Rookie Cop

by Boybill

Chapter 1
The New Rookie

“So where’s the new rookie?” Captain Jimenez asked his associate, Sergeant Prescott.

Juan Jimenez was a powerful-built man, over 6′ 3″, and very impressive in his tight blue uniform. He rubbed the obvious swelling in his crotch as he thought about new meat entering the precinct. Charlie Prescott was his main assistant for the South Houston office, and had jumped to attention as soon as his superior entered the office. Charlie had just graduated from their intensive training course and the captain had taken a liking to him. More than a liking, actually. Charlie was the Captain’s pet. This brought him special privileges, but at the price of a lot of special pain from his Master.

They were both dressed in the Houston’s police department “blues”: dark blue pants and light blue short-sleeved blouses. They had guns on their hips and sam brown belts across their chests. Summer regulations allowed them to wear their uniform blouses open at the collar, revealing hairy chests with or without T-shirts. Black calf-covering boots and a blue police hat completed the outfit. Both had rank insignia on their blouse sleeves. A few extra bucks slipped to the precinct tailor got them highly tailored uniforms, skintight to their musculature.

“Sir, he’s still in personnel, sir,” Prescott replied loudly, stiffening his at-attention stance whenever Jimenez addressed him. That was part of his training.

“Well, tell him to report directly to my office when he’s through with the damn forms. And you report there with him!” the Captain barked.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Charlie responded, sucking in his gut and throwing out his muscular chest.

Captain Jimenez often carried a swagger stick tucked into his belt. It was a riding crop, which he used for emphasis when he was addressing the troops, and for instant punishment for any policeman needing it. He pulled the stiff whip from his belt and went behind the desk where Prescott was standing. Then he whacked Charlie across the ass. Charlie flinched slightly but made no sound. Jimenez smiled as he saw Charlie’s lean ass cheeks clench through the tight uniform pants.

“Still wearing my jock, boy?” Jimenez asked, pushing the riding crop against Charlie’s big crotch. The end of the whip moved the young man’s big boner back and forth.

“Sir, yes, sir! Sir, thank you, sir!”

Jimenez could see the side straps of the jock under the blue pants fabric stretched so tightly against the younger man’s ass and hips. He required his “pet” to wear one of his old, stained jocks for a week at a time without washing it. Then he would jerk off into another jock and give it to Charlie for the next week. Charlie was required to sleep with the jock pouch over his nose and mouth. He tapped the crop against Charlie’s big balls and turned to leave.

“Sir, thank you, sir!” the freshly minted policeman called out after him. Jimenez liked his appreciative pup. Maybe he would fuck him before the shift was over as a reward.

Back in his own office, Captain Jimenez looked over the training file for the new rookie: Stan Perez. Odd name, he thought. Must be mixed heritage, little bit of Pollock, mixed with his own Latino.

The head and shoulders shot in the file showed a very handsome guy: large, strong face; tightly cropped black hair, and remarkably blue eyes. Genes must have gotten mixed up on that one, Jimenez thought to himself.

The full body shot showed the young man in his low-cut briefs. The room must have been hot when the photo was taken; his skin glistened with sweat. This accentuated his strong musculature. Jimenez liked the broad shoulders and thick upper arms, as well as the beginnings of pec fur. The guy’s six pack showed good muscle and he clearly had a half hard on from the size of the bulge in the briefs pouch.

The big chest narrowed down to a tight waist and hips, and the back shot showed a perfectly shaped bubble butt. The guy’s legs were thick with muscle; he was definitely a candidate for the Precinct.

The training program was also detailed in the file. Captain Jimenez had worked this up himself. His superiors in downtown Houston had no idea what the real training program was about. They knew it worked, though. The new hires performed very well and the recent crime wave in South Houston had been turned around - except for the Cop Fuckers.

Jimenez had one big burr under his butt: the Cop Fuckers. They called themselves the CFers and they were a mean bunch of skinheads. There weren’t many, maybe five or six to the whole group, but they were a scourge to the police force, since they took particular pleasure in torturing and abusing cops. In fact, Jimenez had just lost one of his better cops, Tom Ricci, to the CFers. They had broken him by torture and sexual humiliation, and the man turned renegade and joined the thugs. Jimenez was determined this would not happen again - thus his special program.

The Captain’s idea was to build up the rookie, both physically and psychologically, to make him tougher and resistant to anything the CFers could do. The program started with heavy workouts in the gym for several hours each morning and night. The trainers would force extra reps from the rookie by way of whips and belts.

The technical part of the training was a review of what the rookie should have learned in cop school, which was administered in downtown Houston at the police admin building. Jimenez had a twist on the review: the rookie was put into immobilization bondage, often with a straight jacket, tight hood and collar. The rules were spoken thru headphones in the hood and the rookie had to repeat them into a microphone verbatim. Any mistake or hesitation was picked up by a computerized voice analyzer, which sounded a loud buzzer and delivered a whopping electrical shock to the man’s genitals.

The next part of the program was to build up the tolerance of the rookie for intense pain, again using electricity. This started off easy, with some electrotorture to the nips and nuts, but then it got heavy when the electrodes were applied to the rookie’s cock. This led to forced milking, which often reduced the rookie to hoarse screaming.

The last part of the program focused on sexual humiliation. Better to get fucked by your friends and partners and learn what it’s all about, Jimenez reasoned, than to get your cherry picked by a skinhead. The humiliation also included dog training, in which the rookie was treated like a total dog slave. After that, there wasn’t much they could do to a man to break him.

Sergeant Charles Prescott had recently graduated from the six-month program and was a sterling example of how the training should work. Charlie was now a total pain pig and sex slave to the Captain. He could take anything! In any hole! Jimenez was now confident Prescott could work the South Precinct with no fear of succumbing to the CFers. He also got himself a prize pet in the process.

No one else in the precinct know it, but Charlie had moved in with the Captain and continued his training unofficially off-hours. Jimenez considered it useful reinforcement. His pecker started to harden up when he thought of what he put Charlie through last weekend. The pup had sweated so much in the leather harness that the straps had to be re-oiled.

A plan emerged in the Captain’s thoughts: he would let Charlie do the pain and sex part of the training, sort of make the new guy Charlie’s pup, just like Charlie was his pup. Yeah, that would be cool. His cock stirred in his crotch at the thought this could grow to a three-some! He had an image of him fucking Charlie, who was fucking the new pup.

His thoughts were interrupted by the knock on the door.

“Come in!” he barked. The door opened and the new rookie entered, approached the desk, and stood at stiff attention.

“Sir!” he said in a very loud voice. “Officer Stan Perez reporting for duty, sir!”

Jimenez said nothing, but carefully looked the rookie up and down. The police tailor had performed another clothing miracle, adjusting the blue Houston police uniform to tightly match the musculature of the cop. Jimenez could see Stan’s pecs, even his nipples, under the tight blouse, which tapered nicely to his waist. The cloth in the rookie’s crotch was perfectly drawn in, outlining a meaty dick and big young man balls under the material. Jimenez could tell directly the rookie dressed his cock down and to the left, like most guys. Well, he would change that in short order, he said to himself.

The rookie was handsome indeed, but then Jimenez hit upon the blue eyes. In the photographs they were impressive enough, but in person they were startling. Perez briefly looked down at the Captain seated behind the desk, and Jimenez promptly corrected him: “Eyes forward! You’re at attention, Perez!” he snarled.

