VII
I followed Carter down the steps that last night I had descended blindfolded and restrained. We came to the door that led to the basement chapter room, but instead of going through that door we turned left, through a smaller door. This room was slightly smaller than the chapter room, but much better lit. Inside were rows of machines designed to improve the human body. I knew what sort of them were, mostly the cardio machines: treadmill, bike, elliptical, but those were about it. I could guess what some of the other machines did, such as the black machine that looked like a stair treadmill, but most of the others, and all of the weight machines, were a mystery. Like I said, I'd only really tried exercising in a gym for a short period of time, once, before deciding to rely on my genes and general activity to keep my trim and in shape. As well as the machines, there were rows and rows of free weights, dumbbells and the like, as well as ropes, tyres, sleds, balls, boxes, and all sorts. I think I might have been more intimidated by this room than I had been by anything else I'd seen or done in the frat house so far. And to me, the rows of machines looked like very effective torture devices.
Come on Fag, let's get an idea of your baseline,' Carter called across from a treadmill he had climbed onto. I walked over and climbed on, thinking that my baseline wasn't very high at all. Oh! I nearly forgot,' Carter said, `you'll need trainers for running. Can't have you running bare footed and getting hurt'. He jumped off the treadmill and ran across the room to what I presumed was a cupboard and came back with a few pairs of trainers for me to try on until I found a pair that fit tolerably well. It amused me slightly that this guy who had kicked me so hard in the balls last night, or who had led me through the torturous Gauntlet three times, was now concerned about my feet hurting after a run.
`Now, as I said, Fag, today is just about finding your baseline, so it's just going to be exercising to find where you are. Normally, I'll make it more entertaining for us by including pain/reward challenges and including predicament bondage, but that's for future fun', Carter explained, while smiling at me.
Entertaining for us? I thought. I didn't know what predicament bondage was, but I thought any predicament I found myself in with Carter and these machines probably wasn't going to be fun for me. Remembering my role though, I smiled back. `Thanks, I really appreciate you taking the time to help me with this and I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun doing it!' I took a risk and stroked his arm as I beamed at him.
The risk paid off and Carter beamed back, saying `that's the spirit, Fag. You're going to love our sessions down here soon. Now get ready to run'.
With those words he switched on his own and my treadmill and soon we were jogging up a moderate incline, at least moderate for Carter. I was soon breathing heavily and sweating. I could feel sweat dripping down my forehead and sticking my hair together. It was building in my armpits and my crotch, starting to run down my chest and back.
Please... can... we...run....on....the...flat' I puffed, knowing that if we didn't lower the incline I was going to have to stop without permission. Carter laughed, I guess so, Fag,' and reached across to my treadmill to lower the incline so that I was running on a 0 incline, `but soon I'll be tying your hands to that treadmill and you'll be running at the pace and incline I think will push you for as long as I say. Only way to improve the baseline is to push beyond it. Plus I was enjoying seeing you get tired and sweaty'.
I was too out of breath to reply, but I started to regain that breath as I was allowed to run on the flat. I wanted to proof myself to Carter, as absurd as that may sound to some of you, so once I'd recovered, I pushed myself a little harder along the flat, trying to maintain that sweat.
After what felt like an eternity, Carter said that's enough then Fag,' and turned both of our machines off. I just about managed to keep my balance at the change. Sorry Fag, I forgot you wouldn't know what to do'.
He jumped off his treadmill and I followed more slowly, panting and sweating. `Good warm up, Fag, now let's see what strength you've got'.
We then proceeded around the room, stopping at seemingly every machine while Carter explained what they did and tested me on them to see how strong, or in some cases weak, my various muscles were. Lateral pull down and rowing for my back; converging chest press and Smith Machine for my chest; shoulder press for, well, for my shoulders; arm curl and arm extension machines for my biceps and triceps; and there were the endless leg machines, which I would come to loathe. As he showed me how each of them worked, which muscles they trained, and told me exactly how he was planning to sculpt my body into my perfect Fag, he also told me how he would use ropes and restraints to force me to hold these weights or feel pain. He was like a master craftsman who has a vision in a block of marble is going to chisel that vision from the raw stone no matter what. This man now controlled not only what happened to my body but how it would look and develop over the next year.
