259 The new JE, the sequel

259 The New JE, The Sequel
Part 1 of 5

259 The New JE, The Sequel
Part 1 of 5

From the original story. You will recall the individuals involved:

From yesterday: 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

Ricky Marsh was the new Junior Executive (JE) recently hired by James Gorman, the CEO of Morgan Stanley. At the time, he didn’t know he was given a high-salaried job to do more than company accounting. Mr. Gorman and many of the powerful bigwigs on Wall Street maintained a private spa called the Executive Gym for the rich and mighty only, the Barons of Wall Street if you will. And these stewards of immense wealth wanted their play toys. So the selected JE became their erotic playthings, destined to be used and abused. Ricky Marsh was required to visit the gym for special training, which was strange and weird in and of itself, of course, but added to that was the fact that each of the new JE chosen to become such play toys was straight. This made it so much more fun and interesting for all those world power brokers. And why didn’t these smart young men just quit? Well, the hefty salaries they were being paid, and the high position and status they enjoyed were nearly irresistible to any young man. While they may have hated the sexual abuse, they just couldn’t come to grips with losing such coveted positions.

Continuing: The story picks up after Ricky Marsh is stripped and teased and turned into a spectacle … IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GYM FLOOR! He was played with and tricked, and manipulated. He was placed on a massage table in the center of the gym. He was poked and rubbed and erotically stimulated by six powerful titans of business. It had been a long day of coordinated erotic teasing.

Up until then, the older men hadn’t needed any specific instructions from Joe, the senior staff member. Joe was responsible for Ricky Marsh's initiation at The Executive Gym. They had all done this many times before to other new JE. Joe’s job was to pay very close attention to all of the boy's body language, including the level of his continuous moans, the slow forward and backward rocking he was involuntarily doing, the shaking and trembling of his entire body, the amount of ‘milk’ he was producing in strings of precum, the twitching and bobbing rhythm of his dick, and all the other signs of spasmodic reaction to the millions of overly-stimulated nerves throughout straight Ricky's sexy 23-year-old body. Finally, Joe deemed Ricky was ready for the next phase.

So, Joe went up to the massage table, stooped down, and unlocked the wheels at the bottom of the legs so the table could roll. The six men circling the table, all experienced in maintaining stimulating activities without pause, applied the little pressure needed to slowly roll the table. Ricky, of course, sensed no motion as he was being transported slowly and gently off the gym floor. His mind was too fucked-up to perceive such a relatively minor and unimportant change as motion.

The next phase of the initiation wasn’t intended for the entire group of attendees at the gym (those excluded would get their turn another time with a different JE.) This was now the part where only the six chosen members and Joe would take the new JE into the hallway, past the restroom area, past the showers, and through an extra-wide glass door which was the entrance to a large steam room. Joe opened the door and ushered in the men maneuvering the table, which they centered in the damp room.

It was important for this initiation that the stream be off when they entered. If they wheeled a blindfolded JE into a hot steam room, he would certainly freak out, probably thinking he was about to be cooked alive. No, the room needed to be cool at first, although everyone could sense the dampness. All the men continued their rubbing, pinching, poking, tickling, teasing, licking, and finger-fucking while the steam was then turned on, but only to a relatively low temperature, approximately 90 degrees.

Joe then selected and prepared a condom for Mr. Davis, tearing open the packet. Since Mr. Davis was busy with his nonstop finger-fucking, Joe stooped down and actually placed the condom over his hard dick for him. As soon as that was done, Mr. Davis slowly pulled his finger out of the boy's asshole and immediately slipped his readied, pre-aligned dick in its place. He did this carefully, moving in and out gently. Due to all the distracting stimulation from hands manipulating him all over his body, Ricky took his first dick pretty well, just like he was also learning to take everything else happening to him without complaint. Ricky's body had spasmed dramatically upon the initial shock of the insertion, but that assault immediately melded with all the other sensations he was simultaneously experiencing; this was the expected result of their tried-and-true training procedure. Joe then noticed that Ricky’s oozing precum had become more copious now, and his bobbing dick became more pronounced as it tried to pump his man juice out of his body, dripping it into the bowl.

Mr. Ryan then removed his finger from Ricky's mouth and immediately inserted his firm dick in its place. Not fully at first - straight guys always think they’ll get their throat fully plugged with a big dick and unable to breathe- so Mr. Ryan took it easy. He was experienced with beginners, and all these straight JE were, in fact, beginners at man-to-man sex. Gradually, he increased the depth of his plunges into Ricky's throat. Ricky was now being fucked at both ends, not to mention that his nipples were still being teased and pulled, his dick was being played with, his back and belly were still being rubbed and teased, his feet were being licked, and his toes sucked.

Ricky was in a maddening, mindless frenzy, receiving so much new and incredible erotic pleasure. Every fiber of his muscle-toned body was a receptacle of pleasure - he became totally immersed in this newly created sightless, soundless world of warm, sweaty, animalistic lust. He was now moaning loudly and wildly thrashing about, pushing his ass onto the invading dick, welcoming it, craving it. He kept constantly and unconsciously readjusting his body and limbs to get even more leverage and control, even trying to lift his hand off the table at one point to grab the dick of the guy fucking his mouth in order to pull that dick further into his throat.

He wanted to suck harder and to suck more of that slowly plunging dick, but someone firmly repositioned his groping hand back onto the table top; the elders demanded that he remain on his knees and forearms, with his back swayed, and his ass turned upward. When Ricky came to understand that he wasn’t allowed to move his hands, he then tried to bring his knees closer together in order to take some control and to assist in increasing the intensity of the fucking. He did manage to move them a little closer together, but Mr. Davis was between his legs, so it was easy for him to simply slide Ricky's knees wide apart again, keeping him in that awkward, helpless, submissive position. Everyone was sweating, of course, as Joe had readjusted the temperature to reach 110 degrees, which was still on the cool side for a steam room. Ricky was in an excited, lusty state. His feeble attempts to adjust his body to get more intense sucking and fucking to satisfy his erotic hunger were thwarted at every turn. Sweat poured off his frustrated, glistening, sexy body.

Finally, Joe nodded once more, and the six men instantly stopped what they were doing and stepped back. The steam hissed, but no one said a word - they just stared at Ricky, who was humping air. His dick was stiff and dripping, and he obviously didn’t know what was going on. He instinctively reached for his dick so that he could beat himself off, but Joe, knowing this would be the predictable response at this point, simply took Ricky's hand away from his dick and placed it back on the table as if to say, “Stay still on your knees and forearms.” After a moment, Ricky tried to grab his throbbing dick again, but once again, his hand was pulled away from his hard rod and replaced on the tabletop.

Ricky continued to hump air. Since he wasn’t allowed to pump his dick to climax, he figured he could at least get more comfortable by placing his overly-wide spread knees together to relax a bit during the calm period. Ricky brought his knees together to rest them, but just as he did that, Joe stepped behind him and easily slid them wide apart again. Ricky moaned in desperate frustration, yet no one touched the boy - they were all waiting for something else to happen.

Ricky was beside himself. His dick was bobbing - it would twitch upward in a thrust, pause, move back down, and then sporadically do it over again. Whenever he thought about being touched in a certain way, his dick did that little dance movement…he couldn’t stand the feeling of abandonment. Again, he reached for his dick to beat off, figuring that it was his dick, so he could certainly beat it off if he wanted to, but once again, Joe calmly replaced his hand back to where it had been on the table. Ricky humped the air again, thinking he might rub up against a nearby hand. But he couldn’t thrust into anything except frictionless air. With nothing else happening to him at the moment, Ricky lifted the middle of his back up to stretch it, arching it like a cat. But as soon as his ass lowered, he immediately felt Joe's hand on his back, gently pushing it down again, signaling that he needed to keep his belly down and keep his ass pointing upward.

Again, this intentional discomfort was another sign that he was not in charge of his body. Ricky began to whimper - he wanted to do something – anything - to relieve his ache, but no one came to his rescue. No one tried to soothe him while his dick bounced and dripped. Ricky sobbed softly as he tried to hold back his juvenile feelings of hurt and rejection, although he tried hard not to cry - he wasn’t a child, after all - he was a proud, heterosexual adult.

“I just graduated from fucking Harvard with nearly a 4.0 average! The huge and powerful Morgan Stanley Corporation just hired me a few weeks ago! I just become the CEO's fucking Junior Exec!” he couldn’t help but think as tears seeped from his eyes and blended with the intense sweat pouring down his face, all the while fucking air. In fact, his hips were humping nonstop. “I have the world at my feet! Babes flock to me, wanting dates and kisses,” he yelled inside his own mind. “What the fuck is happening to me here?”

