REMOLDED

Chapter One - Therapy

It was after nine o'clock when I left the clinic. I worked until six

o'clock most days, and so my weekly appointment with my therapist was an

evening one, usually starting at seven thirty to give me time to get

there in the evening traffic. Even though you'd have thought peak hour

traffic would've been over by that time, it was getting worse and worse

these days. The drive was stressful, and so by the time I actually got

to the clinic for my appointment, it often took me half an hour or more

to unwind and really get going. That suited my therapist, since I was

the last appointment of the evening and he didn't mind charging me for

the extra time running over the scheduled hour. At that moment, however,

I didn't mind, I felt that I had made a lot of progress that night - the

bill could wait until later.

I had a lot of issues for a guy in his mid-20s. My friends from school,

even the ones who were more awkward and geeky than me, and who were

bullied far worse, all seemed to have grown up and found their place in

the world. I never felt like I had found mine, and until I started going

to therapy, I never felt like I ever would. I had never had a

relationship, and I wasn't even sure whether I had really ever been on a

date. I had gone out with girls I liked, asked them out with the

intention of it being a date, but I suppose I had always come across so

utterly non-threatening that they could just have easily interpreted the

invitations as being non-romantic in nature. In any event, I had never

actually made a move on any of them. Even at parties, even loaded with

alcohol, I could never muster up the courage to slip an arm around a

girl's shoulders or to take advantage of the myriad of opportunities

which seem to present themselves at parties to everybody else. I had

never kissed a girl except family or friends on special occasions. I had

never had sex. I was so desperate that I often fantasised about going to

a prostitute - I was making good money - but ultimately I was always too

scared to actually go through with it. I felt so desperately alone, like

a human island, but no matter how much I wanted to, I could never find

the courage to just ask a girl out on a real date.

I felt like all of this was on the verge of changing, however. My

therapist had told me I was making a lot of progress, and I agreed with

him. I was beginning to feel more comfortable expressing my emotions,

and while no doubt it would take some working up to, I felt sure that

some day soon, I would be able to ask a girl out, even if I was worried

she'd say no. That night we had talked about my experiences at high

school. I had gone to an all boys school, a very sports-oriented one at

that, and I was always terrible at sports. I didn't have any real

excuses, I suppose, since it isn't like I was uncoordinated, at least

not terribly so, or overweight, or asthmatic, or any of the other

problems kids who never seem to take to sports often have. I just hated

sports, and me and the sorts of guys who were good at sports never

seemed to get along anyway.

As I drove out of the clinic's car park and back in the general

direction of my apartment, I reflected on some of the specific incidents

I had just discussed with Dr Farthing, my therapist. One from my school

days stuck in my mind in particular. In the dressing rooms at my

school's gym, we had these terrible communal showers. The showers sat at

the end of the locker room, with a wall dividing them from where boys

kept their gear during lessons, with two doorless doorways at either

end, leading back into the changing area. It was a long room, a couple

of yards across and maybe eight yards long. On one wall were hooks where

you could hang your towel, and on the other wall were the faucets and

shower heads. The floor and walls were all tiled, and there were drains

every few feet. There were no stalls or any other dividers between the

sets of faucets and shower heads - nothing to afford one boy any privacy

from the next boy in the showers. All told, ten boys could shower at

once, if they all stood more or less shoulder to shoulder.

I hated using the shower. It seemed like all the other boys in my gym

class hit puberty before me, and I was very self-conscious about it. I

tried to bring a swimsuit with me to gym class just in case I had to use

the shower - at least then the other boys would only see my hairless

chest, legs and underarms, and not my hairless genitals. Most of the

time I tried to avoid using the shower at all. Not being very good at

sports anyway, I tried to avoid working up much of a sweat, and so I

could usually just change out of my gym clothes back into my regular

clothes without venturing into the showers. The incident I had told Dr

Farthing about tonight, however, happened after one of those rare

classes where I couldn't avoid the showers.

We had been playing football, and I had dirt and grass all over me from

all the times I had been tackled or just casually knocked over during

the class. I must have been about fourteen, and I still didn't have the

slightest hint of even the thinnest of teenage moustaches, or any hair

on any part of my body but my head which wasn't just peach fuzz. I

remember frantically searching my gear for my swimsuit to change into

underneath my towel so that I could go shower without being naked, but

not finding it. Panicked, I reverted to "plan B" - waiting in the

changing area for all the other boys to shower and change and leave

before I ventured into the showers myself. I sat quietly as my fellow

students gradually finished changing and left the room to go to their

next class. Almost everyone had left when my gym teacher entered the

change rooms, pointing at his watch and shouting for us to hurry up and

get to our next class. He looked at me, still filthy, sitting in the

change rooms, and barked at me to hurry up and get into the shower.

