced, his cock danced in ecstasy as the guys continued to pull at the line. More cum slopped up and creamed over his silky smooth abs.
"Save some for that bitch tomorrow, Damian," laughed McBride, as the exhausted, humiliated boy sank to his knees and nurse unwound the wire from his Prince Albert.
"Lots of applause please for our first model, Damian, and thank you for your worthy contribution to charity. Take a bow Damian and go and get cleaned up."
The boy took a bow and swung round, his curved, perfect, tanlined butt smiling and bobbing as he disappeared behind the curtain.
"Our next model will be up and ready soon guys, don't go away, we want your money and we've all sorts of fun lined up," joked the governor.
more fun and frolics in part 8