Date: Sun, 04 Aug 2002 15:43:20 +0000 From: Nake Body Subject: PhotoStrip Chapter 14 Photo Strip Chapter 14 Back to the Dogs At the crack of dawn I was awakened by Harold, who removed my makeshift 'chastity' belt, and started playfully teasing my genitals. "Busy day today, no time to visit the Physical Optimisation Room this morning!" he said, and continued to toss me off without so much as a by your leave.. I am always at my randiest first thing in the morning, and Irene only just made it with the surgical gloves and medicated wipes, in time to catch my semen in her test tube. By the look on her face, she could almost hear the cash register ringing up $250. "Shower, quick, and we'll grab some breakfast and get away!" said Harold. He joined me in the shower. "You're almost friendly today," I remarked. "I've got nothing against you, just my job to do. In other circumstances we'd be best mates!" he smiled, standing behind me, grabbing me round the waist, and rubbing his body against my back. I could feel his prick hardening against my arse. "But Irene, she's something different," he continued. "To start with she's got a naturally vicious streak, and then of course, she hates your guts!" After the shower, we breakfasted, and Harold was soon driving me to the remote country house, where Susie, Terry, and I, had been last photographed for the strip wearing dog collars, and huddled together naked, in a kennel. "Why am I not travelling with the others?" I asked Harold. "You're a full time member of the professional staff, albeit under training," explained Harold. "You don't travel with mere part time semi-amateurs! Besides, I've got to keep my eye on you, to make sure your climaxes are kept under control." "How are you going to do that, with Jane calling the action, and Clive photographing it?" I asked. "I was coming to that. During the course of the story, if you feel yourself coming, you are to shout and tell me. I have an arrangement with Jane to stop the action while I collect the product of your ejaculation," he said, patting a box that I saw contained six test tubes, a pile of sealed bags of surgical gloves, and a box of wipes. We arrived at the house, and in the kitchen over a coffee, I met up with the gang, the first time I'd seen any of them, apart from David, for a couple of weeks. It seemed like a lifetime ago. They gave me a strange look. They were wearing their everyday clothes, and the sight of me in my loose revealing shorts, made them stare. "What's that, the PhotoStrip uniform?" laughed Terry. "Sort of," I blushed, as Susie, sitting next to me, took hold of the leg of my shorts, and pulled the extra wide leg up as far as she could, completely exposing me. She patted my prick approvingly, and carried on drinking her coffee, leaving me exposed. "Meet Harold, my trainer," I said, pulling my shorts back down to a decent level, and introduced him to my old colleagues. Harold shook hands with them all, and explained to them that he was here to control the level of my physical activities. I had a word on the side with David. "How are things at the flat?" I asked. "Fine, absolutely fine!" he replied. "No need to worry. When are you likely to put in an appearance?" I told him I didn't think I'd be visiting for at least another three weeks. "No problem!" he assured me. "Your flat's OK, and I'm keeping the bed well aired for you!" Jane entered, and ushered us all into one of the bedrooms of the house, that had been converted into a makeshift dressing room. "Into your costumes, everyone!" she announced. "That means Terry, Ian, and Susie are to strip naked except for trainers, and put these on!" she said, handing us each a studded leather collar, and an armful of tie-on pads. "These are to protect your knees and elbows. You'll be doing a lot of all-fours work today." Jeannie, the hard nosed dog owner whose pet the three of us were supposed to have run over, was wearing black leather bra, no pants, and black high heeled boots. "Change of costume for David and Geoff!" said Jane, and handed them a package. Each contained a black leather waistcoat, and crotchless black leather pants. "Take them out into the yard!" ordered Clive, and the two men put leashes on the three of us and took us outside. Where Clive was waiting with his camera. "On all fours, dogs!" called Clive, and started snapping us as we walked across the yard doggie fashion. Jeannie arrived with her whip, and cracked it over us lightly. "Shoulders down to the ground, Susie!" called Jeannie, "and spread those knees!" Susie obliged, and I was ordered to lick the lips of her newly shaved cunt. I'd just got my nose up the crack of her arse, and my tongue in position, when Terry was told to attack me, and throw me off. We were ordered to have a real dog fight. We went for one another, restrained by our leads, and eventually, after much camera action from Clive, the positions were reversed, and Terry ended nose deep up Susie's arse. Before long he had a hard on. Then I was told to lick his balls. Clive lay down on the ground, slid himself under Terry, and got some close ups of Terry's hard on, and my tongue curling round his balls. "Terry, insert your prick into her cunt!" said Jane. In the doggie position he slid it in, right up to the hilt, his 'paws' resting on Susie's back. Susie contentedly let him carry on, while I was told to lie faced up under them both, and lick Terry's balls. Terry pumped relentlessly, and while I kept licking his tasty, smooth, hairless, balls, Clive covered us from every angle, close-up and long shots. "OK! Fine! Break!!" called Jane, but there was no stopping Terry, who continued fucking Susie, who by now was squealing "Stop! Help! I'm being raped!" David and Geoff cracked their whips, and still Terry would not stop. They pulled me out of the way, and David landed a real crack with his whip on Terry's buttocks, causing him to pause in his rhythm. Geoff pulled him off Susie, his huge hard cock sliding glisteningly out of her cunt in the act of coming. He convulsed as his semen spurted jerkily over the yard. Jeannie thwacked his bare rear end with her riding crop - real painful swipes. Finally David and Geoff pulled him right off, and dragged him into the house. Clive had all this action covered on camera. I was bemused. Was what we had observed part of the scripted action, or had Terry