Hard Sell Pt 07 - Fitting

That night after having his hole so thoroughly stretched by the massage therapist Mark showered and went to bed alone but very much thinking about Oliver.  They had sent a few text messages back and forth, an escalation of teasing and flirtation that had him falling asleep with his cum covered dick on one hand and his phone in the other as he relived and attempted to memorize everything that had been done to him.  A few times he’d slip a finger down to his hole just to see if it had regained its shape, it did but he didn’t feel the same.

Never before had his body been pushed so far, his senses maximized.  And the way Brad used him afterwards, fucked his throat.  If he closed his eyes he could still smell the sweat of him, his nuts resting on his upper lip.  He had been tempted to ask the man to stay.  He wanted a warm body in his bed, someone to cuddle with and talk to, whisper in his ear and maybe play with, but the man showed no interest as they sat on the couch together.  It was done.  He had gotten what he wanted.

The energy in the room was different.  Something had been accomplished, something had been gained.  He wanted to know more but at the same time he didn’t because it wasn’t much different than an anonymous hookup from an app or some guy he met at a bar or a club.  

Did the man have someone at home?  Was he paid for the service?  Mark didn’t ask any of those questions and decided to be content with the experience.  He watched the man carefully after he finished his beer and got up to find his clothes, the way his muscles moved and his skin stretched as he cleaned all of the dildos in the sink and put everything in his bag.  He walked him to the door and that was it.

The next morning he awoke with morning wood like few times ever in his life.  It wasn’t just the biological action of his body, the effect of needing to pee, no he was horny and wanting someone, something.  He rolled onto his back and tugged one out quickly before going to the shower.  Sex was on his mind as he got ready, as he ate breakfast, as he drove to work, and even as he sat down at his desk.  A lust had been awakened in him, a lust that had been dormant since college when he thought he realized reality couldn’t live up to fantasy.  And he started feeling the things other people told him to feel about monogamy and romance, tried to live out those stories that ended with marriage and a happily ever after.  Those ideals had always felt like a lie to him, an impossible, impractical standard.  Oliver was different, he had made fantasy into reality, given him sexual experiences not just between the two of them but with other men, scenarios and roles that he always thought he would have to connive out of a partner with some kind of wish list.

Work through the morning was a breeze, a few calls, a few emails, while looking up people on the rolodex of his phone.  He didn’t sell one car by lunch but he was okay with that so he took a deep breath, let his erection subside, and headed out for a bite to eat feeling confident and a little cheeky.  Instead of going to his usual place he went to his reward spot and ordered his favorite food, a casual sit down restaurant known for its quick service.  And for Mark it's cute waiters, young men in form fitting slacks.

Normally he’d sit and drool over the thought of taking one of them over the table and pounding them until he had an orgasm but that day he had not just the opposite fantasy but a more elaborate one, taking all of the waiters, being tied down with his tie and used by each of them in turn.  They’d run a train on him until his hole was dripping and sore, that would be good, he thought.  He was half in fantasy when he got a text message from Oliver.

[How are you feeling?]

He grinned at the message and looked around to make sure he couldn’t recognize anyone then held the phone close and wrote out a response.

[That was amazing.  Brad was a very thorough professional.  I can’t believe all the things he did to me.  I’ve never been used like that.  I’m on Cloud Nine right now.]

He realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled, then focused on his breathing as he waited for a response.

[I’m glad you don’t have any regrets.  Are you up for some more?]

Mark had an erection again and when he noticed the waiter was headed his way looking to clear his plate he waved the man off and looked around to make sure no one was watching him before entering a response.

[I’m up for anything.  In fact I’m having a fantasy right now about these guys at this restaurant I’m at for lunch.]

[Are they doing bad things to you?]

[Very bad.  All of them at the same time.]

[Good to hear you’re starting to think creatively, but we’re not there yet.]

His mood sunk a little at the comment.  Just what was he ready for?  What did Oliver have planned for him?  He bit his lip and sent back a text asking.  He didn’t have to wait long before getting a response.

[You looked cute in that suit and tie you wear.  I’m guessing you’ve got a half dozen shirts, a couple pair of slacks.  But maybe you need a new suit?  Go to my personal tailor, a friend of mine, Q&A Fashion.  I’ll let them know to be expecting you after work.  Make sure to wear clean underwear.]

A new suit?  Clean underwear?  Mark felt his hard dick twitch at the thought of it, move enough to feel the slime trail of his leaking dick in his underwear.  Well, there goes my clean briefs, he thought.  He bit his lip and a moment later he received a text with the address and directions, he read over it a few times, especially the part that said “park around back and enter through rear” because even that was stirring his imagination.  He groaned at the thought of going back to work, another few hours of trying to sell cars before he’d be able to go.  But everything had a cost and he figured he might as well get it over with so he called for the bill.

