Disclaimer: This is a work of gay fiction. It will, eventually, contain scenes describing sex between adult males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if it is illegal to possess such material where you are, then stop now!
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CHAPTER THREE: INTRODUCTIONS
We trooped upstairs to the dining room we had passed at lunchtime, now set up for dinner with round tables, decked out in crisp, white linens, bone china, crystal, and sterling flatware. Very classy, for the likes of this lot, especially as we were dressed, I thought. But we settled in, and without further waiting, we were treated to another gourmet meal. Again, very tasty food, but not an over-abundance of it and hardly two fat grams to rub together. Clearly, we had been sentenced to a summer of spa cuisine.
As the last of our dishes were cleared-and I did not see a single plate that was not cleaned-our camp counselors returned among us. This time, they were dressed in tight-fitting black jeans and tees. You could count the washboards on each set of abs.
"Gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed the hospitality of The Association. It is time to get to work now. I'm afraid you will not have access to the formality and comfort of the rooms on this level for the remainder of the summer. They will revert to the use of the Members. Our activities will be conducted above and below this floor. To begin with, we will adjourn now to the third floor, where we will start to get acquainted. Follow me, please."
We straggled along behind Adam, while the other leaders brought up our rear. As the last of us entered the stairwell, the door to the first level closed behind them, and I would swear I heard a lock click as it latched. We were spiraling upward, though, then, and we emerged on the third level into another large room, large enough to be a gymnasium, though no basketball goals were visible, nor were courts marked out on the wooden floor. Instead, there was a round stand, only a yard in diameter, but raised two feet above the floor, in the middle of the room.
"Make a circle and sit," instructed Adam. "It's time to get to know one another.
"As I call your name, you are to remove all of your clothing. No striptease necessary, just take it off. Leave the threads where you are sitting and come forward to the pedestal. Step up and introduce yourself. Tell us everything we should know about you initially-name, hometown, school, major, sports, interests, accomplishments. When I call the next name, you can go back and sit where you were." This time, there were no groans, just silence. Immediately, the lights in the room dimmed, and bright spotlights from above and all four sides lit the pedestal in a penetrating white light.
One of two very bad things could happen here, I thought. I could get a boner, especially if I thought of how Adam looked in those black jeans and tight tee. Or, just as awful, little Dougie might decide not to play, but to shrivel up and hide inside my body. I couldn't decide which would be worse, to be branded a pervy fag or dickless wonder.
"Alan," called Adam.
With a hesitant pause of one agonizing second, one of my fellows on the far side of the circle rose. He was wearing jeans, a tee shirt, socks and sneakers. He toed out of the sneakers and stripped off the socks in swift motions. He pulled the tee over his head and dropped it behind him. Then, he deftly pulled open the jeans, ripped down the zipper, and slid them to his knees in one motion. He had well-worn cotton boxers underneath. He lifted a foot and grabbed the hem of one jeans leg, pulling it off. Then the other. Finally, I saw him take one quick, deep breath and, with both hands, slide the boxers down and off, stepping out of them immediately. He paused for one blink, taking another quick, deep breath. I could sense rather than see his nervousness. As nonchalantly as possible, he walked toward the platform. The high step onto it was an awkward one, but he pulled himself up. Then he stood in the glare of the lights and began his spiel. As soon as he stepped aboard, the pedestal began to rotate slowly, which seemed to unsettle him a bit. He had to be prompted about an item or two on the self- revelation list, but on the whole, he handled his moment pretty well. I didn't hear it all, though. I found myself fascinated by this guy's sleek eighteen-year-old body. He was five eleven, one sixty. He had straggly, shoulder-length brown hair. He had a pretty nice build, nothing spectacular, with a swath of brown hair sweeping across his chest. His pubes were lush and thick, and his dick just barely peeked out of the bush.
"Anthony," said Adam.
Immediately, Alan hopped down and returned to his place. His clothes were gone-one of the leaders had gathered them up and removed them while Alan was speaking.
