Date: Fri, 16 Sep 2005 06:21:53 -0700 (PDT) From: L R Subject: No Break Part IV (bi authoritarian) This story is total fantasy, based on some of my experiences. Mark's humiliation steps up a ratchet and gets more public. You can contact me at kink_330@yahoo.com All rights reserved. I'm submitting this to the Yahoo group menstrippedanddisplayed, to the Nifty Archive for the bisexual authoritarian section and to Altairboy because each of them serves a different audience that might be interested in this story. I give each of these sites has a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display the work. Contact me if you think this should be posted anywhere else. I might enjoy discovering new story sites rather than not knowing where someone else has posted. ******** No Break by Master Lou Part IV Fourteen hours of driving with my hunky roommate got us finally to the beach for spring break. I was not sure how horny he got locked by his balls and his cock piercing for his fourth day in the inescapable chastity cage. What I do remember clearly is my constant thinking about the situation I put him into and getting turned on myself by the power I had over him. By the time we got into Ft. Lauderdale, it was too late to catch any sun on the beach. We checked into our hotel and I was glad we had picked a low-priced one, two blocks away from the beach, because now I was footing the bill for the whole room. It was worth it to be able to put Mark into the cockcage for the week. Friday night was pretty much a repeat of the night before. I figured that was a good thing. Wouldn't Mark become more compliant with repetition? Fortunately, this hotel also had x-rated movies as pay-per-view. This time, Mark didn't complain when I stripped down to jack off with the flick. In fact, after I'd blasted a load of warm cum all over myself, he fetched the warm washcloth and dry towel without being told and proceeded to silently clean me up. The warm cloth felt so good when he wiped my cock and balls and his time he was gentler with the towel. Like the night before, he was again forced to strip then tied by me to his bed before his CB2000 was removed. Any nighttime hardon would not cause him pain but neither would he be able to do anything fun with it, immobilized as he was. Saturday morning turned out to be much more eventful than the one before, however. The hotel had inside hallways with rooms across from one another. As I opened our door to send Mark out into the hall, wrists bound together behind his back, holding an ice bucket behind himself, with his inevitable morning woody sticking straight up toward the ceiling in front of him, showing off his P.A. ring, the door to the room across the hall was propped open. Mark kinda doubled over and tried to raise one knee in a futile attempt to cover himself. Unfortunately for him, I was quick to close the door behind him. It was nearly ten minutes before Mark returned to bang on the door. He needed to calm his nerves and chatter to a friend. The whole story spilled out of him while we waited for the ice to do its number on his cock and balls. It turns out that he hadn't paid any attention to the location of an ice machine on our hotel floor when we checked in. He turned the wrong way in the hallway trying to get out of sight of the room across from us, feeling exposed, vulnerable and by now so very horny (the first time he admitted that to me). He felt the need both to cum and to piss and there was no way his morning wood was going to relent until he got one or the other. Cumming wasn't in the cards for him today. I made sure of that. He wasn't allowed to piss either until his erection was iced down to a manageable size and shape to fit back into his cockcage. The two guys across the hall did see him and ran to their door for a real good look. Mark was mortified and humiliated. Both of the guys looked like your stereotypical twinkie college fag types: young, thin to the point of being slight, fashionably dressed, wide-eyed and obviously interested at the sight of the varsity wrestler, whose hands were bound and who stood bare-assed in the hall with the substantial and unrelenting boner. At least they couldn't see too much of Mark's ass as he trotted down the hall away from them, because the ice bucket covered the best parts of it. As Mark got to the end of the otherwise quiet hall and saw nothing but more hotel room doors, he realized he didn't even know where the ice machine was. He had to turn around and give the neighbors a long and humiliating show of his bare chest and legs, his exposed balls and the constantly throbbing erection. To his credit, he did muster the courage to ask the twinks were to find an ice machine, though his voice cracked as he stated his question. "Three doors down and to the left," came the snickering reply. In spite of Mark's larger frame and substantial muscle, it was obvious to everyone who held the upper hand in this situation. "By the way, is this going to be a regular routine this week?" Mark muttered, "It seems like," as he turned and strutted down the hall in the opposite direction. To his horror, when he found the door with the small sign "Ice", it was fastened by a door knob. He tried pushing with his shoulder without any luck. Next he had to stoop down to set the ice bucket on the floor, turn his back to the knob to twist it with his bound hands, and then stoop down again to pick up the bucket behind his back. Of course, the door latched itself again during the first attempt. Finally working the door and entering the service room, Mark was faced with the decision of whether to prop the door open, risking exposure to anyone in the hallway, or let it close and have to do the humiliating squat twice again to turn the doorknob then pick up the bucket. He chose the later. Mark wished he was locked back in the chastity device again as he entered the hall. At least it kept his hardon in check rather than face the two guys in the hallway yet again with his rock-hard wood. I was pleased to hear him admit that. He thought the guys across the hall looked hungry for him as he made his way back to our room. If *I* looked hungry for him as I held the ice to his naked balls, watching him lay there with his hands still tied behind his back until the cockcage