“Sir, yes, sir!” the rookie cop returned, stiffening his upper body and arms even more. Jimenez could see the man’s delts mounding under the uniform blouse as he pushed his hands against his thighs in a tighter stance. His bicep veins popped out, as they bulged out the short sleeves.

“You did good downtown at HQ. They gave you high marks,” Jimenez said aloud, slowly turning pages in the file open on his desk. “But we have some specialized training that’s needed if you’re going to be successful in the South Houston Precinct,” he added.

Perez said nothing, trying to keep his eyes straight ahead and his stance proper. He really wanted this job, both for the money, and for the prestige he expected to get helping to clean up the South Houston area. He had also heard about the CFers and the recent loss of Officer Ricci to the skinheads.

Jimenez read his thoughts. “Yes, we’re all concerned about the CFers. There a tough bunch of bastards, but we think we have the answer,” he added, raising his eyebrows.

“Sir, the special training?” he asked.

“Yes, but how did you find out about that?” Jimenez barked.

“Sir, Sergeant Prescott gave me a little bit of information, but I really don’t know the details, sir,” Perez quickly answered, detecting some anger in the Captain’s voice.

“Good, good,” Jimenez said, the anger gone. “But now it is time for you to start. I’m turning you over to Prescott, and then others will step in as needed, including me,” he explained.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Perez said loudly. Prescott had prompted him on this little quirk of the Captain’s: he liked his underlings to almost yell their responses.

Jimenez picked up the phone and dialed his assistant’s extension. “Charlie! Time to take the new rookie to the training center. Get your ass in here!”

Even at a distance, Perez could hear the shouted response on the phone: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Prescott showed up within seconds, knocking and then entering the room.

“Sir, Sergeant Prescott reporting for training duty, sir!” he said loudly.

“OK, Charlie, he’s yours. Take him downstairs and fuck him over good!” Jimenez ordered.

The rookie slightly blanched at the choice of words. Charlie grabbed him by his big upper arms and force-marched him out of the Captain’s office towards the building stairs. Perez had no idea what was in store for him in the sub-basement.

Nips and Nuts

Perez followed Charlie down to the sub-basement. Charlie had to unlock two doors to gain final entry to the training area. The doors were locked behind them as they progressed through the maze of small rooms.

“This is the training area where you’ll spend most of your time,” Charlie started to explain. “We can talk casually right now, but once we begin the program you will not be permitted to speak unless directly spoken to, and you’ll have to scream ‘Sir!’ at the beginning and end of each sentence. I’ll go over that later. Any questions before we start?” Charlie asked, rubbing his big crotch.

“Well, yes, sir, sort of. You mentioned that the program was rough. How rough, really?” Perez asked.

“I can’t give you the details. That would remove the element of surprise. But I can tell you it’s unbelievably rough. You’ll experience pain like you never thought possible. You’ll be forced to exercise until you think you can’t squeeze another rep. Then, when you’re whipped by the trainer, you’ll do the extra rep! The whole idea is to toughen you up, beyond your wildest dreams. By the time you’re done, you’ll be able to take anything!” Charlie said.

“You just went through it, right, sir?” Perez asked, rubbing his own swelling crotch. Somehow the prospects of forced exercises and some down and dirty pain-training got him excited.

“Yes, I did. Just graduated last month. I didn’t think I would make it, but somehow you find the guts and you do it,” Charlie added.

Then he said: “Look, boy, we’d better get started. If I tell you too much, my ass’ll get whipped by the Captain - even more than he usually does!”

“OK, what do I do?” Perez asked.

“Real simple: strip off all your clothes. Most of the training is naked,” Charlie replied.

Perez took off his gun belts and Charlie took them for safe keeping. Then he unfastened his uniform blouse buttons and stripped off the tight garment. Charlie motioned with his head to hang the clothes on a series of hooks on the wall. Stan was not wearing a T-shirt and Charlie quickly took in the young cop’s solid muscle development, watching the muscle groups slide under the skin. Charlie scratched as his crotch stirred to life.

When the Captain had told him he would be training the new recruit, Charlie already got some additional training equipment, stuff not directly in the plan. The Captain did not know that Charlie was getting into gut punching; it was not one of their normal play scenes. Charlie had a small group of friends, muscle guys like himself, who got together twice a month for a gut punching session in downtown Houston. It was hard play; most of the guys wound up throwing up from the workouts. Charlie had an assortment of gloves from standard weight boxing gloves to thin leather ones with nasty studs. As he watched Perez strip, he imagined how his abs would look reddened up after a round of deep jabs. And he definitely wanted to pound Perez’ pecs until they swelled up twice their size!

Stan was removing his black boots and socks. He struggled to work his tight pants down his hips and thighs before the garment was free of his legs. This left him in his briefs. Stan had carefully chosen his skimpiest of bikini underwear to wear today.

“You usually wear them sissy things?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, sir. They’re comfortable,” Perez answered.

“Strip ‘em off!” Charlie ordered.

Perez quickly whipped off the skimpy bikini, finally freeing up his half hard on.

Charlie continued: “From now on, since I’m in charge of you, you’ll wear one of my jock straps under your uniform. They’ve been broken in proper and they’re too sizes too small,” he added.

“Sir, sounds good!” Perez responded.

“OK, champ, now here’s the new rules. First, stand at attention!” he barked out.

Perez instantly stiffened into the stance, although it felt weird to him to be at attention buck naked. Pulling his butt down made his cock arch higher from his crotch, adding to the strange feeling.

“Let me tell you something, recruit,” Charlie said, standing very close in front of Perez. “Get use to standing at attention naked. You’re going to do it a lot from now on.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Perez said loudly.

“Next,” Charlie continued: “You don’t say a single word unless it’s in answer to a question from me or one of the other trainers. You start every sentence with ‘Sir!’ and you end every sentence with ‘Sir.’ This means you can say: ‘Sir, no, sir!’ or ‘Sir, yes, sir!’ but that’s about it. And you have to shout your answer. Understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Perez repeated loudly.

“Not loud enough,” Charlie responded.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Perez yelled, the sound reverberating in the small room.

“Better. Try again,” Charlie demanded.

“Sir, yes, sir!!” Perez yelled at the top of his lungs.

“That’s ok, for now. If you slacken off, you’ll get whipped,” Charlie added.

“Sir, yes, sir!!” Perez yelled again.

“Now, rookie, the first thing we’re going to do is to start your pain training. You’re going to be subject to increasing levels of pain until you learn how to deal with it and take it like a man,” Charlie said.

Charlie went over and opened one of several doors leading out from the room. He motioned for Perez to follow him. Perez could feel his dick continuing to harden up; he was very excited about the whole training program, and the prospects of being forced to submit to pain.

The second room was brightly lit. There were some file cabinets against the far wall and a large, red metal bar between the two nearer walls. The bar extended right up to the walls and attached to small metal boxes. The boxes had wheels on them and they were embedded into two vertical tracks which extended from floor to ceiling. There was a large metal handle extending to the side from each box.

“Lay down on the floor under the bar on your belly,” Charlie instructed Perez.

Stan had to stick his dick down between his legs as he lay down on the cement floor. It continued to harden up and now his balls were pulling up to his crotch. He could feel the excitement mounting in his crotch.