Ricky couldn’t help but weep openly now, saying aloud, “I can fucking have whatever I want!” But everyone in the steam room, including Ricky, knew that wasn’t true - not there, not then, not ever. He sobbed loudly as he humped air in frustration, his rigid dick still dripping into the bowl. Then he screamed out a more primal, more important word, the one word they had all been waiting to hear from him: “PLEASE!” Oh yes, finally, he was begging, and all the men smiled. “OH, PLEASE! PLEASE!” Then again, in a more subdued tone that indicated just how desperate he was, came an almost inaudibly mumbled “Please?” followed by more tears.

The six men looked at each other and nodded as they all returned to the perimeter of the table. However, this time they rotated their positions one place to the left of where they were previously so that Mr. Davis, who had just fucked Ricky's ass, took Mr. Skinner's place so that he could work on the boy's feet. Mr. Skinner then moved up so that he could work on the boy's nipples, and Mr. Corbat, who had previously enjoyed tweaking Ricky’s nipples, stepped up to the boy's face in order to fuck him there…and so on. Mr. Iger, who had just finished fondling the boy's drippy dick, would now fuck his asshole.

Since no one had yet resumed touching the boy, Ricky hadn’t noticed they had returned around the table, so his sobs of despair continued. Then, all of a sudden, there was a hand caressing his dick! Mr. Corbat began fondling it, and to Ricky, it felt like heaven. Finally, he was going to be able to climax! Ricky wasted no time and began assisting Mr. Corbat by humping his hand fiercely, but as soon as he started rhythmically fucking the hand, the hand disappeared. Ricky was confused - in an instant, he was back to begging and whimpering, humping air again. He just couldn’t understand why these men weren’t taking their pleasure either - Ricky was obviously begging for it and eager to make it happen for all of them. Then the hand lightly caressed his dick again, and once more, Ricky's hips went into overdrive to increase the force and the friction so that he could climax. But then, frustratingly, the hand disappeared. Then, a moment later, the hand was back on his dick again. With exhausted resignation, Ricky, this time, just let it do what it wanted without trying to manipulate it.

Ricky didn’t move or try to assist the hand. The hand continued lightly touching, stroking, moving at will all over his dick, avoiding only the piss slit as Mr. Corbat didn’t want to interfere with the precum as it dripped into the bowl. As much precum as possible needed to be collected in this ritual, so he kept his teasing touches everywhere except on the tip of the dancing dick. When it seemed like the boy was too close to the edge – and all these men were experts at detecting that moment – Mr. Corbat abandoned the boy's dick and started to lightly tickle his balls; then the hand returned to lightly pump his dick. That really got Ricky mindlessly grinding his body, but there wasn’t enough friction given to him to allow him to climax. He automatically responded with groans and gyrations, his animal reflexes taking over as he began humping the hand so that he could get himself off big-time. But once again, the hand disappeared, and this time it seemed to be gone for an excruciatingly long while. However, in actuality, it was only about three minutes. But to the extremely desperate, overheated Ricky, that was an antagonizing eternity. As Ricky waited, he whined, whimpered, and pleaded in groans and tremors, but this time he didn’t reach for his dick or adjust his mandated body position.

Mr. Corbat replaced his hand and began to tickle the fuzz on the boy's balls, even reaching behind his balls to the perineum in order to tease that super-sensitive area with his fingernail. Electric shocks jolted through the full length of Ricky’s spine, but this time he didn’t move his hips. Judging by their facial expressions, it was apparent the six powerful business execs were pleased. Mr. Corbat caressed the base of Ricky's dick and then moved his hand up the shaft, then around the mushroom head, but still, Ricky didn’t try to hump anything. Every boy responds a little differently to various touches. Mr. Corbat soon learned that if he tickle-scratched Ricky's ball sac, his dick would bounce up and spurt a larger dose of precum, a discovery that Mr. Corbat was particularly fascinated by. Throughout this initiation, each of the men was learning from the results they were getting from the various touches they gave.

Mr. Corbat lightly tickle-teased his fingertips from the base of the boy's dick to the underside of the pole, all the way up to the mushroom head and back down again, at which Ricky shuttered and involuntarily bucked his torso. These seemingly involuntary movements were allowed, at least at that point. But those would eventually be expected to be controlled by the boy and eliminated. Ricky whimpered like a child but tried not to intentionally move a muscle - he needed desperately to climax. But he’d have to settle for being fondled if that wasn't allowed.

Mr. Iger, who had stepped up into a good fucking position, put on his own condom and waited just a minute - the next move had to be synchronized. At the exact moment when Mr. Corbat nodded his intention to stop molesting the boy's dick, Mr. Iger began to tease Ricky's asshole carefully and gently by placing the tip of his dick on Ricky's rosebud. He didn’t pull his ass cheeks apart this time because the only touch they wanted Ricky to feel, at that point, was the tiniest sensation on his asshole lips. Not a single hand was placed on the boy's body anywhere else.

It took a moment for Ricky to realize there was contact there, and it was a deliciously light touch. When Ricky felt it, he stopped whimpering and pushed his ass back to meet whatever was touching his hole. He wanted it. Was it a dick? A finger? Something else? He didn’t care - he just wanted contact with it. But then the touching thing pulled back. “Oh fuck! Not again!” he yelled inside his head. Finally, though, he realized what the game was: it was a two-word game that could be called ‘be still,’ or ‘don't react,’ or ‘just surrender.’ Though he was panting and covered in sweat, with his heart racing and his dick throbbing, Ricky was now determined to be an inanimate object for their mutual pleasure. The thing touched his asshole again but this time, other than a minor shimmer, Ricky didn’t move. It was difficult.

Mr. Iger was now manipulating his dick so that it just lightly ‘kissed’ Ricky's asshole. Ricky was hopeful that he would finally receive a much-desired, intense fucking. However, the dick tip that was politely knocking at his rosebud lips, causing Ricky to relax back there, wasn’t intensifying. The teasing remained measured and gentle, never seeking to force his hole open. Ricky felt totally defeated. He started to shove his anticipating ass back to engulf the dick, but he stopped before he started, knowing that that was not for him to do. The poking then alternated with a gentle rubbing all around the ass lips.

Then something extraordinary started to happen: Ricky began to feel a pulsing sensation in his rosebud aperture as if his asshole wanted to open up, but as nothing was being pushed into his hole, anatomically, his ass should naturally want to remain closed. He was straight and had never had anything inserted in his ass before today - not a finger, not a dildo, certainly not a dick - yet his body seemed to be automatically craving something hard rammed up inside him. How very strange for him to feel this ass hunger! His body shook again, and his asshole pulsed open, almost as if it were welcoming any intruder.

Then … nothing. His asshole was begging to be fucked, demanding it, but now there was nothing. Why? Still, Ricky behaved himself. He remained as still as he possibly could until he felt his nipples being kissed. Someone, actually TWO guys, had slipped their heads, mouth up, under his chest. He wondered how twisted their bodies had to be to allow their tongues to accomplish this. Both his nipples were being tickled and teased, not exactly in the same way but simultaneously. And tongues were licking all around his mounded pecs, too. He raised his chest a bit to accommodate the heads at work, and apparently, that little adjustment was allowed. Nothing was touching his body anywhere else except for those two wet, lusty tongues. Then he felt teeth nibbling on one nipple and soon on the other. The teeth weren’t so gentle - there was pain - but also pleasure. The teeth continued to lightly bite down onto the projected tip of each captive nipple.

Soon it got a little too intense for Ricky because he had never before experienced any sort of harsh treatment on his sensitive nipples. Suddenly he needed it to stop, so he raised his shoulders up by climbing up onto his hands and knees, a departure from the required forearms and knees position. In effect, he pulled his wonderful chest totally away from the mouths under him. But immediately, fingers tapped between his shoulder blades, and he understood that raising himself up was a no-no. Of course, it was. So, he reluctantly returned back to the lower position, resting on his forearms.

But now, there were no mouths under him. Misters Corbat and Skinner both stopped, stepped back, and waited. No mouths biting, no one licking his pecs, nothing teasing his chest anywhere. No one was touching any part of his body. Once again, he felt abandoned. Alone. Needy. His dick was as rigid as ever, dripping precum, as his hips continued to thrust out to fuck something, but thrusting was not allowed; the men were in the process of training him not to thrust, not even when extremely excited. Thrusting simply wasn’t an option for this erotically energized straight young man. One would think it shouldn't be too difficult for a ‘straight’ man to stay calm and remain uninterested in the erotic seductions of other men, right?

