254 The New JE

The New JE
Part 1 of 4

“Joe, come to the front desk - we have a JE special here,” the pager boomed out, echoing throughout the gym.

While Ricky Marsh waited by the desk, he looked the place over; he was impressed by the fact that one could only enter the building by inputting a code number into a terminal. Ricky was a very high-priced, high-quality piece of goods, and he and his Boss, Mr. James Gorman, knew it. He was a brand new Harvard MBA graduate and, while a student, had won a fair portion of all the available honors. This was his first visit to the prestigious private gym called ‘The Executive Gym’ that his boss required him to attend, located less than half a block from Morgan Stanley’s head office, where he had just started working. Most of the big corporations have their own gyms on their premises for their employees, and so did Morgan Stanley, so why have another special, private gym somewhere else? Well, because financially powerful men want a place that is NOT associated with their companies, a place where they can relax and do as they please without being scrutinized by co-workers. Thus, the Executive Gym was their private playground.

And why was this new hire, Ricky Marsh, already working directly for Mr. James Gorman, the CEO of such a large company? Because Mr. Gorman wanted a bright kid at his beck and call, he liked Ricky and had big plans for him. Special plans. He personally chose Ricky, and Ricky was getting the big bucks in return.

That afternoon, just a few weeks after he’d started work, Mr. Gorman handed him a membership card to the club made out in his name. “I’ve called ahead, and they’re expecting you this morning at 10:00 for your introductory visit; it’s a special Junior Executive membership. Very, very few JEs get such a privilege.” Mr. Gorman grinned as Ricky took the card and went on to say, “And when the company gives this card, you accept it with an obligation: I expect you to use the gym regularly and to obey all their rules as well as all the staff - don’t embarrass the company. I like our employees to keep in shape. It saves on health care costs and creates a more vibrant image for the company.”

Ricky was very impressed. He’d heard of the gym only in name because none of his colleagues had ever been there, nor did they know much about it - it was an exclusive membership by invitation only. He was also a little surprised when other big-shot company executives congratulated him, all with big smiles. Things had been pretty tough for Ricky those first few weeks, but he was steadily proving himself to be a hard-working, hard-driving, and ambitious young man. His one drawback, although not considered all that important, was that he wasn’t very warm and friendly toward his co-workers: Ricky was an all-business, do the task well, take the credit, get ahead type of guy.

When Ricky arrived at The Executive Gym, he looked the place over. He noticed the other members were also looking at him, some with open curiosity and some surreptitiously. There was something judgmental about them that made him somewhat uneasy. Some smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back - making friends at the gym wasn’t what he was there for.

Just then, a man, about 40, approached Ricky and said, “Mr. Marsh? I’m Joe, and I will be your trainer for your first visit. I hope you get a lot of good out of this gym. Your Boss, Mr. James Gorman, asked me to introduce you to every feature and program here. At this club, we provide everything, including your workout equipment and clothing. First, we’ll take all your basic measurements and run some tests. That way, we’ll be able to provide customized guidance and equipment as well as have a baseline for measuring your future progress. If you step this way, we’ll enter the locker room.”

Ricky followed as Joe led him across the workout room and through a door in the far wall. The locker room was beautiful, with spacious aisles, large lockers, thick carpets, and a lot of mirrors. “Your locker has been pre-assigned. Here we are, number 128. Please remove your clothing and shoes and put them in the locker. As you can see, there are hangers and shelves for all your things. You can safely leave your valuables here as well as it will be securely locked.”

Joe then stood back to allow Ricky access to his locker and to provide him room to undress. Ricky removed his shoes and socks and put them on the bottom of the locker. Next, he took off his expensive suit coat, hung it in the locker, and removed his tie and shirt. As he unfastened his belt and lowered his tailored suit pants, Joe could tell that the boy already had an incredibly natural, slender, and toned body. The mounds of his pectorals thrust out of the front of his undershirt, and well-developed nipples poked out through the thin-ribbed cotton. His waist was slender, and his ass bulged out of the rear of his boxer shorts with as much beauty as his piqued nipples displayed in front. His legs were tanned and muscular. His entire body was worthy of his cute and boyish, perfect face. If he had any flaw, he tended to curl his upper lip whenever he was forced into contact with those he considered inferior.

As Ricky removed his undershirt, Joe judged that Ricky probably didn’t work out heavily; his nice physique seemed to be due to his good genes. His shape was naturally perfect, slender, and smooth. His chest and belly were as unblemished as a baby’s skin, except that he was tanned.

Now that he had on only his boxers, Ricky realized that there was no gym apparel in sight. He stopped undressing suddenly and said, “So, where are my workout clothes? I was given to understand that you would provide them.”

Joe grinned and nodded. “We sure will, but first, we’ve got to take some measurements just to make sure they’ll fit you just right. And anyway, there are a few things we’ve gotta do that gym clothes would just get in the way of. Get those shorts off, and we’ll get started with your height and weight.” Joe showed him his clipboard and added, “I’ve got all these forms to fill out, and the sooner we get started, the better.”

Something about the whole thing made Ricky a little uneasy, but he had strict instructions from Mr. Gorman to comply. After a short pause, he bent over and dropped his boxer shorts, pulling them off over his now bare feet, leaving himself completely naked. Fortunately, he had full confidence in his body and was aware of Joe’s admiring looks as he finished placing his underwear in his locker. He found that people generally stared at him, and he felt he deserved those stares.

Joe then closed the locker door and placed a Master lock on it to secure Ricky’s possessions.

“Oh. My locker key?” Ricky asked.

“Don’t worry about that, you’re naked - I’ll hold it for you,” Joe said in a relatively flat tone, but Ricky felt a little weird that his clothes were now locked away and he had no immediate access to them without first going through Joe.

“OK, come on, Mr. Marsh - time to get you weighed and measured.” Joe patted him on the butt in a good sport sort of way, but Ricky wondered if his hand lingered on his ass cheek a bit longer than it needed to. He’d been admired by men before, but only at a distance and never by a mere menial worker. Joe then took his arm, like a little boy’s, and led him toward the door. “Come on, let’s get to the scale.” Ricky was starting to get seriously irritated by this guy.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you’re going to keep your hands off me, understand? This body is not for the likes of you to be touching.” Joe just chuckled.” And I’m not going anywhere without clothes.” Joe heard all of this before. “Look, just get me some shorts and…”

At that, Joe abruptly picked up Ricky and placed him on his shoulder as Ricky continued to protest. “Easy, Ricky. I’m responsible for teaching you how to work out and get the most out of our establishment, and I have limited time to do that. Your clothes will have to wait. With one thing or another, my hands might be all over you at any given time, so just cool it. Don’t be so uppity.” But Ricky still struggled as he was carried. “Just calm down, or I’ll have to report you to Mr. Gorman. The weigh-in comes first.” Then Joe walked him out of the locker room onto the main gym floor and set him down.

His first thought was to dart back into the locker room, but the idea that he might be reported to his new boss made a sea-change in this thinking. “Now, come along, please.” Suddenly Ricky was horrified to realize that Joe had swung his arm around his waist and was forcibly ushering, completely naked, to the center of the workout. There must have been three dozen men out there, all of them older.

He had been told at the front desk when he arrived that every one of the men working out there was a top executive in a corporation or was at least a big money maker in his various field. At first, he didn’t understand why his boss had given him a membership. But, he eventually came around to thinking it might be because it was a great opportunity to catapult him in his career. If he played his cards right, he could use these Wall Street big shots to his advantage. So just at that moment, he began to feel a lack of control. He also realized he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it, either. His chief concern was that those executives, all of whom were powerful and senior to him, wouldn’t respect him if they saw him in an argument with Joe or the other staff. No, if he was going to impress them, he couldn’t be seen as being manhandled, especially by a mere gym instructor! So, despite his discomfort at the moment, he decided it would be best to go with the flow and just ease into the situation and let things happen before making any waves.

So he straightened up and continued to walk onto the gym floor with as much dignity as any naked man could muster. He even managed to escape Joe’s controlling arm without making it obvious. And Joe had to hand it to him - Ricky was good! His facial expression was almost as cool and calm as anyone else’s. Only a slight wildness in his eyes betrayed a hidden panic as Ricky tried to figure out where the hell he was being escorted all bare-ass naked, especially when he was the only one who was naked!

