"Hey, You Mind If I Drop This?"

"Hey, you mind if I drop this?"

Rex flashed his million-dollar smile as he asked the question, not really waiting for Terry's reply before he undid the towel and let it fall to the floor. Those pearly whites stayed on display as Rex stood there, acting as though it was the most normal thing in the world to totally expose himself to his new dorm-mate the very first time he was meeting him.

Internally, Rex was horrified by what he was doing -- not that anyone would ever suspect such a thing while he wore that confident look on his face, of course. The science students who'd "rewired" Rex's brain yesterday had been very intentional about how it all worked, making sure that Rex's true consciousness stayed present even when his body was following quite a different set of newly-implanted commands.

It was really too bad that Terry never got to meet the real Rex. If he'd just moved in 24 hours prior, he would have seen what those science students spotted yesterday: a bully who'd never learned his lesson, a conservative Republican who was happy to spread hate, and a frat-boy-in-the-making ready to roofie some drinks if that's what he had to do to pound all the pussy he knew he deserved.

Yet, before anyone got a chance to meet that Rex, a group of well-meaning scientists-in-training came to the rescue, nabbing the beautiful bastard and hooking him up to their neural redesign matrix before he'd figured out what was going on.

Now, Terry watched as his newly-exhibitionist roommate strode out into the middle of their dorm room, stretching when he got there, apparently trying to make sure Terry got an even better look at his manly and well-muscled physique from additional angles.

A very run-of-the-mill and ordinary guy, Terry tried to make sense of what was going on. He knew college was going to introduce him to some pretty "out there" kinds of people... And he supposed if he had a body as nice as Rex's (instead of the very average form he currently kept beneath several layers of clothing), he might be inclined to show it off a bit more too, right...?

"Uh, okay, uh... yeah, sure, bro..." Terry awkwardly choked out, never having been very good at social situations. "I mean, hey, I guess I'd want to show off too if I had what you have," he said unsteadily, gesturing awkwardly to everything Rex had on display.

"Oh, yeah?" Rex asked cheekily, obviously goading his roommate to say more about his body.

"Oh, umm, I mean, like..." Terry trailed off, uncomfortably looking at and then away from Rex's one man show. He didn't know what to say, really. As a fairly awkward guy in general, Terry had never had many male friends... Just what did men say about each other's bodies without sounding gay?

"I mean, you've got a great cock," Terry blurted out, regretting it immediately when he said it. He'd been trying to think of something "normal sounding" to say and instead just put his foot in his mouth by commenting on the most sexual thing he could.

To his surprise, Rex was unfazed. "Yeah, thanks, but you should just ignore it," Rex stated matter-of-factly, walking past Terry and over to his side of the room. "I'm a gay total bottom."

It was at that point that Terry noticed the metallic object sitting on Rex's nightstand -- an apparent penis-prison he held up for Terry to see. "I just take this off for cleaning about once a week, but otherwise it's 100% 'out of sight, out of mind' for this little guy," he said good-naturedly as he slipped the base ring for his cage into place behind his balls.

"Shit... uh, wow..." Terry said, genuinely at a loss for words. Was this guy serious? It was one thing for him to be a nudist or whatever, but this was quickly veering into "total pervert" territory.

"That doesn't bother you, right?" Rex asked casually as he clicked the tube section of his chastity cage into place, nonchalantly rendering his dick totally useless right in front of his new roommate. 

"Umm, well, I'm not, like... I'm not homophobic or anything, but..." Terry stuttered out, trying to think of a way to gracefully extricate himself from this situation and race down to the Student Services office to request an urgent room reassignment.

"Awesome," Rex said, flashing his winning smile yet again. "Well, maybe you can hold on to the key for me then?"

"Oh, uh, I think we both get our own room keys..." Terry said, looking to the door and back as though that would tell him something about how many keys they needed.

Rex laughed like Terry had said the funniest thing in the world. It was a full-throated and warm laugh -- one that, Terry was sure, must have seemed charming to any girls... err, any guys that Rex would flirt with.