The New JE, The Sequel
Part 2 of 5

All at once, heads eased under his chest again, and Ricky raised his torso a little to welcome them back. Mouths were kissing and licking all over his man-boy pecs, then teeth gently nibbled on his piqued tips once again. He expected the pain to increase because of the biting, and this time when it did, he didn’t pull back. Ricky had already decided that those teeth needed to do what they needed to do, and he now found the mix of pleasure and pain a wonderful addition to the barrage of erotic sensations he was feeling.

Then all hell broke loose in the form of a massive assault of hands roaming all over his body. Hands were rubbing, tickling, pulling, pinching, scratching, teasing him everywhere, and soon tongues joined in on the attack. Mr. Munger reached under the boy from his right side and was working on his dick and balls, and Ricky loved that they were again molesting his private parts. Mr. Ryan was sucking his sexy toes and licking his feet while someone else, whose mouth was very busy, reached his hands over to tickle the boy's legs and thighs. Now his toes and fingers were being sucked simultaneously, so Ricky was receiving wild, erotic sensations everywhere except on his face and dick. He wanted his dick pleasured so that he could climax. Still, if not, at least he was once again being made to feel wonderfully tingly all over, although his dick was only allowed to dance in midair.

Finally, Ricky felt a dick on his lips. No, it was something else - a finger. It was tapping his lips, so Ricky opened his mouth. Then there was something thin and hard, like the edge of a drinking glass. He was being given a drink. He was in a steam room, and he needed his fluids replaced, and he knew that. Joe tilted the bowl up to give him a drink, but it smelled funny to Ricky, and as soon as he got the first taste on his tongue, he spit it out. He was being given cum! He had no idea whose it was - he hadn’t climaxed, so he thought it couldn’t be his. With his blindfold on, he had no idea that he had been leaking precum or that a bowl was under him collecting it. He closed his lips tightly because he didn’t want to be fed cum! NO WAY! That was gay, he was STRAIGHT, and that was his final decision.

And then all sensations immediately stopped. No one touched him at all. “FUCK!” Ricky yelled inside his head. “FUCK!” His dick was bobbing in midair, his asshole was twitching and winking, and even his nipples seemed to be giving off electric sparks. The skin all over his body was warm and tingly. He cried out loud because he couldn’t take it anymore, yet he knew he couldn’t move either. He had already been trained not to move or react with overt movements.

The steam belched again. It wasn’t too hot for a steam room. Only about 110 degrees now, but everyone was sweating. Ricky Marsh was on his knees and forearms on a table, blindfolded and wearing earplugs. His knees were spread wide apart as those powerful money managers of Wall Street required him to be positioned. He was their new Junior Executive, their JE as he was called, and he was undergoing his initiation at a very private and exclusive club, The Executive Gym. Ricky's dick was stiff and dancing through its routine of sharply bobbing up, pausing, and moving down, then repeating. However, he had stopped thrusting into the air.

He knew they didn’t allow thrusting, not even if sort of involuntarily. “Fuck!” He yelled to himself in frustration. “Fuck! I’m doing the best I can, God damn it!” Then he whimpered like a little boy. This Harvard grad, this new JE to the mighty Morgan Stanley, was whimpering like a wounded dog despite his new six-figure, top-of-the-world, king-of-the-hill job! He was a handsome, straight, well-toned lady's man, just beginning to soar up the ladder of success to become everything he had ever wanted to be. Yet, here he was, naked, all boned up, leaking precum, helpless and whimpering. His whining was his only way of pleading with these men to give him attention. But as the steam belched again, Ricky felt powerless, defeated, and alone.

Once again, the bowl containing his precum was brought to his lips, but Ricky kept his mouth closed this time. The bowl remained there, touching his lips without force, just perched there, waiting to be accepted. But Ricky thought about it: “I'm no fucking faggot. I'm no cum drinker. Who do they think I am, some fag slut who sucks guys’ dicks and swallows their fucking cum? Do they think I’m a FUCKING CUM SLUT?” He whined and groaned in confusion. He knew he wasn’t gay, but he knew what gay people did. He knew they got fucked, and they sucked guys’ dicks, and, most offensively, they drank down other guys’ cum. He once again began humping the air with his rigid dick, but nothing. No contact. No one was touching his dick, or anything on his body, and even the guy holding what he thought was a glass full of cum didn’t touch him with his flesh – Ricky only felt the rim of the bowl.

The steam belched again as Ricky whimpered, and the small bowl of cum never moved from the front of his lips. Ricky then opened his lips just a little to sort of bite the rim of the bowl, and as he did that, Joe tipped it up and caused some of it to flow into his mouth. This time, however, Ricky didn’t spit it out; it didn’t taste awful, just weird. And anyway, it wasn’t really the taste that was the issue. It was rather the source of the substance that disturbed him. No, he was firmly resolved that he wasn’t a cum-drinker and, therefore, he wasn’t going to do what gay guys did. As an experiment, he waited to see if that one sip would be sufficient to please all those powerful Wall Streeters. Still, no one started touching him again, so apparently it wasn’t. Ricky felt desolate as he yearned for all those wonderful, stimulating caresses - he needed that high level of acceptance and approval, too- he craved it. It was becoming obvious that he would only get attention by submitting to their demands.

So once again, Ricky bit the rim of the bowl and, just as before, Joe tilted the bowl up to feed him a bit more cum. Ricky waited. Joe waited. The men waited. Ricky had reasoned to himself that a man's cum was only about a tablespoon or so, so he opened his mouth to accept it, wanting to just get it over with. When he did, Joe slowly poured in what turned out to be about a quarter of a cup of Ricky's precum. Ricky swallowed once but then had to swallow again repeatedly as there was much more in the cup to drink than he had expected. Finally, he got it all down, and when he did, a finger was immediately inserted into his mouth; Joe had wiped the inside of the bowl with it and was feeding the remainder to him, and Ricky obediently sucked the finger clean.

Wow! There was straight, nicely built 23-year-old Ricky Marsh, the new JE to James Gorman, the CEO of Morgan Stanley. He was hired out of Harvard a few weeks before and was being paid a six-figure salary. Ricky had briefly been sitting on top of the world, but now he was naked, on all fours, and drinking some man's cum! He was on a massage table, blindfolded and unable to hear, in the middle of a men's steam room. He had just drunk down what he thought was some stranger's load of cum, and he couldn’t believe that he had just done so.

But then, once again, all hands and tongues began playing erotically with all parts of Ricky's body. Joe removed his earplugs but left the blindfold on, wanting the boy to hear all the slurping sounds the men were making, all the grunts, oohs, and aahs echoing off the tiled walls of the steam room. Plus, now the men could assault his ears with their tongues. Ricky knew he had made the right decision - they had accepted him, they had approved of him, they owned him. He was their toy. The bowl was then replaced under his dick head, and Ricky instinctively knew the rule, the absolute rule, was not to move. Not to resist, not to assist, but just to be their fucking toy, their object of pleasure. The worst was over now, but he was human, of course, and he couldn’t help but twitch and jerk his body a tiny bit which the elders noticed but greeted with smiles. Ricky was glad he had passed all their odd tests and glad he wouldn’t be subjected to any of that gay stuff ever again.

For the first time since the massage initiation had started, Ricky actually heard voices. Joe put his mouth practically into Ricky's ear and said, “I'm going to help you through your initiation. I know you tend to move and shake - you are doing it now – and I know you are trying to cooperate, but you will need my help. I will place something on your back, but just make sure you don’t knock it over.” Joe then picked up a small eight-ounce bottle of massage oil, about two inches in diameter and 5 inches tall, and set it on Ricky’s back. “Let me explain something critically important to you,” Joe said in a serious hush-whisper.

“I just set a two-inch thick candle on your back; it's lit and now has a large flame. Soon, hot, burning wax will build up around the wick. If you move or even wiggle the slightest bit, you will cause that candle to fall over on your back, and not only will the hot wax burn you, but the flame will burn you even more. If you don’t want a serious burn there, you must remain ab – so – lute - ly motionless.” Ricky listened intently, and even though he was being slowly and simultaneously fucked in the mouth and ass, he knew he must do the almost inhuman task of remaining completely still; he had no choice now. He was somewhat shocked and agitated, praying that this ‘rite of passage’ ritual would soon be over too.

Then Joe said out loud so that all the men, including Ricky, could clearly hear, “Please, all you esteemed Gentlemen, as you can see, you all have to be careful not to rock our new JE body. If that candle tips over, he's going to be in tremendous pain, not to mention disfigured. He might even need skin graft surgery.” The men acknowledged the pretend warning by saying stuff like, “Okay, Joe, we'll be careful.”