Blanching, I mumbled a "yes, sir" before wrapping myself in a towel, and

pulling off my shorts underneath it, so as to not expose myself to the

teacher. I then gingerly stepped into the showers, my bare feet making

almost no sound on the damp, tiled floor. To my relief, there was only

one other boy inside. To my horror, that boy was Scott Brady.

I remember swallowing hard as I stood just inside the shower doorway,

watching Scott Brady's muscular form from behind as he stretched one of

his powerful arms up to wash its underside, revealing the dirty blonde

hair in his armpit as he did so. Scott Brady was a jock. That didn't

really do the term justice, actually. Scott Brady was an athlete, who

lived and breathed sport. In addition to gym class, he played sport for

the school every weekend, and in his local club. It didn't matter which

sport - when the football season ended, he went on to the next sport,

and so on. In addition, when he didn't have training for whatever sport

he was playing that season, Scott came and worked out in the weights

room in the school's gym. He was the star player of every team. He

really was a magnificent specimen of a young man, and he knew it. His

ego was insufferable. He was arrogant beyond words. I hated Scott Brady,

not least because he looked on people who never liked or were good at

sports like me like we were some sort of subhuman lifeform barely worthy

of the oxygen we wasted.

"Are you checking me out, you fucking pervert?" he asked me.

He had turned around and saw me there, standing, watching him. Evidently

I had stood there longer than I had thought. Also evidently, my watching

him didn't really worry him, since he had made no effort to conceal

himself when he turned around. I stammered and turned pink in

humiliation at his question, all the while watching the individual drops

of water roll down his taut pecs, which were clearly defined, through

the tuft of blonde chest hair, down across his hardened abs, and into

the small forest of blonde pubic hair, beneath which hung an

intimidating even while not erect uncircumcised cock, and two large

balls which had clearly dropped even though the scrotum which contained

them remained hairless. Framing his impressive cock and balls were two

bulging quadriceps, topping legs with golden hair starting at the knees

running down to Scott's large, athlete's feet.

"No!" I finally stammered.

"Why are you just standing there?" he had demanded. He was now glaring

at me, watching me intently.

"I'm going to have a shower." I replied.

"Well?" he asked, after a while, gesturing to the half-dozen spaces on

either side of him, all the while still looking at me.

The look he gave me made me think he was going to beat me to a pulp if I

didn't demonstrate that, in fact, I was going to have a shower, and that

I hadn't been just standing there perving on him. Quickly, I removed my

towel and flung it over a hook beside me. It wasn't until this gesture

was finished that I realised how accutely naked I was. Scott gave me a

contemptuous look, his eyes briefly passing up and down my naked,

pre-pubescent form, before turning back around and resuming his

showering, apparently satisfied that I was in the showers for legitimate

reasons. Quickly I darted over to a shower as far away from Scott as I

could, turned on the tap, the cold one only as I recall, and began to

wash the dirt off my arms and legs. The water was freezing, and though I

washed as quickly as I could, my already tiny, hairless circumcised cock

and balls shrunk up, my nipples stood erect, and my hairless skin had

goosebumps all over it by the time I was done.

As I turned the water off, I heard Scott's shower stopping as well. Not

wanting to look at him again, I turned to where my towel was, intending

to make a quick dash for it and then the door. I was a bit surprised

when I realised there was only one towel hanging from the hooks - mine.

I stood still for a moment, shivering from the cold, as I wondered where

Scott's towel was.

"Bring me the towel, bitch." came Scott's deep voice.

I turned towards the voice to see Scott standing there, expectantly. His

shower had been warm, and he wasn't shivering. He crossed his arms in

front of his chest and looked at me menacingly, like I was an opposition

player on the football field he was planning on just running over

instead of running around. I told Dr Farthing that I didn't really know

why, but I found myself retrieving my towel and bringing it to Scott

instead of wrapping it around myself and leaving. Scott unfolded his

arms, and held them out from his body.

"Dry me." he told me, his voice firm and commanding.