As we moved around the machines, more frat brothers came downstairs for a morning workout, so that there were about eight guys working out. By the time we'd been round all the machines I was sweating and exhausted and ready to go back to bed, but a quick check of the clock told me it was still only 9:30 and that we'd been in here just over an hour and a half. I looked at Carter pleadingly, begging him with my eyes to let it be over.
He smiled at me indulgently, said `okay Fag. You've done well this morning. Tomorrow we go again'. He then took my hand and led me towards a door over by the cupboard from which he had retrieved my, long abandoned, running shoes.
Behind that door was a small locker room, which led to a large shower area. There were four pillars, spaced evenly in a square formation. Around each of these pillars there were eight showerheads. In addition to these thirty-two showerheads, there were a lot more around the outside wall and large overhead showers spaced at regular intervals all the ceiling.
We can get the whole frat in here when we need to,' Carter said, you just flick this switch and all the showers come on at once'. He did so, and the noise of rushing, gushing water filled my ears as every shower in the place switched on, turning the room into a steamy, waterfilled paradise. `But we don't need that for just us two,' he finished as he switched it off again. The water stopped, but the steam lingered.
Carter led me to one of the pillars, switched on the individual shower and pushed me under its stream. I noticed that each shower had a bottle of shower gel and shampoo hanging from a cord next to it. The hot water was soothing on my sore body. Everything ached, and I suspected it'd get worse before it got better.
Carter ran his hands firmly all over my body, all the while telling me how my body would react to the training and diet regime he was going to put me on. `You're already a beautiful boy with an A+ body so it's really just about perfecting and maintaining it, making it the best it can be without changing its basic fundamentals. He had now pushed my back against the pillar so that we were both under the shower's stream and my whole vision was taken up by his massive chest. I could still feel his hands roaming all over my body, squeezing, stroking, and massaging. Where his hands went, soreness did tend to leave my body, as though the water and Carter's ministrations were easing the struggles of the workout.
Then his hands stopped and moved away from me. I heard them squirting something into them and then felt his hands in my hair, shampooing my hair. Once he had lathered the shampoo in, he rinsed his hands and reached for the shower gel, then became washing us both under the water. I was incredibly turned on by all this skin contact and by Carter's expert hands wandering all over my body. Once I was clean all over, Carter spun me so that I was facing the wall. He placed his left forearm across my shoulder blades and upper arms, pushing me forcefully into the wall so that my body was flush and pressing into the stonework.
His right hand started groping my ass, kneading the flesh and giving the cheeks a few slaps. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, though the slaps did sting. I knew what was happening before I felt the wet, slick finger probing at my hole. Carter slid one finger in, pushing my still tight hole to accept it. Soon he pushed in another, and I turned a gasp of pain into a moan of enjoyment just in time. `That's right, Fag. You like having me inside you. Well get ready for my dick, coz it's coming, Fag!' He started to finger fuck me harder. I fought my instinct to buck away, not that it would have done any good with me pressed against the wall; instead, I pushed back onto Carter's fingers acting as though I was desperate to get more of him inside me.
I say acting, but there was more than a small part of me that did want to be fucked by Carter. Would I have chosen to be fucked in this position, pushed painfully against a stone wall, with a heavy forearm stopping me from moving and getting away? No, but I wasn't in a position to dictate terms or limits, so this is where and how it would happen.
Carter took his fingers out of my ass and I could feel the head of his dick lining up with my relaxed hole. His head pressed against my hole; I balled my impotent fists at my sides, clenching my teeth as Carter's thick cock pushed its way into my hole, slowly at first but gathering pace. I could feel his length inside me, forcing its way in. Soon he was fully in, his torso and chest pressed up tight against my back, pushing me even more firmly into the hard stone. He whispered something into my ear, but I couldn't make it out over the noise of the shower and the blood pumping in my own ears. I replied as best I could: `fuck me Carter. Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me'.