was back in place, Mark didn't comment about it. A jog together on the beach to stay in condition, a quick shower for each of us to get cleaned up and a breakfast in the hotel restaurant had us ready for our first day in the surf. I noticed as we dried and dressed after the showers that Mark was perfectly comfortable by now with *me* seeing him nekked except for the cage. We were certainly used to changing in a locker room. And at home in the apartment, it was our own space. We acted pretty much the same as in a locker room. The difference today, of course, was the cockcage which denied him any access to his own dick. Over the last four days I supposed he had come to accept it - at least if it was only me around. Mark's baggy swimsuit didn't really give any clue of his condition. A lump was visible in the front but there was no way to tell what actually caused that. I chose the same style suit so that I wouldn't stand out too much in the Speedo briefs or muscle hugging jammers that I wore for swim practice and competition. Cell phones helped us hook up with a couple of students we knew from Northwestern - two women and the two men who were dating them. We floated in the surf, tossed a football and started on our tans. Naturally, the couples went their own way as dinner time approached so Mark and I found a seaside bar that served food. The highlight of the impromptu entertainment as we enjoyed a beer after dinner, was a contest the bar sponsored to see what woman could eat a banana in the most imaginative way. I sprang wood when a couple of the better "diners" shaped their mouths into an "O" and slowly slid their banana all the way into their mouths and down their throats, then just as slowly slid the now slick fruit back out, over and over. I watched Mark squirm in his seat, knowing he was unable to get hard because of the tiny teeth in the spacer part of the cockcage. The foosball table opened up and Mark and I played a couple games. I was still distracted with the image of the contest winner deep throating her banana and my play showed it. Mark saw this as an opportunity and suggested we place a bet on the next game. If he won, he would get out of his cage for the night without being tied to the bed, promising he'd behave himself. So, I said "Sure. But, I would have thought you'd give up betting after the fiasco at the horse track. To bring home the lesson: if you lose, you'll ask that contest winner to teach you the banana trick." Mark swallowed hard and must have figured my play that night was so bad that he would have an easy win. At home, I win every game of foosball I play against Mark. With the bet on the line, my concentration returned and Mark went down 10-3. Turns out Joanna and the girlfriend she was with had been hit on by half the guys in the bar since she won the spontaneous contest. But only one of the guys who had tried to introduce themselves to the pair had asked for lessons. She laughed and asked us to join them. We managed to find a quiet table in a back corner and the bartender helped out with yet one more banana from his storeroom. I don't think he really understood who would be using it. Mark insisted on the farthest corner seat at the back of the table and we obliged. I suggested he keep in mind that it was just a piece of fruit. The women seemed to accept our explanation of Mark losing a bet, though they might still have been suspicious of Mark's sexual orientation considering his request. Peeling the skin off the banana, Joanna coached Mark to relax as he slid the banana into his mouth. When he felt any gag reflex, he should ease the fruit out just a fraction and let his body accept it. It was funny as hell watching Mark suck on the banana at the back of the public bar. As his reflex relaxed, she asked Mark to pay attention to the position of his head and neck to find the easiest position for him to accept. Then swallow to the extent he could and simply push the banana past the part of his throat that triggered the reflex. The worst that would happen is he would be without air for a few seconds until he figured out how to breathe through his nose with the banana in his throat. "After all," she said, "it's not a very big one so it won't make you puke." It took Mark several tries to get it right. I believe that if we had jibed him about the attempt and what it clearly looked like to us, he would have been too tense to complete it. Our encouragement, Joanna's expert coaching, and a couple reminders of his obligation on the bet he should never have made, were enough to help Mark meet his goal. It was the other woman, Andrea, who pushed Mark to practice several more times after his initial success. While Mark improved his proficiency with the new skill, Andrea reached under the table to fondle his thigh, which served to encourage him. She quickly went on to his crotch, either to show her interest in him or to find out whether giving head to a banana turned him on at all. She was not prepared for the solid object encasing his meat. This required an explanation. Mark and I quickly decided that an honest answer would be best in the long run. I did leave off the fact that I was totally turned on by having the only key to my best friend's manhood and neither of us mentioned the humiliating erections in the mornings. Joanna was anxious for Mark to show her the cockcage. Andrea, on the other hand, was totally turned off. She couldn't get Joanna out of the bar fast enough. My best chance of getting some pussy that night evaporated in the course of two minutes. The evening was not a total loss in my view. I hoped with enough luck I'd find a way to put my friend's new skills to use soon. Either I hadn't really found Mark's limits in terms of enduring humiliation and learning to service my cock or I was expanding them as we went along. Back at our hotel room, the same scene from the two previous nights was repeated, reinforcing Mark's place as the patient, horny boytoy whose sexual life so far that week consisted of watching me jack off then cleaning my cum for me (plus one-time training in taking long thick objects down his throat without gagging). Obviously, after losing the foosball bet, Mark was bound safely to the bed that night before his CB2000 was removed and we turned out the lights.