Rugby Training: A Hard Lesson - Part 5

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It happened almost immediately. Malcolm could hear the purposeful, striding steps of Coach Briar move around the left-hand side of him and yank on a lever. Malcolm was thrusted forward, leaning as if he were going to take-off like Superman and then - *thwack*. In the darkness, it took Malcolm a moment to realise that the noise he had heard had been Coach Briar slapping his hand against his arse. *thwack*, *thwack*, *thwack*. `Do you like that, boy?', asked Coach Briar loud and aggressively. `No, Sir!', replied Malcolm almost involuntarily, regretting what he had said immediately. `Good', replied Coach Briar, much more calmly.

Approaching him from behind, Coach Briar placed his body up against Malcolm's, as if spooning in mid-air, pushing his arms under Malcolm's to grab his shoulders from the front. In that moment, Malcolm could feel what he had wanted to feel for such a long time. Coach Briar's thick, hairy legs were pressing up against his thighs, his arms were on his chest, and his stubble was lodged in the back of Malcolm's neck, Coach's breath warming the area. Regardless of what Coach Briar had said about this not being something sexual for him, Malcolm could clearly feel his Coach's cock slowly coming to attention as he pressed it against Malcolm's arse through his shorts, using his hands against Malcolm's shoulders to press it harder against his arse. A moment's silence ensued as both Malcolm and Coach Briar knew that they were simply waiting for Coach's cock to reach its full size. Once ready, Coach Briar deliberately moved his hands down Malcolm's body, tweaking the tips of Malcolm's nipples at a level just slightly on the wrong side of comfortable.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Malcolm's balls were slapped with a thick creamy liquid. He had no idea what was happening, but the impact of the object which delivered the cream against his balls took his breath away. Although he tried to close his legs to protect himself against any further blows, he realised that the restraints meant he was completely unable to do so. His cock and balls were fully exposed. `Do you know what that is?', whispered Coach Briar into Malcolm's ear. `Do you recognise the smell?'. Malcolm took a moment. His breathing was laboured due to the hitting of his balls. Whatever the liquid was, it had soaked his thick pubes and was slowly dripping along his hair and onto the floor, delivering a not unpleasant sensation. He had always had a thick bush of pubes that grew extraordinarily long into his groin. His body seemed to want to grow hair in very specific places. While his legs and arms were very light on the hair-side of things, his pubes, chest, pits and lower abdomen leading down from his naval were like a mane. Catching his breath, he took a guess: `Shaving foam, Sir?'. Before Coach Briar could answer, Malcolm felt the stroking of a razor on the underside of his sack, solidly sliding up over his lubricated balls to the base of his cock. Over the past few years, his balls had made a deliberate move south such that they now spent most days hanging freely around inside his boxer shorts. This meant that each stroke of the razor over his balls resulted in their being lifted up, followed by a significant drop back to their original position. The sensation sent pulses through his whole body, making his penis throb as the shaving continued, with deliberate, long movements. `You guessed correctly', said Coach Briar. `Luke is going to remove all the hair on your balls, on the shaft of your cock, and in your arse crack. That will make subsequent access that much easier. In a moment, I will explain to you how your training will work, but before that, I'd like you to take a minute to appreciate Luke's work. I'll let you know when we will continue.'

And so he had no distractions. In the pitch black, all Malcolm could feel was the ongoing stroking of his cock and balls with the head of the safety razor, coupled with the image of the guy who was using night-vision goggles to make sure that every last hair was removed. It was clear that Luke wanted Malcolm to enjoy it though, as he made sure that the stroking was attuned to his liking. Uncontrollably, Malcolm let out a moan as his cock began to leak pre-cum.