Charlie procured a metal frame from a corner of the room.

“Now, scumbag, raise your ankles up,” Charlie instructed him.

As Perez raised his ankles, Charlie clamped them under the metal frame, which he attached to the top of the red bar. There were two large metal nuts on threaded pieces at the short ends of the frame, and Charlie slowly wound the nuts around the central metal bolts, tightening the frame on Perez’ ankles.

He bore down on the nuts until Perez could feel his ankles being tightly compressed by the metal frame.

“Now raise up your arms,” Charlie commanded.

Perez immediately complied. Charlie slipped his wrists under two metal brackets, and then bolted the brackets to the front side of the main red bar. Perez’ dick was now at full rock; torture was imminent and he couldn’t help himself.

Charlie was also aroused as he bolted the young man to the bar. It wasn’t too long ago that he was in the same position, starting out in the specialized training program. He rubbed his own hardon under his tight uniform pants. His dick was constrained in the pouch of the Captain’s own jock, which Charlie had to wear.

Then Charlie went back and forth between the two walls, slowing winching up the metal boxes in their tracks with the screw handles. Perez could feel himself being picked up off the floor as the bar rose. Finally his full weight was on his ankles and wrists. Due to the angle of his ankle bondage, it was very painful, whereas his wrists were better positioned.

Charlie cranked him some two feet off the floor. Perez thought this was the torture. Sweat broke out over his body in the warmish room.

Charlie then removed a small control box from one of the file cabinet drawers. Cables with clips on them dangled from the box, along with a long black cord. Charlie plugged the cord end into a wall socket and positioned the box under Perez’ chest.

Then the thought raced through Perez mind that he was going to get electrotorture.

“Yup!” Charlie joked. “You’re right. It’s good ol’ electro!”

He picked up two clips and positioned them against Perez’ nipples. The clips had sanded ends so they wouldn’t slip on skin. Charlie released his hold and the clips clamped down onto Perez’ nipples.

The pain shot through Perez’ chest and he sucked in air. He was determined not to cry out. He wanted to show Charlie he could take his punishment like a man, that he was going to be a good cop.

Then Charlie took another cable up from the floor. At the end was a metal device with two bulges. When Charlie went behind him, Perez instantly realized the device was going onto his balls.

“Right, again!” Charlie said, pretending his could read Perez’ thoughts.

Charlie noticed the good size of the young man’s rock hard cock and that his balls were up against the base of the shaft. But they weren’t going to stay there for long.

Charlie grabbed Perez’ young man balls and pulled them viciously down in their skin sack until the skin gleamed in the bright light. Again Perez sucked in air at the stab of pain, but he did not cry out.

Charlie put Perez’ balls into the device, which surrounded them in metal, and fastened the two wing nuts which would hold the device sections together. The insides were already coated with electro-jelly, which would conduct the current directly to his balls.

“Here we go, champ,” Charlie said, kneeling down to the control box. With no further warning, he turned two dials up and Perez jumped as the current shot into his nips and nuts. A short, low “u-u-g-g-h!” escaped his lips before he clamped down, determined not to make any further sound.

Charlie waited half a minute, noting how well Perez was taking the punishment, although the setting was only 3 out of 10. Then he turned both dials to 4.

Again Perez made a low sound of pain, but regained his composure. This was going to be tough, he told himself. The level of pain was very strong, but he willed himself to take it.

Charlie got up from the floor, tested the security of the clamps on Perez’ ankles and wrists, and then laughed at the muscular young man obviously struggling to handle the pain.

“OK, boy, I’ll let you sit there and fry a bit,” he said.

Perez managed to yell out: “Sir, yes, sir!!” as loud as he could, which gave him some relief from the pain, but then he had to shift back to bearing it in silence.

The door closed behind Charlie, leaving Perez alone with his agony. The pain in his chest wasn’t too bad. It stung initially, but it seemed that the sting wasn’t as sharp. It was the pain in his nuts that was worse. It felt like they were on fire or being compressed by a vice. And the pain slowly increased, minute by minute.

Sweat was now pouring out his body, down his big legs, down his back and cascading over his sides to his chest. He could see sweat running down the wires to his nipples and collecting in a small puddle on the floor. His head was bathed in sweat, and he could taste the saltiness on his lips.

He stewed and fried and started to lose track of the time. Suddenly the door opened and Charlie walked in holding a yellow folder in his hand. He went over to the file cabinet and opened a drawer.

“Sir,” Perez spoke, against his better judgment, “Will you please release me now? My nips and balls are burning, sir!” he said.

Charlie snorted his reply: “It’s only warm-up. Shut up and wait. Soon you’ll see your nuts boiling!” he laughed.

Perez was plunged into more agony as he realized in his own thoughts: “Oh shit! He’s serious.”

Then Charlie knelt down to the control box. “In fact, let’s speed it up a bit. I don’t have all fucking day just for you!” He turned the two control dials a half-step higher and Perez felt the big jump in the current level to the electrodes.

He started to lose it: “U-u-g-h! A-a-g-g-h-h!” he grunted at the highly increased level of pain. But then he got back in control again, not knowing where he found the energy. He clamped down on his lips, refusing to make any more sounds, as the electricity surged into his chest and balls.

Charlie came over to the suffering rookie cop. He rubbed his palms over the sweaty ass cheeks, watching the big back muscle groups contract and writhe as Perez struggled in the awkward bondage position. He slipped his fingers into Perez’ sweaty ass crack, feeling out the younger man’s hole. Perez clenched his ass cheeks a few times, squeezing Charlie’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlie said quietly, “Yeah, I’ll really enjoy porking your tender ass!”

Then he grabbed Perez’ rock hard cock and twisted it back and forth. The rookie took it without a sound.

“I think you’ll do pretty good in this program, Perez,” he said to the young man.

“Sir, thank you, sir!!” Perez screamed out, grateful to be able to scream anything at this point.

“Yeah, I think I’ll let you stew here for a few more hours. I want to see your balls fry!” he added, laughing at the look of total panic which crossed Perez’ face.

Then Charlie slapped the rookie’s ass a few times, enjoying the red handprints on the white skin. Perez took it without a sound.

“Yeah, you’ll do right fine!” he said, again massaging the sweaty ass cheeks.

Then Charlie turned off the lights and left the room. Perez was now alone in the darkness, lit only by a very dim glow from the dials on the control box.

Once he realized he was alone, he grunted and groaned out loud from the pain. “A-a-g-g-h-h! Fuck! Fuck!! A-a-g-h!”

It really did feel like his fucking balls were getting fried!

Rookie Cop, Part 2
by Boybill

Chapter 2
The Meat Rack

fter several hours hanging from the rafter, Stan’s body was in agony. Plus, the current to his nipples and nuts had produced a total level of pain that was all but unbelievable. Still, Stan took it, forcing himself to not cry out - or at least, do the best he could.

Then Charlie abruptly came back into the file room with another folder in his hand. He put the folder in the drawer with the others, and then addressed Stan: “OK, champ, you’re done this part - and you passed the test,” he added.

“Sir, thank you, sir!” Stan tried to yell, but his throat and mouth were dry.

Charlie reached down and turned off the electrotorture box, and then unclipped the electrodes from Stan’s nips.

