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The Organisation: Taming of a Beast Part 1
The team-manager was furious.
How could he explain his star’s latest escapade this time? Again he would be telling the media that the sporty “just a young buck was young and full of spunk”, that he didn’t even think when he did what he did, that he had been alone with his girlfriend just fooling around when she took her cellphone out and snapped some pics of a proud young guy in front of his newest car?
The basket ball player had certainly dressed for the occasion, a jogging suit from a famous designer, the colours matching the accent colours of his new car.
Did he order the car to match the suit, or did he choose the suit to match the car?
Anyway, the picture was not dominated by the car or the suit, even the ripped chest of the player was not the problem.
The problem was his big fat 10 inch hard-on, a candy bar of impressive proportions ready to be devoured, as the manager’s assistant had lewdly pointed out.
The stupid young player had given the blond girl he fucked senseless the perfect opportunity to make some money.
Luckily, she was not as dumb as her boyfriend. She had offered the picture to the team, to the manager, not to the press.
The manager knew what to do. Right after watching her erase the picture from her phone, he personally made sure every copy was erased from every ‘cloud’. Just one of the photos remained, the one she sent him, the one he had stored in his private computer files.
She was already on her way to the airport to take a first class flight to an unknown designation, as the manager called the player to his office.
The star walked into the office as if he owned the building, the club, the world.
His impressive endowment was tucked away, but the tight sports-gear still displayed all the right curves to indicate how muscled the boy was. His round ass, his pronounced pecs, his full bulge, all screamed that he was a stud, a symbol of raw masculinity his fans adored. Male and female fans alike, they all wanted to watch him play, many of those fans envisioned themselves worshipping him, serving him, in any way possible.
The manager, however, had other things in mind.
He had to tame the beast, he had to rein in the unruly boy and make him a man, at best a man who understood the game and the business.
When the player walked in, he suddenly felt a sharp sting, and a needle injected something into his muscled upper arm.
The manager calmly watched as two muscular men in white lab-coats caught the player as he passed out and put him on a stretcher. With well-tested efficiency they strapped him down before one of the men smiled: “There you go Sir! Soon he will be that good boy you are looking for!”
The manager stood by the stretcher and caressed the player’s body. The young black man had been the object of the man’s desire for quite some time, and now, unconscious and limp, unable to resist, he was just what the manager all had seen in his young player: His prized possession, his most valuable asset, pure boyflesh he was able to use at will.
The men stayed motionless. They had seen this reaction countless times before. When someone asked for their services, trusting in their experience, it was usually a father of an unruly son, a coach of a very important sports star, a manager of a singer or actor, and all those men had one thing in common: They were ready to use the most unusual methods, seeks the most drastic means to get what they wanted.
And many of those men had secretly lusted after the boys they wanted to be ‘reformed’.
The sexy young player would soon not be chasing girls any longer. He would do what he was told, and he would receive the blessings of the latest methods of training. Soon the player and the team would see the results.
As the men in the lab-coats used a lift to transport the unconscious player down into the parking lot and a waiting van, the manager once again opened the secret website, a website only accessible with a code, a password, and face recognition.
The level of security was necessary, he had been told, to maintain the anonymity the clients needed. Insiders were able to see the faces of the trainees, but the faces of the trainers were blurred, as well as the full bodies of the men paying for the training and sometimes attending special events.
The young players manager sat back and watched. His current client was not the first athlete he had assigned to the camp, and the results of the training never had ceased to amaze him.
As a gesture, the Organisation even printed a monthly magazine, depicting the newest success stories, as usual leaving no trace of the real clients, the men behind the training.
However, the latest edition of “Sports Idols: Sex Slaves” was always something to look forward to.
The manager opened a hidden drawer in his desk by clicking a certain icon on his desktop. Again, only the highest level of security seemed appropriate.
The muscled beast on the cover of the new number had been invited to the White House, had received sponsorship contracts worth millions, and was also ready to debase himself at a simple order from his boss.
The cover showed a man after his active sports career, but was now even better equipped to satisfy his fans. The training camp the Organisation owned had muscled the player up , and even though he had lost some of the quickness he had been famous for, making him the best quarterback any team could wish for, he now had extra muscles. His physique was athletic perfection, every ounce of flesh sculpted like a masterpiece, down to his very thick and very long dick.
The manager slowly worked his own cock, for now still hidden in his expensive suit, anticipating the wonders the retired players lips would work on his thick member.
The player would be here soon, scheduled for his monthly meeting, and while his own coach would watch, the manager would test what another month in the training centre had delivered.