I reached out with trembling arms, wrapping the towel around Scott's

powerful midsection, and I began to rub him dry as I stood shivering,

wet and naked before him. I moved the towel up his powerful flanks and

along each arm in turn, without either of us saying a word. Rubbing down

his midsection again, I brought my face within an inch of his taut, bare

flesh as I rubbed and dried his back. I moved down his abs, and then

realised I would soon be face to face with his cock. Blushing, I removed

the towel, kneeled down and started drying up from each foot, up his leg

and thigh. Then I stood up, and I remember reaching with the towel, my

arms trembling, towards Scott's package, before he mercifully stopped

me, taking the towel out of my hands and wrapping it around his waist.

He looked down into my eyes, glanced down at my naked form, and then

back into my eyes. I swallowed hard again, and clutched at my sides,

shivering.

"You fucking faggot." he sneered, and then left the showers.

I looked down and almost died with humiliation when I realised that my

pre-pubescent cock was fully erect. Until that night I had never told

another human being about it again, and I had made sure I was never

alone with Scott Brady again throughout the rest of my school days. As I

had explained to Dr Farthing, I wasn't gay, I had no idea why I had the

erection, or even why I had obeyed Scott's command to dry him. Dr

Farthing asked me whether I had ever fantasised about the incident.

After a painful pause, I had told him that I had. I also told him that

in my fantasies, Scott was usually replaced by a woman. This was true,

excepting the "usually" part. Dr Farthing had asked me whether I had

ever masturbated whilst fantasising about that day in the school gym's

showers. I lied and said no, but I doubt I convinced him. I supposed he

knew, but then, at least he knew without making me say it.

"It's a miracle I haven't had an accident..." I thought, realising I was

almost all the way home now. It was a good thing I did this drive so

often, as otherwise I probably would've gotten lost, with my thoughts

everywhere but on the road. I decided to get something to eat at a fast

food joint on the way back to my apartment, and pulled into the carpark

of a local chicken place.

At no point did I notice the white van which had been following me for

some time...

REMOLDED

Chapter Two - Abduction

I pulled into the chicken place's car park. Quickly checking that I had

my wallet on me, I got out of my car and locked it. I then turned

towards the fast food joint and started towards it, only to take a quick

step backwards when a dark blue van pulled into the vacant car park next

to my car which I was just beginning to walk through. I scowled at the

driver and muttered "fucking idiot" under my breath, thoroughly shaken

from my recollections in the car trip back from Dr Farthing's clinic. I

rolled my shoulders and turned to walk around the van, whose side door

opened, sliding backwards. I decided I'd glare at the occupants of the

fan through the now open door, as my silent revenge for the van's driver

almost having run me over. I was surprised then, to see a man standing

(well, bent over slightly) inside the van, poised as if ready to spring

to attack. In addition to the one man I could see, there must have been

another out of my field of vision, as two sets of powerful arms reached

out of the van towards me. Each man grabbed one of my arms. I was too

surprised to yell out before I was hoisted into the van.

The inside of the van was pitch black - the driver's cabin was separated

off from where I was by a windowless inner wall. One of the men, the one

holding my right arm, twisted it up behind my back and then wrapped his

left arm behind my other arm, covering my mouth with his left hand. The

man was much bigger and stronger than me, and only now was it dawning on

me to start screaming and struggling. As I began my frantic, futile

efforts to break free of the man's iron grip, the men who had been

holding my left arm closed the van's door behind me. The light from the

car park outside disappeared very quickly, but I could only hear a

muffled sound from the door closing, even though it must have been

slammed. Likewise, I didn't hear the van's engine start again, but I

felt the van reverse underneath my feet as I squirmed in the grip of one

of my abductors. I felt the momentum shift again, and we were clearly

going forward again, back out on the open road, before the hand which

was covering my mouth was removed.

"Help!" I shouted. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Shut up!" the man holding me so painfully barked into my ear in a

growling voice. "Nobody can hear you!"

"I have money!" I yelled. "Let me go!"

Suddenly I was swung like a rag doll into the wall of the van, on the

opposite side to the door. I hit a padded, although not exactly soft

surface, and then fell back onto an identically padded floor. Knocked

stupid and disoriented, I was slow to attempt to wriggle away, and in an

instant the two sets of strong hands were back on me, one man securing

my legs, another my arms.

"We don't want your money." the voice barked back at me. "And the van is

sound-proofed. So shut up."

"Please, I ha..." I began, but was silenced by a vicious knee to my

groin.

My world exploded with pain and for what seemed like an eternity, I

could neither breathe in or out. I tried to curl up into a ball, but

being securely held to the floor as I was, it was to no avail. The man

who had kneed me in the groin patted down my sides and then started

fumbling at my belt. The best I could manage was an anguished groan as

he pulled my belt off and then pulled down my pants, briefs and all,

leaving them around my ankles. He then secured my legs properly again,

pinning my thighs to the floor of the van with his knees, before

securing my upper body with his arms. The man who was already holding my

arms then began to pull my jacket off, and then rip my shirt off,

ripping the buttons off as he did so. My shirt and jacket were both

discarded, and then both men rolled me over onto my belly.