Anthony, a black fellow about 6'3" and 180, slipped out of his unlaced high-tops, whipped off his tee shirt, and slid down his baggy shorts and briefs in one motion. He stepped out of the laundry and strolled over to the platform as if he did this every day. When he spoke, though, his voice gave him away; it was a little uneven.
Anthony had very little body hair. His ankles were skinny as a colt's. His chest was narrow, his waist waspish. But his dick was a good five inches, flaccid.
"Brendan," said Adam.
Oh, God, I thought, it's alphabetical by first name. I wracked my brain to recall if there was anyone with a 'C' name, or with a 'D' name besides me. I couldn't think of anyone. I'd be called very soon, I knew.
Brendan was six feet and slender, no more than 170. He had blondish hair, hanging down in his eyes, and rather skinny legs. His chest and stomach were smooth, and his legs only lightly haired. There may have been a little swath in his crack. His pubes were light, and maybe his sack was shaved. He had a nice endowment, though, and low hanging nuts.
"David," said Adam.
I couldn't focus much on David, knowing I might be next, but I noticed his curly, dark body hair all over his chest and stomach, ass, and even shoulders and back. His legs were muscular and hair-covered, too. His dick was thick, cut, and maybe three inches soft.
"Douglas."
The world stopped turning.
I had already removed my sandals when I sat down, cross-legged. Now I rose, and pulled my tee-shirt over my head. Much to my chagrin, since I was the only one so far, I was not wearing any underwear (I gave them up back in high school). I popped the button at the waistband of my shorts, pulled gently to force the zipper down, and just let go. My shorts hit the floor like jellied toast. I thought I heard a small gasp from someone.
As I walked the hundred miles to the center of the room, I felt sure my fears were to be realized. I wasn't aware of my dick waggling at all. I feared it was somewhere inside my abdominal wall, but didn't look down to check. But as I stepped onto the turning pedestal into the glare of the lights, I felt it against my thigh, and my confidence returned. In fact, something strange happened. I looked out into the circle of watching eyes, some smirking, some smiling, some slightly scowling, and I realized to my great surprise-I'm getting off on this! I felt every skin cell tingling. There was something definitely kinky about being looked at naked, especially while others were clothed. Mr. Happy seemed to realize he was the center of attention now, and he began to stretch himself languidly. Not blowing up to full boner, but just puffing up respectably. And the Twins laid back in their soft sling and began to swing gently with my shifting movements. I started to talk about myself, and I was almost sorry when my moment of exhibitionism was over.
"Elijah."
I hopped down and sauntered back to my place, confident that every eye remained on me, even though Elijah, a nondescript, brown-haired white country boy, had stood and begun to strip.
And so it went through the three dozen of us. One at a time, we stood naked in the spotlights, and described the highlights of our young lives, while 40 other men studied our physiques. I doubted I'd remember even the names of more than a third of the guys, and little else they said. But I learned a lot about their bodies.
By the time we got to Jason, I had a hard-on. I was sitting cross-legged, and I drew my left ankle back closer so that it held the head of my cock down. It was visible only to the guys on either side of me, Gregory and Patrick. Patrick, still waiting his turn, had his own worries, and seemed to be studiously ignoring me, strictly eyes front. But I caught Gregory checking my crotch out. When he saw he was busted, he met my gaze and smiled. He shifted his own legs around, and a very shapely, straight, hard cock of his own popped up. He shrugged and didn't even try to hide it.
Within two more guys' exhibitions, I caught sight of a nice, big, fat cock head poking up from Edward's lap, several guys down the row. The first one to have to go on display with a boner going was Justin. Even in the harsh spotlight, I could tell his entire body was blushing. Patrick made it through his presentation, but as soon as he settled onto the floor beside me, I was treated to the revelation that he was an impressively hung guy, long, thick, and uncut.