Back at work Mark made his way to his desk, checked his email, checked his messages and found a few potential customers looking to make appointments for the next couple of days.  He checked his schedule, replied to the emails, called back the few that had left messages.  He looked to the door hoping someone would walk through because he had a few leads but nothing too promising, nothing as good as a sale right then, but he was disappointed when Cody stepped into his vision with a grin on his face.

“Good day?” Mark asked.

“Awesome, just made a sale while you were at lunch.”

“Trying to make me look lazy?”

“I don’t have to try,” Cody replied, “you do it yourself.”

“Very funny, so what, you sold a car while I was out.  One of your regulars?”

“No, that’s the best part.  He came in looking for you.”

“What?”

Mark reeled at the thought of Cody stealing one of his clients.  He crossed his arms and looked to the other man with narrowed, serious eyes.

“In the half hour I was gone you made a sale?”

Cody’s serious face broke into laughter.

“No, I’m just messing with you.  It wasn’t one of yours but yeah, I got him in talking to the finance manager right now to figure out a payment schedule.  But it’s all good, I mean you tried to steal one of mine anyway.”

“What?  Who?”

“Oliver,” Cody replied, “I know you took him for a test drive.”

The test drive?  How it all started, that, he was Cody’s?  Mark shrugged off the accusation.  Even if it were true it still led to the best time of his life.

“Yeah well,” Mark replied.

“It’s all good.  We sell cars.  It’s not like a committed relationship.  But next time, just know, you’re out of the office and someone walks through the door I’ll be on him.  I’ll close the deal whatever it takes.”

Mark thought about Cody doing whatever it takes, running naked around an abandoned airport, driving naked back to the dealership, sucking Oliver off in the car even if it didn’t lead to a sale right then, and he chuckled.

“Think it’s funny?  Well it’ll be your ass,” Cody said before walking away.
Your ass, Mark thought, and laughed again to himself.  And for the rest of the day Mark kept himself busy doing little things while he kept one eye on the door, occasionally he’d see Cody and he’d think, your ass and smirk to himself, but when it came time to leave he was quick to clear his desk and leave.  He put the address in his phone, connected that to his car, then drove.

An hour later, in a section of town he didn’t visit often, Mark took note of the nearby restaurants and bars as he found the place and a nearby parking garage.  He walked the half block back to the front door and paused for a moment.  Was Oliver serious about using the back entrance?  He looked up at the sign.  It had to be the same place, and yet, he thought about it, Oliver hadn’t misled him so far.  He let go of the door handle and walked around the side of the building, down the alley and to the back of the building where he found an ornate wooden door.

Classy, he thought to himself before he pulled it open and stepped through.  An aroma of wood and leather overwhelmed him for a moment as he looked around at what seemed to be an ordinary men’s clothing store: a couple racks of jackets, a display for slacks, against the far wall a shirt display, and even a display for underwear, a mix of classy boxers and those new briefs with the stretchy, clinging fabric.  A few men browsed through the clothes, mostly middle aged, one of them with his much younger boyfriend.  Mark spotted the register and the well dressed cashier behind it ringing up a purchase for one of the men.  He took a moment to look from wall to wall before he noticed that there were no front windows.  

This part of the store was separate from the front part of the store.  He looked to the man behind the register who noticed him in return and gave a curious tilt of his head then looked away suddenly self-conscious and nervous.  He started to move his feet, slowly he walked further into the store to one of the racks and began look over the jackets.  He noticed the man who had just checked out walk by him and look him over.  He looked back, noted the man’s expensive, leather shoes, his slacks, his tucked in shirt with an open collar.  The man had wealth and he had taste.  If he were anywhere else he might just chat the guy up and give him a business card, and yet he thought of Oliver and the reason he was there and it gave him pause.

He was about to give up, unsure of just what he was supposed to find there, when he saw the younger boyfriend take off his shirt right there in front of everyone to try on something new.  And that’s when he realized two things were missing, changing rooms and cameras, and he thought of Oliver’s text about getting a new suit, a complete suit he guessed, jacket, shirt, and pants.  Clean underwear, he thought, I forgot about getting clean underwear.  He started to head back for the door out when he ran into the cashier, bumped into him, and he stepped back and looked over the man.  He wasn’t an ordinary cashier.  He was fit, stylish.  He looked to be in his forties mostly though Mark suspected he was actually older, white hair and blue eyes.

“I uh, came to the wrong place,” Mark blurted out.

“Are you sure?  Aren’t you my appointment for a new suit?  Oliver said he’d be sending over someone new and now I can see why, look at you, oh you’re darling.”

Mark suddenly felt intimidated by the man as he stepped back once to get another six inches of distance between them.  The man looked him over and he felt like a piece of meat, measured and judged by each feature, put together and taken back apart, possibly even stripped in the man’s imagination, right down to his, his bare ass.  Mark gulped and bit his lip.  Was this what he wanted?