"Please! Don't!" I whispered hoarsely in terror, before being silenced

by a vicious strike on the back of my bare testicles by the man who was

securing my legs. His knuckles struck my tender balls in a quick down

movement, making me throw up from the sickening pain. The man holding

down my arms brutally shoved my face into the vomit, as the other man

twisted my arms up behind my back. I felt my leather belt on the flesh

of my arms, before one of the men bound my wrists together with it. The

belt was quickly followed by rough rope, which rubbed my skin raw as it

was tightly drawn over my forearms and tied in tight knots. I struggled

to drawn breath, almost drowning in my own vomit, but the men let me

raise my head out of the vomit long enough to take a few quick gasps

before pushing it back down each time. When my wrists were secured

behind my back in this vicious bondage, the men took another length of

rope and tied it around my elbows, drawing them painfully close together

before securing the knot so as to leave a completely taut length of rope

between my elbows.

The men moved me out of my own vomit a little, and I was now sobbing in

terror. I lay on the floor keening as the men pulled my shoes off, and

then my trousers off from around my ankles. Asides from my watch and the

rops around my arms, I was now completely naked. I started to struggle

with my legs, but I felt the toe of a boot touch my bruised balls. The

touch was threat enough to convince me to offer no resistance as the men

crossed my ankles, and then tightly bound them in the same rough rope

which was now biting into the flesh of my arms.

I continued to offer no resistance even as they pulled my legs back and

into the air, pushing my knees far apart with their boots. Then a rope

was secured along the taut rope which bound my elbows together, and was

drawn back over my bound wrists towards my ankles. I began wailing as I

realised I was being hogtied, and my wails became even more pained as my

legs were drawn painfully far up my back. I arched my back and leaned

back to try to make it easier on myself as my ankles were finally

secured while they were over my wrists. The pain, earlier localised in

my testicles, now spread through my legs and back, and as indescrible as

I found it to begin with, it intensified with every passing second. I

grew more and more desperate, and before I knew it, my pathetic wailing

had become fully fledged hysterical screaming on a continual basis. I

only barely stopped long enough to draw breath to begin screaming again.

The two men evidently found this intensely amusing, as they began to

laugh before roughly grabbing me by the arms and upturning me. The pain

now spread across my shoulders down the front of my body, down to my

quadriceps, all of which were drawn incredibly taut, as I was propped up

against the wall of the van in this bound state. I felt an intense warm

down the inside of one of my thighs as I pissed myself.

By now my eyes were beginning to adjust to the very low light of the

van, and I could see the outline of the bucket one of the men picked up.

The contents of this bucket, probably soapy water, were then flung all

over me and over the floor of the van where my vomit and urine had made

such a mess. There must have been a drain of some sort, as the liquid

drained away, leaving the floor merely damp, and me feeling even more

exposed and helpless. The feeling of being splashed with water against

my will without being able to even ineffectually shield myself with an

arm, and then being left bound, wet, and alternately screaming and

whimpering, made me feel intensely vulnerable. It didn't do just that.

To my great humiliation, I could feel my cock stirring to life, despite

the abuse my balls had suffered.

One of the men sifted through the rough pile of my discarded clothes,

and produced my briefs as the other man produced a roll of duct-tape and

a knife. I pressed myself as far back against the wall as I could in my

condition as the man with the knife leaned forward, holding the knife

about my chest. The other man roughly grabbed my hair and yanked my head

back as far as it would go.

"Open your mouth." he barked.

I mewled and sobbed, hesitating for what seemed to me like a few seconds

before I complied, but if I hesitated at all, the man didn't notice. He

stuffed my briefs into my mouth, furthering my humiliation. He kept

holding my hair as the other man held the knife to my throat. He ran the

point up and down the vulnerable flesh of my neck a few times as I held

my breath, before finally using the knife to cut a length of duct tape,

which was secured over my mouth, completely sealing my underpants

inside, and leaving me only my nose to breath through. At this point,

the other man let go of my hair, and then glanced down. Even in the

dark, he could see my traitorous prick standing to attention. My

erection was as big and firm a hard-on as I had ever had, if not firmer.

"He likes it!" the man with the growling voice announced in mocking

delight, and the other man laughed cruelly.