"Nah, I mean the key for my cage," Rex said with a bit of a chuckle still in his voice. "Like I said, I just forget about this little guy," he said, reaching down and flopping his pathetic-looking caged cock around obscenely. "So, maybe you could be in charge of the key for me?"

"Uh... no, uh, thanks..." Terry said, somehow feeling even more uncomfortable than he had before. It was bad enough when Rex just seemed like an exhibitionist who needed someone to watch him act like a depraved perv, but now he was asking Terry to be involved with this somehow? Terry considered himself to be accommodating and open-minded, but it was a firm "fuck no" from him on this one.

"Hey, no worries, bro," Rex replied with a dismissive shrug. "I'm saving up to get a cage that doesn't need to come off for cleaning, so the whole key issue isn't going to matter much in a few weeks."

"Uh, great..." Terry muttered uncomfortably, learning much more about the intricacies of permanent chastity than he'd ever wanted to. "You know, I need to get going," he said, giving up on trying to think of an excuse to leave, just wanting to get the fuck out of this room now.

"Oh, right, you probably need to go grab your stuff!" Rex said, that charming smile still on his face. "Let me throw on some shorts and I'll help you carry your boxes or whatever."

At that, Rex turned around and bent over right in front of Terry. Before his roommate could look away and avert his gaze, his eyes landed on something other than what he'd expected to see. Rather than Rex's manhole winking back at him, the wide and thick base of a buttplug stuck out between Rex's well-muscled cheeks.

Turning back around, Rex stepped into the garment he'd pulled from his drawer, with Terry thinking that his roommate made some kind of mistake.

In what world were those "shorts"? The underwear Terry had on under his pants covered more than that skimpy get-up did -- to say nothing of how the combination of sheer white material and clingy spandex left nothing to the imagination when Rex got them on (with every curve of his body and ridge of his chastity cage totally visible even when "clothed" in this way).

"Uh, thanks, but, uh..." Terry awkwardly choked out. "I'll just do it myself, thanks."

"Cool, whatever you say," Rex said, seemingly unfazed by Terry's abundantly apparent discomfort. He took a couple steps over to their dorm room window, looking out at the quad just beyond it. "Well, it's a beautiful day, so I'm gonna head out for a run," he added, putting on the only other thing he'd be wearing on his body as he jogged around campus: an arm band to hold his phone and room key.

"Right, great..." Terry said, waiting for Rex to leave first (as he didn't even want to be seen walking next to someone who looked like such a perverted exhibitionist in that "outfit").

"Oh, before I forget," Rex said, starting to step towards the door. "All my clothes are in there," he said, pointing only to the nightstand. "All my dildos are all in the wardrobe over there," he added, gesturing to where clothes would normally be kept. "And all my BDSM stuff is in the desk drawers."

Terry was, once again, at a loss for words -- and now he was counting the seconds until he could get down to the Student Services office and get himself away from this depraved slut for good.

"But all the other side of the room is yours," Rex concluded, flashing his winning smile and stepping out to take his run -- after he made one important pitstop on the way, that is.

***

Back at the lab, Rex was strapped into the neural redesign matrix once more. His eyes pleaded desperately to be let go, but the rest of him remained paralyzed as the science students reviewed the footage from the camera he'd set up in his room and read over the brain scan results from the first 24 hours.

"Looks like his brain accepted most of the new networks," a chubby redhead sitting next to Rex said as he looked over the numbers in front of him.

"Yeah, but we need to find a way to get the sex-specific ones to activate," a tall twink with thick glasses said as he studied the information on his own screen. "We got him to expose and humiliate himself, but he didn't even offer once to blow his roommate."

"Fair, fair..." the redhead replied. "His aversion to sex with men must be a lot higher than we'd originally thought."

"Exactly," the third member of their group -- a short, pale blond -- added. "He should have been begging to get DP'd from both ends today, based on everything we dumped in his brain yesterday, but he won't go further than taking a buttplug up his muscle-cunt."

"Well, let's just try upping his libido somewhere between 400 and 500% and see if that does the trick?" the tall twink asked, tweaking some numbers on the device attached to Rex's head. "His 'permanent chastity' neutral networking took, so he's bound to start using his holes a lot more if we do that."