Initially Stan yelled “Sir, thank you again, sir!” as the clips were removed, but then the blood surged back into his pec pegs and he had to breath hard to avoid screaming. He felt nothing but relief as his balls were removed from the metal case. They ached with a deep pain, which Stan suspected he would feel for days.

Charlie then lowered the bar to the floor and unbolted Stan’s helpless body from its bent back bondage. Stan crumpled to the floor, totally grateful to be relieved of the intensely painful bondage position. His nips and nuts were still aching and burning from the electrotorture, but there was to be no rest in the training program.

Charlie screamed at him: “Get to attention, scumbag!”

Stan’s rest was shattered and he struggled to get up from the floor, as he jumped to attention, thrusting his big chest out and tensing his muscular abs as tight as he could. Charlie went up to him and punched him hard in the abs. “When you stand at attention, I want to see that gut sucked in,” he yelled at the rookie cop.

His fist left a red mark on Stan’s skin, and Stan was having trouble recovering his breathing from the blow. “Yes, sir! . . .Sir, yes, sir!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, in between gulped breaths.

Charlie moved behind him: “And get those hips and that tight ass down!!” he yelled back, smacking his open palm across Stan’s tensed ass cheeks.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Stan screamed as he strongly rotated his hips, pulling his butt down. Unfortunately, this made his half hard on arch up from his crotch.

Charlie grabbed Stan’s cock: “I can see you’re enjoying this way too much!” he said, twisting Stan’s half hard on and making it harder.

“Sir, no, sir!” Stan yelled, not knowing quite what to say.

“Don’t matter, you’re going straight to the next exercise. In fact, the Meat Rack is right next door,” Charlie added, opening the door to yet another of the interconnected torture rooms. “Follow me,” he commanded.

Stan jumped to comply with the order and entered the next room. His skin immediately registered a lower temperature. The electrotorture room had been warm and humid, making him sweat. This room was cooler and the air felt drier.

He didn’t have much time to think before Charlie had circled behind him and slipped handcuffs on his wrists. “Now get down on the floor on your back,” he was then ordered.

Charlie went to a small cabinet in a corner of the room and returned with a very large boot in one hand and a hood in the other. “Lift your feet up, punkball,” Charlie commanded, positioning Stan’s feet against his own abs. Charlie then worked the single boot over both of Stan’s feet.

The boot was made of thick rubber and the opening stretched wide to accommodate Stan’s big feet. Charlie had to push hard to get both feet down into the bottom of the boot, and Stan felt the rubber constricting his ankles. The top of the boot covered his calves in tight rubber.

Charlie pulled a length of rope from a pocket in his tight pants and bent down at Stan’s feet. He wound the rope several turns around Stan’s ankles, and then tied it off.

Then he stood up and went to Stan’s head. He reached into the hood and withdrew a wide strap gag. Stan could see the cock piece protruding from the back. Charlie pushed the hard rubber gag between Stan’s teeth, ensuring the whole cock piece filled Stan’s mouth.

“Now you can scream your fucking head off and not bother anybody,” he said, buckling the gag tightly behind Stan’s head.

Charlie took a large marker from his other pocket and wrote big numbers across Stan’s chest: 6 3 5.

“No, you’re not number 635. We’ve only had a few guys through this part of the training, but that’s the number that popped into my head, so you’re stuck with it,” he explained.

Standing up, he reached out to the nearest wall. There was a metal cable hanging down the wall with a large hook on its end. Charlie grabbed the hook and pulled out on the cable. Stan looked up at the ceiling, which was criss-crossed with metal tracks. The cable led to a reel box, which was attached to one of the tracks. The box moved out along the track as Charlie pulled on the hooked end.

Then he called out to another cop across the room. Stan was unaware there was another officer in the room. “Hey, Bud! Come over here and help me with this piece of shit!”

Another officer joined Charlie and, bending down to Stan’s head, began to attach the hood.

Stan immediately felt the cool rubber of the hood as the other officer slipped it over his head. The rubber compressed his head as the back straps were pulled in tightly and buckled off one by one. The hood’s eye plates were already in place and Stan followed the vanishing traces of light as the hood encircled his head.

Apparently his nose was to be free, but the mouth piece was also in place and pressed against the other part of the gag. The final straps were part of a heavy collar piece, which completed the hood’s attachment to his head. There were no ear holes.

Stan immediately started to sweat inside the hood. Despite the cool air, Stan could feel the heat and sweat build up under the rubber skin of the hood. Small drops of perspiration already worked their way down his cheeks and his hair was matting down with sweat.

“OK, 635,” Charlie said loudly so Stan could hear through the rubber hood. “Time to cool your heels!” he laughed.

Stan felt the hook being inserted around the rope turns. The assisting officer went back to another part of the room and punched a control button on a large panel. This activated a motor in the reel box, hoisting Stan from the floor by his feet.

Stan felt himself being dragged a bit across the floor as his feet were pulled up, and soon he was perched on his shoulders and head. Then, as the reel continued to automatically take up cable, his head was lifted from the floor and his whole weight was on his feet. He felt the tension in the rope as it tightened around his ankles, and his head and shoulders flushed as blood rushed down. It was definitely a weird feeling and he felt himself rapidly becoming disoriented.

Then Charlie pushed the reel box along its track and moved Stan’s body over next to a small group of other bodies. The cops called this area the Meat Rack. There was a special air conditioning unit, which blew cool air over the hanging hunks. Although initially comfortable, the cold air blowing against their essentially naked bodies quickly caused involuntary cramps and anyone hanging there got a strong dose of the “shivers.”

Charlie looked over at the other three men hanging there in torture. Their bodies were slightly blue and all their big muscle groups were shivering and cramping from the cold air. Charlie knew from first hand experience that under the rubber hood and inside the tight rubber boots, their skin was boiling. The contrast was painful and maddening. He himself had spent hours on the Meat Rack as part of his training - and now he wanted to dish it out to the other poor dicks suspended there.

He took out his nightstick, unclipping it from his webbed uniform belt. Then he went back and forth along the row of hanging hunks, banging the nightstick against their cocks and ball sacks. The men jumped and convulsed in pain. He could hear them yelling almost silently into the gags, as the big veins on their necks popped out.

Despite the torment, the men’s cocks were hard and pressed against their abs. He pushed the stick against their balls, making them groan from the nut pain.

Then he slammed the stick into one man’s abs, making the hunky guy convulse with pain. He hit another across the pecs, enjoying the feel as the nightstick slammed into slabs of meaty pec muscle.

He focused his energies on Stan’s hulking body, tormenting his legs, abs, his ass and chest. Stan writhed in agony, futilely trying to escape the blows from the heavy wooden nightstick. Charlie was very proud to see Stan’s dick get up to rock hard, as he continued to torment the young man. This meant Stan was basically a pain pig, just like himself, and would make a good companion on the force - if he survived the training.

The last thing Charlie did before leaving the Meat Rack was to ram his nightstick into Stan’s ass. He pushed the blunted end of the wood between Stan’s cheeks, and centered the end on Stan’s hole. Then, angling the club, he applied enough pressure to force open Stan’s hole, and pushed two thirds of the thick stick up Stan’s shit chute.

Stan was in agony, first from the upside down bondage, and then from all the blows Charlie had inflicted on his body. He screamed as the nightstick was pushed up his ass, but quickly realized there was nothing he could do about it.