Then, once again, whispering in Ricky's ear, “It's a lovely red candle with a large, white-hot flame. I suppose you can feel some of the heat from it even while it is standing upright, can't you?” Ricky could only nod ‘yes’ as he still had a dick in his mouth. He had no reason not to believe that Joe's suggestion of a burning candle on his back was real and dangerous. “For your safety, pretend that you are made of steel and that your knees, hips, wrists, and shoulders cannot bend or move in any way. OK? I’m your friend, and I’m just trying to help you out. Remember, you are made of steel.” Again, Ricky nodded, but he also felt a sense of panic. He naively believed what Joe had told him and what all the men had acknowledged, instinctively locking his joints tight with all his muscle strength. His already hard body visibly tightened even more, as if he were doing isometric exercises. But unlike when doing those muscle-tightening exercises in a workout, it was extremely difficult to concentrate here.

Mr. Iger, the CEO of Disney, was thrusting in and out of Ricky's asshole very slowly, which was driving Ricky crazy. He desperately wanted to move his ass forward and backward in order to accelerate the fucking, but with the pretend candle precariously balanced on his back, he didn’t dare move at all; he had no choice but to let the fucker continue at that tortuously slow pace. Ricky actually believed that the guy fucking him was going slowly because he wanted to be careful not to knock the candle over, innocently thinking the guy was being kind and caring to him. Ricky couldn’t move his hips, but he could at least squeeze his asshole tight to get more friction around the fucking dick. So now, in addition to keeping his arms, legs, and hips muscle-tight, he was tightly squeezing his asshole as well.

Imagine! The CFO of Citibank was slowly pumping his dick in and out of the boy's mouth too. Ricky was afraid he was going to choke on it as the dick went into his mouth a tiny bit deeper with each thrust. He needed to keep his mouth wide open to get air, so he had no choice but to stop sucking on it and to just keep his mouth hole gaping open, allowing saliva to constantly drip out of the side of his mouth. He was frantic that he might choke. He wanted to pull his head back and even jerk his entire body back to escape the hard dick that was now starting to plunge into the back of his mouth, approaching the furthest recess of his throat. He wanted to pull back, but he remained stuck in his position, locked with all his muscle strength. He was no longer worried about what speed his ass was being fucked - he was too busy concentrating on how deep this guy was going to fuck his throat. Actually, it was frightening to Ricky because he had never before been in this position and had never even had a dick in his mouth before that day, so he didn’t know what to expect. Fortunately, Mr. Davis knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it.

The boy was so consumed by the fucking and sucking that he didn’t readily grasp that his nipples were also being sucked, both of them. It did seem kind of funny that the VP of Berkshire Hathaway and the Comptroller for Hewlett Packard were practically bumping their heads together since each had to twist their bodies in odd ways in order to place a mouth on Ricky's nipples. The boy's back was also now being licked and nibbled by teeth, leaving tiny red scratch marks. Ricky had never imagined his back could be so erotically sensitive when tickled and nibbled on! And at the same time, the CEO of Staples was still engrossed with Ricky’s beautiful hanging balls and dick. Now that everyone was happy with his firm compliance, Ricky assumed that he would be jacked-off soon…FUCK! His dick was dancing and jerking and spitting its drool into the bowl under it, just begging for release.

Everyone could tell that both Mr. Davis, who was fucking the boy's face, and Mr. Iger, who was fucking his ass, were both ready to cum. Needless to say, Ricky had been ready to climax for the previous 45 minutes. He would need only one pull on his dick to blast his load.

Joe then said to the boy loud and clear, “Ricky, I need to warn you. The very kind Gentlemen who are working on you, or should I say ‘in’ you, are ready to give you their presents. It is rare that any of these men find a Junior Exec deserving of their gifts, so let's be grateful and bring their fucking to a climax now, shall we? Is that OK with you?” Ricky nodded fiercely, needing this entire erotic scene to come to an end. He needed to shoot, and whatever they wanted, he would do just so that he could shoot his own load.

“Again, you'd better brace yourself and not move or react to the release of their sexual energy. If you do, the candle will tip over, and you'll end up with a gallon of burning hot wax all over your handsome body.” Ricky froze at the seriousness of Joe's warning.

Joe stepped back as Mr. Davis continued fucking Ricky's throat deeper and deeper, and by now, each time he plunged into it, Ricky had learned to hold his breath until the out stroke of the dick. Mr. Iger, for his part, was picking-up speed as he fucked the boy's asshole. Ricky was frantic to stay still, to not react, but he, too, would have to get off. He felt Mr. Munger ticking his dick with a fingernail on the one hand and tickling his balls with the other; he was even lightly rubbing the mushroom crown and the dripping piss slit. Ricky’s dick was more extended and fatter, and stiffer than it had ever been and was dripping even more than before. Ricky wanted to tell Mr. Munger to not keep teasing it but rather to just yank it two or three times instead, and he'd be able to shoot, but Ricky's mouth was full down to his throat. He actually thought Mr. Munger was an idiot to not know how to climax him! The fool was teasing him lightly all over the underside of his dancing dick, all around his balls, and even tickle-scratching his perineum. If only he could thrust his hips a few times into the hand around his dick, he'd be able to shoot. But he'd also get seriously burned, he thought. No, he had no choice but to remain still and to let the guy playing with his dick figure it out.

Suddenly a blast erupted, and shot after shot of hot cum barreled down Ricky’s throat. Ricky held his breath. Meanwhile, his dick was being teased even more, but still not with enough friction. Mr. Munger was teasing it from bottom to top and back again, but if only he would squeeze it firmly, just a little more pressure, he'd blast off. Then, he felt Mr. Iger's dick pound his ass deeper and harder until it jolted, spasmed and released its load too. That was two down and one to go - himself. Mr. Munger placed his hand fully around Ricky's bobbing, hair-trigger dick and moved it and up and down, but without closing his fingers tightly around the beast; it was still an infuriatingly light up and down teasing. With the dicks now removed from both his ass and mouth, Ricky was able to plead, “PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE! Just milk it! PLEASE?” He had now fully broken down and begun sobbing and whining as he realized he wasn’t going to climax. Even so, Ricky continued to hold himself still, concerned about the non-existent candle on his back. “Oh, please?”

Mr. Iger loved to edge a handsome lad's big boned-up dick. The technique he used on Ricky was to lightly rub and tickle the boy's balls with the fingers of one hand, and, as he did that, he watched the untouched dick bob and twitch and dance its erotic dance that all dicks do if trained correctly. What a fucking hot sight! Some of the other men occasionally stopped what they were doing to watch what was truly amazing entertainment.

But for poor Ricky, it was more like amazing erotic torture. Finally, Mr. Munger lightly placed his hand fully around the boy's dick, but maddeningly he now didn’t move it at all; he just held it still. Ricky felt it on his dick, but the only way he would get his dick pumped was if he thrust his hips back and forth in the still hand, but of course, he couldn’t move his hips. He felt the hand, but it wouldn’t move, and Ricky couldn’t make it move. It was the most excruciating frustration ever - his dick was hard and ready, and the hand was in position and ready – it would only take one simple thrust to give him the climax he so desperately needed. But no one was willing to create the thrust, so his dick pulsed.

What was especially thrilling for these men was the fact that they knew Ricky couldn’t move a muscle or the pretend candle would burn him. For Ricky, the thrill resulted from desperately needing to jerk his hips to fuck the hand, mastering his dick but having no choice other than to let his obscenely erect bone be tortured by the man. Ricky was blameless as he was being forced to whorishly display his entire body and its raw needs, pitifully begging for a single touch, and somehow that was exciting!

The New JE, The Sequel

Part 3 of 5

Of course, the men there DID find Ricky worthy. In fact, they prized him very much, but they considered Ricky to be worthy only as their trained, submissive JE; none of them had the faintest sympathy or desire to short-circuit the initiation. Ricky was valuable to them as far as he was a toy for their pleasure and their pleasure only, for as long as they wanted.

Joe then leaned down to Ricky's ear and whispered, “Ricky? … Ricky?” The boy didn’t respond. He was shivering and weeping and mumbling something about having become a cum-drinking slut.


Finally, his head twisted around, and he could hear Joe. “Are you ready to climax now?” Ricky immediately nodded his head. “Can you hold out any longer for us, boy?” Ricky shook his head no. “Are you absolutely sure you can't go on any longer?” Again, Ricky frantically shook his head. “Maybe for just one single minute more?” Ricky’s head shook NO! most emphatically.

“Please, Sir. Please- any … any … anything, anything jus … just … let me cla … cla … climax. Please? Right now…I’ll do anything you want. Please, I can't hold out a single minute longer.” All the while, Mr. Munger never stopped teasing the boy's dick, and all the while, Ricky stayed completely still as required.

“OK, boy, OK. I understand. We all understand. If you truly believe you can't hold out any longer, it clearly means you need more training.”