"Hmm, I'm still not totally pleased with it," the pale blond science student said hesitantly. "But, you're right, it should get him asking other men to fuck the living daylights out of his man-cunt sooner rather than later."

"And with any luck," the chubby redhead said, looking over to Rex to meet his pleading eyes with his own. "Your next roommate will be happy to help give you exactly what you need..."

“Your country needs you.”

When Lt. Stevens heard those words, he didn’t hesitate to say he’d do whatever was necessary to serve his country.

Now, as he knelt in the skimpiest underwear he’d ever worn in front of a group of foreign dignitaries sizing him like he was their next meal, he was wondering if he should have asked a few more questions about exactly what his mission was going to entail…

Brad rounded the corner into his apartment’s front hall just as his landlord and the new potential tenant stepped in the door. Not processing what this meant at first — after all, in the privacy of his own home, Brad had completely forgotten about being naked — both the men who’d just entered his apartment got a full view not just of Brad’s beefy body, but also of his biggest secret: a tiny little chastity cage crushing the “manhood” between his legs into little more than a sad-looking nub.

“Oh, fuck!” Brad exclaimed as he came to his senses, dropping the carton and letting its contents spill all over the floor as both his hands rushed to cover his crotch.

Knowing an opportunity when he saw it, Brad’s landlord turned to face the potential tenant (whose eyes were still glued to the naked stud they’d stumbled upon). “If you take the place, you’ll get two sets of keys: one for the front door and one for his cage.”

Brad was shocked by what he heard his landlord saying. The cock cage had been the compromise he thought they’d arrived at when he wasn’t able to pay rent for the past few months. His landlord had promised that, if Brad allowed him to lock up his cock, he’d let the handsome himbo live rent-free for…

Brad’s heart sank as he remembered the full deal: rent-free for six months, with today being the beginning of the seventh.

Looking Brad over before then also looking around the space, the tenant got a wicked smile on his face. “I’ll take the place, as long as he’s included,” he said, adjusting the growing bulge in his pants as he spoke. “But I’ll only need the first set of keys. That cage isn’t coming off any time soon…”

Is there anything better than the carefree feeling of walking around your place in your birthday suit drinking straight from the carton? As good as it feels, nothing feels worse than getting caught by your landlord and some potential tenants who let himself in for the apartment viewing you totally spaced. They certainly got a great showing.

When Adam woke up with an irresistible urge to shave off his beard, he thought the whole thing was kind of silly. He smirked playfully as he lathered up his skin, telling himself that he'd clearly grown bored of the manly hair covering his face and that he was eager for a change.

However, as Adam washed away the last of the shaving cream from his now-completely-smooth jawline, his smile faltered. It seemed that, as soon as he'd completed his first task, another very insistent thought popped into his head: he had to shave the rest of his body too.

His amused grin now replaced by a confused grimace and a knotted brow, Adam got to work lathering the rest of his body up. Despite wholeheartedly believing that he'd never want to shave himself smooth, he assiduously removed every follicle from his chest, abs, and underarms.

With shock and horror, he even found himself covering his entire crotch with shaving cream, removing every trace of manly hair from his pubes, the base of his cock, and the folds of his nut sac.

Washing off what was left on his body, he couldn't even bring himself to look in the mirror to see the results of what he'd done. What the fuck could have possessed him to shave himself completely smooth like some fucking faggot?

When he stepped out of the bathroom -- still dazed and confused -- his eyes went to an email notification on his phone.

Opening it, he saw that it was an e-ticket for a familiar event: "Dr. Mesmer's Night of Mind Control Madness."

Receiving a ticket for tonight's show immediately struck Adam as odd, since he'd gone to the previous evening's performance. Tickets had been cheap and, to be honest, he'd just bought a couple as an excuse to take out the chick he'd been trying to bang for the past few days.

He thought back on the previous night's performance, realizing that he couldn't quite remember what happened after the show had started... He'd said something out loud after the first few "tricks" were pretty lame, hadn't he? In fact, he remembered outright heckling the hypnotist at one point... right before he was called up on stage?