Of the last ten guys up, seven had full hard-ons before they ever even went forward to the pedestal. Peter, the red-head, had a good-natured grin about it, as he well might do, as heavily endowed as he was, and the circle chuckled sympathetically. After that, the laughter grew louder and more boisterous over each of the succeeding guys with stiffies. Trevor waved his around ostentatiously as we all cheered. By the time Wayne got his turn, spreading his feet wide, bending at the knee, and thrusting his thick cut cock in the air, there was a standing ovation, revealing that three quarters of the men in the circle had erections. A few were even stroking theirs.
Adam held up his hands. As the only clothed man visible to us (the others had departed with piles of our clothes), he looked strangely out of place, but packed even more authority. I realized with chagrin that I would really, really like to see that man naked.
"Perhaps I had better give you some bad news now, before things proceed any further. I know you guys jerk off, as all guys do. But henceforth and for the remainder of your stay here, you are forbidden to do it. Ever. You may not use your hands to get yourself off, penalty of fifty points, which, trust me, you cannot afford. And don't go thinking you can do it without our knowing. Remember, we've done this before. We will know everything you do. So if you must get yourself off, you'll have to think of some other way to do it, gentlemen. Or hope for memorable spontaneous emissions.
"Now, follow me up one more flight to the top floor, which includes your dormitory."
My eyes were fixed on Gregory's tight, smooth butt all the way up the stairs, as Patrick's eyes, behind me, must have been on mine. But the fact that everyone else was in the same boat as me made it not uncomfortable at all. After all, I was on several sports teams in high school, and I was not unaccustomed to seeing naked guys in the shower and such. And Al and I were not always careful to cover when heading to and from the shower in the apartment we shared. One afternoon I came home unexpectedly to find him sprawled on the sofa stroking his cock. We both laughed, and I just went back to my room and let him finish. I didn't get hard over seeing Al, though. Gregory's fine ass was another matter, apparently, not to mention the backside of his lightly furry balls hanging down beneath. My unit remained in full readiness mode.
Adam led us into the long hallway that extended the length of the house, and when we were all strung out along it, he stopped.
"Time to pair up," he declared. "The man I partner you with is your new best friend. You will go everywhere with him. You will know him as you know yourself. Your future depends on him, and his on you. Now, we have made these pairings carefully and judiciously. We know what we are doing, and there will be no swapping around. You may think you know whom you'd rather be with, but you don't."
"Get used to it," added about four voices in unison.
Adam permitted himself a small smile. "You're catching on. Now, when I call your names, come and stand together facing this wall, spread your feet, and lean on the wall. Alan and Jonathan." The two men came forward, and he gestured them into position side by side, as if being patted down by cops.
Now, suddenly, Frank and Owen appeared, each bearing a black leather strap, bound together by a piece of light, silver chain. Both men were now also naked. They knelt and buckled the restraints onto Alan and Jonathan's adjacent ankles, then stood and returned to a box down the way, where they selected another pair. Alan let out a long sigh, and he and Jonathan exchanged glum looks. I heard more groans coming from down the line.
As taken aback as I was, I could not help but notice the magnificent physiques of the naked trainers. Frank stood 5' 9" or so, and he appeared to be Eurasian. He had black hair and amber eyes, no body hair to speak of at all. His muscles were sleek and incredibly defined, without being bulky. He had an eight-gauge PA in his ample cock. He walked with the grace of a dancer.
Owen had the more common Association height, at about 6' 2", with dark brown hair, longer than any of the others I'd seen so far, but beautifully styled. He had a short, full beard, sculpted to about a quarter-inch length. His chest hair was similarly trimmed, and his pubic bush, too, only more like half an inch in length. When he rose, I saw the same treatment on his ass, as well. There was a circular Celtic-knot tattoo on his left hip.
I didn't have time to stare. Already, Adam was ahead of me.
"Anthony and Layne," he intoned.
The two men stepped forward and glanced ruefully at each other, then took their places at the wall. Now Adrian and Dennis came from the other end of the hall, also naked, and buckled leg restraints on this second pair.