Joe motioned to a raised platform in the center of the main gym floor, not far from the gym’s large plate glass windows. It was like a stage - there was a scale and a small table with some implements on it that suggested he would be measured right there in the open, in full view of every man in the room.

Ricky stepped up onto the platform while glancing as casually as he could around the room. What he saw made him feel even more vulnerable: every man in the room watched him intensely. There wasn’t even a pretense of them being occupied with their workouts. No, he was being eaten alive by every pair of eyes, and the men grinning ear-to-ear were the worst. What was going on? Were they playing a game with him? Was he being punked? If so, he didn’t like it … at all. In his mind, Ricky was playing various scenarios of what he would say to Mr. Gorman to explain why he left the gym and refused to participate, but he assumed, and rightly so, that no reason he could cook up would be acceptable to his Boss at Morgan Stanley.

Naked as the day he was born, he had been paraded out onto the gym floor where there was a permanent raised platform with a scale on it. He was then made to step up onto the stage-like structure to allow Joe, with the help of a few other members, to weigh and measure his body. Ricky was so embarrassed! Ricky didn’t yet realize that for their own amusement, the Wall Street moguls of the Executive Gym deliberately or orchestrated erotic and humiliating procedures they put each of their new JEs through. This, after all, was the purpose of creating such an exclusive, private club in the first place. As part of their routine, they pretended to make the entire measuring process seem difficult and awkward, drawing it out to embarrass and tease the new JE. Well ... when you have that kind of wealth, you can do almost anything to anyone.

Of course, there was no way the men could have kept their eyes off of him as he stepped up on the stage. Ricky was beautiful in the flesh, with his buttocks lightly jiggling and his big, relaxed cock swaying with each step. In their eyes, he was a walking wet dream. He was flawless and completely on display.

Joe had him step on the scale and then slowly adjust the balance weights until he could read off “131 pounds,” which he filled in on Ricky’s records. Next, he extended the height bar and lowered it until it just touched the top of Ricky’s perfectly groomed hair. “Make sure you’re standing up straight,” Joe shouted as if he wanted all the men in the room to hear him. He then lightly slapped the naked Junior Executive on the bare ass. “No slouching, now.” Ricky’s cheeks burned with a pinkish glow of embarrassment as he held himself as upright as possible - he was always a little sensitive about being a shorter-built man. “Five feet, eight inches.” Joe wrote that down on the form and then raised the bar again. “Nice body on you for such a little guy. Come on over here now, and I’ll get your other measurements.”

Joe then had Ricky step up on what looked like a box, about a foot higher than the platform level. “Face me, Mr. Marsh.” Ricky was almost sick with humiliation. For now, he was completely visible from any point in the room, and a few of the men had even come over to watch a little more closely. Ricky also couldn’t help but notice people walking by just outside the window, some of whom were glaring in his direction. He wasn’t only embarrassed. He was starting to feel ashamed, too. Then Joe picked up a tape measure and reached around Ricky’s waist, carefully adjusting and tightening it into position. “29 inches. Beautiful. And look at that skin!” But Joe was having real or contrived trouble in measuring and recording all the required measurements. “Sam, Peter, would you two step up here and give me a hand? Junior needs a full workup,” Joe said to two nearby members. ‘Junior’ was short for ‘Junior Executive,’ usually abbreviated as ‘JE,’ but using just ‘Junior’ made it feel demeaning, which Joe felt was appropriate for his authoritative purposes. He then handed the tape to Sam, who, with Peter’s assistance, placed it carefully around Ricky’s chest, making sure the tape ran over the peaks of the boy’s pointed nipples. Sam and Peter unabashedly adjusted the tape several times, running their fingers over Ricky’s pecs and giving his big round tits a squeeze or two. “God, these tits are nice, Joe. They’re just like a young woman’s.” Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Joe recorded the measurement.

Ricky was almost whining at that point - he just wanted to get out of there. “Please, just get it over with, Joe, can’t you?” He knew that Joe was just waiting for him to try to resist, giving him an excuse to further manhandle him in front of an audience.

“Oh, you’re anxious for me to move on to measure the other parts of your body, which you seem to like to strut around in the buff, showing off? OK, then, we’ll hurry,” Joe said sarcastically, winking at his buddies. “OK, guys, let’s do the hips.”

Their method was odd, Ricky thought. Instead of one man handing an end of the measuring tape to the other and wrapping it around his hips, Peter struggled to do the entire measurement himself. Peter stooped before Ricky, pressing his chest against Ricky’s limp dick. He then placed the middle of the cloth measuring tape at Ricky’s belly button and then reached around in a bear hug fashion to the center of his back with each end of the tape. Peter was wearing a low-cut scoop front T-shirt, so when he stooped to ‘hug’ the boy close for the measurement, he managed to get Ricky’s loose dick to go inside the top of his muscle Tee. And Peter held that position, seemingly having difficulty bringing the tape ends together just above the ass cheeks while Ricky’s dick nestled snuggly against Peter’s hairy chest. All the while, Peter pretended to be totally unaware of it.

And Sam, instead of helping Peter bring the tape ends together, just let Peter have all the fun doing it himself until Peter called out in pretend frustration. “Hey Sam, I can’t see behind Junior. Do I have this at the right level? Is the tape too high?”

“Yeah, too high. Just bring the ends down toward his ass crack a couple of inches to make it level around his hips, just above his asshole.”

Peter then moved the tape around - all around. He let the tips of his fingers slide maddeningly up and down the boy’s deep crack as if to feel for the correct measuring position, occasionally poking his fingers out of sight between the full, rounded mounds. Ricky jumped, not only because his ass crack was being teased and tickled, but as Peter held the tape back there, he intentionally moved his chest from side to side to rub it against Ricky’s dick, an added bonus of sensation. By then, more men had moved closer to get a good look at the antics these guys were inflicting on the poor boy, obviously enjoying the way Peter was stooped in a bear hug, pretending to have difficulty measuring. Of course, it was all just a show for their entertainment, as they all knew this was the way newcomers always get teased and abused.

“OK, Pete, you have it lined up just right now. Let me read it for you.” But Ricky wasn’t really listening to them because now he was freaking out about not just all the unexpected fondling and molesting but also at all the people staring at him with their faces pressed against the glass at the front counter and the front door.

“I need to go, guys. I think I’ve had enough here. Please, I’m leaving now.” With that, Ricky surprised everyone, not because he was asking to leave, but because he had put up with so much manhandling and teasing before asking to leave.

“Not a problem,” Joe stepped in to say. He then pulled out his cell and dialed a number on the phone he kept handy for just such a purpose. Speaking into the receiver, Joe said, “Hi, Mr. Gorman. This is Joe at The Executive Gym. You wanted me to call you about Mr. Marsh.” There was a pause. “No, we aren’t done yet; we’re in the middle of measuring him up for his start point and his uniform.” More silence. “I know you hope he does well in his custom workout program.” More silence. “How’s he doing? Well, Mr. Gorman, Ricky is telling me that he … well … he … ah … let me put him on so he can tell you for himself.” Joe then held the phone toward Ricky and whispered in a low voice, “Here, you talk to your boss. He just told me you’ll be let go if you’re having issues following staff directions here. But I’ll let you tell him that you’re quitting Morgan Stanley instead.”

Ricky was shocked to hear that. He didn’t realize he’d be fired from his fabulous Wall Street job if he refused the gym membership. Ricky was aghast in horror! How could he lose the best job he had ever had or would ever get? He started to shake his head no, but when he realized he had no other choice, he took the phone thrust at him.

Trying to control his stutter, Ricky said, “Ah … Mr. Gorman, Sir? Yes, I want to tell you something important, Sir. I … I am having second thoughts about ...” but then he reflected on losing his dream job, and the prestige and the megabucks that went along with it, and quickly reconsidered. “I mean … Sir, ah ... I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate that you have honored me with this fantastic gym membership.” Then Mr. Gorman asked him a few questions. Ricky replied, “Yes, Sir, Joe is a wonderful, very professional instructor.” And then, “Of course, I am doing as I am told and deeply respect the entire staff here. Yes, Sir.” Then a pause. “Oh, I didn’t know, Sir. So most of these members here are your friends and business associates? Yes, Sir.” And then, “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir, I will respect them all.” And then, “Yes, Sir. Bye, Sir.” Ricky then returned the phone to Joe after ending the call.