But what had happened after that? It was all a blank.

Looking at the e-ticket on his device, Adam was made uncomfortable by the memory of the previous night (and the lack thereof). But he was made even more uncomfortable by what felt like an irresistible urge to attend tonight's performance, as well.

To his surprise, as he scrolled down, he saw that the event details were a little different than they'd been before. This one clearly read "18+, ADULTS ONLY" and described the event as containing "mature content."

Adam felt his stomach tie in knots as another irrepressible urge popped into his head: he had to -- HAD TO -- volunteer to go up on stage again tonight.

Closing the email, Adam saw that something else unexpected had arrived in his inbox: a message telling him that his order from a company called "X-Treme Chastity Emporium" had apparently arrived at the front desk of his building.

Things were falling into place in Adam's mind. Hypnosis, it seemed, was much more real than he'd originally believed. "Dr. Mesmer" had apparently arranged for Adam to show up -- and volunteer -- at his "adults only" show tonight already looking like an eager, submissive fag under his normal clothes: shaven everywhere below the neck, with his cock locked in an "extreme" chastity cage before the show even started.

If this was all just "prep," Adam dreaded what horrors he might be subjected to in front of everyone on stage tonight. But, for now, those thoughts would have to wait. It was urgent, Adam knew, to go get his cage, lock it in place, and destroy the key as soon as possible...

Ricky had absolutely no idea why he'd stripped completely and totally naked when his roommate Ian had told him to. Normally, he would have told the fruitcake he reluctantly shared an apartment with to fuck off with his faggy fantasies unless he wanted to be eating a knuckle sandwich for his next meal.

Something had changed, though. Ever since Ian had shown him that strange video -- what had that even been, anyway? what were all those odd colours, shapes, and sounds? -- there was something about Ian's voice that made it impossible for Ricky to do anything other than exactly whatever the scrawny little poof told him to.

Just stripping down in front of him was humiliating enough on its own. Ian -- dressed like he had somewhere important to be -- had regarded Ricky with an almost clinical gaze as the beefy bodybuilder had peeled off each article of clothing, making him feel significantly more vulnerable and exposed than he did when undressing in the locker room or getting naked with a sexual partner.

But that was far from the end of what Ian was going to order his homophobic roommate to do for him. Before the bare-ass beefcake had even had a second to process what he'd just done, Ian handed Ricky a bottle and issued a simple command: "oil up."

"Heh, okay, come on, bro, you've had your fun," Ricky said nervously, trying to act like this was not freaking him out as much as it was. Despite his profound desire to escape this situation, he was nevertheless doing exactly as he was told, starting by rubbing the baby oil all over his meaty pectorals as Ian looked on hungrily.

"Don't stop there," Ian said, ignoring Ricky's words, openly objectifying him by paying attention only to his body. "Make sure to get plenty on your abs and biceps, too."

"Right... cool, but... uh, this is probably enough of this shit now, right?" Ricky asked with the same nervousness in his voice as -- despite himself -- he applied more baby oil to his well-muscled flesh.

"Dick too," Ian said plainly, gesturing to the nether regions where he wanted Ricky to continue oiling himself up.

"Fuck, come on, Ian," Ricky pleaded as he applied the slick substance to his crotch. "I know I was a jerk, but don't you think whatever you're doing has gone far enough now?"

"Arms above your head," Ian stated, again ignoring Ricky's words in favour of his body alone. As the burly bodybuilder lifted his arms, Ian circled around him, evaluating him like a piece of meat for purchase instead of a person he shared an apartment with.

When the slender, smaller man had finished his walk around the Greek god currently displaying himself like a cheap whore for sale, he finally looked Ricky in the face. The beefy meathead's hope for a response to his plaintiff pleas for mercy were dashed when Ian's next command came: "No more talking, got it?"

While not an order that came with a physical action like the others had, Ricky felt his body obeying, his tongue choosing a position to rest in and his jaw clenching shut ever-so-slightly.

"And to answer your question," Ian began, studying Ricky's oiled-up physique as he spoke. "I've barely gotten started."