All of a sudden, the stroking stopped and Coach Briar moved away from behind him in a deliberate fashion. All was quiet. From in front of him, Coach Briar moved close to the side of his face, `Do you recognise this?', asked Coach Briar. Across Malcolm's cheek, a solid stick-like object moved slowly, with the same then happening on the other cheek. `No Sir', replied Malcolm. `What about now?', asked Coach Briar, to which he turned the stick over and stroked Malcolm's head with the other end. It was now abundantly clear what it was. `It's a linesman's flag, Sir', answered Malcolm. `Yes boy, it is', confirmed Coach Briar, `and so to my second question: Did I hear you enjoy the shaving?'. Malcolm didn't even need to think, `Yes, Sir', he said in a slight delirium. `Then we need to stop that from happening. I will now use the base of the linesman's flag to provide two strong hits -- one to each of your balls -- once left, once right. You are to internalise the pain you are experiencing. I do not want to hear your discomfort. Is that clear, boy?'. This ripped Malcolm from his delirium -- the training clearly wasn't meant to be enjoyed. After winding the flag round the grip-sized wooden pole of the handle, Coach Briar took a moment to get a good aim, however he was in no hurry -- Malcolm was clearly nervous and Coach Briar wasn't averse to enjoying that. Holding the pole about 15cm away from Malcolm's left ball, Coach Briar took a few practice shots, causing a light rush to air to flow over Malcolm's balls, making him jump in anticipation. After getting a good aim, Coach Briar said flatly, `I recommend you grit your teeth. This is your first chance to prove yourself, boy'. After waiting for 2 or 3 seconds, Coach Briar swing the flagpole and, thanks to both the woosh as the pole cut through the air and the vibrating thud as it hit Malcolm's sack, he knew that he had hit Malcolm's left nut square-on. The look on Malcolm's face made Coach Briar smile. A mixture of severe pain and the wrenching of self-control. It had clearly hurt him badly and Coach Briar's cock was longing for round 2. Putting both hands around Malcolm's head, Coach Briar quietly asked him, `And are you ready for round 2?'. Contrary to Coach Briar's expectations, the answer came back almost immediately: `Yes, Sir!'. Coach Briar smiled, `Good boy!' he whispered. And with that, he knew that the game was now on. It hadn't taken half as long as expected, but Malcolm clearly wanted to overcome himself -- he had already accepted that this training was for his own good. In fact, there was a part of Coach Briar which suspected that he might well be enjoying this a little too much. However, the second hit would test that for sure.

Kneeling down to get the best possible aim, Coach Briar once again lined up the flagpole, this time with Malcolm's right ball. As it hung slightly lower, this gave Coach Briar to ability to hit it at a slight angle, thereby increasing the power of the hit. This was one of Coach Briar's favourite activities -- he loved seeing a strong guy take ball pain. He especially loved watching their face as they dealt with the effect of the pain surging through their body. However, by hitting at an angle, he knew that he was taking a risk, as the pain would be much stronger. Testing Malcolm this early in the game could only go one of two ways: either he could take it, in which case the possibilities for how the training could proceed would be wide open, or it would be too much for him, in which case the training could well be over before it had truly started. How much faith did he have in Malcolm's abilities? He decided on a compromise. Coach Briar spoke to Malcolm from his kneeling position: `Boy, as you may or may not know, your right ball hangs lower than your left ball. This gives me the option to hit it at an angle and thus increase the pain of the hit. Compared to the hit you just received, this will be at least 50% more painful, if not more. You therefore have a choice: do you want a repeat of the previous forward-hit, or do you want me to hit at an angle? Bear in mind that you still have your safeword which you are free to use. For my part, I do not see fit to simply repeat the treatment you have just received, as the training should push you to take more, not less or equal punishment. It is, however, your decision'. Malcolm was obviously confused by this move, and rightly so. Up until this point, he had been led to believe that having his balls hit was a form of punishment, but now he was being given a choice and he felt complicit in the action. By choosing, it no longer felt like a punishment, but rather like a challenge -- and with this, his mentality changed. It felt like an opportunity to prove himself, he felt like he would be stronger, tougher, more testosterone-fuelled for choosing the harder punishment and he liked that feeling. Malcolm thus knew what his answer would be: `Hit my right ball at an angle, Sir!'. `Good boy!', replied Coach Briar enthusiastically, reaching out his hand to give Malcolm's hard cock a few appreciative strokes.

Given Malcolm's enthusiasm, Coach Briar decided to get on with it while he still had his enthusiastic frame of mind. He wanted to create a positive mental association in Malcolm's head and timing was essential. Lining up the flagpole, Coach Briar took aim and then paused for a second, wanting to remember the moment. Looking up at Malcolm's face, stressed in anticipation, Coach Briar's cock went rock hard. Finally, he returned his sight to Malcolm's right ball, swung the flagpole back and twacked it hard at an angle, causing Malcolm's ballsack to swing out. Dead on, and the reaction was almost instantaneous. Clearly trying to internalise the pain, Malcolm produced a long, low, guttural grunt. Coach Briar jumped up, and moved towards Malcolm's face. `Take it!', he screamed, causing Malcolm to concentrate further on internalising his feelings, screwing his face up into a grimace. After waiting ten seconds or so for the pain to subside, Coach Briar ruffled Malcolm's hair in appreciation. It hadn't been perfect, but Coach Briar had to admit to himself that the reaction was far more controlled than he had been expecting. This looked very promising indeed.