The other customers continued to browse but they were also looking to him, at him.  Were they all doing the same thing he thought of this man before him had been doing?  He was it.  He was the center of attention.  He looked to the door, felt the bead of sweat on his forehead and pool collect at the small of his back.  He was nervous.  He was actually nervous, he thought, and excited at the same time because if he stayed they’d all get to see him.  He might just be stripped of each piece of fabric.  He felt his dick harden, worried that they all saw the tent in his pants.  He was afraid, not of physical nor emotional harm, just the fear of something new and yet he nodded because yes he wanted this.

“I’m Quentin,” the older man said offering his hand.

“Mark,” he said taking hold of it.

He tried his best to shake with his firmest, most professional grip but the man’s wrist bent with the motion and he felt it go limp.  He was worried he had done something wrong but the man only stepped to him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to the clothes and asked, “where should we begin?” Mark looked around at the different sections unsure of how or what he should say next and was about to just start talking, make some kind of noise, uhm or like, well, anything when Quentin interrupted him.

“Measurements, it’s always good to start with measurements,” he said.

And he ushered Mark across the store to an area where three mirrors surrounded a small step, a platform, a pedestal.  Mark felt the man urge him to get up on it so he did.  He was turned and faced back out to the rest of the store.  Suddenly a few inches taller he looked down on the rest of them and yet he was the one who felt ridiculous and the focus of attention.  He felt Quentin take hold of his tie and loosen it, pull it out and for a moment he breathed easier until the older man took hold of his belt buckle and he grabbed the man’s wrists.  And the man didn’t fight back, just let himself be taken and held.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, the best measurements are always closest to the skin.  I thought, maybe, I could strip you down for the most accurate results.”

The other customers were now all looking to him.  They were waiting, hunger in their eyes.  He thought he saw one of them lick his lips.  The younger man, the boyfriend, was shirtless as he stared back and yet Mark still felt the most vulnerable of them all.  And yet there it was, the younger boyfriend, shirtless, and so he relaxed and he let go of the tailor’s wrists.  Quentin quickly set about his task, belt out, fly open, pants down, shoes off, pants off, socks off.  Mark self consciously tugged his shirt down to cover himself.  Quentin pulled a measuring tape from his back pocket, ran it from his foot up his leg to the inside of his thigh right beside his balls.  He felt the back of the man’s hand.  Did it really have to be there so long?  Probably not.

For a moment he laughed to himself as he stood there with his shirt loose down to half of his thigh, slightly tickled by the tailor who moved to his other leg.  He watched as some of the other customers moved closer and some of them went back to shopping though keeping one eye on him.  He looked to their crotches and noted that most all of them were walking around with erections.  And he felt his own dick slide around against his briefs, leave a trail of ejaculate as he felt it harden.

This isn’t so bad, he told himself, but Quentin must have sensed his confidence because that’s when he took hold his shirt collar.  One button at a time, slowly and methodically until it was open, the man pulled it from his shoulders, tossed it on his pile of clothes.  Mark suddenly felt humiliated as he stood there wishing he had picked a different style of undershirt that day, the one day he had chosen tank top over crew neck.  He could have used the sleeves right then, the tighter collar, the way the fabric hung loose, but instead he was in a tank top.  The ribbed fabric clung to him, bare shoulders, bare clavicle.  He tried to cover himself with his hands and that’s when he remembered the three mirrors behind him.  They all could see him, all parts of him at the same time and from just about every angle.  He felt the way his briefs rode up his crack, part of one cheek a little more visible, and he wanted to pull it out, two fingers to the back of his underwear and he could cover himself.  But for how long?  He remembered the store sold underwear too.

Quentin asked him to remove his undershirt and he did, handed it over to the man who dropped it with the rest before reaching up to his hips, a hand on each side.  His fingers delicately inside the waist band, he pulled a little, then some more, and finally Mark felt the last fabric, the lost cover of decency, leave his body, down his hips to his ankles and then he stepped out of it.  He stood there before all of them naked, bare, his erect dick pointed at them.  They all took a moment to look.  They all saw him.

It could be worse, he thought, I could be bending over showing them my asshole.  And yet it was completely embarrassing, completely humiliating to be standing there in front of strangers, in the back of a store, in another store, a kind of fake store, clothing all around him, aisles and displays of clothing, his own clothing on the floor in a messy pile.  He looked down to see his briefs and for a moment he wanted them back.  He wanted them all back.  And yet as he stood there, felt his body in the cool air, the way his hard dick stuck out with the foreskin rolled back he was kind of proud because they were all looking at him.  They were all admiring him.  He moved his hands a little just to feel the under part of his forearm brush against the head of his dick and he bucked a little and the men smirked as they stared at him.  Quentin moved away, crossed the store to a door that he went through as discreetly as possibly.  He looked to his left and saw a man rub at his bulge in his pants.  They were all getting off on this.  