He didn't wait to be asked twice, but started to piston his cock in and out of my ass with a ferocious speed and force. Each time he thrust into me I was knocked against the hard stone wall, bumping and grazing my stomach and chest. The first thrust knocked my head against the wall, and I learned to lean my face into the wall, pressing my cheek up into it. It was very uncomfortable and caused grazes there too, but it was better than banging my head each time he thrust.
Carter was still talking, growling almost, but it was still indistinct to me. I continued telling him how much I was loving it, how big he was, how powerful, how grateful I was. That was the first time I truly felt like a whore, feigning total enjoyment so that the guy having his way with me would think I was having as much fun as he was. It wouldn't be the last time, and I was a good whore so they almost always believed me.
As he kept pounding my ass, pounding my body, I was again struck by how this man now using my body, hurting my body, had, just minutes previously, been complimenting it, telling me how great it was, and how together we'd make it perfect. You're probably bored of hearing me wonder about the division in the frat brothers between tenderness or kindness and cruelty or indifference, but it's something I didn't understand back then.
I think Carter had been working himself up into a horny frenzy through our workout and shower session, because it can only have been 5 minutes since he started fucking me before he let out a bellow, thrust into me harder than ever, and blew his load up my ass. He remained in for a few moments, and kissed my neck as he removed his arm from my shoulder blades for the first time since he'd spun me round. Now he turned me again, pushing me to my knees as he did so. I didn't need to be told what to do. My fag instincts, my whore instincts, were already sharply honed. One my knees, I took his cock into my mouth and licked any last bits of cum off it that I could, sucking the last bit of his load from his balls.
Good Fag,' he said, as he slapped me round the face. He's all yours, boys'. Carter turned and walked away, which allowed me to see a gaggle of about six brothers who had been watching us. I felt a flush of shame rush to my face that one night as Fag had done nothing to get rid of. I didn't have any time to feel shame though before they were on me, 6 naked brothers bearing down on me. I didn't have much chance to get a good look at them, or even distinguish them then, but I would later, so here they are:
Rakesh Khan, 5'10, Indian, with beautiful dark skin and an elegant, noble face. Long arms and legs met in a defined torso. One of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen, with thick, black hair, and deep, black eyes.
Michael Worth, 5'7, lithe swimmer's body, short brown hair on an angular face, rippling six pack, and a beer-can cock.
Christopher -- Kit -- Patterson, 6'0, or there abouts, built like a brick shit house, broad shoulders, wide, arms like a gorilla's, black hair, possibly already receding somewhat, hairy chest, hairy back, hairy legs, hairy everywhere, like a great black bear.
Adam Knox, 6'2, with ebony skin and toned muscles everywhere. He had a short afro that would sometimes get bigger and bigger during exam season when academic needs kept him from keeping it short.
James Kent, dark hair that hung to just above his shoulders and must have been plastered to his face under the showers' water. A long, thin cock, and small, tight balls.
The last guy was Ben.
They descended on me like a pack of wolves, and I lost track of whose cock was where and when. I always had at least two cocks vying for my mouth's attention and at least one two brothers forced both of theirs' in at the same time. Likewise, my ass was in constant use, with brothers lining up to fuck me roughly. They had me on my hands and knees, like an animal. Unlike Carter, they didn't limit themselves to fucking me face and ass. If they were fucking my face, they slapped me; if they were fucking my ass, they spanked me. One guy, I was sure it was Ben, punched me in the side while he fucked me. If their cocks weren't in my mouth of ass, they'd find other ways to use me: a couple of times one of them would kick away one of my hands so that I fell onto the floor; they'd climb on my back, stand there, or sit on me; they'd reach under my chest and play with my nipples or smack my balls.
At one point I realised that some of the original guys had finished and left, and that new guys had arrived and joined in the fun. All the while they were calling to each other, advising their brothers on how to fuck me harder, how to choke me, how to hurt me more effectively or efficiently. As more brothers arrived post-workout, more showers were turned on so that soon a thick mist coated the room, making it impossible for me to see anything. It was just an endless, rough orgy.