They passed right by me to do it, and I noticed even more details about them. One, they smelled good. The fragrance was unfamiliar, but nice-fresh in a masculine way. Two, even their bare feet were neatly groomed. Adrian was a Scandinavian blond type, but covered in shining golden hair, even on his butt. His cock hung six inches, with another inch of foreskin after that. Dennis was auburn-haired, and milky-skinned, with pubes like bronze framing a meaty, cut dick.
"David and Phillip." Owen and Frank hobbled them.
"Douglas and Nicholas."
I remembered Nicholas from the introductions, though I had taken no special note of him. He had short black hair and brown eyes, and stood about my height. He had a nice build on him, a moderate amount of hair up front, none on the back except a swirl around the crack. He was a Pennsylvanian attending Rutgers, and the most notable thing about him was his easy smile. That and a sizeable dick, which had been pointing straight out as he rotated around introducing himself and grinning.
Now he grinned at me. It expressed a pleasant combination of shyness and friendliness. I shrugged and tried to look pleasant back at him as Adrian attached a strap to my left ankle. It weighed almost nothing, and it was actually quite soft and flexible. Nicholas got the same treatment, and as I looked down, I noticed his foot had dark hairs running down the top of it, as mine did. The chain hit the floor with a rattle.
These were more like toy restraints than real ones. It was almost laughable.
You can always count on somebody to point out the obvious. "Hey, Adam," blurted Jason.
"Yes, Jason."
"You know, we could just take these things off anytime we wanted to. Or break them. So what are they for?"
Adam gave him that 'you are the class simpleton' look, and explained. "Yes, Jason, we know that. We are not attempting to lock you up. This is not about bondage or punishment, or anything else like that. It is about trust and loyalty. The chain represents and reinforces the bond you share with your partner. Sure, you could take off your bindings anytime you choose to. But if you do that, you will be choosing to get both you and your partner sent back home. Perhaps you think you can cheat and get away with it. Well, you can't. We will know everything you do, as I told you earlier. We are looking for men of honor and discipline. Self discipline. Those who do not have that are not Association material.
"It could be worse. For almost a century, we used real leg irons. As you can imagine, they were not popular. They chafe the ankle and make sores, and they weigh a ton. In the wild and radical sixties, we tried leaving them off entirely, and just telling our trainees they had to stick together as if they were tied. Well, that didn't work at all. So by 1970, we had compromised with this system, which, as you see, does keep you together if you are willing to stay together.
"Now think about it. How are you going to bond with your partner if you don't stay close together? Believe me, we know what we are doing. This works.
"So, for the record, let me state this clearly. Once your leg restraints are in place, you are not to take them off again for any reason unless one of the five of us here tells you to do so. They have their purpose, as you will discover over the next few days."
We relaxed a bit and turned to observe the remaining pairings, as those ahead of us were doing.
"Edward and Vincent."
"Elijah and Trevor."
" Ezekiel and Stanley"
"Ford and Richard."
The pairings continued relentlessly. Patrick was placed with William, and Gregory with Lawrence. Lamar got Wayne, and Michael got Peter. Matthew paired with Taylor. In fifteen or twenty minutes, the job was done, and we stood looking toward Adam again for further instructions. He led us forward, now walking in our pairs as best we could joined by several feet of chain, to a ninety-degree turn in the hallway at the far end, in the east wing. We would have been comical, had any of us been in the mood for laughter, trying to walk in step and not trip one another up, as likely as not to step on the dangling chain of the pair ahead of us.
Nicholas and I were pretty coordinated, as long as the guys behind us would stay off our chain.
Adam turned the corner and led us halfway down this hallway toward the rear of the building. He turned right into a large room with nine chairs, each with an electric razor on the seat.
"Two pairs per chair," he ordered. "Now listen up. Do these things in this order. First each one of you use the razor to buzz your partner's head down to the uniform half inch. Don't worry, ladies. It will grow. And as it grows, our stylists will be able to make some decisions about what kind of cut will look best on you for the future. As opposed to the rats' nests you guys came in with.
"Second, buzz your partner's pubic hair as well, if he is man enough to have any."