One man brazenly put his hands down inside his pants and began to stroke his hard dick.  He looked to where the man with the younger boyfriend had been joined by one of the other customers and the younger boyfriend had his hands down inside the men’s pants as they pawed him.  Mark licked his lips.  These men wanted him.  They were horny for him and yet they all stood back observing him as he stood there and suddenly he didn’t feel shame but pride so he put his hands at his side, took a deep breath, and held his shoulders up.  His hard dick in front of him, so hard it bent back, the foreskin peel away and the tip was red, a pearl of cum on it.

After several deep breaths he saw Quentin return accompanied by another much younger man, handsome with glasses and short, stylish haircut.  The new man walked ahead, crossed the room to where Mark stood and looked him in the eye.

“My name is Alfie,” he said, “and it looks like we’ve got a bit of a problem here, none of your clothes will fit with that big erection.”

Mark rubbed his fingers together.  This new man, this more in charge man somehow, he added a new element to it.  He felt as if his cheeks were on fire and he looked to the ceiling, watched the man out of the corner of his eye.  Alfie stepped closer, his cologne wafted into Mark’s nostrils and he could hear the other men in the room, the rustle of their clothes as they masturbated.

“On your knees boy,” Alfie commanded.

Mark dropped to his knees, his head still cocked back he looked up to the man as he stood before him in his slacks, his button down shirt, suspenders, a bow tie.  Alfie reached around to him, gripped the back of his head then pulled him into his crotch.  Mark felt the man’s erection underneath.  In the darkness of the cloth, firm against his thigh he gulped and moved his mouth as if the man’s dick was right there for him.  He wanted it.  His knees pressed into the carpet, toes bent, the way his butt cheeks parted and hung open, his hard dick and tight balls, his nipples hard.  He saw Alfie’s hand, fingers touched together on the zipper.  He heard the teeth slowly open, then he undid his belt, his pants.  Alfie pulled him to his dick, his face pressed into the other man’s underwear he felt his hard dick.

Slowly he moved up to the waistband of his underwear, bit into them with his teeth, pulled them down.  Alfie’s dick slapped against the side of his face.  He felt it run along his cheek to his ear and he tried to grip it with his lips.  Alfie placed his hand on Mark’s head and pushed him a little lower to his balls.  He took one in his mouth then the other, licked up the base along the shaft to the head.  He nipped at it, licked his lips and opened his mouth for Alfie to push inside, across this tongue to the back of his mouth to his throat he choked a little and pushed back.  The tailor pulled out and he gulped for breath, he felt his mouth fill with saliva.

Back into his mouth, out, in, out, Alfie’s fingers in his hair, he began to thrust in motion deeper each time into Mark’s mouth, his balls slapped against his chin.  Mark reached down to his own dick, felt his balls, gripped at his shaft, tugged a little and with just a little motion his fingers rubbed over the head and it happened.  He felt the spasm of his muscles, the rush and the tingle of pain as he ejaculated.  But it wasn’t over as Alfie continued to fuck his face, his lips began to swell, the other man gripped at his ears and his hair until finally he was pulled into his pubic hair and he felt the cum in his throat burn down to his stomach.  He pulled away and sunk down on his haunches, head down, spit ran out from his open mouth down to his chest, his belly, even on his own dick.

And just when he had gathered his breath he felt someone grab his ear and he realized it was Quentin, the older man who had stripped him.  He was pulled low to the floor to Alfie’s shoe where he saw his own ejaculate there on the leather.  Quentin spanked him twice and pulled him closer until he stuck out his tongue and he was forced to lick up what he had carelessly spilled.  He licked and sucked as the older man continued to abuse his bottom and pull on his ear until he had cleaned the entire shoe and then he was pulled to the carpet where he tasted some of it but also the fibers and he struggled and resisted so Quentin released him.  He pushed himself up to his knees and glared to the old man and was about to say something when Aflie squatted down in front of him, slapped him across the face and he looked back to him.

“Bad boy,” he said.

It was there again.  He felt himself back in the scene.  He would do anything for this young man.  He looked him in the eye for a moment, then looked down to the carpet and he saw the wet spot.  Slowly, carefully he lowered himself down on his hands, tried to lick at it without tasting the carpet.  For a moment he thought he had done exactly what was expected of him, especially when he heard the younger man’s cruel laughter that stirred his memory and he realized exactly where he was, exactly what he had done, and the other men, the strangers.  He pushed up and looked for them and was surprised to see most of them had gone.

“We’ll get to work on your suit right away sir,” Quentin said, “I believe we have everything we need.”

Alfie properly secured his dick back into his underwear and his pants, walked out of the room.  Mark looked over to his pile of clothes.  He crawled to them, got to his feet, pulled each article on one at a time.  He looked to Quentin who seemed to be preoccupied with his work, then he walked out.  The cool air was refreshing when it hit his red cheeks and lungs.  He breathed deep, adjusted his dick, and walked back to his car slowly memorizing for himself everything he had been subjected to in some attempt to remember every detail even the taste of the carpet.