He thought that would be the end of the torture, but he slowly realized that his body was getting quite cold from the steady stream of cool air blowing across it. He also felt his muscles starting to quiver. Soon his arms and legs were shaking, and the large muscle groups were starting to cramp from the cold. Despite the fire in his head and feet, the rest of him was soon freezing, adding to the pain.

Stan had to endure the pain from the inverted bondage, the pain of the nightstick up his ass, and the intense muscular cramp-pain from the cold air. He screamed into his gag, but the pain only got steadily worse. Soon he was in genuine agony, screaming in silence on the Meat Rack.

Twice a day the air conditioner was turned off, allowing the muscular men on the Rack to warm up and stop the convulsions. During this time, their bodies were lowered until their backs were on the floor, positioning their asses for a round of gang banging from the officers on duty.

Charlie and his superior officer, Captain Jimenez, joined the other men in several rounds of force fucking the guys on the Meat Rack, who continued to silently scream from the pain.

After the fucking, their bodies were hoisted up again and the air conditioner was turned up full bore, sending them again into a hell of cramping muscles and boiling hot hoods.

Rookie Cop, Part 3
by Boybill

Chapter 3
Ball Pull

tan was finally cut down from the Meat Rack and allowed to thaw out under a dirty blanket. All the bondage equipment was removed, except the handcuffs. He huddled under the blanket for an hour as his muscular body slowly stopped shivering and the pain of the torture subsided. He was dizzy from the upside down suspension, and his nuts still hurt from the electricity they had endured the day before. There was also a dull ache in his ass from the gang bangs, but Captain Jimenez had told him during one of the fuck-bouts that this was one pain he was sure to get used to.

Stan felt good about himself. He had survived the training so far, and it sounded like Charlie was proud of his performance. He was taking a strong liking to Charlie, which started the first time he saw him in his tight uniform. He found that when Charlie tormented him with blows from the nightstick or with his fist, he was strongly aroused. When he thought of Charlie fucking him, his cock responded. He wanted to suck Charlie off, to show that he was Charlie’s slave.

Stan’s cock was reaching a rock hard erection as he thought of Charlie’s big dick in his mouth. He moved his jaws, pretending he was massaging his mentor’s cock. He made sucking sounds in his throat.

At that moment the real Charlie entered the room and pulled Stan’s blanket off: “OK, scum-punk-bag, at attention, now!” he yelled.

Stan pulled himself back into the reality of the situation and jumped up from the floor, straining in the at-attention stance until his muscles hurt. “Sir, yes, sir!” he yelled back at the top of his lungs.

“Good, that’s good, shit-for-brains,” Charlie answered. Then he balled his fist and jammed it into Stan’s abs. “I still want that gut in more!” he yelled.

Stan stammered back his “Sir . . . yes, sir,” but had trouble breathing from the gut punch. He tensed his abs until they started to cramp. Charlie had no further admonitions, so Stan thought he finally got the stance right.

“New session, fuck boy!” Charlie said, walking slowly around his muscular trainee. “Follow me!” he ordered.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Stan yelled back, eager to please his muscular trainer.

Stan followed Charlie out into a short corridor, down past several doors. He closely watched Charlie’s ass cheeks under the tight uniform as the muscular mounds moved with each stride. Charlie must have sensed Stan’s eyes on his butt. He whirled around, stopping abruptly in the corridor. Stan slammed into him, chest to chest, and then immediately braced in the at-attention stance.

Charlie laughed out loud: “Ha! I can feel your eyes on my ass! Do you like what you see, scum bag?” he asked.

Stan shouted out: “Sir, yes, sir!” Stan’s dick was now also at attention, bobbing up from his crotch at full rock.

Charlie laughed again and then grabbed Stan’s big dick in his hand. He twisted it from side to side. Stan gnashed his teeth at the pain, but made no overt sound.

“You know, scum bag, I really enjoy torturing you!” Charlie said, giving Stan’s dick another cruel twist.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Stan yelled back. A hint of a smile escaped onto Stan’s lips. He was overwhelmed that Charlie had mutual affections for him; and he reveled, as only a true masochist can, at the pain in his crotch from his young Master’s hand on his cock.

“You’re a good fuck, too,” Charlie added.

Again Stan yelled at the top of his lungs: “Sir, yes, sir!!”

Charlie smiled a big grin at Stan, and then turned and continued walking down the corridor, with Stan’s cock still in his right hand. They entered a door at the end of the corridor. Charlie released Stan’s dick and pushed him into the room.

The room was brightly lit, showing two large metal pipes in the center. The ends of the pipes were embedded in the concrete ceiling and floor. There were valves near the tops of the pipes. A third, smaller pipe stuck out from the far wall.

Stan was surprised to see another muscular trainee already secured with his back against the pipe on the right. He was naked, and his hands were cuffed behind the pipe behind his back. He looked over as the two entered the room and Stan saw that he was gagged.

Charlie marched Stan over to the pipe on the left. “OK, bucko, keep your hands behind your back,” he ordered as he unlocked the manacles on Stan’s wrists. Charlie quickly pulled Stan’s hands behind the pipe and refastened the steel manacles. Then he went over to a shelf near the door, retrieved a new gag, and plunged the rubber cock piece roughly into Stan’s mouth. He buckled the strap behind Stan’s head, duplicating the bondage of the other guy.

Stan was directly facing the big guy on the other pipe. He recognized the face as one of the newly hired recruits, like himself, but this guy had been in the training program for at least a month longer than Stan. He also recognized the guy’s big chest, hairy legs, and over-sized balls. He had seen him in the showers and in the locker room and liked the looks of the young man. His given name was Tomasao, but his nickname was “Bike.” He said he picked up the nickname in high school because he wore Bike jock straps all the time instead of briefs or jockey shorts.

Charlie stood between the two bound studs. He had removed his T-shirt and was wearing only his regulation pants, which were cut tight, and boots.

“OK, fuck-punks, here’s the game. You’re both manacled to the metal posts behind you. I’m going to string your cock and balls together with a leather thong. It’ll be tight and it’ll hurt,” he added.

He removed a coil of leather from one of his pockets and opened it up. It was some four feet long. He went over to Stan and grabbed his balls in his fist, pulling them down from the crotch. Stan winced and groaned into the gag.

Charlie wound the leather piece around the base of Stan’s shaft and ball sack, tied it off tightly, and then pulled on the leather to ensure it was tight. Stan jumped from the jabs of pain. Charlie repeated the process on Bike’s big cock and balls, taking up a lot of slack in the leather and pulling the two studs closer together. They had to move out from the metal poles to avoid having their nuts pulled off. Charlie laughed at their discomfort.

“Yeah,” Charlie commented to the two. “That looks real good: two prime Grade A Texas studs tied off at the balls!”

Stan and Bike squirmed in their bondage as the pain built up in their balls.

“Got another surprise for you,” Charlie said. He went back to the small shelf near the door and returned with two large plastic pins. Each was a half inch wide and 8 or 9 inches long. One end of the pin had a large bulb, the other end had a blunted point.

Charlie went over to Stan and grinned into his face as he put the blunted end of the plastic against Stan’s dickhead, pushing the end slightly into the slit.