Ricky yelled out, “NOOOOO!!!!”

At that point, several men focused on the boy’s ass. Their hands were all over his body, especially teasing Ricky's asshole. Fingers were poking it and lightly pushing into it and then pulling out. Other hands were gently rubbing his ass cheeks and his thighs and groin area but leaving his dick alone for the time being. Ricky's ass was massaged, tickled, pinched, fingered, and owned by all those men, and that ignored boner of his was left bobbing and twitching.

“Mr. Munger, I believe it’s your turn to fuck his ass and … Mr. Skinner? … your turn to fuck his throat. Oh, and let's see. Whose turn is it to be in charge of the boy's hair-trigger cock?” Mr. Corbat nodded and then took up the position Mr. Munger had held at the boy's left hip. When Mr. Corbat had assumed his new spot, Joe cautioned, “Remember, Mr. Corbat, he said he absolutely cannot withstand a single minute more of any cock teasing,” at which everyone let out a full belly laugh. It's not that they were being mean. It was just that they knew that the all-new JE would eventually plead for release. Ricky could hear of all this and couldn’t believe he wasn’t yet finished. He knew that if his dick were pumped just one more time, he'd shoot, and he wouldn’t be able to control it - no one would be able to control it any longer! At least that’s what he thought, not realizing he was in for a much longer afternoon of sexual frustration.

“Oh,” Joe said, looking at Ricky. “I'm so sorry. I'll bet you’re really thirsty, aren't you boy?” Ricky nodded. “OK, but before we begin, let me give you something to quench your thirst, sometime that will also give you some needed protein.” Joe picked up the bowl, which was now refilled a bit with about another third of a cup of precum, and held the rim to Ricky's parted lips. Ricky smelled the cum and once again figured he was being offered someone else’s cum, but this time he didn’t fight at all. “Here you go, boy, drink it all up.” And so the boy did.

The six corporate barons were all pleased, and with that, Mr. Munger and Mr. Skinner took their positions as the new fuckers, one at each end of the boy. You might think that with all the heat in the steam room and with all the energy they were expending on working the boy over, the men would instinctively want to pick-up speed and fuck to completion for their own sake. It had already been a long afternoon, so you'd think they'd hurry it along, but no, of course not - hurrying was never a part of the initiation process. If anything, their penetration of the boy's ass and throat got even slower.

The other men took their various positions around the table to work on the JE. Ricky’s mouth was now kept open as he was face-fucked, and saliva continuously dripped down the sides of his face. If his blindfold were removed, they would see that his eyes had become all glassed over, too. His primal urge to pump and thrust his hips so that he could accelerate his ass fucking took every last bit of concentration to suppress. Ricky knew he still couldn’t move a muscle because the burning candle, which he believed was still precariously balanced on his back, would fall over and burn him seriously, so he remained frozen in place.

Mr. Corbat, the CEO of Staples, had the most difficult job of the six men; his new task was to try to heighten the urgency of an already hair-trigger dick without letting it shoot. Right away, Mr. Corbat realized he couldn’t touch Ricky's dick, at least not in any full-handed way. He knew that if he even just placed his fist lightly around it, the boy would blast his pent-up load. Even a hand wrapped around the shaft without movement would be too much stimulation at this point. No, he had to be careful, and fortunately, he had several touch techniques he had learned over the last two years of initiating JE to draw upon.

So, Mr. Corbat used one hand on Ricky's balls, which were also erotically stimulated. He was confident that wouldn’t be climax-causing. With his other hand, he briefly touched the tip of his index finger to the underside of the boy's dick head, just under the crown, using just a slight, brief touch. As he made contact with that tiny spot, Ricky’s dick bobbed up, oozed out a blob of precum, and then twitched back down. Amazing! Again, with only the lightest of touches, Ricky’s dick bobbed up, spat, and twitched down. Again, and again and again and again … Mr. Corbat had no concern that the boy would climax with that one light, tiny, brief touch. Still, he was able to create a precum pumping system. All the while, Ricky’s ass, and throat were still being slow-fucked, and the remaining men continued molesting his nipples and feet.

But something was changing. Surely Ricky Marsh wasn’t fully aware of it, or at least he hadn’t thought about it in any serious kind of way. He’d never before wanted to get fucked - oh God, no - but now he needed to have his ass plugged. Oh, he’d surely thought about it what it would be like to get his ass fucked in a sort of messing-around kind of way, but now that it was something required by his Boss as an initiation to Morgan Stanley - a right-of-passage-hurdle of sorts - well, that made actually doing it (at least this once) somewhat OK. He’d never wanted a cock in his mouth before either, let alone actively suck on one. He was just a good sport, doing something crazy for the Boss, more of a ‘dare to see if he has the guts’ kind of test. But of course, this train of thought was all just a way to rationalize what Ricky didn’t want to accept for real. He wasn’t yet ready to accept that these new feelings radically changed his core behavior.

That denial also allowed him to push aside his fears of being a faggot cum sucker - he wasn’t a faggot! But, getting his face fucked and swallowing loads of man-cum were, well … ah … he didn’t know exactly how to label it, so he didn’t try to codify it. He just realized he wanted - needed - a man to use his mouth at this specific time, which, for sure, didn’t make him a fag.

The six men had been observing Ricky’s transformation before their very eyes, and now it was time for a test. They could see that Ricky loved having his ass filled by big, manly fuck poles, but did he really crave sucking dick? So, Mr. Ryan pulled out his dick and dangled it an inch in front of Ricky's face, right under his nose, to be exact. The boy freaked. His throat was suddenly empty, which just felt weird somehow! He couldn’t see the dick through his blindfold, but he could smell it, and Mr. Ryan occasionally bumped him in the face with it just to remind him it was nearby. Ricky knew not to move his upper body and lean forward to grab that delicious piece of man meat with his mouth because he had to stay completely still, but could he extend his tongue about an inch or so outward to try to find it? Maybe! And so, with Ricky’s tongue searching the air for the cock he so desperately desired, Mr. Ryan would sporadically bounce his dick on it. But every time Ricky tried to draw it into his mouth, the dick would be withdrawn and not permitted to enter, remaining just outside the reach of Ricky’s lips. At times he could feel the dick rub up against his forehead, his cheeks, even his lips, but it always eluded his searching tongue. Obviously, then, Ricky wanted that wonderful, thick cock in his mouth and to have it massage his hungry throat. Whimpering in frustration, afraid that his face-fucking session was over, Ricky could only keep his mouth gaped open, with saliva drooling down his chin, in the hope that someone would eventually fill it with a hard cock.

One other thing changed as well, and that concerned the incessant teasing of his hair-trigger dick. Up until a short while before, Ricky was mostly focused on his own need to climax, a need those guys had nurtured so that Ricky would ultimately have to demand to cum. But that was early on in the initiation ritual. Those six powerful men were experts in transformations, and while they didn’t succeed every time, they did so most of the time. To them, it was a big social challenge, the creation of a totally straight male who inexplicably craved dick. What was clearly changing was that Ricky was now much less interested in his desire to climax and more interested in his need to suck a dick. That may not sound like a major change, but it was, even though Ricky didn’t realize anything was different.

Phase three began with another drink from Ricky's precum bowl; this time, he drank it down greedily and even licked his lips. Mr. Robert Iger was now face-fucking the boy. Mr. Erroll Davis was gently but steadily pumping his asshole. Although Ricky's ass was still fairly tight, it had become relaxed enough that he got used to the invading dicks.

The difficult job of dick control fell to Mr. Skinner this time. He determined that he had best not touch Ricky's dick at all, so instead of dick touching, he took a new approach. First, he placed a small but thick cushion on the table, right about under Ricky's belly - he needed something comfortable to rest his head on since he knew this would continue without any consideration of his desires. Then he placed his head on the cushion, face upward, and maneuvered himself so his mouth was directly under the boy's balls. Like that, he could comfortably lick those luscious, cum filled, low-hanging fuzzy balls, and he proceeded to do just that. He was wise to make himself comfortable because now he could do this for as long as the other men were doing their parts, and he was in no hurry; he could take his time licking and sometimes sucking on Ricky’s nuts, even nibbling the ball sac from time to time. However, he never attempted to touch the ready-to-fire, dripping shaft.

It was interesting to see that no matter how much Ricky's dancing-on-the-edge dick was bobbing and dripping precum, his sole concern now seemed only to get more huge blasts of hot cum down his throat. At this point, his twitching dick was no longer of concern to him - that was for the six men to deal with - he just wanted his throat and ass filled.