Hard Sell Pt 08 - The Personal Trainer

[Are you still interested in getting into better shape?]

Mark looked around again.

[Yes, very.  Do you have something, someone in mind?]

[You kinky bastard, I do.  His name is Apollo.  He’s a personal
trainer I know.  I’ve been telling him about you, nothing specific, no
names, yet, but what we’ve been doing.  He said he’s interested in
starting a regimen with you.  Are you interested?]

Oh god, Mark thought, a personal trainer.  This could be another thing to mark off his bucket list.  He found himself nodding even though no one was there to see and he stopped himself before quickly sending back a text.

[Yes, please, sir.]

He grinned and gave himself points for the sir part.  Oliver replied
with name, Apollo and an address, time and date, he was disappointed it would be Friday evening but it had him wanting it even more.  There was another text from Oliver telling him that he should buy something to wear, namely a jockstrap, a tank top, and a pair of shorts, short shorts like athletes wore.  Mark licked his lips at the idea and replied that he would get everything and be there on time.  He had one night to kill but he didn’t want to do it alone.

[Since it’s not going to be until tomorrow do you think we could, you know, get together?]

[I’m a bit busy this evening.  I want you to do something for
yourself.  Your ass will be mine soon enough.]

Soon enough?  It was never soon enough.  Mark sighed and sent a
message back that he understood even though he didn’t and left it at that.

He pulled into the strip mall parking lot and made his way to the back where he found one remaining business amongst several others that had been closed for months, possibly years.  He was surprised when he spotted three other cars parked nearby.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad if there were other people here exercising, he said to himself.  He looked up to the window to see a sign for Apollo’s Fitness.

This is the place, he told himself and slowly exited his car.  He made sure he had everything he needed in his bag: a jockstrap, shorts, and a tank top.  The outfit would be more revealing than he might be comfortable wearing, especially in front of clients, but he took a deep breath and assured himself this is what Oliver had asked him to do before he locked his car and walked to the front door.  He opened it causing the familiar sound of bell on the door that he hadn’t heard in years.  He stepped inside to a small reception area where he saw a young man sitting behind a desk.  He was handsome, thin, and well dressed.  The receptionist looked up to him with a curious brow.

“Hi, I’m here for a three o’clock appointment,” Mark said.

“You’re a little early,” the receptionist replied, “but Apollo is just
finishing up with his previous client so please take a seat and I’ll
let him know you’re here.”

Mark looked to the seats.  They were just comfortable to sit for
fifteen minutes, a half hour at most.  He sat and watched as the
receptionist finished whatever he had been doing on his computer
before getting up and walking to the back room.  He noted that man was a bit light in the loafers and smirked to himself.  Moments later the man returned and said that Apollo would be with him shortly after finishing with the previous client.  He thanked him in response and looked around the room.  He wasn’t surprised to see a few motivational posters on the walls and read over each of them to pass the time.  He had never been one for self-motivation much less motivational posters and he just smirked to himself and rolled his eyes.

After he read over them several times he looked to the receptionist
who showed no interest in even acknowledging him so he double checked his bag, even thought about going back out to his car, when he heard voices approaching from the back room.  He looked up to see two men step through a curtain.  The first man was fit, dressed in a tank top and shorts, Mark assumed he had a jock underneath, no bag.  He picked up his keys from the receptionist. The second man, the second man took away Mark’s breath at first sight.

He was six two or six three and muscled, black skinned, and dressed in shorts and tank top that looked too small for his body.  His thighs were thick causing the shorts to ride up.  His tank top looked more like a skimpy piece of cloth.  He gulped when he spotted the bulge between the man’s legs and held his breath when the man passed him and he saw his muscled butt.  He forced himself to look up to the man’s head but could barely get his eyes above the man’s shoulders there was just so much of him.  He walked the previous client to the door.  They talked like old friends and he patted the man on the shoulder as he exited.  His hand alone was big and meaty.  Mark thought he might crumble under a touch like that and no matter how much he tried to prepare himself he was still taken by surprise when the man, Apollo, turned to him.  But his face broke into a smile making Mark feel a little more at ease.

“Are you my three o’clock?”

“Yes, uh, yes sir,” Mark stammered out.

“Good, well, I thought you’d be dressed and ready.  No matter, come on back and we can take care of that.”

Mark hoped his briefs held his erection in place as he got to his feet and walked ahead of the man to the back room he had indicated.  He stepped through the curtain to see a simple four walled room, not very big but full of exercise equipment.  A rack of weights, an exercise bike, a rowing machine, a weight bench, and even one of those rubber balls.  He spotted a large, storage chest against one wall.  There was one door at the back of the room and he wasn’t sure if it was an exit, an office, or just a restroom.  He looked to Apollo as he stepped into the room.

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with,” the man said.