“I’m sorry, Joe, if I offended you or anyone else here,” Ricky said sincerely in a loud enough voice so that those around him could also hear. I’m just nervous about doing well in my new job, pleasing my boss... I mean Mr. Gorman…and because this is my first time here.” Joe said it wasn’t a problem and that he understood. He then put the phone back in his pocket and proceeded with the next set of measurements.

The measuring seemed to go on forever. By the time they were finished, Joe, Sam, and Peter had had the tape measure all over Ricky’s thighs, calves, ankles, biceps, and neck; even his feet were measured for proper shoe size. The data the men had taken was complete enough that it could have been used to replicate Ricky’s body by computer imaging.

“All right, we’re done.”

Ricky finally relaxed upon hearing that and uttered an “At last!” under his breath. But even though Ricky was now complying as best he could, he was not happy at having been fondled. Somebody would pay for that, and as soon as he got out of this mess, he would prioritize that.

The New JE
Part 2 of 4

Joe put the tape away and got out a stopwatch. “Now we’ll establish your base heart rate and then see how it reacts to some aerobic exercises.” He took Ricky’s wrist and started the stopwatch after a few seconds.

Ricky stared at him in disbelief. He also wondered where his gym clothes were. After all, that had just happened, he wasn’t also going to put up with being a naked exhibit in a public place! He jerked his wrist away from Joe and exclaimed, “Hey! I want my gym clothes now! You’ve got all the measurements you need. Come on, cut the fooling around!” He was pissed.

Joe just smiled. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. We don’t keep a stock of gym uniforms around like ‘one size fits all.’ Every single piece of clothing and equipment, even your shoes, will be handmade to order based on these specifications. The top dogs who own this place spare no expense for themselves or the JE they send here. Your clothes will be ready in a few days, I’ll call you then, and you can come in to try them on to see if any adjustments are necessary. But for now, just relax. We’ve got a few more things to take care of as part of your introductory visit.” That last line sounded a little menacing.

Ricky felt he needed to take a firmer stand: he didn’t want to keep looking like a naked fool, especially in front of all those high-powered execs. “Well, then, we’ll just finish up when I come in for the fitting. I have work to do right now, and I can’t stay here all afternoon. I’ve got to get back to the office. Mr. Gorman will want me back there soon.” He turned and started to step off the platform.

“I don’t think so,” Joe said, grabbing Ricky by the wrist and jerking him back around. Ricky almost tripped as he spun around, stumbling against Joe’s hard body. He managed to catch himself but then yelped as Joe gave him a hard smack on his ass. “Your Boss set this up and scheduled you to be here for the whole afternoon. There’s no way you can leave early and still keep your job. Your time is already bought and paid for. He told us specifically that this visit takes priority, so think again. Do you really want to leave now? And I mean, quit here as well as quit Morgan Stanley? It’s your call, not mine.” The two men locked stares at each other for a while, eye-to-eye, until Ricky finally flinched and looked down.

Ricky continued to struggle a little, more of a pretense intended to signal he was not so easy to push around. He realized he could not get away from Joe’s strong grip. He was just making a fool of himself. More importantly, he knew he needed to comply with his boss’s directly expressed wishes to stay at the gym for the full procedure, and there was no escaping it. Without realizing it, he was already becoming more compliant. Finally, he bluntly said to Joe, “OK, OK! Let’s get on with it, then. What do I have to do now?”

Joe grinned as he took a firmer grip on Ricky’s wrist, knowing he would soon have complete control over this handsome, muscle-toned young man. “Just stand here and relax while I take your pulse. That shouldn’t be too hard for a strong boy like you.” The men around the stage giggled. As Joe occupied himself with the stopwatch, Ricky tried to relax and stare into space, but his eyes always came back to the large glass panel in front, watching to see who was there looking in and seeing him naked. And he was still a little freaked out that all the men in the gym kept ogling his exposed flesh. Most stood around, adjusting their position occasionally to get a better angle on his nipples, ass, or dick, not even pretending to be working out. He wondered if this was how women felt when they were being undressed by men’s eyes, but of course, no undressing was necessary here; this felt more like he was being fucked by men’s eyes. Unexpectedly, his asshole gave a little twinge at the thought.

“Relax! Your pulse rate is way up there. We have to get it down to normal before we can start. Come here and lay down on this padded table,” Joe said as he gestured toward a movable massage table on the gym floor next to the platform.

Joe then moved over, patted the top of the table, and said, “Here, lie on the table on your back and take some deep breaths.” Ricky stepped off the platform but was hesitant to lay belly-up - the way these men were looking at his dick, they’d probably take it as some sort of an invitation, but having no choice, he did as he was told.

“Just relax. Stop tensing up.”

The men in the vicinity sighed with lust as they ran their eyes over his full, rounded pecs. Ricky’s smooth skin was a light tan. His slim belly was highlighted by a cute little ‘inny’ navel. His proportionally sized, circumcised cock lay full and heavy as it draped over his ball sac. Ricky was the only one whose breathing slowed down while he lay there with his body full display.

Meanwhile, Joe kept his fingers on the boy’s wrist, finally declaring that his heart rate was normal again. “OK, now we’ll do a few exercises and re-check it afterward. Stand up and start running in place.” Ricky dismounted the table and started running. “OK. Lift those knees higher … higher.”

Ricky ran as instructed, completely unaware of the delight he was causing in the room due to his jiggling ass and bouncing cock, and following orders to keep lifting his knees higher just made his cock flop around more. And from the smirk on Joe’s face, it was obvious that was the only reason he kept pushing Ricky to raise his knees higher and higher. After a couple of minutes, Joe had him stop and then took his pulse immediately. “A little high - you haven’t been keeping in shape much, have you, Junior?” Joe laughed.

Then Joe moved away and barked, “Over here, Junior. Stand with your back to me and spread your legs about shoulder width.” Ricky did. “A little wider … wider. OK. Now put your left foot in front of you. Now bend your body forward and try to flatten your chest and belly along your left leg. Reach both hands down and clasp your left ankle - this is a test of flexibility. Bend over more … more. Any pain in the back of your legs?” Ricky likely never saw how the men surrounding him in this ass-up, folded-over stance were discreetly salivating.

Ricky reported no pain but pointed to where he felt a strong muscle pull. Joe then had him repeat the same movement on the right side, then alternate a few times. On about the fifth deep bend, Ricky looked between his legs as he bent over and caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror at the edge of the platform. He gasped in shock - it was so fucking obscene! His full, round ass cheeks were spread wide above his long muscular legs, completely exposing his deep ass crack to the entire room. He gave a perfect view of his little pink asshole to every guy who cared to look, and they all cared to look. But rather than admit that he realized what was going on, Ricky instead pretended he hadn’t noticed anything at all. As soon as Joe permitted, he straightened himself up into a standing position. He thought this would be his new approach to all these stupid antics: he’d ignore them as best he could and pretend not to notice anyone staring. Ricky reasoned that if they knew how humiliated he felt, he’d just look like more of a fool than he did already. Again, Joe took his pulse. “Boy, that shot right up there! That really got your heart going, didn’t it, Junior?” Joe then continued with a few more simple exercises, waiting for Ricky’s pulse to return to normal. And now that Ricky understood the game and had resigned himself to play along, it wasn’t quite so bad. He was getting to the point where he could ignore the audience, and even the front bay windows, and just concentrate on Joe and completing his current gym assignment as his boss wanted him to do. A good, overall feeling resulting from the exercises was also starting to spread through his body, leaving him with a warm, pleasant, albeit tired sensation after all that exertion.

“OK, now, we’ll go around, and I’ll show you the basic usage of each of these machines. This will also be a good opportunity for you to meet the gentlemen who happen to be here today.” Joe took Ricky’s arm as if he were a little boy and walked him, still naked, over to the pull-up machine. This was a simple machine at which a guy would grab ahold of the horizontal bar above his head, pull himself up, and then let himself down repeatedly.

“Oh, I know how to do this,” Ricky said as he immediately grabbed the bar, bent his knees to keep his feet off the floor, and did a dozen pull-ups with no problem. He was showing off, simultaneously displaying his marvelous back muscles to the nearby group. Everyone stopped and just stared in amazement and with obvious pleasure.