The man with the knife put the blade away, to my great relief, and then,

to my horror, grabbed my cock and gave it a great pull. I was dragged

out from my position up against the wall of the van by my genitals,

which hurt my genitals almost as badly as the rest of my body as fresh

agony ran through my arms, legs, back, and abdomen. I was now lying back

on my shoulders, crushing my bound arms and ankles beneath me, a

position which sent me into a fresh screaming fit, only this time my

screams were muffled by my own briefs, which humiliatingly filled my

mouth as a gag. The man with the barking voice pulled my head and

shoulders off the ground of the van by pulling my hair, and then sat

down behind me. He let my head rest in his lap, and I looked up into his

face, obscured by shadow, in abject terror and helplessness, with my

cock pointing straight up at the van's ceiling, as desperately needy as

I was desperate to escape.

"I bet that's the hardest he's ever been." the man previously wielding

the knife said. He had not spoken until now. His voice was calmer, but

somehow more cruel than the brutal barker who was now mockingly running

the backs of his fingers over my tear-stained cheeks.

"Is he right?" the man with the growling voice asked me. Fresh tears ran

down the sides of my face as I nodded.

"He's a natural." the cruel-voiced man sneered. "He gets off on the

abuse."

"Would you like to get off, you pathetic bitch slut?" the man caressing

my head asked.

I closed my eyes. The question was the most profoundly humiliating thing

I had ever been asked. My whole body twitched in agony, and I was now

squirming involuntarily, although whether that was because of the pain

or because my arousal or some mixture of both, I do not know. I had been

abducted by these men, beaten, abused, stripped, hogtied, and was being

taken God knows where, and yet the thing which most filled my mind was

my sexual need. My cock throbbed as I strained against my bonds, and I

opened my eyes. I stared up into the face of one of my captors, a face

which was still indistinct as a result of the darkness, but whose eyes

could now be seen thanks to the way what little light there was fell on

them. I stared up into those eyes, a hungry stare. I felt the other

man's finger tips lightly caress my cock, sending explosions of pleasure

through my tortured body. And then, I demeaned myself in a way I had

never thought possible until then, by nodding frantically. Not just

once, or twice, but repeatedly, and with more vigour than I had ever

used to nod a positive response to a question before.

Both men laughed and laughed as I kept nodding, trying to plead with my

eyes for sexual release. Then the laughter and the nodding were both

stopped, as a heavy hand slapped me across my face, followed by another

across the other side, and another, and another. I closed my eyes

tightly shut once again. A slow but steady rain of simultaneously

clubbing and stinging blows from the palms of the hands of these two

burly men fell upon my face, torso and thighs, starting me screaming

into my gag again. The man in whose lap I was lying wrapped his thick,

masculine hands around my neck, and started to squeeze. My eyes opened

and bulged as he strangled me, and I looked up into his mocking, cruel

eyes once more.

"Since you get off on abuse..." he taunted me, the low-light catching

the gleam of his teeth as his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

As he squeezed my neck, the other man slapped my testicles, a blow which

caused me to exhale what little breath I had left and grunt in agony. I

didn't have time to appreciate the new levels of pain I had just reached

with the vicious blow. Instead, I began to panic as I desperately tried

to draw in air but found that I could not. The cruel, growling-voiced

man tightened his grip on my neck as I began to twitch in desperation.

The vicious slaps continued about my chest, my belly, my abdomen and

thighs, and another on my brutally abused balls, but they fell almost

into irrelevance next to my terror. The certain realisation struck me

that I was going to die, going to have the life choked out of me in the

back of a speeding van, while naked and hogtied, and desperately horny.

Just as I began to black out, the man let go of my neck, and I took a

few deep gasps of air before I began uncontrollably sobbing. As I

sobbed, I slowly again began to process the brutal blows which were

falling over my torso and thighs. I also felt the unmistakable warm

sensation of my own shit, just before I smelt it. The terror which had

caused my involuntary bowel evacuation was so fresh, that the laughter

of the calmly callous man nearest my shit didn't even touch the sides.

The humiliation didn't even begin to set in until, after beating me for

a few more minutes, they pulled me over and shoved me onto my front so

that they could clean me up. As they did so, I feel awkwardly on my

still painfully hard cock, a painful demonstration of the fact that I

found my demeaning torture exquisitely sexually exciting. My abused cock

found itself pressed up against my stomach, between me and the padded

floor, as the men took position on either side of me.