Soon, Mr. Davis and Mr. Iger granted Ricky’s wish. Mr. Iger unloaded in gushing volleys down the boy's throat, and Mr. Davis shot his wad into a condom deep in his ass. Immediately following that, the other men took turns beating-off on Ricky's face and chest, and thus the initiation was officially over. Usually, the JE would be allowed to climax at some point during the third and last round of edging or shortly after that, but there was a twist for this particular JE - he wouldn’t be allowed to climax at all!

And so, it all ended kind of abruptly. The men sauntered out of the steam room, fully satisfied at having successfully worked over the JE and very satisfied by their own climaxes; now, it was time for them to get back to their offices. With just the two of them now still in the steam room, Joe quickly removed the bottle of massage oil from Ricky's back, never letting him know it had never been a dangerous, flaming candle. Ricky needed to believe he had performed well because he had learned to cooperate and obey and that his self-discipline kept him from being burned by the imagined candle.

Still leaving the blindfold on the boy, Joe helped him up and off the table because Ricky was wobbly, needing to stretch out his legs after having been in that awkward kneeling position for something like two hours. He had to lean on Joe to stand and take his first few steps. Still, Joe was careful not to baby him, for every exact detail concerning this initiation, including how it had to end, had been well planned out.

Ricky figured that he'd head home and clean up, call in sick, and sleep it off. He raised his hands to remove the blindfold, but Joe stopped him. “Let's leave that on as I escort you out of here and down the hall. We don't want anyone to see you.” Ricky, being woozy, nodded in agreement. But if Ricky was walking out of the steam room and down the hall blindfolded, how in the world would his blindfold prevent other people from seeing HIM?

“OK, let's get you to where you belong,” Joe said to him as he kind of pushed the still-dazed boy down the hall, Ricky’s stiff dick leading the way.

Letting himself be uncontrollably guided along, Ricky muttered something about needing a shower: he was all sticky and sweaty. “I don't remember bringing a towel. You have one for me?” he asked Joe. Then, out of no where, he said, “Joe, can I suck your dick?”

Wow, where did that come from? Joe answered both of the boy’s questions with an “Uh huh”, not really caring because none of Ricky's concerns mattered to Joe any more - his role in this affair was nearly over.

Ricky then felt the fuzzy carpet under his bare feet change to one of cool tile. “Here we are, your destination. Just reach out and push the bar to open the door and step on out.” Ricky put his hands in front of him, felt a push bar handle and pressed it down, and prepared to step out as Joe had just instructed him.


Ricky didn’t think about the word “OUT.” He just assumed he was being directed into the locker room and to the showers. Then Ricky became very puzzled - he now felt rough payment under his feet! But Joe didn’t wait for Ricky to verbalize his confusion. He just said, “Yes, Ricky, you are outside, in our parking lot.” Ricky could hear people and traffic sounds all around.

“But I’m naked!” Ricky freaked and stopped, refusing to allow Joe to push him out any further.

The New JE, The Sequel
Part 4 of 5

“Look, Ricky, I suggest you allow me to guide you to get you out of sight, or would you prefer that someone call the police, seeing as you are out in public, bare-ass naked?”

What was confusing to Ricky was that there must have been something very erotic about this forced exhibitionism and his extreme vulnerability. Otherwise, why would his dick begin to bob and twitch? In addition to being scared, Ricky also definitely felt turned on. Of course, he surely couldn’t process his feelings right then, nor did he really understand what was happening to him. But then again, everything that had already happened to him today would never have occurred in the first place if Ricky had really ever been in charge of his own life in the first place.

Regardless, there was straight, nicely built 23-year-old Ricky Marsh, the new JE to James Gorman, the CEO of Morgan Stanley. He had been hired out of Harvard a few weeks prior. He was being paid a six-figure salary, thus giving him all the confidence and opportunity he could ever have wished for. Ricky Marsh was climbing up the fabulous ladder of success, and even after such a short time, he had already developed healthy self-respect and self-esteem.

But now there he was, blindfolded and totally naked, all boned up, dripping, and suddenly feeling as if he were on top of nothing, in control of nothing (certainly not of his own life), and being pulled along in a very public mall parking lot by his own dick! He was half-frightened to death and completely at the mercy of others…and yet, he was also excited!

“Yes, Sir,” he heard Joe say to someone. “Yes, it went well.”

Then he felt Joe's hand on his arm and a slight push guiding him forward. “Ricky, don't you think it's time to go back to work?” Ricky nodded, still very confused. He needed a shower. Fuck! He needed his $600 beige suit. “Yes, I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable when you are back with your company people.” Ricky nodded as he felt himself being guided a step further. Then he heard a car door open, and Joe said, “OK, here’s your ride. Duck your head and step in.”

Ricky did as he was told, and as he lifted one bare foot and placed it on the carpeted floor, he felt hands on his waist guiding him inside the car. He put his arms out to feel for the seat he was to sit on, but the hands guided him downward, forcing him to sit on the floor of the car. Actually, it didn’t seem like a car's front or back area, as the floor space was huge. Maybe he was being placed in a van? After some minor shuffling, he ended up in a comfortable kneeling position, facing what he presumed to be the rear.

He heard the door close, then, “Mr. Marsh.” The pleasant voice was familiar, but in his dazed state, he couldn’t place it; he couldn’t even make sense of being in a car naked, blindfolded, dirty, and smelly, not to even mention the bizarre sensation of having an erection in that unusual set of circumstances. The only thing he knew for sure was what he had learned earlier that day: that others do the talking, the thinking, and the guiding while he only needed to obey.

“Well, now, Mr. Marsh. Let me get this blindfold off of you.” As it fell away, Ricky had to blink his eyes a few times in order to get his vision to focus, and when he did so, he gasped upon seeing his BOSS! Mr. Gorman, the CEO of Morgan Stanley, was seated right before him! Ricky looked up from his kneeling position and then at Mr. Gorman’s feet in amazement.

Instantly he looked around and realized he was in the back seat of a limo. The floor area was about four and a half feet square, and the windows were tinted dark, as usual for a limo. He then saw Mr. Gorman press a button on the console to his right and say into it, “OK, James, let's go.” As the limo started off, Ricky became mortally embarrassed! Here he was in a spotless car with his Boss. This man was always dressed in impeccable fashion - he loved Italian suits that likely cost a grand or more each - and there, crouched on the floor, was himself - filthy and naked, his mind full of concerns. How was he going to get his clothes? Was he being taken home? How was he going to get into his apartment? Did he lose his job? What was all that about at The Executive Gym? His mind was in a dizzying spin, and Mr. Gorman sensed it.

“Mr. Marsh, I have something for you,” Mr. Gorman said as he pointed to the crotch of his suit. “Mr. Marsh, I think you need something to snack on.”

Mr. Gorman stared into Ricky's glazed-over eyes, but Ricky hesitated to move. Mr. Gorman then wiggled his fingers, gesturing for Ricky to scoot up between his wide-spread legs. Finally, Ricky raised his hands cautiously to the zipper of his Boss' suit pants, unsure if he should touch the imported Italian material with his sweaty hands. But since Mr. Gorman didn’t move to stop him, he found the zipper and pulled it down. He looked into Mr. Gorman's face for some sign that this was a joke and for him to stop, but all he saw was a smile.

Ricky put his hand inside the opening and found silk boxers with a fly. He put his hand carefully through that and gently took hold of his Boss' beautiful, semi-erect cut dick. Still not being sure that he should be doing this, he gazed up into his Boss’ eyes as he slowly lowered his mouth to take in the powerful tool of a powerful man; it slid in perfectly. In fact, it felt warm and wonderful! Ricky finally began to relax and started to enjoy the sensation of having a dick in his mouth.

“Mr. Marsh, I understand you’ve learned how to tease a cock without making it climax.” Ricky nodded. With nothing else needing to be said, Ricky took that as an order to suck and excite but not cause a climax. Before that day, Ricky had never sucked a dick, so back at the gym, he had to experiment with one on his tongue to learn how to manipulate one in his throat. But this time, with a little practice already under his belt, he felt he could try out different techniques and explore at his own pace.

“Take a letter.”

Ricky thought he was talking to him, but as he looked up, he saw that Mr. Gorman was looking at and speaking to someone seated behind. He realized this backseat area had two seats facing each other, and he was on the floor between them with his back to the other person … or persons. Since Ricky wasn’t in any position to turn around, he continued working on his dick-pleasing assignment.

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Gorman,” a young-sounding male voice came from behind.

“Chris, mark it confidential and for the eyes of the board only.” Chris nodded, and Mr. Gorman continued.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board of Directors of Morgan Stanley. We have our study specimen, and his name is Mr. Ricky Marsh. He's a new Harvard grad who was hired just three weeks ago as a JE, but Mr. Marsh will now have other, special duties. He is to be utilized in the following three ways.”