But Joe wasn’t pleased. As soon as Ricky dropped back to the floor, Joe grabbed his arm, nearly dragged him a short distance away, and harshly whispered in his ear, “Don’t you ever tell me or anyone else here that you already know how to use this equipment. Do you understand me? These executives are here, in part, to teach new people, especially the JE. It makes them feel good. From now on, just pretend you don’t know or that you need assistance using everything here, at least for the first time.” Ricky felt embarrassed and shook his head, indicating that he understood and would obey.

“Good, now let’s move on.”

Next, Joe ushered the boy to the arms press machine, which a good-looking white-haired man of about 60 was using. Joe pointed out how the machine worked as the older man continued to work his arms in and out. When the man finally paused, Joe took the opportunity to introduce them to each other. “Mr. Handler, this is Ricky Marsh, James Gorman’s new Junior Exec. I think I mentioned that he would be here today. Ricky, this is Mr. Rich Handler, CEO of Jefferies Group. Mr. Handler is one of our regulars who was always interested in “training” our new JEs.” Of course, Ricky knew of the Jefferies Group, and he knew who the CEO was by name, but he had never met him before. Ricky felt overwhelmed just by being in the presence of a wheeler-dealer who moved 100’s of millions of dollars every day.

The older man got up and slowly began looking Ricky up and down. He was neither smiling nor threatening; as Joe had said, he simply appeared to be interested in a new JE. Mr. Handler reached out a hand, and Ricky moved to shake it, but his hand slid right by Ricky’s and instead grabbed him by the bicep.

“Soft. Needs work, boy. See to it, you use this machine a lot. The CEO of Morgan Stanley doesn’t like weaklings, you know.” He then reached lower and grabbed Ricky by the waist on both sides. “This isn’t bad, though. Great trim shape, even if not all that muscular. Don’t want to get too muscular - you’d lose that nice, trim look. Turn around.” Not waiting, he spun Ricky around by the waist.

“Oh, yeah! Your ass is great, son. Don’t ever let anybody talk you into working it too hard,” he said while running his hands over Ricky’s bare ass. “Soft as a baby’s. Oh, yeah. Keep it that way.”

Then, suddenly turning rather dominant, Mr. Handler grabbed Ricky by the arm and pushed him to sit on the padded seat of the arm-press machine. “Here, sit down. Try it out,” and in a few moments, he and Joe had him going on the machine. As Ricky pushed the bars out and away from his chest and then pulled them back again, repeatedly, Mr. Handler reached down behind him to where his lovely ass stuck out of the open back of the seat of the machine.

As Ricky worked out, Mr. Handler softly stroked the young man’s ass, letting his fingers trail teasingly up and down the deep crack between the big, rounded buns. Ricky was beginning to freak out. Men like Mr. Handler were just too powerful to resist – on a whim, they could just as easily advance him in business as kick him out the door. Ricky glanced around the gym and realized, as he had already been told, that all these men were power brokers. In his first three weeks at Morgan Stanley, he had come across the names of a lot of these men, but, as of yet, he had never met any; he didn’t now want to take the risk of antagonizing anyone, so he knew he had better not complain or even resist the touches of anyone there.

At least next time, Ricky reasoned, he’d have clothes on. He was certainly beginning to realize what a tease his naked body was, but once it was covered with shorts and a T-shirt, he was sure nobody would look at him twice. But then he suddenly had a worrying thought: if this was a private facility, there were likely no traditional gym rules for members to follow, so he wondered what rules there were instead.

A few minutes later, he found himself at the next piece of equipment, being introduced to an even more powerful senior exec, Mr. Rex W. Tillerson, CEO of Exxon Mobil Corp. Ricky reached out to shake his hand, but Mr. Tillerson simply put his hands on the boy’s shoulders in order to guide him into the angled leg press machine. This machine was a little awkward, so Mr. Tillerson told Ricky to place himself on his back, after which the CEO helped to guide Ricky’s legs into place. A flat push bar was placed about three feet above Ricky’s nipples with metal wells where the user’s feet would be placed. Not only did Ricky find himself wedged into a cramped, balled-up body position in the machine, but the footwells mounted on the push bar were a full four feet apart, so it actually took an assistant, in this case, Mr. Tillerson, to get him fully into the machine and his feet inserted in their proper place.

Ricky was pretty much squeezed in, on his back, with his knees up over his chest and his lower legs sticking straight up. Mr. Tillerson then guided the boy’s feet into each well, causing Ricky’s bare feet and legs to spread four feet apart, more or less locking the boy into a tight position. His five-foot-three frame was folded in half.

All the while, Ricky was thinking a few things. First, he couldn’t wait until he received permission to do the exercise and could push the bar upward so that he could straighten out his legs - then he wouldn’t feel so cramped. Second, he felt completely embarrassed as this machine held him so that his bare ass was sticking out. As he lay there inside the machine, he also became aware that his current position restricted his breathing, causing him difficulty fully expanding his chest. He was OK, but he badly wanted someone to release the pin holding the push bar down so that he wouldn’t look so obscene or feel so silly and, more importantly, open up his breathing passage. A small crowd of exec members gathered around as he patiently waited for someone to tell him to begin the exercise.

“Mr. Marsh,” the CEO of Exxon Mobil began, “Are you ready to try out this new machine of ours?” Ricky gave a weak nod. “OK, then let me explain how it works. This is really more of an isometric muscle-toning machine. There is very little movement, and mostly you will use your legs to apply pressure to the push bar. It’s not going to move much, and I will tell you when to apply upward pressure on the push bar with your legs and for how long to hold it before you relax. Then we will repeat that a few more times. Not much more to it than that. When I release the locking pin, the hydraulic cylinder will apply added weight to the push bar, pushing your feet downward. We’ll start slowly and then build up.”

Ricky was stunned. He had assumed he would be pushing the bar upward far enough to straighten out his legs, stretching his long muscles, and then he could breathe deeper. He also realized how obscenely his ass was pushed out in this position. He was uncomfortably aware that like this, his bare ass, dick, and balls were fully on display to anyone standing at the foot-end of the exercise machine, and, even worse because his feet were being held four feet apart, his ass crack was now open wide and his asshole was in plain view. He was totally open and on display at the far end of the machine, and, naturally, that’s exactly the position Mr. Tillerson moved into.

“Mr. Marsh, I am releasing the locking pin, but don’t press up yet. Don’t fight the machine; let the weight gradually push your feet downward.” Then there was a whirring sound.

Ricky began to panic and weakly managed to say, “Please. Please! Don’t, please! I can’t breathe!”

“Nonsense. As the machine pushes your feet downward, spread your knees so they don’t push up against your chest. That would restrict your breathing, so spread ‘em, boy!”

Ricky quickly reacted because he felt as if he were trapped in a closing vise. He immediately opened his thighs wide so that his knees were now aiming to be positioned on each side of his chest.

“That’s it, Mr. Marsh. Move your knees even wider apart and let the machine slowly fold you in half. No need to panic. Just relax.” And then Mr. Tillerson stopped the movement. “Soon, I will tell you to push up on the foot bar. You won’t be able to move it, but all the muscles in your trunk and your legs will get a great workout as you exert them in this effort.” Ricky was trying to relax, but he was weirded out and breathing quickly and in shallow breaths.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Your current position is a little tough on your hips, so I will activate an adjustment in the padded bench your back is resting on.” Then came another whirrrrr, and Ricky felt the bench under his ass begin to lift. His ass was already up in the air, but nothing supported it. As the lower part of the bench raised into a tilted angle, it lifted his ass up even higher and actually did make it feel more supported and comfortable. Now his spine was gently curved, his head was flat on the bench, and his lower back and ass were nicely curved upward. The whirring stopped.

“With your lower back more comfortable now, we can apply more pressure down onto your feet and make your knees rest on the padded bench, one on each side of your torso.” Whirrrr. “There. Now we are ready to do a little exercise, Mr. Marsh. OK, now try to push the foot bar upward. Don’t push too hard - it won’t move, and we don’t want you to strain yourself. Only push lightly, at least at first. Push lightly and hold it to the count of 10.”

And so that’s what Ricky did.

“Breathe slowly.”

Ricky carefully obeyed every command because he didn’t know what he had gotten himself into and needed these men to get him out of it. He instinctively understood that he had to obey and cooperate fully and that he needed to be agreeable to everyone for his own good.

But Ricky was trembling. He was freaked out. He was sweating. He was totally naked, all folded up in a sort of ball, imprisoned by a machine, totally at the mercy of strangers. Naturally he was shaking!