Finally, of course, it did end, and the last brother came down my throat before walking away, calling back a thanks and congratulations.
I stood up and looked around. The last brother had switched off the showers and the mist was slowly starting to clear without the constant stream of hot water supplying it, coupled with what must have been excellent ventilation. I saw that one brother remained: Ben. He was standing off to the side, from where he'd clearly been watching everything once he'd withdrawn from the fray.
Come over here Fag,' Be commanded. I did as I was told, of course. Once I was standing in front of him, Ben turned on the shower under which he was standing and gave another command, wash me, Fag'.
I was now grateful to Carter for washing me, because I had a frame of reference for what to do. I took hold of the shampoo attached to the cord and squirted some into my hands and lathered it up, before rubbing into Ben's blonde hair. We were of about equal height so I was looking into his eyes while doing this, standing close enough that simply leaning slightly forward would have caused our lips to meet, and I had the absurd thought that if that were to happen it would be like kissing myself in a mirror, so similar did we look.
There was a flannel in a tray next to the shower, so when I had finished lathering Ben's hair with shampoo I rubbed some soapy shower gel into the flannel and gently bathed Ben's neck and shoulders, before continuing down his arms. I added more soap and washed his chest and stomach before going behind him and cleaning his back. I was finding this very erotic and my cock was yearning for release. Ben was clearly feeling the same because his cock was standing at attention. I stayed behind him and washed his ass, getting the flannel in between his crack but careful not to push too firmly on the hole. I rinsed the flannel, reapplied soap and washed Ben's rock hard cock, balls, and taint. I was about to move onto his legs, when Ben grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to his cock. The message was clear and I continued to rub Ben's throbbing cock with my soapy flannel, until he shot a gob of cum into my face. I smiled up at him and thanked him. Then I did move onto his legs, not wiping the cum off my face, though the water did dilute it and soon wash it away. I ran my flannel and hands up and down the lengths of Ben's legs, legs like mine which boasted only very fair hair. I was now kneeling in front of him and I looked up, asking what I should do about his feet. Ben lifted his left foot and placed it on my knee, allowing me to wash it. I did so, and he repeated the step with the other foot.
Once I had finished washing him, I stayed on my knees, waiting for instructions from Ben. No verbal instructions came, but I felt his hands under my armpits, hoisting me up. Once again we were face to face. Suddenly, Ben slapped me twice, then he kissed me, crushing his lips into mine and pulling me close. The kiss lasted a few seconds and then Ben broke it, a playful smile across his beautiful face.
He took my hand and led me out of the shower area, into the changing room, where a few stragglers were finishing getting dressed. Ben led me to a towel and gave it to me, then told me he wanted me to dry him. I did, managing to mostly dry myself in the process, though my hair remained damp. Once dry, Ben told me to dress him using clothes he had laid out.
I had never dressed anyone before, but did my best to get Ben's clothes onto him. It took a little while, by then all the other guys had left, but Ben seemed happy with the results. As I was dressing, Ben spoke: `The first few weeks will be the hardest, not just because you have to adapt to your new life, though you seem to have adapted pretty well so far, better than I did certainly, but because you have no breaks. Once teaching starts, you will be out of the house in classes a lot, and of course you have your two hours of library time a day. But until then you'll barely get a moment's break, particularly as the brothers will be excited about having a new Fag to learn about, and because they haven't had one all summer. It's gonna suck but it's so worth it'.
`Thank you, I will bear that in mind' I replied, as I tried to force a sock over Ben's foot. Ben didn't speak again, so I didn't either.
I of course had no clothes to put on so once Ben was dressed, I just stood there, waiting for instruction. None came. Instead Ben just walked out, without giving me another look.
Though no one had told me, I instinctively knew that being found loitering without any brothers around would be a very bad look for Fag Pledge, when he should be serving. With that in mind I followed Ben, went through the gym, where three brothers were working out, and climbed the stairs back into the main house, which was now loud with the sound of the brothers. No doubt I would be in use again soon.