The Telemachus Story Archive

Research Grant
Chapter 8 - Research Grant
By JMack
Email: JMack

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Dick Grayson pulled on his own cuffs, rattling them in the brass hook that his professor had secured them too. He was a bit shocked at the severity with which his wrists had been surrounded by the shiny metal. They hadn't just been locked; the metal was biting down hard on them through the bright green material of his gloves. His forceful arms continued to flex as he struggled to determine the permanence of the situation, but it was becoming clear, in just his first few moments of bondage that this time, he wouldn't be leaving until the old man said so. There was no escape.

Walking purposefully around the solid piece of custom furniture Raynor drank in the sight of the perfectly defined male specimen he had in his possession. Grayson's body was a work of art and his attempts to free himself, although in complete vain, were very appealing. His forearms and biceps bunched and flexed against the cuffs that he himself had asked to be placed in. They were perfectly smooth, still in competition form and the veins that now protruded from them displayed the young man's virility. The strong jaw, defined clearly as the young man looked back, over his head at the unyielding manacles was just one of the features that made this boy the model like creature that he was. The brilliant green eyes seemed to be matched perfectly to the material that now pulled taut over his hips as his legs spread to either side of the surface to which he was attached continued the display of perfectly toned muscle in flexed position. The professor’s eyes lingered there for a moment, at the bright green trunks that contained the young man. It was hard not to see this beautiful example of manhood being alluring to every co-ed and a good percentage of the male student body as well.

Raynor forced himself away from his own fantasies. There was work to be done. There was a reason for bringing the boy here. He must continue.

"I am sure", Raynor said as he retreated from the center of the room to retrieve some items from his desk drawer, "that you are questioning my motives in having you come here this afternoon Mr. Grayson. Or should I say Robin?" He smiled down from above the top of the cabinet at the younger, shirtless hero. "I assure you, as the afternoon progresses into evening, I will fully disclose my intentions." The professor bent to place a small wooden box on the floor next to the credenza. The beautiful green eyes followed his hand until it came back into sight and again, almost lovingly began to caress his left bicep.

"Okay, you've had your fun. Let me out of these cuffs. I have had enough. I have things that I must attend to!" With one final, almost violent thrash he attempted to pull free of the trussing.

With a handful of flexed bicep the professor smiled down. "As I said before, you're going nowhere." In his right hand the professor held a piece of metal, about two feet long that had been bent twice at 90 degree angles. It looked to be made of old iron. Robin looked quizzically at the metal as the professor continued to feel him up. "Oh, this? You're wondering what this is for? That part of the equation has a very easy answer my handsome young prisoner." The professor smiled down upon him again, from just over his head.

Raynor loved the way the kid's eyes followed his every move. It was a detective thing he figured but he also knew that the kid, for his part, was a brilliant student. He was thinking ahead, trying to figure out why he was here like this. There was absolutely no risk of that.

Gently the older man bent so that he was nearly nose-to-nose with the young stallion that stared defiantly at him. The professor reached down, toward the center of the end of the cabinet and inserted one end of the metal that became a crank, much like a Model T would have once featured. It had slid into a ratchet inserted into gear work contained inside the furniture. In a teasing whisper, just inches from the boy's face the professor cooed, "here, let me show you what this is for." He turned the crank slowly and the credenza, built with a hinged center began to fold upward at the small of the bound student's back.

The end of the furniture on which the young hero's head rested lifted. The professor allowed the boy to rise until they were nearly touching, he could smell the fresh mint breath of the boy. Almost intoxicated from the near touch, he stood to continue. The top surface, supported from behind by two mechanical supports like those of a hospital bed folded upward. The professor continued his gentle cranking of the apparatus as the boy, who could now see himself, as well as his captor standing behind him at the head of the table smiling back at him in the reflection of the large mirror placed just feet from the other end of whatever this was he was secured to. The vision of himself, stripped to the waist and helpless in the mirror enraged him and he again began forcibly tugging at the cuffs that rose with him, mounted in the brass ring that was now apparent in the reflection, over his head, securely fixed to the heavy wood trimming of the credenza.

The top of came to rest at 70 degree angle, the boy staring at himself in the mirror, tugging defiantly on the cuffs. The professor gently removed the crank and walked confidently now to the other end of the table. He gently sat the metal crank down on the wooden surface and again took in the beautiful sight before him.

There, locked helplessly before him was The Boy Wonder. Wrists secured above his head, in his own cuffs to an unyielding hard wood structure. His body gleamed from the oil massage he had received earlier. Legs splayed to either side of the credenza bent backward to try to steady himself. His cape acted as a pillow behind his beautifully masked face. The tight trunks pulled taught over his defined midsection as his quads flexed to support himself, feet barely touching the floor.

"You are a sight to behold my young friend. A sight indeed."

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