“Mr. Marsh, you’re trembling! Are you in any discomfort? You really aren’t being hurt – you’re simply on this machine to do mild exercises. OK, relax…we’ll calm you down. A little massaging might help you to relax.”

Mr. Tillerson nodded to the few men closest to Ricky’s ass end, and at once, they knew what to do. They had all toyed with JE in this gym before, specifically on this piece of equipment.

“Now, Mr. Marsh, press on the foot bar and hold it for as long as you can. Remember, don’t push hard, but just try to apply a little pressure continuously.” Ricky did just that, and as he did, one of the men began brushing his fingertips up and down the length of Ricky’s very vulnerable and wide-open ass crack. The unexpected sensation felt so wonderful and so delightful that Ricky stopped pressing the bar in order to fully appreciate this new-found pleasure.

“No! Keep pressing, Mr. Marsh.”

Ricky resumed applying pressure, and immediately the tickling resumed in his upturned ass crack. Meanwhile, another man began to lightly tickle Ricky’s hanging balls simultaneously. It was suddenly too titillating for Ricky, causing him to stop the exercise again, at which point the teasing stopped. It was so frustrating! When Ricky pressed the foot bar again, on his own, the teasing began again. But, every time he stopped because of the pleasant distraction of the touching or when his muscles were about to just give out, the touching stopped, too. But when he pressed on the bar, the wonderful erotic teasing resumed. Yet no words were spoken, and no one touched his dick, which was now bobbing, and no one inserted anything into his asshole, which was now in spasms. Ricky stopped shaking, but he continued to sweat. For the first time, he was beginning to feel happy about doing isometric exercises.

The CEO of Exxon Mobil smiled at Ricky’s efforts. “Very nice. Beautiful. A perfect boy. A perfect bottom. A perfect bottom boy.”

One man came up at close range, looked directly at Ricky’s asshole, and observed, “Obviously never been used.” And then he turned to the senior trainer, Joe, who was just silently standing and watching, and said, “Have you given him his medical exam yet, Joe?”

“No, not yet. We wanted to get him introduced to the equipment first.” Joe said.

So there was Ricky, trapped in the machine, his knees bent to either side of his chest, his ass lifted in the air, wondering who those other men were teasing him, controlling him. He felt the fingers, but whose fingers were they? Who was fondling his ass crack and his balls? Should he try to stop them? But who in the fuck would ever want to risk displeasing or insulting such mighty chief execs? One might be the head of Bank of America for all he knew! He sure wasn’t about to tell anyone there to stop doing anything! And although he had resigned himself to the fact that he had to do whatever he was told, he couldn’t help but wonder what these powerful Wall Street men intended to do to him.

And what was that about a medical exam? At a gym?

The New JE
Part 3 of 4

Reminder: You may remember the guys in this story…

Ricky Marsh, 23, Harvard Grad, newly hired JE (Junior Executive) to Mr. Gorman
Joe, Senior Gym Trainer
James Gorman – CEO of Morgan Stanley
Robert Ryan – CFO of Citibank
Charles Munger – VP of Berkshire Hathaway
Michael Corbat - CEO of Staples
Robert Iger – CEO of Disney
James Skinner – Comptroller of Hewlett Packard
Erroll Davis Jr. - Board Member of General Motors

Joe laughed. “No. Before the exam, I thought I’d introduce him around first.” Ricky couldn’t believe his ears. A medical exam? What the hell was that all about?

Joe grinned at the helpless lad. “Don’t worry, kid. Every man in this place today is qualified to give a gym physically. You’ll get nothing but the best.”

Ricky tried to explain, “I just had a physical for my job. Anything you need to know, you can get from that. I only allow a doctor to fool with my body.”

“Ah, so you let your doctor fool with your body, do you?” Joe said.

Ricky blushed. “No, I just mean that he’s the only one I let …” He was flustered. Anything he could say would sound weird now.

“So he’s the only one you let feel your balls for a hernia? Shove his finger up your ass to check your prostate?” Joe laughed. “Well, that’s starting to change already, isn’t it? Come on, Junior. I know you want to lay there all day with your ass in the air, but we have work to do.” He then slapped the kid hard across his asshole.

Ricky squealed in pain. “Yow! Cut it out!”

“Come on, then,” Joe said. Ricky squirmed his way out of the embrace of the machine, uncomfortably aware of the older man’s fingers still fondling his balls and asshole as he did. They made their way from one machine to the next, going through something of the same process each time. Ricky also began to be aware that his ass must be starting to redden from all the slaps Joe was giving it, and embarrassing as it was, he was also aware that his cock was gradually swelling. It wasn’t hard by any means, but it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t fully soft either. It swayed heavily from side to side as he walked.

About half an hour later, he finished meeting most of the men in the room and had tried each of the machines Joe wanted him to. It was more like he had been put onto or into every machine. Joe wanted him to feel helpless and powerless, so most of the machines were set beyond his strength to operate. He was feeling more and more like a little kid in the presence of all those wealth brokers of Wall Street.

“OK, time for your physical.” The moment Ricky had dreaded was upon him. “Let’s get to it, Junior,” Joe said as he walked him over to the portable table he had been on before. “We’ll use this table. Sit on the end of it, and we’ll check your reflexes.” Ricky climbed up and sat as directed, his cock draped over it between his legs, but at least his asshole was out of sight for the moment. Joe tapped one knee first and then the other, declaring, “All normal.”

“Now we’ll take your temperature.” Ricky opened his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry; I don’t have an oral thermometer, just a rectal one,” Joe laughed. “So, up on your hands and knees.” Ricky stared at him, then began to understand. As much as Ricky had already put up with this embarrassing nonsense, and as much as he wanted to ignore the insane humiliation, he just couldn’t keep letting it go on.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ricky said in a strong tone. “That’s going too far. Come on, Joe. Enough is enough.”

Joe smiled, “Look, I don’t have a problem with you leaving. I understand you’re being paid a handsome six-figure salary at Morgan Stanley.” Joe paused, then added. “And it’s no skin off my nose if your Boss fires you.” Ricky didn’t move. “Look, you’re a good-looking, adorable, handsome kid. Nothing is going to happen here that will harm you. Well, maybe just your pride. But you know what they mean when they say, ‘Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?’ Same here. No one else will ever know. Do you think the CEO of Morgan Stanley hired you for your brains? OK, you’ve got brains, but so does every guy coming out of an Ivy League school. He hired you for your good looks and nice body. Therefore, if he can’t enjoy that as he and his cronies wish, he’ll just get the next cute grad off the bus.” Joe was saying all of this in earnest, and, of course, Joe was gay. But regardless, his insight into Ricky’s job situation was true: if he wasn’t careful, Ricky could be out of a dynamite job before the day ended.

“Joe, I can’t. I’m not gay. Please get me out of this and help me to keep my job. Please.” Ricky pleaded.

“One of the reasons Mr. Gorman hired you was because he knew you were straight. So being ‘not gay’ is exactly the deal he wanted; something about subduing his prey.” Joe paused, then added, “This may surprise you, but I don’t care if you stay and comply or decide to leave, which means you will also be leaving your job. If you do leave, they’ll be another cutie here next week in your place and earning your six-figure salary.

And Ricky wanted his job and a high six-figure salary. Even more so, he wanted the prestige of having such a position in the world of high finance. He considered for a moment that this very private and exclusive gym should provide him with considerable discretion (after all, he had to enter by using a private code at the front door terminal pad), but then he looked up toward the huge glass windows in the front of the building where he saw people walking back and forth and wondered just how private and secure this place really was. He wondered how much people could see inside from the sidewalk - he hadn’t yet realized that the windows were one-way glass - everyone could see out, but no one could see in.

When he entered the building, he was too excited and nervous to notice that fact. And upon leaving, he would likely be in such an erotic state that he would ignore the windows. The powerful people who set this all up didn’t want newcomers to know very much; I mean, one would figure it out at some point, but having a boy feel as if he were on naked display to the entire fucking world would feed the objective of getting him to feel more vulnerable and less in control. And to the powerful execs who were members there, that would indeed be a perfect situation.

“Now, Ricky, I will do one huge favor for you. I won’t tell Mr. Gorman that we had this discussion. It’ll just be between us. So, right now, the great news is you get to keep your job!” Joe patted the massage table. “So come on now and get up on here - we’re almost done.” But that was a lie - they were only just starting their initiation of the boy.