Another bucket of warm soap water was poured over my lower back and

arse, with the remainder of it used to clean up the floor. A sponge then

started to scrub my inner thighs, balls, ankles, the crack of my ass

(where it scrubbed slowly and probingly), and everywhere else my shit

could be found. While this happened at one end, the other man slapped me

about the face, yanked me about by my hair and ears, and carried on with

other such demeaning play. Finally, the sponge was placed back in the

now empty bucket, and I was pulled painfully up by my hair and by the

rope which linked my elbows and ankles, until I was propped up against

the wall once more. At this point, the man who had been slapping me

about the face while the other was cleaning me up tied a blindfold

around my eyes. I am not sure whether he thought I might now be able to

make out their facial features, or whether it was because he was going

to blindfold me eventually, but it heightened my fear still more.

The heavy slaps all over my face, chest, stomach, abdomen, thighs, and

occasionally balls began again in earnest, slowly at first. Each slap

was paced, sometimes with up to a minute between slaps, and other times

six in a row in the space of a second, more usually with between five

and ten seconds between each blow. At first I tried to count the seconds

between the blows, to give myself something to focus on other than the

pain and my constant sexual need, but the alternating times and the

building pain made it impossible, and soon I was just pleading and

mewling into my gag between hoarse screams elicited by the blows. The

abuse seemed to go on for hours, with each man taking it in turns to

beat me, swapping with the other whenever his hands got tired or sore.

The blows also got heavier as the time went on, and before long the

process of waiting in the darkness for the next blow, however long it

might take to fall, wherever it might fall, with the only certainty

being that it would in fact fall, and that it would be even harder than

the last blow, was simply unbearable. Or so I thought, but I had no

choice but to bear it. My ordeal continued on and on as the van kept

driving to its destination, with the blows to my testicles becoming

earth shatteringly painful. More than once, I could feel the van come to

rest beneath me, but only for a few minutes, as if it stopped to refuel

at a gas station before setting back out on its way. Despite my

continual state of intense arousal, by the time the van came to a

permanent rest, each blow to my testicles would result in my losing my

erection for several minutes, until my traitor cock again revealed its

intense desire by becoming firm once more, despite the pain.

REMOLDED

Chapter Three - The Trainer

Finally, however, the van did come to a stop, and so too did the blows.

I heard the van door open, but saw no light. Whether we arrived at our

destination in darkness, or whether my blindfold was so effective that

it completely blocked out the light, I do not know. My cock was

twitching in desperate need, and I felt a strange combination of relief

and regret as I was lifted out of the van. On the one hand, the

unbearable abuse had come to an at least temporary end. On the other, I

still desperately needed to get off. I was held up above the ground by

my arms while the driver's side door opened behind me and the van's

driver got out. Being suspended off the ground for a protracted period

of time whilst hogtied made the now familiar agony of being so bound

fresh again, and as my raw voice screamed anew into my gag, the driver

untied my ankles, allowing my legs to fall down and dangle beneath me,

still dangling off the ground. A second of relief was quickly followed

by fresh agonies as a new round of cramps set off up my quadriceps, but

my legs were soon forced to support my weight again as the two men

holding me up by my arms lowered me down until my feet touched the

ground.

I could feel cold wet grass beneath my feet and between my toes, and the

air was very cold, which made me guess it was still night. A freezing

breeze passed over me, making my nipples become erect, and my aching

balls shrink up towards the rest of me. It also made my poor legs cramp

up even more, and the men on either side of me had to support me and

help me affect some semblence of walking as they led me in darkness

across the grass quite away. Finally, I could feel slick stone beneath

my cold feet, and I would have fallen down a set of stairs had it not

been for my burly tormentors turned guides. I keened into my gag with

intense sexual desire as I was led across a cold stone or cement floor,

and actually began to nuzzle each of my torturers with my head as we got

into what seemed like some sort of elevator. The fear of the unknown

which accompanied our descent into the earth only intensified my arousal

and my need to come.

The elevator stopped after a very long descent, and I was taken out and

across more cold cement or smooth stone floors. After we seemed to cross

through half a dozen doorways, we stopped. As we stood in silence, I

resumed my efforts to rub up against both the men on either side of me,

who ignored my efforts and even seemed to find them amusing, although

they said nothing. Finally, breaking the silence, I heard another set of

boots against the hard floor.

"Remove the blindfold and the gag." a new voice commanded.

The man on my left ripped the duct tape from my lips, causing me to

scream out into my underpants, which he pulled out of my mouth. The man

on my right pulled the blindfold off, and my eyes saw light for the

first time in a very long time. I closed them again due to the pain, and

it wasn't for several minutes until I was able to open them and keep

them open. Throughout this whole period, the other people in the room

remained silent, content to allow me this chance to recover, it seemed.

