A Millennium Boy

"Now basically, the gym makes no charges over and above the annual membership fee and a daily charge for use of the gym and its facilities, which includes unlimited use of the private rooms, where what goes on is of no direct concern to the gym; it is between the client and the BBA or sometimes between two clients. So many of the young college-student part-time BBAs ,whom you see here today, supplement their earnings with what I suppose you might best call tips -- large tips, in fact -- for providing the clients with their services in the private rooms. Liam, don't get me wrong, I am not suggestion that you become a fulltime purveyor of sexual services to a group of wealthy business men, but I do think that for a young stud like you, fresh out of your shell as one might say, a spell working in the gym might well broaden your horizons and teach you what the real world is all about. So as you really have no immediate job prospects to hand, how about it? What do you say? Do you want to give it a whirl; suck it and see, so to speak and see how it works out. If you don't like it you can always quit. Don't get me wrong, Liam, for I am not totally altruistic; the fact that the gym has a regular team of young, sexy-looking BBAs on duty, is a real selling point, which keeps the clients happy. Let's face it; who does not like to look at a young, muscular, well-equipped stud and wonder what it might be like to get to know him better; and I don't need to spell out to you, do I, the equipment which interests most guys."

Well, faced with such an offer and having no other job prospect in mind, I did not have much difficulty in saying yes. So with the immediate question of employment settled, the next thing was where I would live. "OK Tom, I'll happily accept your offer (we had not even discussed at what salary, but what the heck, anything was better than nothing) but I'll need a day or two to find myself someplace to live. I need to find somewhere, not here directly as it all looks too pricey for my pocket, but on a bus route so that I can get to and fro from the gym."

And now came the next offer from Tom; and to be quite honest, I was not really very surprised when he said: "Look here Liam, for the next few days, just until you find your feet in this town, you understand, I think it might be best if you were to continue staying with me. However, until the new bed arrives, I am afraid you will find yourself bunking with me again; I hope that might still be OK with you; not having your own room, I mean." As I listened to all this, my thoughts flashed back to what Tom had said when he had invited me just yesterday evening to stay with him: "I think that for tonight, at least, you had better come in and stay with me." Those words "at least" had had, as I had sort of imagined, considerable significance; here I was, the beginning of my first full day in Los Angeles, and Tom, having given me a job, and an interesting one at that, was now offering me accommodation; and not only accommodation but to share his bed with him. Already I was wondering if that bed on order for the second bedroom really did exist; or was it just a figment of Tom's imagination.

That afternoon, Tom took me round the gym and introduced me to the members of the BBA staff who were on duty that day. They were all young guys about my age and as far as I could see were all part-time college jocks who needed the job to supplement their incomes. I noticed right away they were all very muscular and wearing just the regulation, well-cut shorts supplied by the gym, they all had promising bulges between their legs, which more or less implied that cock size had been a key criterion in their recruitment. All in all, I think I got a fairly warm welcome from the guys I met. Tom presented me just as another BBA joining the team and did not mention, what I suppose had to be considered, our special relationship.

Tom then said to me: "Well Liam, now that you have met some of the guys you will be working with, we now need to sort out your clothes. In the world in which you will be working, the clothes you wear are very important and you cannot any longer wear the sort of non-descript stuff you have hitherto worn on the farm. You have got to look the part and given your undoubted attributes you need to make the most of them: not hide your light under a bushel as the old saying goes!"

As I had already mentioned, Tom himself wore very expensive, well-cut, fashionable and sexy looking clothes and I wondered what he had in mind for me. He took me to exclusive-looking men's outfitters, which clearly sold expensive stuff where he guided me through some really attractive looking young men's outfits, all of which seemed horrifically expensive to me. He had me try on several different combinations, in all of which, as I tried them on, I felt very sexy indeed. Tom finally said to the sales clerk: "OK we'll take the lot. Get them sent round to my apartment at the gym, please." And then turning to me, he said: "Don't worry Liam; they're on me; they are a belated eighteenth birthday present to you and something to welcome you to your new life in LA. Oh, and by the way in case you are wondering, I actually own this shop, along with six others in other parts of the town. It provides me with a slight diversion from the gym and, as you can see we specialise in really with-it- up-to-the-moment clothes which actually suit and fit the gay clientele we are aiming for."