Mark stood frozen.  He looked around at the room.  It was obvious,
right there was all of the equipment, and then he realized the man was talking about him.  Did he want him to strip down?  Was he supposed to change right there?  Or was it just that he was talking about the soon to occur challenge of exercise?  He tightened his grip on his gym bag.

“Well?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, um, sir,” Mark replied.

“Strip down,” Apollo said, “you can put your bag and clothes on the chest over there I guess.  Next time you can leave your work clothes in the car, leave your keys with the receptionist.”

“Oh,” Mark replied.

He set his bag on the chest and looked around the room, remembered the curtain, there wouldn’t be much privacy, he said to himself.  He started to strip and looked to Apollo who moved around seeming to put things away.  He folded his clothes carefully, set them atop the chest: his shirt, his pants.  He set his belt and socks on top, his shoes beside his clothes until he was down to his briefs and he looked to Apollo who didn’t seem to be paying attention.  He was getting something out, a weight scale.  He carried it to the middle of the room.  Mark turned to his bag, pulled off his underwear, opened the bag and took out his jock.

“Actually, why don’t you come over here just like that and I can get an accurate weight,” he said.

Mark dropped his jock, covered his dick and balls with his hands, then turned to the man who waited patiently.  He walked to him, looked down to the scale, carefully he stepped onto it.

“Hey, Steve would you come in here with a chart for a new client?”

Apollo called out.  Mark took a deep breath and looked to the muscled man with pleading eyes.  

“Is there something wrong?”

Mark shook his head.  There he was naked, his hands over his crotch, and the man walked into the room through the same curtains he had walked through, carrying a clipboard and pen.  He moved to stand beside him, bit at the end of his pen and looked over Mark as if he were evaluating him.  He felt his nipples harden, a chill in the room he hadn’t noticed before, but there was nothing he could do about it.

There was nothing, if he was honest with himself, he wanted to do
about, except give in to this.

“Weight, 170 pounds,” Apollo said, “now let’s get some measurements that way we can really show improvement over the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said.

Mark stepped off the scale and Apollo moved it back to the corner of the room.  He looked to see Steve step into the room with the same clipboard and a roll of measuring tape just like the tailor had used on him.  He didn’t know just how personal this was going to get but he suspected it would get very intimate.  Apollo took the measuring tape and quickly set about wrapping it around and touching it to Mark’s body, chest, biceps, waist, thighs.  He called out the numbers each time and Steve quickly wrote down the numbers.  When he was done he handed it back and to Mark’s surprise Steve walked out of the room.

He felt a little bit of relief to be left with just Apollo until the
man said he wanted him to get his jock, and only his jock.  Mark
walked back to the chest, picked it up, stepped into it and pulled it
into place, adjusted his dick inside and felt a little bit of ejaculate
on his fingers.  He quickly licked it from his fingers before turning
back to his trainer.  The man smirked to him and motioned for him to step back into the middle of the room.  He did.

“Ten jumping jacks,” he ordered.

Mark laughed off his nervousness and set about the task. Pushups, burpees, run in place, more jumping jacks, he quickly put him through a calisthenics test, told him to adjust pace and form each time.  Mark felt his lungs begin to burn, his heart possibly beat the fastest it had done in years except for maybe during sex or
masturbation.  Sweat formed all over his body, across his back, his
face, and it began to run down the middle of his back.  For one
routine he felt like he had done everything perfectly because after it
he felt so tired he wasn’t sure if he could keep form no matter how
much he tried.  And just when he was about to fall to the floor in
exhaustion Apollo told him to take a break after sit ups so he just
lay there and caught his breath.  He heard the man move around, bring over some weights.

Still on the floor Mark looked up to see Apollo standing over his
head.  He could see up the man’s shorts, a flash of white jock strap, then he set weights down on either side and ordered him to pick them up.  He picked up one in each hand and set to the task of pressing them above his chest.  He realized he was flat on his back, knees in the air, his dick covered by a thin white fabric, the straps around his butt.  Apollo walked around him observing him from every angle.

His dick started to harden, strained against the band.  Apollo kept at him, put him back through the exercises, added weights with different positions until he was exhausted, covered in sweat, one knee up, flat on his back, his head to the side.  Mark panted for breath.

“Please,” Mark cried out.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’m about to puke,” Mark replied.

“Okay, let’s take a little break,” Apollo replied.

Mark looked to the man truly grateful for being given a reprieve.  He
fell to his back and took several deep breaths until his heart slowed. He realized just then how read his skin had gotten, how hard his nipples felt.  He wanted to touch himself all over, especially his dick and his nipples, maybe slip a finger between his cheeks, but as he lay there under Apollo’s tutelage he just bit at his lip and told himself he had to keep it professional.  Just when he thought his body had almost returned to normal he heard his trainer clear his throat.

“Yes sir?”

“Just one more thing,” Apollo said.

“What’s that?”

“Cool down,” he replied.

“I’m okay,” Mark said.

“That wasn’t a question.  It’s a requirement, now get your ass up,” he ordered.