The thought crossed Stan’s brain that the plastic surely was not going to be stuck up his dick, but then his stomach knotted into a ball of fear as Charlie grabbed Stan’s hard on cock shaft and continued pushing the plastic pin. Slowly the piece forced its way into Stan’s dickhead. The width forced his urethra to painfully expand. Stan pushed the piece in with a rhythmic motion, pulling it out a bit, then forcing it in farther, using Stan’s own precum as lube.

The plastic pin slowly worked its way down Stan’s big shaft. He could see exactly where it was as it widened his shaft. The pain was intense, but bearable. Stan saw occasional flecks of blood as the plastic was periodically withdrawn, although it felt like the plastic was totally tearing up the insides of his dick. He felt the plastic tip move past the knotted leather loop around the base of his cock, leaving only another inch to go. Then the pin was fully inserted. Stan could feel the pain mounting from inside his shaft, a highly unusual sensation.

Charlie then went to work on Bike’s dick, slowly pushing the huge piece of plastic up his shaft. Stan could see Bike’s eyes widen in horror as the large pin pushed its way through. Bike grunted in pain into the large gag in his mouth. Charlie only stopped when the rounded head of the pin was fully against Bike’s dickhead.

“There, I hope you two dick-heads will enjoy that!” Charlie taunted. “But the real fun,” he continued, “is in that short pipe over there,” he added, gesturing to the pipe next to Bike. “It goes to the spent oil tank in the maintenance shop. That’s where we put all the oil changes from all the patrol cars, as well as lube grease. It’s our greasetank. Watch this, guys,” Charlie added, walking over to the oil pipe.

He opened the valve on the pipe a half turn and oil slowly flowed from the end of the pipe. The oil plopped onto the ground and formed a small puddle. Both Stan and Bike were transfixed, looking at the oil as if it were alive.

Then the horror of the situation began to unfold. The puddle of oil got large enough to become unstable and started to flow across the cement - directly towards Bike’s feet. The two young men then realized that the cement floor under their feet was slightly tilted. Bike saw it first. When the oil reached his feet, it worked between his skin and the slick cement floor, and he could feel his feet start to slowly slide out from under him.

As his feet moved, his body sank against the pole, and the tug on his balls increased to the point where both he and Stan yelled into their gags. Bike had to correct the problem by quickly lifting himself up and pulling his feet back along the floor. But then he realized the true nature of the torture: to prevent his feet from sliding, he had to exert tremendous pressure on his thighs. Already the big muscle groups were tensed and mounded on his legs. Plus, he had to counter-pull with his arms to brace himself against the metal pole. This put tremendous force on his upper arm and shoulder muscles.

His own muscular weight made his feet continue to slide. Every time he slid, the leather tether on their balls tightened up and they both screamed from the pain as their balls were stretched out. Already the skins of their balls sacks were gleaming brightly in the light as they were stretched. The pain was intense.

Bike’s thighs continued to tense and mound as he tried to keep his feet from sliding out. The veins on his legs quickly popped out from the exertion and sweat was now pouring down his torso and muscular legs. Stan could hear him yelling and screaming into the gag as he tried to remain tall. His pecs were striated from the strain and his shoulder and upper arm muscles were piled into mounds of muscle.

Charlie laughed at their misery under the torture. “Ha! I hope you guys enjoy the next few hours! Don’t fall down! You’ll loose your big balls if you do!” he taunted. Then he went over between the two and rapped on the leather string with his hand. They both screamed from the extra pain.

Bike’s left foot suddenly slipped out from under him as the rush of pain from Charlie’s stab on the leather made him lose focus. Bike struggled mightily to regain his footing and both young men yelled from the waves of pain as the tightened leather tether tortured their balls.

Charlie gave the leather cord one more vicious jab, sending both men into spasms of pain, and then he left the room.

Stan was sweating now, too, wondering how his cohort was going to keep his feet under control for the next few hours. Then he had an idea: if they both were to lower their bodies at the same time, keeping the leather from getting tighter, they could totally solve the dilemma and wind up sitting on the floor, ending the torture.

Stan grunted in his gag, trying to get Bike’s attention. Bike looked up and Stan slowly started to lower his own torso down along the pipe. This made the leather tighten up and they both grimaced from the pain, but suddenly Bike got the idea. He nodded to Stan and then painfully lowered his own body, although the muscular force needed to do this without letting his feet slip was enormous.

Bike was biting the gag to keep his focus as both young men slowly lowered their bodies along the pipes. Stan could see the muscles in Bike’s big thighs writhing and cramping from the effort to keep his feet from sliding out from under him on the slick cement.

Bike almost lost it half way down, as one of his feet slipped. With a huge scream, which even Stan could hear despite the gag, Bike recovered and resumed the slow descent.

It took them several minutes and a lot of bad ball pain, but they both finally made it to the cement floor, their feet sticking out. Stan had to put his legs over Bike’s as they both sat on the cement floor.

The oil continued to ooze from the pipe, now slathering Bike’s ass and legs in the greasy liquid. Stan noticed that the position of Bike’s leg made the oil move across the floor to his side, and soon his own ass was in the greasetank.

They both felt smug and proud of their discovery and careful execution of the lowering maneuver, although the leather still tugged at their balls, which ached from the previous abuse.

Suddenly Charlie burst into the room, screaming at them and brandishing a whip: “You fucking scum bags! You fucking shit-for-brains! Get up off that floor! What do you think this is, a fucking rest stop? Get up!!” he screamed as he slashed them both across the chest and shoulders with the cat.

They screamed into their gags from the pain of the cat-o-nine-tails, as the leather thongs bit into their chests and shoulders. They tried to get their feet under them so they could stand up, but now the entire cement area was totally slippery with the greasetank oil. Each of them slipped, viciously tugging on the leather cord, and making them scream more from the pain of the ball pulls.

Charlie continued to scream and whip them: “Get the fuck up! Don’t you hear me?? Get the fuck UP!”

Each of them now had vivid red welts across their pecs and shoulders, and the pain was unbelievable as they struggled to get their balance on their feet. Finally they were both squatting and both young men quickly forced their bodies up along the metal pipes until they were again standing.

Charlie still whipped them, now on their stomachs and legs. “Fucking scum bags! Think we weren’t watching? Stupid shits!” he screamed at them.

Stan didn’t know what he meant, but clearly their ruse was discovered - and was not going to be allowed. Now Stan had to keep his feet from sliding and finally realized the extreme muscular effort it took, as his own big thighs were put to work. He yelled from the instant pain in his legs; his muscles quickly cramped from the intense and awkward strains.

He looked over Bike, who was also struggling as he had before to keep his balance on the greasetank-slippery cement.

Charlie stood there, finally at the end of his screaming fit. He occasionally lashed out at the two muscular young men with his whip, enjoying the surprise and shock as their bodies jerked from the pain. By now their chests and upper arms, bellies and legs were criss-crossed with huge, red welts from the cat.

He got a small chair from a corner of the room and sat down close to the men being tortured. He gloated and leered at them, enjoying the obvious signs of their struggles as their big thigh muscles writhed under the sweaty skins. He was pleased to see that both of the trainees still had rock hard cocks; that meant they were true pain pigs and enjoyed getting tortured.

He snorted a laugh and then slowly started to whip Bike’s crotch, letting the leathers of the cat gently fall onto the young man’s hard on. Bike’s eyes widened in fear as he felt the whip on his dick. Knowing how cruel and vicious Charlie could be, he was terrified of what the Torture Trainer might do with the whip.