“First, and most important, he will now be assigned to work on the Future-Age Gadgets Inc. account, also known as ‘FAG, Inc.’ You are all aware that Morgan Stanley is bankrolling their massive financial restructuring, and we are partnering with them to expand their business into international markets. But I'll get back to this in a bit.”

“Second, Mr. Marsh is now a member of The Executive Gym. Every participating corporation must supply at least one Junior Exec for shared use at that facility, and Mr. Marsh will be Morgan Stanley's contribution for this period. He just completed his first initiation session there with the staff and six senior members and passed with flying colors. So, his use there will be for the 100 or so male executives who created that entertainment center, or as we like to call it, The Executive Gym. Mr. Marsh will be a fine addition for all the execs to use as they wish.”

“Third, as a perk to you male and female members of our Board of Directors, Mr. Marsh is available to be checked-out for your private use any time his schedule allows. Ms. Headwise, who is in our Human Services Department, will keep a schedule of his availability and a sign-out sheet.”

“To the Ladies on our board, since you cannot be members of the all-male Executive Gym, you will receive top priority access to Mr. Marsh. You, women, may even check him out for overnight use, such as for private parties or whatever. Remember, he identifies as heterosexual, so feel free to conduct your own explorations. The males on our board will not have overnight privileges, but we have plenty of time to use him at The Executive Gym when his schedule permits. After all, we need to keep the main focus of his use on our FAG, Inc. investigative work.”

Ricky was shocked! He froze and stopped sucking, but he didn’t remove the growing dick from his mouth - he couldn’t believe what he was hearing! At that, Mr. Gorman stopped dictating and looked down at him, indicating that Ricky was to resume sucking, so Ricky swallowed a wad of his saliva and then started working on the dick again, more slowly this time as he was trying to process these new and disturbing thoughts.

Ricky's sweaty, naked body began to twitch spasmodically: all this talk about how he would be used by all these people in all these different ways was too much for him to take. And the FAG thing? He wasn’t a fag, although ironically, he was just then sucking a cock as his hips thrust back and forth, and his stiff and throbbing dick was fucking air. And to make matters worse, he was also dripping his precum all over the plush carpet of his Boss' immaculate limo. He was totally out of control and too spaced out to think as he subconsciously brought his hand down to his dick and began to beat off; now, instead of just leaking precum, he was going to squirt blasts of cum all over the interior of the fucking car, too.

But Mr. Gorman immediately placed his thousand-dollar Edward Green shoe on top of the jerking hand. He applied a slight pressure by way of a warning. Ricky jumped, not in pain because it didn’t hurt, but because he became tremendously embarrassed when he realized he had taken it upon himself to beat off. His eyes teared up, and he begged for forgiveness. The entire day had been overwhelming, and he was super-saturated with erotic sensations. Now, this talk about him becoming some sort of sex slave was pushing him over the edge. The last straw was that even his ability to play with his dick had been taken away! In one respect, Ricky was awestruck to be kneeling on the floor of that beautiful limo in front of his powerful Boss. It was that thrill that was causing him to leak his sloppy precum all over the expensive carpet. But on the other hand, he was also ashamed - he couldn’t even do a proper job of pleasing the CEO of Morgan Stanley, which made him feel worthless and lost.

“I am so sorry, Sir,” Ricky pleaded. “Please, oh, please forgive me - I didn't know what I was doing. I am so fucking stupid. I’m such an ungrateful fucking idiot!”

It was absolutely amazing how the continuous onslaught of erotic sensations, coupled with Ricky being denied any type of release, had so quickly twisted his brain so that it craved all manner of erotic touches as well as Mr. Gorman’s approval. The initial buildup of a tremendous need to climax led to his current and determined need to comply and be used.

“You don't have to feel sorry, Rick. May I call you Rick?” Ricky nodded, still in a state of shock. “It's not your fault.” Mr. Gorman said with a smile. “I know, and we all know, that you need more control, discipline, and constructive lessons to further your education. But we have learned just today that you are a tremendous value to me, Morgan Stanley, and the business world at large. I promise we will guide and mold you - groom you to be of the utmost service to us all. You'll be continually under the authority of the men and women of our company so that you will not flounder. You will never again lack the control and authority that was missing in your young life before you met us. Don’t worry, Rick - you are our special prize and will be treated as such.” His Boss smiled at him again, and for the first time that day, Ricky felt very relieved.”

“One other thing though, Rick: we aren’t preventing you from having wonderful climaxes. No, of course not. All young men need and deserve to experience that fabulous feeling. However, we need you to save up your sexual energy when we can use it for our own company purposes. I'm sure you understand.” Ricky quickly nodded in agreement, but in reality, he didn’t understand any of that double talk. However, the fact that such an important world financial leader said it meant that it had to be right. Regardless, it was now his place to simply agree with anything he was told.

“Now, Chris,” Mr. Gorman said calmly, “Let's continue the memo as follows: let me speak for just a moment about my first point concerning FAG, Inc. We are so heavily invested in this growing company that we are, in fact, their financial partner. Whether it was initially a wise move or not, the fact is that we are now in bed with them. What caught our attention about this company in the first place was their interest in expanding into new-age erotic devices; many are unique and complex electronic or computer apparatus and gadgetry designed for youthful, upscale users. Yes, they are expensive to design and manufacture, but that is why FAG, Inc. reached out to us: they need our money. However, for our protection, our agreement with them gives us the final approval for all FAG, Inc. products, and if we do proper detailed evaluations of which sex products work and which do not, we can propel the company onto the international marketing stage as well as make a great deal of money for Morgan Stanley.”

It was astounding that Ricky was now as calm as could be…so much so that he was able to tune-out what his Boss was saying and focus solely on his special assignment, which was to please his Boss. He moved his tongue under his Boss' dick to lick the large balls he fished out from behind the zipper. They were practically smooth, and Ricky wondered if they had just been shaved or if Mr. Gorman was just naturally smooth all over. He also marveled at the interesting taste…could it be cologne? Mr. Gorman’s balls were sort of loose in their sac, such that he thought that if Mr. Gorman stood up, his nuts would naturally hang low; Ricky mentally pictured them swinging back and forth as he walked.

While Mr. Gorman was talking about all those big business plans and international world markets, Ricky's mind was parked in, of all things, balls. As he was licking his boss’ balls, he became consumed with the physical aspect of them. This was an early glimpse into his new, tiny world, one in which it would be his job, his total responsibility, to take care of balls until he was given a new task. Ricky wasn’t interested in any plans or discussions concerning what he would one day do or how he'd be used and by whom - he only cared about how much pleasure he was giving his Boss right then and there. This was his momentary world, a world where if no one tapped him on the shoulder to interrupt him, he would just stay immersed in a ball sac.

Mr. Gorman continued dictating the memo, “So, Mr. Marsh will be our special tester of all products proposed by FAG, Inc. They are obligated to produce only the products we approve; therefore, we will intensely test each item via Mr. Marsh's body. To save time, we will have our JE at each board meeting in order to demonstrate the erotic devices in front of all of us.”

“I hesitate to actually mention some of these products in detail here, but since this memo is confidential, I can give you an example of one such sophisticated machine they call the ‘Chair.’ Actual product names may be changed later for better marketing appeal. The Chair is a large recliner type-chair with many complex electronic elements. To describe it in some detail, Mr. Marsh would be strapped in it naked - I think we can have Chris assist us with securing him for our demonstration. The straps have an electronic lock which only the computer program can release. The functions of the Chair are computer controlled. Data is entered into it for each individual user, i.e., his height, weight, build, and some 60 other bits of data about the user's anatomy will also be keyed in. The main component is a unique probe that rises from the seat when Mr. Marsh is strapped in it. It senses the exact position of his anal opening and enters, moving slowly upward, into Mr. Marsh's rectum. Not only will that probe gradually enlarge in both length and diameter, but tiny, electronic fingers will also vibrate against the interior of his rectum. When we secure Mr. Marsh into the Chair, we will also attach a computer-controlled sensory tube over his penis as well. This penis receiver will gather the multitude of responses which the anal probe remits.”

“So, the Chair calculates the anal stimulation as well as where and how they are delivered, causing Mr. Marsh to have the firmest erection and ultimately the most dynamic climax. The sensors in the penis not only work to receive data but also to stimulate his penis to generate erotic responses from Mr. Marsh. The anal probe and the sensory penis tube both determine what stimuli, sensations, and touches will cause the greatest climactic explosion. I forgot to mention that little sensory suction cups would be attached to the nipples; they would also provide stimulation and collect response data. The computer program controlling the Chair even learns possible causes and effects regarding stimuli.”