I really had no idea what to say as I was totally overwhelmed by what had just happened. I had had no idea that the shop we were in was one of several owned by Tom, although as we left I saw that the place was called "Just Men by Tom". Anyway the deal was signed, sealed and delivered without any input from me and I found myself the owner of an extensive wardrobe of designer clothes, all of which I was quite eager to try on again and wear. I have to say, I was as eager as I myself was to try them on again in Tom's apartment and I think that he got as much enjoyment out of the exercise watching me giving him a sort of impromptu fashion show. Tom had equipped me with more clothes than I had hitherto ever owned in my life; and for the first time ever I felt I was wearing clothes which really fitted me and were designed for young men like me: guys with a good muscular figure and the rest! The shirts he had selected for me really did mould themselves to my torso and show of my pectoral muscles to perfection. Tom suggested that I stop wearing the habitual undershirt which I had worn all my life, insisting that the figure-fitting, designer shirts were designed to make the most of the wearer's physical assets and should be worn directly on the naked torso and not spoiled, as he put it, by the ghostly shadow of an undergarment.

And what went for the shirts also applied to the pants. Tom had bought several pairs of thongs for me which were designed to accommodate and support a generous package -- which I happened to have; and again he insisted that these were the only type of under-briefs (and brief to a fault, they truly were) I should now wear; they allowed the pants, which I was henceforth to wear, to mould themselves smoothly to my backside without any shadow of elastic to spoil the effect. I had always thought that my old, cheap jeans fitted well, but once I was wearing a pair of designer pants, I realised immediately that I had moved into a different level of style, sophistication and, dare I say it, sexual daring. I was simultaneously both shocked and delighted with the way I now looked; left to my own devices, I would never have dared to select or been able to afford the sort of clothes I was now wearing and I wondered how the folks back in my home town would have reacted if they had seen the new me. That evening, Tom took me out to a restaurant in my new attire and after I had been out in public, I suddenly saw that no one was batting an eyelid; this was LA and not some rural Hicksville in northern California.

CHAPTER 6

My first day on the job in the gym was an eye opener. I wore only a cock thong, to hold my package in place under a pair of well cut shorts emblazoned with the legend Tom's Gym. I quickly saw that I was getting quite a number of admiring glances from some of my other co-worker BBAs and, more importantly not only from the client I was attempting to help in his exercises, but also from several other clients who were variously occupied in honing their figures either alone or with the help of one or other of my co-workers. And as Tom had predicted: "Men and women alike in this city will just flock, to your undoubted physical charms." Well that is precisely what happened on my very first day on the job. I had just left one client and was taking a short breather when a youngish man approached me and asked me if I would give him: "some personal help", was the way he put it, in one of the private rooms.

My heart missed a beat as I saw that this guy imagined that I was a highly experienced BBA and fully conversant with the private side of the BBA client relationships which took place behind closed doors. I really had no clear idea at all of why this man had approached me or what he would require of me; but I knew that he assumed that I was experienced in all matters sexual, for the very fact that he wanted a private session with me meant nothing less. He had, of course, no idea that my sexual experience to date was very limited: to one man in fact; and although Tom had told me that I was already very proficient in the art of anal intercourse, for this was surely what the client wanted, I have to say I found daunting the thought of being alone with a stranger and having to bend to satisfy his, as yet unspecified, sexual wishes. Anyway, there I was, a BBA, expected to perform as did all the others; and as you might well imagine, it was with considerable trepidation and with my heart beating twice as fast as normal that we went to one of the rooms. We exchanged names and the client, Geoff, clearly knew his way around better than I did; he led the way going by several of the rooms which were unoccupied, before opening the door of the one he had clearly chosen for our assignment.