Charlie slowly increased the force of the whip, but was careful not to break the thin cock skin. He just wanted to torment Bike and he could tell from the young man’s eyes that he was succeeding.

Then Charlie started to whip Stan’s cock with the cat, again stroking the whip slowly at first, gradually increasing the pressure. The insidious touch was that the victim had no idea how much he was going to get whipped, nor how hard the strokes might get.

Charlie kept his cool. Jimenez told him the only reason he was allowed to torture the trainees was that he kept in total control. Charlie enjoyed tormenting the new recruits, since they had no idea of when he would stop the torture.

Charlie alternated between the two rookies, adding to their tortures with the whip. Both young cops were struggling intensely to keep their feet from sliding, and this became progressively more difficult as their thigh and shoulder muscles started to slip into cramping failure, redoubling the pain.

Their ball sacks were now scarlet from the stretching and a blue tinge was appearing, indicating a lack of blood flow. That was the signal Charlie looked for, indicating the torture had run the limits of safety.

He stood up from his chair and reached into a back pocket of his tight pants, withdrawing a penknife. He opened the large blade and slashed through the leather cord, severing it, but also causing one final intense spasm of ball pain in the two rookie cops. Both of them screamed into the gags and then realized the ball pull was over. The knots around their ball sacks were actually loose and once tension was removed from the tether, blood began to return to their tortured gonies.

Charlie kicked Stan in the right calf with his heavy boot. “Now you can sit down on the floor,” he added.

Both of the rookies slowly and painfully lowered themselves down to the slippery cement. As they stretched out their legs, the relief was immense. Bike’s thighs were still quivering from the exertion.

Charlie then kicked his boot into Bike’s left thigh. “No one has ever done that before,” he said to the two bound rookies. “Next time I’ll add another cord up to the ceiling. That’ll stop anyone from sitting down!” he glared at the two men.

Without any further explanation, he went behind each of them and removed the gags from their mouths. Both of the rookies moved their chins back and forth, trying to relieve the residual pain in their jaws from being forced open for so long.

Then he moved between the two of them, careful not to slip on the slick cement. He grabbed the metal posts with his hands and then positioned his boot tips over their crotches. He flipped the tips of his boots under their cocks, which were now half hard, but still stiff from the plastic pins, and rested the boot tips on their ball sacks, which had sagged to the cement floor.

“Now, scum-bags, do you still want to go on with the training?” he asked them both.

“Sir, yes, sir!” they shouted in unison.

“Louder, fuck-heads!” Charlie commanded.

Both of the rookies yelled at the top of their lungs: “Sir, yes, sir!!”

“What about more pain? Do you want more pain?” Charlie asked.

“Sir, yes, sir!!” they yelled back.

“Good. ‘Cause that’s what you’re going to get, fucking pain pigs!” Charlie said as he pressed down his boots onto their balls.

Without the gags, both of the muscular rookies started to groan out loud as the pressure on their balls built up. Then they were yelling from the pain: “A-a-a-g-g-g-h-h!! A-a-a-h-h-h!”

“Like the pain?” Charlie yelled at them.

In between screams they both managed to answer: “Sir, yes, sir!!”

Charlie continued to press on their balls, enjoying the tormented screams from the muscular young cops, enjoying the way their dicks hardened up to full rock from the torture. Then he let up and moved away from the posts.

“OK, fuck heads, now you both can take a little rest. I’m going to get the next training torture ready for you.”

He turned to leave the room, but then reached over to the wall switch near the door and turned out the lights before he left. Once the door was closed, the room was totally dark. The two rookie cops sat on the slippery floor, their backs and heads resting against the metal pipe, their muscular legs intertwined. Charlie left the big plastic pins in their dicks, and they both still had rock hardons.

Other than the labored breathing through their noses, the only sound was the slow “glug, glug, glug” as the oil continued to sensuously slosh around their legs and ass cheeks. Stan felt Bike tense his legs a few times, a sign of friendship and affection.

“You did good, Stan,” Bike said in a very low voice.

Stan returned the gesture. “Thanks, buddy, so did you,” he replied to his unseen torture partner.

Bike then said: “What do you say we get together some time, have a few brewskies, maybe some weed. Mess around a little . . . ” His voice trailed off, but he rubbed his muscular thigh against Stan’s to complete his thought.

“Yeah, buddy,” Stan said: “I’d like that. I always enjoy a buddy fuck, especially with a hot item like you. Ever since I saw you in the shower, I knew we’d get together. Right now, I tell you, I’m fucked out,” he added as he was overcome with fatigue from the ordeal. He would tell Bike later how much he loved him.

As the hardons slowly softened, their balls and then their pinned dick heads dipped into the pooling greasetank.

Chapter 4
Endurance Test

nce a week the rookies in the special training program were subjected to an Endurance Test. The rookies were getting used to torture, pain, humiliation. That was the objective of the training, to condition them for any kind of punishment they might experience if captured by the criminals they were going to pursue. The biggest threat to the cops on the South Houston beat was the Cop Fuckers, a vicious drug group which focused on torturing captured cops, and the training program was designed to help the rookies withstand the CFer’s brutal tortures.

Stan and Bike had survived the Ball Pull through sheer muscle power and determination. This was to be Stan’s first Endurance Test. Bike had already been through several.

The two men were still sitting amidst the oil from the greasetank in the darkened room in which they had endured the Ball Pull. Charlie, the muscular cop in charge of their training, had removed their gags.

“What do you think is next?” Stan asked the more experienced Bike.

“My guess is the Endurance Test,” Bike answered. Both men were speaking in a very low voice for fear the room was bugged with microphones which would bring down Charlie’s wrath and more beatings.

“But every fucking torture we’ve had so far has been an endurance test!” Stan protested.

“Yeah, I know. But this one’s different. It’s simple, but pretty brutal,” Bike added.

“You’ve been through it?” Stan asked.

“Yeah, twice. It’s a bitch!” Bike answered. “First off, they like put a tight hood on you, with a big ass collar. There are small eye slits, so you can see, but only directly in front of you. Your hands are like strapped behind your back and connected to the collar, so you can’t lower them at all. They strap your ankles together and put a tight cock ring around your cock and balls. Then they lift you off the ground,” Bike explained.

“How do they lift you up?” Stan asked.

“There’s a big metal ring on the top of the hood and they hook onto that and use hoists, like the ones in the Meat Rack,” Bike said.

“That fucking Meat Rack was hard!” Stan said, remembering the cold shivers and steamy hot hood.

“Don’t raise your voice so high,” Bike ordered him. “Keep it low!”

“Right!” Stan replied. “I forgot.”

“So, like I said, they hoist you up until you’re standing on your fucking toes, dangling by your head. Puts a hell of a strain on your chin and neck. You’d think you’d like choke from the strain, but the fucking leather collar on the hood is thick and doesn’t collapse,” he added.

“Then what?” Stan asked eagerly.

“Then your fucking legs like cramp, that’s what!” Bike said sharply. “You want to scream from the pain in your feet and your calves, but the hood has a damned built-in cock gag, so you just like fucking gurgle to yourself. But, that’s only the beginning!” he said.

“There’s more?” Stan asked, astonished to the degree the rookies were tortured.