Finally, when I could keep my eyes open, I looked around.

The room I was in was a long hall, with six heavy doors on each side,

each with a number on it, and a heavy door at either end. All four of us

were standing in a sort of entrance area of a few yards in length before

the side doors began. There were no windows in sight, only long,

fluorescent light-bulbs lit the room. On the left of this entrance area

was a blackboard, which simply recorded a set of Roman numerals, "I"

thru "XII", and a number of dashes next to them, as if somebody was

keeping a tally of something. Only one number, VII, had no marks next to

it. On the opposite wall from the blackboard was a wall-sized mirror. I

couldn't see any reflect in the mirror other than the large man standing

next to me on my right side. I glanced at each of the men who had been

torturing me in the van all night, trying to work out which voice

belonged to whom. Both men were white, well over six feet tall, and well

over two hundred pounds. Both towered over me. The man on my left looked

to be in his forties, and his tree-trunk arms were decorated with scars

and tattoos. His black hair was thinning on top, but he had an

impressive, if unkept looking beard. The man on my right looked slightly

younger, and had a completely shaved head. His arms, on the other hand,

were hairy, and perhaps a little more defined than the man on my left.

He had tattoos too - but on his knuckles instead of on his arms. They

wore dirty jeans and stained, non-descript T-shirts. I wondered which of

these imposing giants had been the one into whose eyes I had stared

pleadingly while I nodded frantically that I wanted to get off.

In front of me stood an altogether different prospect. The new voice

belonged to a six foot, five inch black man. He wore black leather pants

and boots, but no covering above his waist, leaving a perfectly

chiselled, hairless physique, of the sort I had only previously seen on

the cover of weight lifting magazines or in professional wrestling. No

tattoos marred this perfect body. His hair was short and black, framing

his bright green eyes the like of which I had never seen before. They

were at once cruel, commanding, and wise. He looked into my eyes as if

looking into my very soul.

"Welcome to my school." the black man said, his gaze fixed on my eyes. I

couldn't help but look away. "As my assistants have no doubt explained

to you by now, we don't want your money. You have not been kidnapped for

financial reward. We aren't going to ransom you to your family or

friends, or even your employer."

I opened my mouth more because I thought I should speak rather than

because I had anything to say. I didn't really know what to say in this

situation.

"You will not speak unless asked a direct question or otherwise granted

explicit permission to speak." the black man cut me off, whatever I was

going to say. "Your opinion is no longer relevant to anybody. Until you

graduate, only my opinion will matter to you. I am the Trainer. You will

refer to me as your Trainer. The first and last word out of your mouth,

on those rare occasions you are granted the permission to speak, will be

sir. Is that understood?"

"Sir..." I stammered in a weak voice, my fear outweighed only by my

arousal. "yes, my Trainer, sir."

"Good." my Trainer continued. "You no longer have a name. If you ever

again speak the name by which you were known before your admission to

this school, the consequences will be extreme, and you will never

recover from them. If I need to differentiate you from my other

students, I will only refer to you as seven. Otherwise, I will refer to

you anyway I see fit, be it bitch, slut, sissy, shit, slave, or anything

else. What is your number, you pathetic slave slut?"

"Se..." I began, trembling at the word slave. I quickly remembered that

the first word out of my mouth had to be sir, and my attempt to say the

word 'seven' slowly morphed into the appropriate appellation. "sir, my

number is seven, my Trainer, sir."

"Good." my Trainer nodded. "You will obey all my commands from now until

you graduate. When you graduate from my school, you will be a fully

trained sex slave, submissive totally to the will of your betters. And

slut, everyone is better than you. You are the lowest shit of them all.

You will obey every command I give you, and satisfy every desire of your

betters. Any time you fail in anyway, one or more marks will be placed

against your number on that board. Every mark warrants punishment. I

will explain the punishment system in more detail in your first class.

If you are given contradictory commands, you will attempt to follow them

both. You will also be punished for failing to follow both commands. You

will be punished for failing to instantly satisfy any desire of your

betters. You will be punished for looking into the eyes of your betters.

You will be punished at random, for no other reason that pathetic slave

shits like you deserve constant punishment. You will not question any

punishment, and you will always be thankful for your punishment."

By this stage I was whimpering in fear and intense arousal. I was

unbelieveably hard, and absolutely terrified at the same time.