“Now, are you gonna place your body up here, or do we need to do it for you?”

Ricky heard “we” and just then noticed six men grouped around him, and he wasn’t in the mood for any more manhandling. Nonetheless, pink with embarrassment, he climbed up on the table and got on his hands and knees.

“No, not like that, the other way - have your ass pointing to the front windows. You really don’t expect privacy, do you?” Ricky rotated around and waited.

Joe then reached into a drawer under the table and pulled out a thermometer. “Here, I’ll even get it wet for you,” Joe said as he sucked on the end of it. “You look like a nice little bull calf with those big balls hanging down. Spread your knees wider - we’re gonna need good access to that cute little hole of yours.”

And so Ricky spread ’em, and his bubble butt looked unbelievably hot in that position.

“I need a couple of you guys to step closer, spread his cheeks wide apart, and hold him still.”

Two gym executives immediately did just that, and Ricky knew there was no point in resisting. Joe slipped the thermometer in, and as he waited to get the reading, the men who were gathered around the portable massage table casually chatted about Ricky’s body and discussed the various exercises that would help him achieve more, but not too much, muscle tone. They were feeling him up as if he were a piece of meat. Joe waited a full 10 minutes before removing the thermometer, even though it only took two minutes to get an accurate temperature. Finally, the thermometer was removed and read. “Ah, perfect,” Joe announced to everyone as he recorded the temperature on his clipboard.

As you might guess, those top financial executives would normally be there to work out and would have changed into their gym clothes. However, when there was a new JE to initiate, some showed up just to observe (or participate in) the humiliation, and those men usually stayed in their business attire.

“OK, now we need to check your prostate to see if it’s enlarged. Have you ever had that done before?” Ricky told him the doctor did that during his recent exam. “Great, so you know how it works. A doctor sticks his finger up your ass, feels around, and makes a subjective judgment about whether your prostate gland is larger than normal. Even though we aren’t doctors, we have all done this to other JE many times, so we have experience and knowledge.” Joe said, sounding authoritative.

“But … I just had a rectal exam by my ...” Ricky tried to argue that he really didn’t need that, but Joe interrupted him.

“So, Ricky, are you saying this will make you uncomfortable?” Joe asked, seeming concerned.

“YES! Oh God, yes.” Ricky was elated that he was finally being understood, that Joe was considering his feelings. “Yes, Joe, it would make me feel extremely uncomfortable. Thank you for not doing it.”

That was the response Joe expected to hear, the one that new Junior Exec members usually gave. After all, they were all ‘straight,’ chosen only because they were handsome, young, well-toned, and straight. And that was the answer he hoped Ricky would give. “I hear you, buddy. We’re all on your side. We’re all here to support you, to relax you. Worry not, my boy. You’re in good, experienced hands.” Ricky didn’t notice that Joe winked at the other men when he said that; he just hoped that response meant that no one would be messing with his ass.

“I’m going to blindfold you now, just so you can concentrate on getting calm.” With that said, Joe produced a long black strip of cloth and gently wrapped it around Ricky’s eyes several times, and knotted it off at the back of his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll only pet you like a little pussy … cat. And if you feel uncomfortable, just say so.” Not that those men would stop if he objected, but it provided Ricky with a false sense of control. “We’ll use a technique to calm you as we do your ass exam. It will take much longer, but we’ll rub your body to relax you.”

“OK, you guys,” Joe then said to the six men surrounding the massage table. “You heard him - let’s comfort and calm down our new JE.” The men all knew the drill. “Make sure you respect Ricky and don’t touch his genitals.” Without any further instructions from Joe, each of the six men came close around the blindfolded young man who was still on all fours. Joe passed around a small squeeze bottle of special oil - traditional massage oils absorb into the skin and get sticky or dry – but this particular type of oil is especially slippery and remains wet on the skin.

Each of the men had a preassigned role and knew to place his hands on the boy in a different area of his body. The only exception was Mr. Davis, who hung back, waiting to perform the most important role, fingering the boy’s asshole. The five men would rotate functions, and this time, he got to administer the pretend exam of the boy’s prostate. Erroll Davis Jr. was a current member of the board of directors of General Motors and had three sons, ages 16 to 25. He never did anything sexual or inappropriate with them - of course not - but he would occasionally see them naked at home. He would get very frustrated by the hunky, sexy, nude bodies he’d glimpse in the hallways at home. He always fantasized about playing with their asses, but of course, he’d never do such a despicable thing with his sons. Never! But now that he was staring at the finest mounded ass cheeks and puckered asshole he had ever seen, he was actually salivating. He only needed to wait for his five Wall Street colleagues to ‘calm’ Ricky down first, or better put, to excite him up.

“Ricky,” said Joe, interrupting Mr. Davis’ thoughts, “Your task right now is to not think of anything. Keep your mind blank.” Joe spoke calmly and quietly to Ricky, who did his best to do as he was told. On the gym floor were about three dozen senior execs, all standing still, quiet, and watching intently. Then one man, the CEO of Staples, Mr. Michael Corbat, began to lightly massage the boy’s shoulders. It was kind of a typical tension-releasing massage technique… harmless, Ricky thought…but he still couldn’t give in to the relaxation he hoped to feel. He was in strange territory and very nervous, even shaking at times.

Charles Munger, VP of Berkshire Hathaway, was standing by Ricky’s side and was assigned to work on the boy’s chest and belly. Every time it was his turn to be one of the six participants in a new JE initiation, he’d always request to be the first to massage the JE chest - he had a nipple fetish and loved to tease a boy’s little titties and to rub his pecs. He was careful to avoid touching the boy’s nipples as he ran his hands over the muscle-toned body and slowly down to the sparse showing of pubic hair, and, of course, he also avoided touching the boy’s dick as well - he only caressed around its base.

When this ‘procedure’ started, Ricky was so nervous that his dick shriveled, and his body experienced a slight tremor from the strange feeling of being so exposed and naked in public. He was the only one naked in the entire facility AND displayed on a table, the focus of all those very powerful men.

The CFO of Citibank, Robert L. Ryan, stepped up to the head of the table in order to rub the boy’s arms, lifting one hand at a time to massage them.

More quickly now, the others joined in. Robert Iger, CEO of Disney, was rubbing Ricky’s ass cheeks and upper legs in a tender, caring way. His hands slowly moved from Ricky’s bent knee up to the top of the boy’s hip. Then he slowly moved his hand to the inside of the thigh to caress the crotch space between Ricky’s thigh and his hanging balls, but he avoided touching them - for the moment. He then moved back to the outside of the thigh, and then down to one bent knee, then up around inside, and then down, over and over again. Slowly, methodically, up around the inside and back down again. Up until this point, Ricky’s dick had remained flaccid. However, as the training went on, Mr. Iger gradually allowed his knuckles to lightly brush against Ricky’s balls when he moved to the inside of the boy’s leg joint. It was the slightest of brushing touches to the side of those beautiful hanging balls, touches Ricky wasn’t even fully conscious of as he also had four other pairs of hands providing different sensual caresses simultaneously - that was the modus operandi for all JE initiations.

Standing just behind Mr. Iger was Mr. James Skinner, Comptroller of Hewlett Packard. Mr. Skinner began lightly rubbing Ricky’s stretched-out feet, which, since he was on all fours, stuck out behind Mr. Iger. One must always be careful when massaging or even touching a man’s foot - it can be a jolting shock to be tickled there. But Mr. Skinner was a pro and avoided any tickling sensations. His touches were calming and soothing. It is said that all nerves end up in the feet, and Ricky had beautiful, well-proportioned feet with nicely manicured-nails. Massaging one’s feet can help relax the entire body, and Ricky had come to find that the gentle massaging of his feet was indeed comforting.

Ricky Marsh now had ten hands on various parts of his body. Joe now wanted to isolate the boy from distracting sounds, so he grabbed some foam earplugs and squeezed them deeply into Ricky’s ears. Now Ricky was denied sight AND sound, which caused him to experience increased sensitivity when touched. Hands were moving very lightly, all barely touching his skin. Ricky felt caressing touches all over his body, except for on his dick, balls, mouth, nipples, and asshole. During this procedure, two things became obvious to the older men, if not to Ricky: first, he began emitting a continuous, low moaning sound, and second, Ricky’s dick was becoming longer and firmer. Because Ricky couldn’t see his dick, and since it was hanging down freely between his wide-spread thighs and wasn’t rubbing or touching against any other part of his body, he had no idea he was getting erect. His dick was just thrusting out into thin air without any external contact or sensation. Inside his brain, he felt an erotic charge from all the hands caressing and teasing him. Still, he didn’t yet realize how those sensations were physically manifesting themselves.