As he heard the knock on the door, he carefully put the magazine back and closed the secret drawer before he checked the security cameras. One thing was strikingly clear: The naked stud waiting outside looked even better than before, and the last remnant of his stubborn streak had been erased permanently, as ordered.
The manager smiled lewdly as he looked at the screen showing what the security camera filmed. He zoomed in to study the most prominent feature of the hung black stud waiting patiently, his humongous cock.
The former player, now a formidable presenter of his sport, loved by the fans and the sponsors, had debased himself by putting on a frilly piece of pink lace, a sexy thong that did not manage to hide or even hold his big fat dick.
The manager pressed a button and the door unlocked. The player walked in almost timidly.
He knew his place by now, and he did not even think as he walked around the managers desk to present his most valuable assets to the man. First his dick, than his ass. While the manager still fondled the black mans fat cock, lowly making his object of desire moan in lust, the computer indicated an incoming video-call the manager was already looking forward to.
The athlete in the room knelt and started to take the managers cock out of his trousers, while the screen showed the unruly basketball player, still on the stretcher, still unconscious, still tied up, with a man in a lab-coat examining him.
“ Hello Doctor, what do you think?” the manager asked the man on screen without even greeting him. The doctor was key to the success of the training, a most important asset to the Organisation.
While the muscled beast under his desk started to deepthroat the managers dick, he listened in to the report the doctor gave him.
While the men talked, the basketball player woke up and opened his eyes. The manager already knew he had been treated with some powerful drugs, making him open for suggestions and easy to handle.
Soon the unruly player would turn into the leagues best, an MVP both in the field and in private, worth his weight in pure gold.
The manager watched online what the doctor did to the young player. The drugs streaming through his system immobilised the jock almost fully, but his nerves worked perfectly. He was sensible to any touch, and his rampant cock showed how much he craved release.
The doctor explained the procedure in detail:
“We have to walk a thin line with this young subject. He needs to maintain his abilities on the basketball court, at best even further improve them with more strength and the ability to focus on the game, but even he needs to show a certain will to succeed there, he also needs to be a gentleman to the ladies from now on, and a good boy to his elders.”
The doctor giggled impishly while he said so, looking right into the camera mounted on the screen that showed the man he was connected to via video conference.
He knew that a much larger group watched, eagerly listening, and also eager to watch the procedure that was about to begin.
The doctor put 3D goggles on the young mans eyes, attached electrodes to his chest, pinched some alligator clamps on his nipples and wrapped a collar like device around the hard dick.
The manager knew the procedure would be painful but very effective.
The scenes the goggles showed were visible on a screen, and while the athlete reacted, the doctor could adjust the feedback by using a more or less high current to electroshock the helpless patient.
The player under the managers desk grunted, reminding the man facefucking him that he had someone servicing him. While watching the screen and the first cramping of the athlete while he felt his first reminder what would happen after a wrong response, the manager had rammed his cock all the way down the throat of the man sucking him.
The young man on the stretcher lived through heaven and hell, and thousands of paying users watched his ordeal.
“AUUrrghhmmmmm!” he screamed at one moment, while all his muscles tightened, cramping as the merciless scientist had turned up the dial to 5, of 15.
A moment later his screamed ended in a lustful moan. The scene he saw in his little world depicted by the 3D goggles had changed from a girl he fucked, which ended in a world of pain, to a mans fat dick, teasingly held right in front of the young man’s face.
When the screen’s point of view suggested he was kissing the thick dickhead right next to him, the doctor gave him impulses to feel incredible, but when he refused to mumble the words he should use to a fan or sponsor, he was shocked.
The manager grunted and moaned while the man under his desk sucked his cock like there was no tomorrow, and while he watched the ordeal his player had to go through. At the same time he checked the numbers. The broadcast generated a huge turnout.
While the boy on screen was mercilessly worked over, screaming and moaning in lust in quick succession, the manager just moaned. He held his suckers head and fucked the pouty lips that massaged his fat cock to a steamy orgasm, and even though the man had fucked an intern the night before, his nuts were full of cum again.
As he came, he held the man’s head once again, delivering a huge amount of his precious seed to the greedy mouth of the well-trained sextoy.
The reason for his load of cum was obvious: the young player on screen, the man he had signed up for a rigorous training, had also exploded into a blinding orgasm. Triggered by the feedback of the goggles and the electrodes to the scene he saw, he was shooting an even bigger load than usual.
The manager had watched what scene played for the young player: He came, as the doctor pushed a thick dildo into the boy’s ass, and the scene showed a black brute ramming his fat cock into the players tight ass.
The first training session was over with a positive feedback: Doing wrong hurts, doin right makes you feel great. To suck a dick is better then to fuck a cunt.