"Well, Liam, let me get a good look at you young man; and I mean a good look at the whole of you." He said, motioning to me to step out of my shorts, which I did. Funnily enough, in spite of my misgivings, I did not feel at all embarrassed by what was happening, as I knew that once he saw my full credentials, let us call them, that he would be impressed. I had already accepted the obvious fact that I had a great physique and a really impressive set of sex tools, albeit ones which had seen little action to date. Geoff gave a quiet whistle of appreciation as he gazed at me and then discarded his own shorts so that they two of us stood facing one another stark naked; and I have to say, Geoff was not at all bad looking. But what was very revealing and simultaneously relieving for me, was to see that what he offered in terms of man-meat was in no way equal to my own: a fact which he had he tacitly acknowledged by his spontaneous whistle. I wondered what would happen next but happily he took the lead and told me what he wanted.

"Liam, I don't want you to think that I am very kinky, but the reason I asked you to come here in private with me is, as you must by now have guessed, because I want to have sex with you. Quite specifically, I need a little anal stimulation from time to time: something my wife clearly cannot give me; and frankly, Liam, looking at you as what might be described as the new boy on the block, I was just bowled away on first sight and even more so now that I have seen everything. You really are a very attractive young stud, you know and I think that gym is lucky to have found you. You know, Liam, just looking at you, I'm already drooling at the thought of what you might do to me with that superb cock of yours; and I am sure that you must appreciate that you are something a bit special.

Anyway, Liam, it's like this; not to mince words and to cut to the chase in plain language, I want you to fuck my arse with that magnificent tool of yours; but before you do that, and please don't judge me too badly, as it take all sorts to make a world, I want you to thrash by backside with a cane. You see I am what is called a masochist and one of my things is that I like to have my arse beaten from time to time; I know it might be hard for you to understand, but I do actually enjoy the pain of a bare-butt beating. So, if you agree, I want you to give me twelve cuts of the cane, really hard by the way -- no holding back -- across my naked butt and then I want you to fuck me. Do you think that you can do that for me? Some of the guys here shy away from wielding the cane; it just seems too brutal for them. Anyway that's what I want; so will you do it for me?"

I have to say that I was somewhat flabbergasted by what I had been asked to do, as it brought back some very painful memories, of the numerous times my father had thrashed by own butt in our kitchen with that cane of his; not anything that I ever wanted to have repeated on my own arse. But if Geoff wanted me to thrash him and then fuck him, then why not? And then I thought about the little drama we were about to enact together; Geoff bent across a chair or the table and me, stark naked, sporting a full boner dripping with the pre-cum of anticipation and beating his buns to pulp with a cane before going on to stretch his anal sphincter and giving him a real hard rogering. My God, it was so fantastic as to be barely believable; but there it was; it was all going to happen. I wondered if Geoff realised that he had taken up with a guy who was little more than a babe in arms in matters sexual. But what the hell; he wanted it and I was willing, eager, in fact, to oblige him.

"Ok Geoff, you're on; but just one question. Where do we get the cane from?" And then I saw why he had gone straight past several empty rooms before quite determinedly entering this one. Geoff went across to a wall cupboard and opened it to reveal several rattan canes hanging there. "You see, Liam, the gym caters for all tastes and this room is specifically equipped to satisfy the needs of guys like me -- I'm not the only guy who likes a beating now and then, you see -- so just let me select my favourite cane from this lot for you to apply to my arse."

I had never before seen a professional rattan cane: the Rolls-Royce of beating implements by all accounts. Geoff handed his favourite rod to me; it was well over three feet in length and combined rigidity with extreme flexibility. I could instantly see that, thanks to the rigidity, the user could place his strokes very exactly, but that when the cane mated with its target, its inherent flexibility would ensure that the the stroke would cross both buns and even wrap over the far flank. The rattan cane was quite clearly a fearful implement of punishment and this is precisely what Geoff had selected for me to thrash him with. As I flexed the cane for the first time, I felt myself becoming sexually ever more aroused, even though I had not yet given Geoff his first stroke. Rather him than me, I thought, as he obligingly bent across the back of a chair and offered his sacrificial arse for my delectation. I say delectation advisedly, as once that I had agreed to his request, I realised that I was actually looking forward to the task at hand. The first thought that flashed through my mind was did I myself have a hitherto un-awakened and unidentified sadistic streak.