Ricky swallowed hard as a vindictive expression came over Ian's face.

"You think I don't know the shit you get up to?" he said, contempt in his voice. "Date-raping all those girls you bring home?!" Ian spat. "Acting like a goddamn neo-Nazi at all those fucking far right rallies?!" he continued. His eyes narrowed and his voice went ice cold as he concluded: "Beating the shit out of my best friend and his boyfriend for holding hands in public?"

Ricky felt his stomach drop. Ian knew. Ian knew all of it. And, thanks to whatever impossible trick he had used to put Ricky into his current state, Ian was going to make sure that this malicious macho man learned an important lesson: karma's a bitch.

Ricky jumped when a knock came suddenly at the door to their apartment.

Ian glanced at his wristwatch, a sly grin forming on his face. "Looks like some of my guests must be early," he said simply.

Ricky, unable to speak, pleaded with his eyes, knowing he deserved no mercy but still praying that he might receive it.

"Not to worry, though. It won't take me long to set things up for the party..." Ian said, reaching down to start pulling items out of a sack that had been sitting at his feet. Calmly and methodically, he set the first few items down on the table in front of him: a leather flogger, shark-tooth nipple clamps, a full-sized wooden frat paddle, and a spiked chastity cage.

Ricky didn't know what mortified him more: the torture devices Ian had just spread out on the table, or the fact that the bag that these BDSM nightmares had come from still appeared to be three-quarters full.

A knock came at the door once more, this time louder and more insistent.

"Well, don't just stand there," Ian said to the white-as-a-sheet Ricky as he began to dig in the sack once more. "Be a good boy and let our guests in."

Dreading what would come next (answering the door -- naked, oiled up, and on full display -- to a couple of fags who loved his muscles and hated his guts) and what would come after (a night -- or more -- of sadistic sexual torment from every last homo Ian knew), Ricky still had to do as he was commanded.

As he turned the handle to let the first of Ian's guests inside, he heard his new master call out with words that told him things were only going to get worse from here on out: "Come on in, guys! The party's just getting started..."

The ad Daniel saw didn’t exactly describe his ideal job: “WORKSHOP MODEL NEEDED ASAP - must be comfortable with nudity and adult content.”

Daniel was not particularly "comfortable with nudity" and, being a Christian father of three, "adult content" also wasn't something he usually condoned of. Still, money was tight and the pay they were offering for this position was incredible -- he even wondered if he could squeeze a few more dollars out of them since a "workshop model" was apparently needed so urgently.

When he called the man named "Alan" listed in the ad, a young-sounding guy picked up on the first ring. Saying he was interested in the "workshop model" position they had advertised -- if they could sweeten the deal with a couple extra hundred thrown on top -- the person on the other end didn't hesitate: "Yes, absolutely, I can make that work. The position's yours if you can be here in 15 minutes."

Daniel wasted no time going to the address he was provided with. To his surprise, the building had a sign saying "Learning Annex" out front -- and the specific suite to which he'd been directed seemed to have an art class in session.

Peaking in the barely-cracked-open door, Daniel saw a group of people painting at their easels in a circle, all of whom seemed to be paying attention to a flabby, old naked man standing on the platform at the centre. From this alone, he figured this must be the position for which he was being hired -- and, while he didn't love the idea of being totally exposed in such a public way, he did feel a bit of thrill at the idea of showing off his athletic physique and meaty package to a crowd of mostly young women. 

He was faithful to his wife, that was for sure. But who didn't like being "noticed" by members of the opposite sex? No doubt these ladies would much prefer to be studying a fine specimen of middle-aged manhood like Daniel over the dumpy-looking geriatric currently in their gazes -- no wonder they were willing to pay so much for another model to take his place ASAP!

"Are you Daniel?" a 20-something young guy in a button-up shirt (presumably the "Alan" he'd spoken to on the phone) asked anxiously as he came to the DILF spying on the class in session.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here for the, uh, modelling," he replied, having decided he would definitely take the job if it meant getting some appreciative attention from some very good-looking ladies in there.