The New JE
Part 4 of 4

Ricky Marsh went from trembling because he felt nervous to trembling because he felt uncontrollable, erotically charged. As he remained blindfolded and on all fours, his body slowly, involuntarily, rocked rhythmically forward and backward, just a couple of inches toward his head and then back again toward his feet. It was likely he didn’t even realize he was doing that since when one can’t see, one loses one’s bearings, and everything just becomes a sensation - no details, just sensations everywhere. When some young men are erect, their dicks point upward toward their faces, or their cocks sometimes push up against the belly. Ricky was getting as erect as he could be, but his dick pointed more outward, meaning straight out from his body. If he were standing, it would be parallel to the floor. When it started to jerk, it twitched sharply upward, halfway to his belly, then paused there and moved back to pointing downward.

This entire ritual had been performed dozens of times over the previous few years, so this group of six men (including Davis, who had not yet touched the boy) knew from many past initiations exactly where and how to touch a lad. All the execs’ methods and their individual skills had been honed and fine-tuned over the years, and even though all young men are different, each would generally respond to a particular touch by giving a predictable response. And it wasn’t just these six men; the same was true for every member of The Executive Gym, currently present or not, who would joyfully participate in (or watch, if that was their choice) these initiations. This time it just happened to be the turn of these particular six men.

The initiation was a required ritual that Ricky was ordered to go through if he wanted to keep his high-paying job. After his initiation, the straight JE (Junior Execs) would then be required to ‘work out’ at the gym about one day a week during a special expanded lunch hour or even after-hours. The gym was supported by about 300 of the most influential men in the larger corporations on Wall Street and worldwide. CEOs, CFOs, and powerful Boards of Directors members would visit The Executive Gym whenever they were in town. Most of the 100 high-ranking executives were married straight men with families, and they always chose straight young initiates because they provided the senior execs with a power trip. Any man could be sexual with a gay or bi man, but conquering a straight guy was a wonderful, methodical, step-by-step challenge. At any one time, there might be three dozen executive power brokers working out at that facility, which is to say actually exercising as well as ‘working out’ whichever JE was there at that time for their use. There were only about 20 JE in all, and that was about the right number needed to guarantee at least one a week being present. When one quit, another would be sought out and required to join the gym in order to keep a good physique and thus enhance their company’s image. Appointments were scheduled by the manager of the gym, but Joe wasn’t the manager; he was a senior trainer who was called on to oversee the initiations (although he himself had limited physical participation – these rituals weren’t for his enjoyment, but rather for the enjoyment of the rich and powerful Wall Streeters).

So there was 23-year-old Ricky Marsh: straight, nicely built, the new JE to the CEO of Morgan Stanley, Mr. James Gorman. Ricky was hired right out of Harvard a few weeks before and was being paid a six-figure salary. Up until then, Ricky was sitting on top of the world; now, he was on all fours, naked, blindfolded, and with earplugs in. He could not hear anything and was on top of a portable massage table in the middle of a huge gym, surrounded by powerful financial brokers touching him all over. Well, not exactly all over - they were avoiding his mouth, nipples, asshole, balls, and dick. All the while, he was uncontrollably uttering low moans. He was involuntarily rocking on his hands and knees, blissfully unaware that his dick was pointing downward, stiff as a steel pole.

The senior gym members called this type of touching: Phase 1- non-direct erotic teasing. Joe then signaled, by a nod to the men, to begin Phase 2, where the touching still avoided direct contact with the boy’s genitals but became more intense. In Phase 2, the men would incorporate some erotic tickling mixed with other light touching. The idea is not to tickle in any overt way that would cause the boy to pull away in a knee-jerk reaction, but rather to tickle just a little here and there, gradually working in new sensations to get the boy used to it.

But before incorporating any tickling, a newly added distraction was needed. Mr. Robert Ryan of Citibank focused on massaging Ricky’s neck and arms and shifted his attention to the boy’s head. He gently placed one hand on one side of the boy’s face and the other on the top of his head. Then he began to pet Ricky’s hair as if he were a precious puppy dog. At the same time, the other men continued practicing their own specific touches. Mr. Ryan slowly moved his hands over Ricky’s ears and began to massage them, for even though the boy’s ear canals were plugged, his outer ears stuck out just enough under the black cloth blindfold. Mr. Ryan knew that lightly touching and rubbing the ears was an added erotic sensation for most people. He was now touching the boy much more intimately than before while all the other ten hands were still simultaneously busy teasing their assigned area. Then Mr. Ryan slowly pushed his index finger into Ricky’s mouth and caressed his tongue with it. Ricky had no clue what to do - he wasn’t even thinking about needing to do anything. Ever since he arrived at the gym that day, and especially since he had been placed on that table, he was just an object to which things were being done - no one had even asked once for his permission or his opinion on anything.

Ricky didn’t close his mouth around the inserted finger but rather just allowed his mouth to stay open so as to not interfere with whatever it wanted to do. The blindfold and earplugs did their job…they caused him to become more passive. Since he couldn’t see, he was, by default, not really able to act. As Mr. Ryan worked one finger to tease the boy’s tongue and all the other parts of the boy’s open mouth, his other hand teased his ears and petted the top of his head.

These new sensations to Ricky’s face and mouth allowed Mr. Skinner to then take his next step. Since Ricky had placed himself on his hands and knees on the table, he had gradually allowed his knees to become repositioned into a more natural stance of about 12 inches apart. By inadvertently making himself more comfortable, Ricky had also unwittingly made himself more vulnerable to the provocations of the men. While Mr. Ryan was molesting his head, Mr. Skinner was slowly picking up one of the boy’s knees, lifting it just an inch off the table with one hand and, while holding up the knee, using his other hand to start tickle-teasing Ricky’s foot. The tickling was just a quick distracting maneuver, causing Ricky to curl his toes in reaction, although he didn’t jerk his foot away. He was lost in the sensations of all ten hands roaming over his body, the finger on his tongue being the oddest sensation and commanding most of the boy’s focus. When his knee was replaced on the table, it was placed further apart from the other one, now creating a gap of about 16 inches.

That was Mr. Munger’s cue to begin waking up Ricky’s nipples by lightly tickling their delicious peaks with his fingernails. Ricky didn’t specifically notice that right away because it was only one sensation out of a thousand other sensations. Still, when his nipples were being lightly pinched and gently twisted, he began to moan louder.

Mr. Corbat, who stood on one side of Ricky at his upper back, lightly raked his fingernails down the boy’s spine. He placed his fingertips on the boy’s neck and, with an agonizingly slow and very light movement, traced his fingernails all the way down to the tailbone. Just as he finished that path with his right hand, he immediately started to trace the same line with the fingernails on his left hand, then he repeated the circuit again and again. Ricky shivered. His involuntary reaction to this erotic tickling sensation was to move his back lower to try to escape the dancing fingernails, but that caused his shoulders and ass to be higher than the middle of his now arched back, nicely rotating his ass into an upward angle.

Needless to say, none of the other three dozen men in the gym were doing any exercises at all. They had all stopped a while ago, reveling in the great show that was in the making. All those chief executives had put down their free weights or got off their exercising machines to gather closer to watch the erotic massage table escapades develop. None of this was new to them, but watching the transformation of a new JE was always extremely fascinating. Only six of them were allowed to participate in each new JE initiation. However, they could still enjoy watching even when it wasn’t their turn.

With all the erotic distractions made by these ten hands roaming everywhere on Ricky’s body, he didn’t notice that Mr. Skinner had lifted up his left knee and held it an inch off the table as he had done with the right one earlier. Mr. Skinner, who had a foot fetish, began tickling the sole of that foot. But again, it wasn’t a continuous assault, but rather just a bit of tickling here and there mixed with massage-like touching. Mr. Skinner moved his face close to the sole of the foot and to Ricky’s delicious toes and began to lick them. He stuck his tongue between all the toes, occasionally making full licking swipes along the sole.