Mark forced himself up to his knees, then to his feet.  He watched as Apollo moved to the chest, set aside his bag and clothes, then opened it.  He reached one hand down inside and took hold of something, he pulled out a silver chain, a dog chain, pulled until it reached its maximum length and then he was pulling on something, a black rubber covered head emerged, someone, Mark told himself.  He watched as Apollo pulled a man from inside the chest, naked except for the rubber mask, a leather harness, cuffs on his wrists and his ankles.  He was completely hairless from the neck down, no hair anywhere so his hard dick stuck out obscenely from his body.  It was eight, no nine inches long, and the tip was red, that’s when he noticed the cock ring.

Apollo led the gimp slave across the room to in front of the exercise
bike and told him to get on his knees.  He watched as Apollo walked into the back room for something.  The gimp slave didn’t look his direction at all.  Was it the receptionist under there?  Had he stripped and been placed in the chest while Apollo was making him workout so hard?  He looked to the doorway and saw his trainer was carrying something, he moved to the bicycle and carefully attached it, a fuck machine, Mark realized, normally it was powered by an electric motor but he had a feeling this one was powered by the bike.  He was going to be on the bike, he realized.  He felt his dick harden and watched as his trainer moved the slave gimp into position and slowly worked the machine into position with the other man until the dildo on its end was inserted into him, then he tied him off by the chain on his neck, his cuffs.  He was stuck there.  Mark unconsciously licked his lips.

“Come over here,” Apollo said.

“Yes sir,” Mark replied with renewed enthusiasm.

“This is going to be like our own little spin class,” he said, “but
with a change.”

Mark nodded to the man.

“There’s just one more thing,” Apollo said before walking away to the back room again.  He came back moments later with another dildo in his hands, this one had a metal shaft attached to its base.  He moved to the bike, took off the seat, and replaced it with the dildo.

“You can’t be serious,” Mark blurted out.

“Strip and ride this thing, that is if you want to give this little
piggy, gimp slave the fuck of his life.”

Oh, he wanted to do it.  He really wanted to do it.  This stranger who had been kept in the chest, there he was bound and naked, a hard dick between his thighs, little chance of getting off, and getting fucked in the ass by the dildo fuck machine attached to the bike he’d be powering himself.

He looked to the dildo.  Apollo smirked at him before picking up the
same lubricant he had used on the gimp and applied it to the dildo
that had replaced the seat.  He greased every inch of it, then
motioned for Mark to move in and get onto it.  He stepped over the
center bar, put a foot on each pedal causing a slight movement of the wheels, the dildo, which caused the gimp to whimper.  He smiled at the notion of what he was about to do.  Apollo placed one hand on his stomach and took hold of the dildo with his other, slowly he eased him back until it entered his hole.

For just a moment he wanted to stop as he felt it dilate his
sphincter, so big he thought it would somehow split him in two but his sunk further down it.  He could feel each inch push up inside of his body.  His hole felt like it would never close again and he didn’t
want it to because even the pain felt like pleasure.   Eventually he
sunk to the base and let out a groan, felt sweat on his brow that he
wiped away with the back of his hand.  But the most surprising thing was his dick as he felt it harden like a rock.  He looked down to it, red and swollen, his balls tight.  He just wanted to touch it so
slowly he lowered his hand but Apollo saw him and slapped it away.

“Please sir,” he begged.

“No, get that ass moving,” the man replied.

Slowly he began to pedal and he looked to the machine as it increased in speed and he heard the gimp whimper so he slowed but Apollo was quick to spank him on the butt and he picked up speed again.  The gimp before him, his thighs, narrow waist, the way his balls and dick was tucked between his thighs completely helpless.  He felt another spank on his butt and picked up speed again, watched the dildo machine fuck him faster and faster until it reached its maximum speed.  He was pumping as hard and fast as he could, tried to use the motion of the pedals to his advantage.  Apollo reached around from behind and began to play with his nipples, two hard little points that became so sensitive that he began to twist at just a little touch.  He could smell himself.  He could smell the lubricant.  His own heart felt like it would seize in his chest.

And the gimp, that poor gimp was secured in place getting rammed by the machine, relentless and persistent.  There was no stopping it.  A dildo very much like the one inside of Mark’s asshole was also in that gimp and it pounded him mercilessly.  Mark’s thigh muscles strained, his feet felt heavy, his arms weak he leaned down onto the bike to try and find some comfortable position causing the dildo to shift.  His balls rubbed against his thighs and if only, just only a few more inches something might touch his dick that leaked ejaculate.

Just when he was about to slow, about to give up, he felt Apollo leave him.  He listened as he walked over to the chest then come back.  He stepped into his sight, a flick of the wrist and Mark saw the little bull whip in his hand.  “Oh no,” Mark cried out, and Apollo smirked before stepping into position and whipping him across the back.  The first few times didn’t feel like much, a passing sensation, but as the man continued to whip his back he felt it build and that’s when the man struck him more quickly.  He pushed harder against the pedals until the whip fell in synch with each time around.  His dick.  His back.  His hole.  His heavy feet.  Sweat covered him.  And that gimp, the sounds of the gimp as he struggled against his bonds somehow fueled him more, his groans almost became recognizable pleas.