"Oh, thank God," the slender young man said with a sigh as he looked Daniel up and down. "I thought we'd have to cancel tonight -- but you look like you'll be perfect for this!"

Daniel didn't love hearing that from another man -- especially one who seemed like he was probably a flaming homo -- but he was, at least, pleased to know he would be getting the payout and the thrill he'd started to hope this "workshop model" position would give him.

"We don't have much time," Alan continued, setting down a large sack next to him and starting to pull things out. "Here's a robe and a key to employee bathroom. Just leave all your things there and bring the key back to me," he said quickly, shoving the terrycloth garment into Daniel's arms.

Before DILFy Daniel had a chance to ask a question, Alan pointed down the hallway (presumably towards the employee bathroom) and added, "We'll go over the paperwork and any questions you have if there's still time when you get back."

Accepting that time was of the essence, Daniel did as he was bid and made his way to where he'd be sent. He made quick work of peeling off his clothes and setting them in a neat pile on the counter before donning the robe he'd been given. 

Going back out to find Alan again, Daniel saw the door to the suite was now open. He tentatively stepped inside to find the platform now empty and the students casually talking to each other.

"Oh, perfect," Alan said, thrusting a clipboard into Daniel's hands. "Just fill this out and we can get set up."

Noticing an attractive, young brunette sizing him up, Daniel barely looked at the forms he'd just been handed. Aside from making sure he spelled his name correctly and signed in the right places, he didn't bother to read most of it, just circling "N/A" wherever he could to speed up the process and quicken how soon he could show the hot young things in this room why they should be calling him "Daddy."

Absentmindedly passing the clipboard back to Alan, the younger man said, "Okay, I'll just look over your limits and everything if you want to go get comfortable on the platform."

If Daniel had been paying attention to something other than the fine pieces of ass in the room, he probably would have questioned that word Alan had just used: "limits." He probably would have realized that that form was asking about some very important things -- and that circling "N/A" was the worst thing he could have possibly done.

But Daniel was caught up in the moment, mounting the platform and -- with a deep breath to steady his resolve -- throwing off his robe to expose himself fully to everyone present.

The young ladies he'd been eying definitely all responded positively, eyeing Daniel's well-toned DILF bod hungrily. 

But, just when Daniel had convinced himself that this was something he was going to enjoy, Alan said something that surprised him: "Okay, folks, you'll have to clear out of here now so we can get set up."

The on-display Daniel gave Alan a quizzical look as everyone around him started to pack up their stuff. 

Maybe he would be posing for another group of art students? That had to be it. He just hoped that the next bunch would have as many -- if not more -- fine-looking young ladies in the mix.

"Let's get you in position," Alan said, climbing the platform and motioning for Daniel to put his legs on either side of the stool there.

Just as the last of the art students left the room, Alan began to pull a new item out of the bag he had with him. Daniel's eyes bulged when the young man produced what looked like shackles and started to attach them to the naked DILF's left ankle.

"Whoa, uh, is that... is that really necessary?" Daniel asked, a nervous laugh trying to cover how very anxious he felt in that moment.

"We need to make sure you stay in place through everything," Alan said casually, not looking away from what he was doing as he locked a second shackle onto Daniel's other ankle. "And the workshop participants go wild for this aesthetic," he continued, standing up to attach a connected set of shackles to Daniel's arms behind his back.

While feeling very apprehensive -- and suddenly quite aware of how very vulnerable he was (totally bare-ass, alone in a room with a fully-dressed stranger who'd just bound him in place) -- Daniel was willing to accept that Alan's explanation made a certain kind of sense. He would need to stay in place for the students to draw him, sure. And, all right, the shackles seemed a bit excessive, but in if they really made "the workshop participants go wild," maybe he could put up with the cold metal bondage for a few minutes...

Alan went back to rummaging through his bag, speaking absentmindedly to Daniel as he did so.

"You're really such a great find, you know?" he said casually. "Our normal model isn't anywhere near as fit as you are," he continued, seeming to find what he was looking for in his sack. "And all his limits mean that we can never get into the really extreme stuff most of our participants actually want to see."