"Third, when both pairs are finished, sweep every hair up from the chairs and the floor. Repeat, every hair. Brooms and dustpans in the far closet over there."
William was looking at the razor nearest him as if it were a coiled cobra. He lifted his hand.
"No, William, there are no more razors or razor heads to be provided. You will share these. And you will not get lice or cooties. In fact, I happen to know that no man in this room has any parasite or blood-borne infection whatsoever, no STD's including all forms of Hepatitis and HIV. In that, at least, you differ from the bulk of your classmates."
William's hand went up again. This time, he did not wait to be acknowledged. "I've never been tested for HIV antibodies, Sir!" he barked.
"Yes, William, you have. You all have. Within the past month."
Silence settled as we racked our brains trying to figure out how they had done that. But none of us doubted that they had, indeed, done that.
"Fourth, mop the entire room, and back your way out of here so that you do not leave one single footprint. Cross the hall, where you will find your shower room. You will also find a toiletries bag with your name on it. In that bag will be a razor and shaving cream.
"Fifth. Using that equipment, remove every hair below the eyes from your partner. Every hair, gentlemen. Any hair you leave, you'll have to extract with tweezers.
"See you in an hour." And he turned and left the room.
Everyone started jabbering at once. Fortunately, Nicholas had his wits about him. He counted off pairs and chairs, determining that we had the fourth chair in the row and that Matthew and Taylor were with us. He picked up the razor.
"Here, sit," he ordered. "I'll do the honors first."
There being nothing for it, I sat. In minutes, my dark locks were shorn and lying in ringlets on the floor. I heard other razors buzzing, and when I could look around again, I could see that other pairs were now following Nicholas' example. The fur was flying.
"Now stand. Sorry about this."
I stood, and Nicholas pressed the whirring razor against my pubic mound. He mowed across side to side, and the majority of my silky pubes joined their cranial brethren on the tiles. There were strips left along the edges, though. Nicholas looked puzzled as to how to manage this delicately.
"I'll hold it myself," I volunteered. I took the head of my dick in hand and stretched it forward. Relieved, Nicholas trimmed gently up the shoulders of my root and completed the job safely. I noticed several others imitating our technique, while some just dabbed ineffectually at one another, and one or two grabbed their partners' dicks with one hand and trimmed with the other.
He handed off the razor to me and sat. In short order, I buzzed his head, which didn't require much, and then he stood to receive the same de-pubing he had done for me.
Matthew and Taylor followed our example, and we were the first set finished. We got brooms and dustpans from the closet and swept up our area, passing off the gear to the pairs adjacent to us as they finished. Then, Matthew and Taylor prepped mop water and waited in the corner to begin the final step for this room. Taylor mopped while Matthew dragged the bucket. Then they handed off to me to mop and Nicholas to drag. As we handed off, we left the room, treading only on un-mopped floor. We were first to cross the hall to the shower room.
It was another large room, entirely tiled, divided into washing and drying spaces. The shower section itself, to our right, had those four-head shower tower things down the middle, and hooks for towels on the outer walls. To the left, another tiled room held rows of toilets on the outer walls and a double row of sinks down the middle.
"I have bad news," said Nicholas. "I need to take a shit before this thing goes any further."
That was bad news, indeed, but there was nothing to be done about it. I let him lead me into the other room, where he sat on one toilet and I on the adjacent one, and he did his business while I pretended I was not there. It was one of the most intimate things I had ever participated in, more than having sex, actually. I casually folded a portion of tissue paper and handed it off to him at the appropriate moment, without looking.
"At least they haven't told us we have to wipe one another's asses," I remarked.
"Don't say that out loud. The walls have ears. Look, I'm sorry about this. I keep apologizing, but I am sorry."
"Hey, my turn comes tomorrow morning at the latest. Let's not apologize for natural functions, OK?"
Nicholas looked relieved and nodded. "I need to work on that. Taking responsibility for everything, I mean. Sorry."