“Lot’s more, buddy, ” Bike said. “Like, after you’re hanging there a while, then the rest of the fucking officers come in to torment you. They really enjoy that part!” he added.

“Like what do they do?” Stan asked.

“They’re like all bare-chested, wearing only their pants and heavy boots and they hang signs on your back, like ‘Kick Me,’ and ‘Tease me,’ and, of course, all the officers are eager to oblige!” Bike said. “Last time I had one that said ‘Gut Punch Me.’ I thought I was going to fucking die! One of the cops stands in front of you, flexing his muscles, showing off his chest and arms. He grabs your cock and balls in his left hand, gets a firm grip on your gonies. Then he makes a fist with his right hand and like puts it right in front of the eye slits in the hood so you can see it. Then he like pulls back his right hand and punches you square in the fucking abs. Then another punch, and another. My abs hurt for a week after that session. I couldn’t eat for two fucking days. Kept upchucking any fucking thing I put in my mouth. Then they change the signs and I got the one that said ‘Tease Me.’”

“What the fuck was that all about?” Stan asked, amazement in his voice.

“That one’s a bitch, too,” Bike continued. “Someone like grabs you from behind. He like whips out his cock and plants it in your ass cheeks. You can feel his hairy chest rubbing into your back. Then they work up your cock. Man, they take you right to the fucking edge! You are ready to shoot! And then he grabs your balls and like fucking squeezes them as hard as he can. You scream, of course, and most guys pull up their legs, some kind of reaction to the pain. The pain stops your dick from cumming and when you pull up your fucking legs, you’re like hanging with all your weight on the hood and collar. That hurts too much so you like go back on your fucking toes, and then he squeezes again, and you like lift your legs again. They play you like a fucking puppet! And all the time you can feel this big fucking dick in your ass crack - so you know what’s going to happen eventually. Then they repeat the tease over and over, until you’re fucking crazy hanging there!”

Stan was getting a strong hard on as he listened to Bike’s depiction of what was in store for them both. He moved his legs across Bike’s sweaty thighs.

“I don’t know how to say this, Bike, but, ah,” Stan stammered, “but that whole scene is like, ah, like a fucking turn on for me.”

“I know what you mean, buddy. I like it, too,” Bike replied. “Fucking pain pigs! That’s what we are, fucking pain pigs!” he added.

“Tell me more,” Stan said, moving his hips to get some relief from his roaring hard on. The plastic pin up his dick still hurt - but that only added to his pleasure.

“All right,” Bike said. “You know about the tease, the gut punching. There’s one more: ‘Milk Me.’”

“Sounds like the opposite of the tease,” Stan said, eager to know more.

“Fucking A!” Bike said. “That’s exactly what it is. They got this vacuum machine, something like they use on a fucking cow, I guess. Your dick’s like still hard from the cock ring, and they take out the fucking plastic pin - at least for the milking. Then they stick your dick in this plastic thing and turn the machine on. It starts to suck away. ‘Course, you’re already like fucking primed from the tease. Takes about 5 seconds and you shoot your wad. Boom! Feels fantastic! One of the best fucking cums I ever had. Then the damned machine continues to suck on you, and pretty soon you’re ready for numero dos. Boom! You shoot again! Feels good! Then you start to wonder like just how much fucking more of this can you take. Fucking machine forces another cum, then another. Each one like takes longer and longer. You can like see where this is going, buddy. After number 4 or 5 you’re like screaming from the fucking pain in your plumbing. Your dick like starts to do the dry heaves. The pain is unbelievable. That’s when one of the boys saunters up behind you and starts to fuck your ass. They like grab you around the waist, lock their hands together and dig into your fucking gut, making your innards hurt even more. Jesus! I had no idea I could take that much fucking pain!”

“What happens at the end of the session?” Stan asked, fully knowing the answer.

“Well, it just becomes one big fucking gang bang! Sometimes they leave you hanging up, sometimes they take you off the hoist and strap you to a fuck horse. The officers plug your ass until they’re satisfied. When they’re done, they let your legs rest by putting you into a tight hog tie. They keep the hood on, and stick the fucking plastic dick pin back in, but they take the strap off your back, so they can do the hog. Then they throw you back in your cell. Your balls still hurt, your abs like jab you with pain every time you fucking move an inch, and your legs cramp in the other direction from the tight hog. More fucking pain!” he added.

At that moment the door burst open, flooding the room with light from the hall. Stan and Bike squinted and Bike immediately stopped talking. Charlie charged into the room, screaming at them and brandishing his whip back and forth across their chests.

“Fucking pussies! I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and you turn into a gab fest!” he screamed as he slashed the two bound rookies with the whip. Stan and Bike yelled from the pain and angry red welts popped up on their chests.

“Get up! Get the fuck up!” Charlie continued to scream at them.

Both men quickly stumbled to a standing position, sliding their backs up the metal poles, yelling and wincing from the whiplashes.

Charlie tucked the whip under his arm and re-inserted the large cock gags into the rookies’ mouths, buckling the straps behind their heads.

“There! That’s better! Now I won’t hear your girl talk,” he said. He unfastened Stan’s manacles from behind the metal pole and pushed him away from the pole. Then he did the same to Bike.

“Fuck Pig Stan! Turn around!” he ordered. Stan immediately obeyed, fearful of more whipping.

“Fuck Pig Bike! Up against Stan! Put your arms around his waist!” Charlie barked. Then he manacled Bike’s wrists against Stan’s stomach. He pulled Stan’s hands back behind his head and manacled them off. “Now, fuck pigs, march!” he ordered.

Although the two rookies were gagged, they both muffled: “Sir, yes, sir!”

They set off down the corridor, stumbling on each other’s feet due to the awkward bondage. Charlie was behind Bike, whipping him on the back and ass with the cat.

Charlie stopped them at a room labeled “Endurance Testing.” He opened the door and pushed them in. There were already two other rookies hanging from the ceiling by their hoods, forcing them onto their toes.

Several officers descended on Stan and Bike, quickly removing their manacles and preparing them for the hoods and hoists.

Charlie leered into their faces: “Get ready for another visit to hell!” he said, twisting Stan’s big hard on, still sporting the large plastic pin.

For the next six hours, the four rookie cops went through the full gamut of the Endurance Test, just as Bike had described it: “Gut Punch Me,” “Tease Me,” and “Milk Me” signs on their backs. Even hooded and gagged, the screams from the rookies could be easily heard.

At the end of the ordeal, the rookies were put into tight hog ties and large butt plugs were shoved up their asses. They were tossed into small cells. Charlie thought something special was happening between Stan and Bike, so he had them both put in the same cell. The cell was designed for only one victim, and this pressed Stan and Bike’s big bodies tightly together.

Stan started to have doubts he could take any more pain. Everything hurt: his dick, his balls, his fuck plumbing, his abs, his neck and arms, and especially his legs. He felt the heat and sweat of his buddy pushed against him. He could hear him breathing through his nose since they were both still gagged. Bike started to snore as he fell asleep.

Stan thought that if Bike could take it, he could too. They would both get through this fucking training session and when they did, they could move in together, lift weights together, spot each other real close as they squeezed out another rep, and then fuck the night away.

His cock hardened up under his belly and he clenched his ass cheeks down on the butt plug, imagining it was Bike’s big dick. Soon he also was asleep.