Resuming his position behind him, Coach Briar once again pushed his rugby shorts containing his now fully erect cock against Malcolm's arse. The nipple tweaking continued. The shaving began again. `Control your breathing', said Coach Briar into Malcolm's ear. Malcolm concentrated on doing just that.

Once his breathing had calmed down, Coach Briar continued talking. `So, this was your first lesson. It should now be clear to you that this training is not designed to be enjoyed. Just like I expect you to control yourself under the influence of pain, I expect you to control yourself just as fully when the opposite is true. This way, you will learn to fully control your own body and mind.'

`Boy, during this entire process -- just like a moment ago -- you will be given choices. Both options will likely be unpleasant to you, but you will have to make a choice none-the-less. As we slowly progress, I want you to learn that you want to select the more difficult or the more unpleasant option. This is in fact what you have just done with the help of my encouragement. However, I want you to learn to choose the harder option even when there is no outside encouragement, or even when your own head is telling you not to make that choice. Of course, this may seem counterintuitive, but I promise you that it isn't. By choosing the more unpleasant option, although the short-term loss will be great, the long-term reward will be greater. Think of this room as being like a game of snakes and ladders. The ladders are hard to climb, the snakes are easy to slide down, but the more ladders you climb, the closer you get to the finish line. And the more rewards you find along the way. Of course, you may find that the ladders get progressively more difficult -- after all, we don't want you sailing breezily out of the door - but the advantages will become more apparent also. And by the end of it -- if you learn to challenge yourself off your own back -- I promise you that the result will bring you to places you could only ever dream of. That is my promise to you. Do you understand?'

Malcolm was still recovering from the pain of having his balls hit, exacerbated by the renewed stroking of his cock and balls as his shaving continued. His first experience in having to make a choice had given him a sense of drive, and now that the ball pain was subsiding, he found that he felt a sense of pride. Okay, it had been painful, but he had accepted the hit -- in fact, he had even asked for it to be harder than truly necessary -- and the buzzing in his head gave him a feeling of achievement.

`Yes, Sir. I understand. I understand that accepting the harder punishment...' -- Coach Briar interrupted him. `No boy', he said, moving back to Malcolm's front, once again grabbing his nipples. `This isn't about accepting punishment. You clearly haven't understood. It has nothing to do with accepting anything -- least of all punishment. This isn't about accepting, it is about choosing. You are given options, and you actively choose. You make the decision. You decide what does and does not happen to you within the boundaries of the given situation. You even have a safeword if you want the training to stop. Yet I remind you: you chose to have your balls hit in a way that was the harder of two options. You chose that. There will be no passive `accepting' here, boy. Only active choosing. And that is what will make you a good rugby player. Given the choice, you will often need to choose the harder of two options for the benefit of the team. Sometimes, you will need to create an additional, even less appealing option of your own accord and put yourself in it because you know that it will benefit the team. This entire training is about benefits, not quick-wins. Benefits are long-term. So, I repeat my question to you: Do you understand?'

Malcolm had understood. In fact, Malcolm had understood exactly what Coach Briar meant. He had seen it played out before his eyes on so many occasions, yet now was the first time that he had truly become aware of it. He had seen it in Luke hundreds of times. He had even admired it -- Luke's seeming desire to take significant personal risks on the playing field if it meant that the team would benefit as a result. He had seen the scrapes and bruises and cuts and other injuries he had sustained undertaking manoeuvres which, given that there had been an easier but less effective alternative, had seemed like almost heroic decisions to ensure that the team had a greater chance of scoring a try. For Luke, it had always just seemed like the obvious decision to make. Malcolm knew that this is what Coach Briar wanted of him, and Malcolm was now determined to make sure that he got it.

`Sir. May I make a request?', asked Malcolm. `Okay, try me', replied Coach Briar. `Sir, please hit my ball again at an angle, and this time your boy will take it properly.'