"Turn seven around so the stupid bitch can see what you did to it." my

Trainer told the men holding me.

The men turned me around to face the mirror. I saw my reflection for the

first time since I had been unblindfolded, and I recoiled in fear. I was

bruised from head to toe, especially on my thighs, my chest, and my

abdomen. My flesh was raw as well as bruised from the slapping, and I

could see rope burns around my ankles. My balls were swollen and

discoloured from the abuse, but my cock stood out proudly, desperate for

any attention. I moaned, and involuntarily thrusted my twitching cock at

my own reflection. The men then turned me back towards my Trainer.

"Well, slut, would you like to thank these men who were so good to you

during your voyage here?" my Trainer asked.

"Sir..." I began, nodding eagerly whilst being sure to keep my eyes

fixed firmly to the floor in front of me. "Yes, my Trainer, sir. I want

to thank them, sir."

"All a useless little slut shit like you can do to thank your betters is

to offer yourself to them, bitch. Let that be your first lesson." my

Trainer instructed. "Do so now."

"Sir, yes my Trainer sir." I replied, so desperately horny that the

thought of resisting didn't even occur to me.

The men on either side of me let go of my arms and took a step back from

me. Each began to unzip their jeans. My arms were still bound behind my

back, and so there was only one way I could offer myself to both of

them. Naked, I turned between them, and bent over, offering the bearded

man my virgin asshole, and the bald man my mouth, which had never kissed

a woman let alone sucked a cock. Each man produced a large, semi-erect

penis from their pants. The bald man started to slap my face with his

semi-erect cock, and the bearded man did the same to my ass, whilst

squeezing my balls every few moments, producing moans of pain and lust

from me.

As they got progressively harder, my Trainer moved over to the board,

and producing a piece of chalk, marked one mark against the "VII" on the

blackboard. It was still less than all the other numbers had, but it

showed that I had punishment coming to me. I would later find out it was

for almost answering with "seven" rather than "sir" earlier on. At that

very moment, however, I was too busy losing my virginity in a most

humiliating fashion.

The beareded man entered me from behind, using no lubricant. I was

completely unprepared for the pain, and I started to scream as my eyes

welled up with tears. As I did so, my mouth went wide, and the bald man

thrust his huge cock into my mouth, ramming it deep down my throat,

making me wretch. As both men began pounding me from either side, all I

could do was squirm desperately. If my arms had been free I would have

tried to push them off me, or at least force them to take it more

slowly, but I could only stand there and take it from both of them at

whatever pace they chose to deliver it. In truth, I could not even do

that for long, as my tortured legs began to give way. For a brief period

I was held up only by the bearded man's cock, until he grabbed my hips

with his huge rough hands, and held me steady. The bald man grabbed a

hold of my hair and roughly fucked my mouth, using my hair to hold onto.

I managed to semi-steady myself on my legs again with the bearded man's

help, and I was rewarded when one of his hands crept across and grabbed

my cock.

The bearded man began to pump my cock with his hand, my precum

lubricating his pumping, as each man fucked my ass and throat as hard

and as fast as he could. Before long, I was twitching in ecstatic agony,

and finally, my long denied orgasm shook my entire being, and I came all

over the bald man's boots and the floor. The bearded man kept pumping my

cock until all of my come had been milked out of me, by which time the

bald man took a grip of my head with both hands, rammed his cock hard

down my throat, and held me pressed up against his pelvis, with my eyes

and nose right up against the forest of his pubic hair. I felt his

orgasm build up in his cock, and then explode into my throat and mouth.

He kept pumping without any show of letting go, and I had no choice but

to swallow his come so that I could breathe, which I still only just

managed. Finally, the bald man released my head and staggered back,

giving an appreciative look to my Trainer. Meanwhile, the bearded man

still kept a firm grip of my left hip as he pounded my virgin asshole.

His hand, which had pumped my cock dry and was slick with my cum, moved

down to my balls, which he began to squeeze viciously and without mercy.

At first I was unable to scream, just gurgle in agony, but my pain

clearly pushed him over the edge, and in a few seconds the bearded man

was coming into my ass. He kept thrusting until he was completely spent,

and then he let go, letting me collapse to the floor in a puddle my own

come, with his come leaking out of my ass.

"You pathetic slave shit." my Trainer scoffed. "Clean up after yourself.

The boot has your disgusting sissy sprog all over it, as does his hand,

and the floor. Lick it all clean."

Exhausted, spent, but finally sexually satisfied, the enormity of my

situation only began to sink in as I began licking my own come off the

bald man's boots.