Then, we both laughed, and I think a bond began to form between us. Sitting there naked on those shining porcelain toilets, with our ankles tied together, we began to become friends. We rose, he flushed, and we dragged our chain back toward the shower room as a couple of other pairs straggled in.
At this point, it occurred to us that we had no towels. We did find our toiletries bags, though, in a basket on a table in the center of the drying off room. Nicholas and I took out our razors and gel, and took them into the shower.
There were no mirrors in here, so we really were going to have to do one another.
"You first this time," I said, waving the razor at my partner. He nodded and turned on the water, warm. He let it sluice all over him.
"I better do all of you, to be safe, face included." He just closed his eyes and rotated to face me. I'd never shaved anyone but myself, and it seemed awkward. But I spread some lather over Nicholas' face and neck and began to slide the razor along it in rows. I let him rinse that off before proceeding.
Next came his chest. On went the lather, then the blade like a plow over a contoured landscape. I'd rubbed sun screen on male friends' backs before, but this was much more intimate. I circled around his tits.
"Arms up."
Shaving a man's pits was strange, and it took some doing to get right, with the hair long and the contours deep. He rinsed, and we both inspected for thoroughness. Satisfied, I moved down to the tummy, and lathered all the way to the top of his more- than-adequate dick.
Now, Nicholas could watch me as I worked. He was ticklish, too, and I had to back off on a few spots and sneak back over them later. After I finished removing the rest of the pubic stubble, I rotated him around and he rinsed as I studied his back.
"I don't really see any hair on your back, but I'd better go over it anyway." I lathered and shaved in neat rows down to the belt-line.
It was going to get dicey from here on out. And other men had been streaming into the shower, too-by now, the whole group was here, showers blasting. Positioned as we were around the poles, everyone had a great view of what everyone else was doing, if they chose to look. Fortunately, most had their own concerns. I glanced around to see hands smoothing lather onto privates and razors stroking on asses, chests, and thighs, right and left.
I lathered Nicholas' butt and shaved it. When I finished, though, he said, "Not so fast, bud," and pulled his cheeks apart with both hands, baring his pink hole to me.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"You want to pluck those with tweezers?" he asked. "I sure don't."
I looked into his gaping crack. Sure enough, there was a swath of black hair there. I sighed. I squirted some lather into Nicholas' open palm, and he took the hint and smeared it into his crack. Then he pulled apart again, and I carefully ran the razor through on both sides, taking extra pains not to make any nicks on his pucker, while still getting all the hair out. This was by far the most intimate I'd ever been with any guy's nether regions, including my own.
To shave his balls, I had to get on my knees and deal with him at face level. His dick aimed right for my eye. He held it up for me, and I used one hand to stretch his scrotum, and the other to shave it one section at a time. That took many passes of the razor, too, since those hairs were long ones. His sack kept slipping through my fingers. By the time I finished, I had yanked it in every direction many times. It was a bright pinkish red color.
In contrast, the legs were pretty straightforward, just a lot of square inches of territory to shave. I crawled around on the tiles of the shower floor to get the right angles, while the object of my attentions stood straddle-legged and rotated as called for. The point where his thighs joined was a delicate matter. I sat on the shower floor while he spread his legs directly over my head. Damn, what a view. Testicles dangling one way, ass pucker winking the other. I glanced about the room. The other guys were doing pretty much the same things, in various orders. I shaved all the way down to Nicholas' toes, removing the little tufts of hair from each. He rinsed, and voila, he was completely hairless. Wow! What a change! His young, healthy skin shone with sleek vitality. Just to be sure, I inspected him again to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Then, it was my turn to receive the same treatment.
I was surprised how erotic it was. Just standing and allowing someone else, albeit another man, to stroke over my skin with soft lather and then with the smooth razor was incredible. Forgetting all about the hair, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. I sort of forgot to turn, but Nicholas just crawled around me, leaving me to my reverie. He parted my ass cheeks on his own and shaved around my hole. I did reach down to hold my dick up out of the way while he tugged at my sack, though. Naturally, I was brick hard, but he had been, too. He slipped my dick out of my hand and gently slid the razor up and down its shaft seeking stray hairs. We ended with my feet, one at a time, resting on his knee while he shaved the tops and the toes. A thorough rinsing, careful inspection, and we were done.