When Mr. Skinner had finished working that leg and foot, he set the boy’s knee back down, but this time even further away from the other: now the boy’s knees were maybe 20 or 24 inches apart. The goal was to gradually get his knees to be spread wide enough that he would feel a little strain in his inner and outer thigh muscles - not a lot, but just enough for Ricky to know that the position his body was placed in was not by his choice, but by theirs. That made a subtle but significant difference. If a boy was in a totally natural position, he wouldn’t even think about it, as that’s what one does with oneself. But if he finds himself in a slightly uncomfortable or awkward position, he would understand it wasn’t by his own doing. This subtle little step had been purposely designed to cause all the JE a slight degree of discomfort.

Ricky’s wide-spread knees also caused a few other things to happen simultaneously. Ricky’s ass was now a bit lower, and his ass cheeks were spread a bit wider. His tight, rosebud asshole became clearly visible between his lovely bubble-butt cheeks. Furthermore, his dick was more prominently displayed, jutting out as it was between his wide-spread thighs and looking like a steel pole thrusting out proudly. If Ricky knew what a slutty position they displayed him in, he might have abruptly left the gym, even if that meant having to quit his job. He wasn’t a slut, and he wasn’t gay - he was a clean-cut, cute-looking, shy, straight young man who was only trying to work his way up the ladder of success. The thing was, though, that not only was he blindfolded so that he couldn’t see, but his mind had also become dulled by all the erotic sensations his body was receiving everywhere except on his dick. He had no idea where this journey was taking him or even if he was on a journey. All he knew, all they let him know, was that he felt terrific, and nothing else seemed to matter.

As all the men maneuvered around the boy, fondling his every body part, the portable massage table started to wiggle. Joe had to re-lock the wheels on it to keep it still.

Still, at Ricky’s head, Robert Ryan removed his finger from Ricky’s mouth. He then placed his hands gently on Ricky’s elbows and guided his arms to bend as he slowly positioned the forearms to rest flat on the table. Ricky was now crouched on his knees and forearms, causing his ass to pivot upward even more. Without the ability to see or hear, Ricky had no idea of his own body position, and the continual assault of dozens of erotic sensations made him not really care. In this situation, he couldn’t even form a clear mental image of what was happening, let alone a rational thought about it.

‘The Assman,’ as Mr. Iger was affectionately known, stood at the side of the table near the boy’s pushed-up ass and began massaging Ricky’s ass cheeks and upper thighs: it was time to start tickling Ricky’s amazing rosebud asshole directly. But instead of using his fingers to do that, he leaned over, stuck out his tongue, and barely flicked it across the tightly closed hole. He didn’t solidly lick it but rather teased it with little jabbing motions, being careful not to touch around the asshole itself but to only molest the hole’s lips. Although he had his hands on either side of those wonderfully mounded ass cheeks and spread them wide apart for easy access, he didn’t shove his tongue into Ricky’s asshole. It wasn’t time for that … yet. What he wanted, what the entire six-member team was gradually manipulating Ricky toward, was to make this straight man’s asshole hungry. Mr. Iger flicked his tongue more overtly now and started to include the surrounding area of Ricky’s hole; the tight rosebud began to twitch. Although many Executive members of that gym were very talented at various erotic techniques, Mr. Iger was known as the premier ‘Assman.’ He expertly teased Ricky’s asshole and made it spasm in little movements as if it were trying to open. A tongue was knocking at his back door, and Ricky’s sphincter wanted to greet it. Straight-laced Ricky had never felt anything like this before, and, fortunately for him, he had the luxury of being a passive receiver of all that erotic sensation without having any participatory role to play. Ricky had become a toy.

Finally, it was time for the very patiently waiting Mr. Errol Davis Jr., the CEO of General Motors, to begin his part. He was the sixth man on the team chosen to participate in this JE initiation. He had been holding a small squeeze container of lube while silently watching. Now with Ricky’s knees wide apart and with his flared-out feet even wider, Mr. Davis could easily position himself at the ass end of the table between the boy’s legs. Ricky’s lower legs were on either side of him, with Mr. Skinner being just behind Mr. Davis so that he could continue working on Ricky’s lush, protruding feet.

Now that Mr. Iger, CEO of Disney, had surrendered his ass-playing assignment to Mr. Davis, he became free to solely focus on caressing Ricky’s very stiff dick. Since Ricky hadn’t been leaking any precum, there had been no effort made to collect it. But Joe, the gym trainer assigned to oversee the initiation, knew that that was about to change. In preparation, Joe produced a small bowl and handed it to Mr. Iger, who then placed it under Ricky’s dick to catch any ooze that might soon drip from it.

Finally, Mr. Davis, the featured member of the initiating team, could assume his function. He lubed up his finger and slowly pushed it into Ricky’s tight, twitching asshole. With all the distracting stimuli given to Ricky, he really didn’t need to go so slowly; the expert team had trained that ass to yearn for ‘something,’ and now it had its ‘something.’ There were now 12 hands caressing all areas of Ricky’s body - actually, to be precise, there were 11 hands and one finger turning Ricky Marsh into a quivering, eroticized mass of sensually stimulated nerves.

Mr. Ryan, who previously had his finger in the boy’s open mouth, again reinserted it. But this time, when he did, he also applied gentle upward pressure to Ricky’s chin in order to gently guide him into closing his mouth around the finger. Automatically Ricky began to suck on it, so as his mouth was sucking on one finger, his asshole was ‘sucking’ on another finger.

So there was straight Ricky Marsh on a portable massage table, propped up on his wide-spread knees and resting on his forearms, causing his ass to point slightly upward. At his head, Mr. Ryan, CFO of Citibank, was making Ricky suck on his finger. Charles Munger, VP of Berkshire Hathaway, was at the boy’s right shoulder, tickling Ricky’s sensitive, muscular back. At the boy’s left shoulder was Michael Corbat, CEO of Staples, who was enjoying tweaking, pinching, and pulling the boy’s nipples, now with even more vigor. At his left hip was Robert Iger, who was lightly caressing Ricky’s firm dick but never giving him enough pressure to trigger a climax. At Ricky’s rear end, Errol Davis Jr., a Board Member of General Motors, was slowly finger-fucking Ricky’s wonderfully tight, warm hole. And lastly, just behind Mr. Davis was James Skinner, Comptroller for Hewlett Packard. With Mr. Skinner’s foot fetish, he naturally teased Ricky’s feet by using his hands and tongue.

It was a circle of men around the table, all doing what they pleased but in a concerted manner that would manipulate the boy into mindless surrender. Ricky was still blindfolded and wearing earplugs and was just now starting to drip precum into the small bowl under his dick. Mr. Davis, who was lightly tickling the boy’s dick, was careful not to get any of the now freely oozing precum on his fingers - the men had a special purpose for that sticky goo. This whole procedure was a type of milking, but only for precum. Davis, the expert dick handler that he was, used his fingertips to tease around Ricky’s balls, the base of his dick, and even the shaft. However, he was also on alert to notice if the boy was reacting too much and being overly stimulated. There was no climax allowed … maybe later, but not then. The decision to allow a new JE to climax at his initiation was always up to the particular six-member team conducting the ritual. That decision was, at that point, still a secret.

And so those mighty and powerful men of Wall Street had their private play arena called The Executive Gym. They selectively furnished it with golden boys - young straight men, usually in their early 20s. While gay men might be good suckers and fuckers, they just weren’t a challenge. True, any of the young junior execs could resist and quit. But the huge salaries and advancing careers these guys were offered were too much of a lure to walk away from. Plus, the new JE almost always became subdued as they were gradually manipulated into a new lifestyle of subjugation and humiliation. Why would these financial giants be so foolish as to pay and waste such a lot of money just to have sex? Just about any professional escort or sex worker would be great for having sex and would cost a lot less. But a skilled sex worker would never be able to manage all the heavy-weight financial matters these firms handled because all the JE, in addition to being handsome and sexy objects of desire, were also brilliant workers with excellent Ivy League credentials. They were paid handsome salaries for their talent in the office as well as for their after-hours, pleasure-giving talents. It was a package deal almost no one could refuse, and Ricky Marsh was no exception.

The End

THE END? Are you fucking crazy? What happened at the end of the initiation? Did Ricky ever climax, or did they continue to erotically torture him? How could he be both a perfect sex toy and a good worker? Was he really worth $200,000 a year? Really? And did he ever advance beyond his entry level of Junior Executive?

Look for all these questions, and more, to be answered in “The New JE: the Sequel.”

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