Coach Briar had never expected Malcolm to get it this quickly, but it looked like he had understood one hundred percent. Letting Malcolm's nipples go, Coach Briar used his right hand to remove the flagpole that he had placed under his armpit and put it over Malcolm's mouth. Gently pulling down Malcolm's jaw with his left hand, he managed to just about fit the thick wooden flagpole between Malcolm's teeth, gagging him. Returning to Malcolm's nipples, Coach Briar said, `Good boy. You clearly have understood. And your request has been accepted -- there will be a repeat of me hitting your ball at an angle. And yes, it will be nice to see you take it properly this time. However, I will not be hitting your ball now. In fact, you won't know when the hit is coming. So, I suggest that you prepare yourself for it in advance and maintain your stamina. Understood?'

`Yes Sir', said Malcolm, who was now more turned on than ever before.

`Good. You are now going to have a break while your cock and balls have time to be given their post-shaving treatment. Luke will now apply the gel and we will then return in 3 hours. In that time -- as I am sure you will understand by now -- I do not want to hear from you.'

`Yes Sir. Your boy understands', said Malcolm, now embracing his new position and feeling more comfortable with referring to himself as boy, something which didn't go unnoticed on the part of Coach Briar.

`Okay. Luke, apply the gel and then join me in my office to discuss the next portion of training.', and with that, Coach Briar walked across the room, opened the small door and walked out, shutting the door behind him. It was clear that the sun had already set and thus the small amount of light that passed through the doorway and into the room wasn't enough for Malcolm to get a good sense of his orientation. However, it was enough light to see the outline of Luke and to make it clear that Luke was in possession of a solid erection. He was obviously enjoying this a lot.

Walking over to Malcolm, Luke began gently stroking Malcolm's hard cock and balls, which were now completely smooth thanks to the meticulous shaving Luke had given him. Without saying anything, he squirted some post-shave gel onto his hand, making a slight squirting sound as some air came out with it. Without waiting, Luke started rubbing the cold, thick gel all along Malcolm's shaft and balls, starting with his cock head -- making sure that it fully lubricated his piss-slit -- working his way down over the head itself, under the foreskin, along the shaft, then under, over and around his balls, rolling them around in his hand to ensure complete coverage, pushing back slightly under the balls towards his arsehole, making the whole area slippery and sensitive. Malcolm couldn't really believe what was happening. Without speaking, Luke was happily fondling Malcolm's cock, balls and arsehole whilst maintaining a solid erection of his own. Malcolm longed to kiss Luke, wanted to have some kind of personal contact with him after all these months of imagining. Malcolm tried to find Luke's face with his own, fishing in the darkness, but to no avail. The stroking stopped and Luke spoke quietly to him. `No, that isn't going to happen, boy. You need to concentrate fully on your training. However, bear in mind that I didn't use gloves when applying the gel, so we will be feeling the same thing.'

Malcolm didn't know what Luke meant by this. Feeling the same what? Through his gag, Malcolm attempted to say `What do you mean, feeling the same...?', but what came out was unintelligible. Luke seemed to understand, however. `You will find out shortly, boy. And just to remind you, you will refer to me as Sir during this training. Like Coach Briar, I don't want to hear a sound from you until we both return to this room.'

And with that, Luke followed Coach Briar into the rugby office, opening and shutting the door behind him, once again exposing his solid erection in the process. Malcolm was now on his own, still feeling the cooling sensation of the gel on his cock, slowly allowing himself to relax as much as he could given his restraints and mouth-gag.

Suddenly, however, things changed. The cooling sensation disappeared all of a sudden, to be replaced with a gentle warming which slowly grew. Although surprising, Malcolm enjoyed the feeling of the warmth and had to hold back a moan. However, the heat didn't want to stop, instead growing and growing to consume Malcolm's cock, with particular intensity on his cockhead. Malcolm's breathing began to deepen as the uncertainty of what was happening took hold. It was then that the gel on his balls began to activate. Instead of merely heating up the area, the sensation of heat began to migrate from the surface of the skin into the inside of his ballsack, creating a painful burning sensation that -- over a period of 10 minutes -- slowly made its way towards his two balls, growing in its intensity as it went. It was now clear to Malcolm what the gel was -- deep heat. He had used it once or twice on muscles after a game, as Luke had offered it to him when he had had particularly sore areas post-match, but the thought of what would happen if he put it on his genitals is not something he had given much consideration to. Now, he was finding out exactly what would happen. All he knew was that the pain was continuing to intensify and he didn't know how long it would last. Coach Briar and Luke would not be back for another 3 hours and they didn't want to hear him make a sound. Malcolm gritted his teeth and pushed through. This could well turn out to be a long test.