gone beyond his brief? During the lull whilst things were being sorted out, I asked Harold. "No, not in the script," he assured me, referring to his clipboard. "He'll probably get sacked, and prosecuted for sexual assault or rape. But I have to feel for him! If your brief is to slide your prick in and out of a cunt, and hold that position for five minutes or so while your balls are being licked, who could blame you for taking things to their natural conclusion?" So Harold was really human after all! I warmed to him, and he sensed it, giving me a sneaky kiss, having checked no one was looking. Eventually, Terry was led out of the house, still naked and leashed as a dog, but with a muzzle on both his face and his genitals. Clive took a few shots, and then Geoff held a gun to his head, while Clive recorded Terry being put down. Then they stripped him of his muzzles, his pads, and his collar, gave him a carrier bag containing his clothes, and chased him, naked, down the drive, telling him never to come near PhotoStrip again. Two bowls of water were put down near the kennel, and Susie and I told to drink. Lapping is quite difficult for a human, especially with a riding crop gently teasing your arse, ready for a swipe if you step out of line. But they only wanted the photos. Then we were taken back into the house, and sat down at the table for a break. "You're going out into the woods for walkies, next," said Jane, and she handed us each a pint glass of water. "Drink that, it will be thirsty work." After we had emptied the glasses, we were led out into the woods, on all fours, still naked and on our leashes. "Strain, and try to pull away from your masters!" suggested Jane, and Susie and I pulled hard on our leads. Then Geoff turned me over on my back, and started tickling my tummy. "Put your paws in the air, and roll around as if you're enjoying it!" Geoff's hands were all over me, and soon I had grown hard. "Now suck me!" ordered Geoff, turning the front of his crotchless pants towards me. I stood up on my hands, taking my elbows off the ground, and ran my tongue around his genitals, which didn't take long to enlarge. "Down boy!" shouted David, clipping me on the arse with the back of his hand. "Down on your shoulders!" I took up the position that left my arse in the air, and suddenly felt the tip of Geoff's prick nosing around my wide open crack. Before long it was tentatively exploring means of entry. "Rape!" I squealed, as his shaft started to enter my rectum. I had never had this experience before, and wasn't at all sure that I liked it. Perhaps I could take my complaint to an industrial tribunal, and claim compensation. "Don't be daft!" shouted Harold. "You signed a contract that allows PhotoStrip employees to carry out any sexual acts upon your person with or without the permission of your Trainers or Managers. In fact, your body is a perk of the job to other PhotoStrip staff!" I had no option but to submit to this anal invasion. After a short while, I felt quite aroused, and had developed a hard on. With the help of Geoff's hand underneath me, fondling my prick, I soon called "Coming!" to Harold. Harold leaped into action, pulled Geoff out and off, turned me over, wiped my prick, and, with a test tube at the ready, caught every drop that involuntarily squirted out of my penis. The others looked on, disbelieving what they were seeing. When it was all over, I realised I was dying for a piss. Of course! That pint of water. "Harold, I need a piss," I said, getting up from all fours into a standing position, straining against the restraint of my leash. "Down!" cried David, wielding his whip, and I sank to the ground again. "If you need a piss, there's a perfectly good tree over there!" Oh No! I trotted over to the tree on hands and knees, and cocked a leg. I had to, I was bursting! To start with my piss came out in a good strong stream, washing the base of the tree. Clive and his camera loved it! But as my bladder emptied, so the pressure reduced, and before I had finished, piss was dripping down the inside of my leg. I tried, but was not allowed to aim my prick, nor use my hands to shake the drips off. "Got it all!" shouted Clive, and suddenly we were all packed up, back in the house, and ready to go back to the studio. We, the performers, were all sent to shower, and as usual, no concessions being made to sex, we were all pushed into the same small bathroom. But, out of place, Harold joined us. "Need to make sure you get up to no mischief!" he grinned, squeezing my balls playfully in the steam of the communal shower. An hour later saw Harold and I back in the Training Suite at the studio, in time for dinner. It was soon back to normal after we had eaten. "Physical Optimisation Room!" ordered Irene, as I finished munching the last mouthful. The soft hypnotic music was playing again as I entered. This time, the bronzed, muscular, barman was naked as he handed me my welcome drink. I quaffed the draught, and wandered over to the cascading water, and the naked nymphettes. "Why don't you strip?" cooed a seductive voice, and I felt gentle hands sliding up inside my shorts over my buttocks, the fingers catching on the elastic waistband, and slowly drawing them down, down, down, and, lifting my feet, removing them from me altogether. More hands held my testicles gently, subtley massaging them, as yet other hands slid my T-shirt up and over my head. Before long I was completely naked, and straining to put my throbbing prick somewhere satisfying. As usual, my world was shattered as the lights went up, the nymphettes disappeared, and I was roughly pushed on to the massage table, Irene's hands bringing me to climax, whilst the gloved Harold stood ready with the wipes and test tubes. I came to order, another $250 spurting into the coffers of my trainers, and I lay there on the table, dozing, and half listening to Irene, who was on her mobile. "Captain Flint?" she asked. "Certainly. He has no scheduled duties tomorrow. I'll hold him available for your pre-punishment assessment. OK, no PO routine before you assess him." Fascinating! The super-qualified tormentor, Captain Flint, was to check me out! After my shower, back on my bed in the recovery room, I fell into an exhausted sleep, wondering whether an assessment for punishment was, in itself, a punishment .... To be continued .....