It is a fact that many people take pleasure in administering pain to others and I regret to say that at that moment in time, I numbered among them. I could easily understand how schoolmasters took pleasure in thrashing their charges, in spite of any outward denials of the feelings they might have: doing their duty and all that bunkum; when they actually enjoyed every minute of what they were doing. Well, for my sins, I joined them as I prepared to deliver my very first ever stroke of the cane to Geoff's inviting, naked arse; crudely put, I was already relishing what I had agreed to do. I wondered if I should be ashamed of myself, but being honest with myself, that was the way I felt.

I surveyed my target for a few moments, whilst I formulated a plan of attack. I settled on a methodical and measured approach; twelve cuts was what Geoff wanted and I was determined that he would appreciate every single one of them; if the job was worth doing it was worth doing properly; not of course as a beginner that I had any real concept of what properly implied. Geoff had no idea at all that he was offering his arse to be beaten by someone who was what might best be categorised as a virgin flagellator; but now that push had come to shove, I felt that with a little thought and application I would be able to do a good job. And so to begin, I laid the cane gently across the middle of Geoff's two invitingly round buns, raised it high above my head and brought it down with a resounding crack across his naked flesh. I had no idea what reaction to expect, but, in fact, Geoff turned out to be totally stoic about the whole thing and never let out the slightest murmur of pain as I systematically went ahead and thrashed his lusciously attractive arse as hard as I could.

Starting in the middle, I first worked my way steadily up to the bottom of his back with the next five strokes and then turned my attention to his lower regions for the remaining six cuts. I did not rush things at all and placed each successive stroke parallel to the previous one, so that by the time I had done, Geoff's arse displayed twelve evenly space parallel welts reaching from the bottom of his back to the top of his legs. Every cut I had delivered had produced a clear welt, all of which were turning red-blue by the time I had finished with him. I found myself getting ever more sexually excited as I proceeded with the beating and what had started as a few drops of pre-cum leaking from my rock-hard cock had almost become a continuous stream by the time I had finished my task. I just prayed that I would not somehow reach orgasm before I had finished the job and would still be in good enough shape myself to give Geoff the anal stimulation he craved. Just surveying the results of my handiwork, I marvelled that he could even contemplate allowing me to fuck his arse, for the pain must have have been utterly excruciating.

Geoff stood up from the chair and rubbed his rutted arse, for the welts were really quite deep and could be felt individually with the fingers. "That Liam, was a fantastic beating you just gave me; it was exactly what I wanted; and it was made even better by the fact that we were both naked: I can see by the state of your cock that you enjoyed giving it to me as much as I did taking it. Now, let's move straight on. I want to lie flat on my back on the table and for you to take me in the mission position with my legs over your shoulders; and please do not hold back. You did brilliantly with the cane and I want you to fuck me as hard as you can; I think you can see by now that I really do enjoy the pain of extreme, homoerotic sex and a real hard fuck is just what I want from you now."

As I stood there listening to Geoff, it suddenly hit me that what I was now required to do would, for me, be only the second guy ever, with whom I would have anal sex. Geoff, of course, was totally unaware of this fact and given the apparently successful beating I had just given him, he was under the impression that I was a hardened and highly experienced pro in all matters of gay sex when, in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. But the state of sexual arousal in which I found myself as a result of wielding the cane gave me courage to go on; especially as my uncontrollable man-meat was still totally erect and dribbling cum, telling me exactly what it now needed. The room had an open dispenser of both condoms and lubricants and so, taking my courage in both hands, I rolled on a rubber, lubed up my own cock and then gave my attention to Geoff's crease. Luckily for me, the position he had chosen for our next exercise together largely hid his roasted arse from view and I was able to lube him up without too much difficulty. How he managed to lie still on his back with the pain that must been raging across his arse escaped me; but he did.