There was that word again: "limits." This time, Daniel heard it. This time, it worried him. This time, he had to ask just what Alan meant by that.

Unfortunately for Daniel, he'd opened his mouth to speak in the same moment Alan was placing the item he'd just pulled out where it needed to go: a ball-gag right in the middle of the naked-and-bound DILF's mouth which he swiftly tightened in place.

In another moment of exceptionally bad timing, Daniel began his futile grunts of alarm and struggling against his bonds just as the first workshop participant entered the room. In Alan's mind, Daniel was just doing this for "added effect" -- acting the part of the "terrified victim" or playing up the image of a "reluctant submissive" for his audience.

"Is this the gay BDSM workshop?" the twinky newcomer asked, almost licking his lips as he sized up the well-muscled model on whom everything would be demonstrated very soon.

"Yep, you're in the right place!" Alan said causally, unloading more things from his bag and setting them up as more men filed into the room and found seats for themselves. Clearly, everyone had just been waiting for the cue to enter and, hearing Alan's words, were now eagerly filling the room.

Daniel continued to struggle helplessly and grunt in distress, trying to beg anyone to let him out of here. Being served up like a piece of meat to a bunch of fags was a nightmare -- one which was going to get much worse very soon.

"Can we record this?" a heavy-set guy sitting near Daniel asked, already holding up his phone to capture everything.

"Great question!" Alan said, using this as his cue to get started. "Hi, everyone, welcome!" he continued. "You'll be pleased to know that our model tonight has waived any rights to his image, so you can record and post away!"

Daniel went white as a sheet.

Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!!

He should have read those forms more closely. Whatever happened now -- however invasive and nightmarish it ended up being -- would not just be limited to this moment and this room.

Visions of his totally-naked, shackled body (displayed on a stage in the centre of a group of otherwise casually-dressed gay men) being posted all over the internet flooded his mind. He would never be able to live this down. Everyone -- his friends, his family, his wife -- would see him getting reduced to nothing more than a pain-slut himbo by a scawny-looking fag who was young enough to be his son.

Yet, quickly stealing his focus from that train of thought was the next bombshell Alan dropped: "In some more good news, Daniel here has identified himself as a truly limitless submissive."

There were some sounds of surprise and approval from the audience, this crowd clearly curious to find out just what that meant.

"As you can see," Alan said, running his hand down Daniel's toned torso and then roughly grabbing hold of his his cock and balls. "Our model is very well-endowed."

The hold Alan had on Daniel's balls caused the bound DILF to bite down hard on the ball-gag in his mouth. It wasn't a particularly firm hold, but one which had been taken careless enough to cause an immediate reaction. Daniel's dick and balls were both extremely sensitive -- such that he always told the women he was with that they absolutely needed to be "handled with care."

"So, we'll spend our first hour on CBT," Alan said, releasing Daniel's manhood so that he could retrieve something he'd previously set on the side of the platform.

CBT? Where had Daniel heard that before? It sounded familiar, something he'd heard in a porn, he was sure...

Seeing Alan lift up a croquet mallet, it suddenly -- and horrifyingly -- came to him: "CBT" was "Cock and Ball Torture."

Daniel redoubled his pathetic attempts to beg for help and escape his shackles as Alan sauntered back up in front of him. "Since we had to stop at Level-3 CBT with our model last week, we'll pick up there today."

He mimed swinging the mallet like a golf club, lining it up directly with Daniel's heavy-set, defenceless balls.

"Once we get to Level 5, Daniel's package will be pretty much pulverized, providing an opportunity to move into two additional lessons," Alan said matter-of-factly, still miming the violent attack that was going to take place on Daniel's super-sensitive, totally defenceless genitals any moment now. "We'll go over how to provide effective First Aid when dishing out the most extreme forms of CBT," he continued. "And we'll also cover how this kind of CBT can be a great way to play with your sub's mind and convince him to beg you to keep his naughty bits 'safely' in chastity."

Winding up to finally connect the mallet directly with Daniel's balls any second now, Alan said simply, "So, folks, let's get this started..."