That didn’t stop him.  He looked to Apollo who lazily stroked his own dick with one hand and whipped with the other.  He saw the shape and girth of his dick and recognized it.  It was just like the dildo in him and the one in the gimp.  He had made replicas of his dick and they were being fucked by them.  He pushed himself up, locked his elbows, let his knees just keep going as he began to think of himself as part of that same machine fucking the gimp.  He was just another part, the engine.  Mark felt the pain his back as it gave in to the pain and he arched back and let out a yell, a scream, so primal and intense he barely recognized it was coming from his own body.  That’s when it happened, tears running down his face, Apollo touched his dick, the sensitive head, and he shot, a blinding orgasm, sweat blinded him when he closed his eyes.  And it didn’t stop, not instantly like so many others, it echoed in his body from his toes to his fingertips, from his shoulders to his knees.  He felt Apollo’s arms wrap around him and he fell into his grasp, his entire body held up by the other man who slowly lifted him from the bicycle, the dildo slipped from his hole with a plop.  He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so exhausted.  He felt helpless and used as the man carried him over and laid him down next to the gimp on his side so he could see the stranger, the gimp.

Apollo pulled the dildo from him too, dragged the machine away.  He released the gimp, pushed him to the floor and turned his head to look back at Mark who lay there naked, his limp dick leaked over his thigh. They looked each other in the eye as Apollo pushed one of the gimp’s knees up to his chest to access to his hole.  He watched as the muscled man pushed inside easily and began to pound him.  He could hear the skin slap against skin.  He saw the pain and pleasure in the gimp’s face as the man caused his body to shift with each thrust.

Finally Apollo grunted and moaned as he pushed as deep as he could until it seemed as if the gimp himself had been flattened against the ground.  He could see the perfect outline of his trainer, his thighs, his round butt, his wide back, muscled and powerful.  He wished he could have another orgasm himself right then and for a moment he licked his lips when he saw the gimp take shape again before him, on his back, his dick stuck out from his body.  It twitched in some attempt to just feel something, anything, just enough for the gimp to have his own orgasm.  He watched as the gimp slowly reached down to touch himself only for Apollo to slap his hand away.

“Not today,” the man said.

“Please,” the gimp begged.

“No.”

Mark rolled onto his back and looked up to the ceiling.  He closed his eyes and let himself give in to the exhaustion.  It didn’t matter if
he were naked in Times Square he needed sleep so he just let it
overtake him.  Barely cognizant he listened as Apollo dragged the man into a shower, heard him cry out as the spray hit him and he
complained about it being cold water.  He pleaded to just have an
orgasm but Apollo gave him an ultimatum, one orgasm and he’d be locked it chastity for two months instead of the usual one.  He smirked to himself at the thought of the man in chastity.  No orgasm after all of that, Mark’s mind reeled inside the darkness of exhaustion.  Would that, could that ever happen to him?  He didn’t like the idea but for someone else it was amusing.  Then darkness again, this time broken by the feeling of being lifted and carried into the shower.

Four hands on his body, warm water, the smell of soap, those same
hands washed every inch of him, every inch, even between his toes and he never even washed his own toes, not really.  He opened his eyes a little but the room was dimly lit and he could barely make out the two men’s bodies as they worked.  He felt a finger inside his hole, once to clean him out, once to check for damage.  He was putty to them and didn’t try to fight it.

When they finished they carried him out, dried him off, and even
dressed him.  He felt Apollo lift him from the floor and carry him out
to his car and set him in the backseat.  He listened as they drove
away.  For a moment he thought he was being kidnapped but then he just gave over to the feeling of not knowing and fell asleep.
The car stopped and he awoke.  The door opened, the two men took hold of him, Apollo was quick to put him over his shoulder while the other took his car keys and ran ahead.  Mark looked up to see his neighborhood.  They were taking him to his apartment.  He smiled at the thought of his own bed.  It was quick.  Up the stairs, through his front door, to his bedroom, Apollo set him down, stripped him again, rolled him onto his side and covered him with a sheet.  He felt it cover him, his shoulders, his back, his butt, all of the way down to his feet.  He was home.  And that’s when he heard the most surprising thing, the other man, the one who was the gimp spoke.

“Do you think he recognized me?” he whispered.

“No, I don’t think so,” Apollo replied.

“There was a moment when you were fucking me at the end that we looked each other in the eye and I think he did.”

“Does it matter?”

“I hope not.”

Mark pushed himself up on his elbow, tried to turn to look back to
them, but he heard their feet, the closing of doors as they exited.
What did that mean?  I don’t really care, he told himself.