I wished we had a mirror in there, but just looking down was shocking enough. My dick looked three times its normal size with no hair on it. Yet it looked like a baby's dick, too, at the same time. Weird. The different color tones of my skin were much more apparent. I looked paler without the dark hair. And the same seemed true for Nicholas.
The other guys were nearing completion of their projects, too. Some had more to shave than others-I felt sorry for David's partner, Phillip, because not only was there a lot of hair there, but the hide itself was a large one. They were understandably the last to finish. We looked around at one another and laughed. We all looked like plucked chickens.
Still dripping, we trooped out into the drying room to await our captors. They entered almost immediately and assembled in a row opposite us. Adam came in last, and this time, he was naked, too. He actually gave us a moment to look him over, and we took advantage of it.
The man was a marvel of flawless masculinity . Every piece of his body was separate perfection, every limb smooth and superbly muscled. His torso was like that of a Greek god. Yet he was so much more than an assemblage of perfect parts. His true perfection lay in the harmony and proportion of them. Every skin cell was evenly tanned.
"Well, my lovelies, you've had a trying day. I think we'll just tuck you in now. I'd try to get some sleep if I were you-we'll have you up bright and early in the morning for your road work. Brush teeth and join me in the main hallway in five minutes for room assignments."
We shared sinks by foursomes and cleaned our teeth. Then, we went back out to the main hallway, where we had been shackled. There were closed doors on each side of the hall. The assistants opened the first door, and Adam called out the names of the pair who were to occupy the room. The men designated hobbled to the entrance and peeked inside.
"Shit," declared Jonathan in disgust. "Do we have to sleep like this all summer?"
"Jonathan has noticed the simplicity of the accommodations, as you all will shortly. The answer is, No. You will discover that, as your relationship with your partner grows, the quality and comfort of your lodging will improve also. So it's up to you. For the next few nights, at least, you all have some getting acquainted to do."
Nicholas and I got the fifth room. It was Spartan, to say the least. It measured no more than nine by eleven feet. There was a high, attic window in the far wall, open and screened to allow a faint trace of fresh air into the room. Against that same outside wall, there was a lumpy cot mattress lying on a raised frame no more than six inches off the floor-just high enough to prevent us from making use of the floor for extra space. It had no sheet or blanket, and no pillow. But worst, it measured no more than two and a half feet wide by five and a half feet long. I'd seen nicer dog beds. On a shelf on the wall beside the door, there was a plastic bottle of water. In the corner, at the ceiling, hung a glowing white surveillance camera. Nothing subtle about that. For furnishings, that was it.
"I wonder how we're both supposed to sleep on this thing?" I asked.
"Very close together, I suspect. But we'd better get at it. They'll be waking us in no time. You want outside or inside?"
Truth is, I didn't want either. "You first," I decided. I'll try to fit around you." We marched over to the cot, and Nicholas crawled onto it and scooted over as far as possible toward the wall. I had to hold my chained foot up over the bed while he settled in. Then, I crawled on behind him. We had to sleep spoon-style, and we would have to roll over in unison. Even that would be difficult with the leg straps on. And with no pillow, we had to double our lower arm and use our bicep as a pillow. I cuddled up to Nicholas' still damp and clammy skin. My dick pressed against his ass crack. This was no longer erotic, and not at all funny. My nose was in the nape of his neck.
"G'night," he mumbled.
The bright overhead light bulb suddenly went off, and a soft blue glow replaced it.
"Yeah, good night," I replied. Damned if he was not asleep inside of three minutes, while I felt his backside turn warm with my body heat, then slick over with beads of sweat, both his and mine. By the time I drifted off, I'd lost an hour of precious sleep time, and Nicholas , unconscious, had already forced me into one roll-over. Now I faced outward into the room, and his night-time erection pressed into my butt crack.
What had we gotten ourselves into?