“Then this knowledgeable Chair will generate exact stimuli, to the exact places, in a precise manner, in order to produce all the sensations possible to cause Mr. Marsh to have the most extraordinary climax of his life. But the learned Chair recalculates the stimuli it produces to only deliver 99% of what is needed for that climax - in other words, it withholds the 1% needed for the trigger. I was told by the developer that Mister Marsh will try to squirm and twist his body to get that last 1%, but the Chair recalculates as needed to deliver no more than that 99% no matter how Mr. Marsh tries to wiggle.”

“Additionally, there is an optional 'silencer,' which is a rubber bulb that can be inserted in Mr. Marsh's mouth. When inflated, it depresses his tongue, and he would no longer be able to speak. Its function is to allow us to discuss the Chair, or any other board business, without being interrupted by Mr. Marsh's pleadings. I don't see how we could finish our work without using it.”

“I should also point out that the multitude of straps are designed to be very comfortable but will still not allow Mr. Marsh to move his hips more than a quarter of an inch, so his ability to move would be minimal. Still, the program readjusts the Chair and its devices to account for any body movement of more than 10 millimeters, or about 1/3 of an inch. If the program calculates that the 1/3-inch moment would cause a climax, the stimuli would be reduced to 98% of the maximum. It is thus obvious that the chair controls the subject, not the other way around.”

“The makers of the Chair have actually told me that it can deliver this super-intense, non-climactic state of arousal indefinitely. They also said that the subject typically develops what they call a ‘scrambled-eroticism’: that's where Mr. Marsh would become incoherent after too many hours of nonstop erotic stimulation, causing him to blabber unintelligibly and to drool extensively. Furthermore, his body would perspire profusely, but his penis would remain totally erect. Furthermore, he will ooze a steady flow of precum until his body can produce no more. They told me that in their initial trials of the prototype, their subject produced about ¾ of a cup of precum during a 10-hour trial period, but that all bodies are, of course, different.”

“All the effects from being subjected to this kind of total erotic saturation for such a length of time will dissipate a few hours after all stimuli stop. For the subject's own safety, the Chair will not release the electronic locks on the straps until the program senses the subject is OK to stand. There is no manual override because the Chair always knows best.”

The New JE, The Sequel
Part 5 of 5

At this point, Ricky was licking his Boss' dick as if it were an all-day sucker. He was placing his tongue at the very base, on the underside of that huge bone, and licking it upward in slow, long, clean strokes. He did that several times on the left and then licked the right side the same way, then back to the left side. In order to lick the topside of the dick, since it was pointing up like a flagpole, he had to use his hand to bend it down so that it would point into his face, and from there, he could lick the cock from the tip-top down to its base. The boy's mind was all-consumed with that huge bone, his Boss' bone, so much so that while he would have liked to focus on his own drippy erection, he knew it wasn’t allowed and somehow managed to ignore it - his own dick was now of little concern. His mind was so fucked-up with erotic sensations that he could only manage one thought at a time - first, it was his own dick, then it was his Boss’ balls, and now his Boss’ dick. Ricky was happy.

Mr. Gorman was dictating a memo that would have informed Mr. Marsh how he would ultimately be used at Morgan Stanley for testing new-age electronic sexual devices for the foreseeable future. Yet, Ricky wasn’t even listening and really didn’t care. While Risky was servicing his Boss’s cock, Mr. Gorman had the palm of one hand on the boy's head, petting him sincerely and even gently scratching the boy behind the ears much in the way a dog owner does to reward his pup.

Mr. Gorman continued with his memo. “My suggestion would be to begin our board meeting early and have Mr. Marsh strip naked before us. He will need to fondle his penis in order to demonstrate how he traditionally gets an erection, and we will need to watch his technique and notice how soon he would likely climax. But of course, we would stop him before that could happen. Chris can then strap him into the massage chair, and he will do the programming of the system; I'll see that Chris gets all the instructions ahead of time. Since we will want to monitor how Mr. Marsh is doing in the chair, we will leave him in it all day, even when we take breaks and go to lunch, but we can all take turns going in and out of the boardroom to check on his progress. If all goes well, we'll leave him in the Chair at least until 5:00 PM. However, the designer has suggested that we leave him in the Chair all night to see the full effect of a young man's total erotic immersion when we come in the next morning. It is important to witness his condition after 24 hours of nonstop stimulation so that we can determine if we have any liability issues.

Mr. Gorman then paused in his dictation and spoke directly to Ricky, “You are doing well, Rick. In most cases, you will be directed at every step of your pleasuring, but here in the limo, just continue as you think best. I will be judging your techniques and abilities.” Ricky didn’t even look up - he just kept licking and sucking as he wished.

His Boss then continued dictating. “Another idea they want to develop is their ‘Party Actor,’ which is rather simple and not all that expensive to manufacture. It's a small hand-held device that comes with a headset. For example, one would invite a guest to play a video game at a party. Still, the invited person doesn’t know the device is actually a hypnotic program that mesmerizes the selected individual into becoming any one of five pre-selected personas. The first one they created was called ‘Big Puppy.’ Still, other program selections are slave, little boy, slut, nymphomaniac, stripper, and some others. I think we should have Mr. Marsh programmed as the stripper and have him dance around the boardroom.”

At some point, Ricky had moved onto this Boss' feet. He had one shoe and sock off and was sucking on his beautifully groomed toes, his eyes closed in complete rapture.

“And, of course, there are many other erotic devices we will use, Mr. Marsh, to fully test for us, but this Chair will be the first, so let's stay focused on it.”

Then, with a subtle change of tone, Mr. Gorman said, “Chris, sign it as usual, and I want this to go out to the board as soon as we are back at the office.”

“OK, boy, I imagine you’ve had a very challenging day today, but I see you are still hard,” Mr. Gorman chuckled as he looked down at Ricky, naked, sweaty, all boned up, and leaking as he continued to lick those delicious feet. “Rick, look up at me.” Ricky was obviously in a daze. “Rick, my boy?” Finally, he looked up. “While you are down there, replace my socks and shoes. I'm a world financial leader, so I've got to look sharp,” he calmly said.

Mr. Gorman pushed the intercom button again and softly commanded, “James, let's go over to the Historic District on Main Street.” The car immediately turned right, moving slowly through traffic as it had been all along. No one seemed to be in any particular hurry here.

When Ricky had finished replacing his Boss' shoes, he leaned down and kissed his thousand-dollar Edward Green's. “Chris, hand me that tube of lubricant in the compartment there. Chris slid the small door open, picked out a squeeze tube, and handed it to Mr. Gorman. Looking down at Ricky, he then said, “Here, put this on your finger and lube up your asshole.”

Ricky obediently lifted his butt off the carpet and stuck his greased-up finger into his asshole. He then looked up for approval as he was about to apply lube to his dick. “Oh no, you don't, my boy. I never said you could touch that cock of yours.” Mr. Gorman wasn’t upset at all, just being playful with his ‘boy.’

“OK, Rick, come up here.”

Ricky looked up at his Boss' lap and saw his huge, stiff dick mightily protruding out of his wide-open zipper. It was a pretty hefty cut dick, long and fairly thick, but he didn’t know what his Boss meant. After all, he couldn’t sit on his lap since he was all dirty and sweaty, and he had just applied that messy goo sloppily all over his ass. Plus, he still had lube on his hands.

“Don't worry about anything, my boy. You’ve earned a nice, big fuck.”

Ricky's face scrunched up, still concerned about ruining his Boss' expensive Italian suit. Regardless, he stood up or instead tried to, but he had forgotten that he was in a car and bumped his head. Mr. Gorman chuckled - he had a great sense of humor. Then he pushed a button on the side control panel, and the car roof opened wide. He patted his lap and said, “Come on up here, my boy.” Ricky stood up fully this time, his head and upper body now on public display as they stuck out of the top of the car. He felt weird yet excited to be naked in a limo driving slowly down a town's main street as Mr. Gorman placed his hands on his slender hips and guided him down.

As Ricky was bending his knees to stoop downward, Mr. Gorman moved his hands onto Ricky's ass cheeks, spreading them wide apart as he continued to slowly pull the boy down onto his thick, steel-pole spear. Ricky wiggled his ass when he felt the tip of the dick, trying to find the ‘sweet spot.’ Mr. Gorman allowed Ricky to descend and maneuver at his own pace until his firm bubble butt had fully landed over that mighty dick. Ricky sat on it carefully, getting used to it, squeezing his ass muscles, wiggling, and adjusting his body. After a minute or so, Ricky smiled at his Boss, signaling that he was fine, even more than acceptable. His ass felt terrific! He felt wonderful. He knew then that this was where he needed to be.

What made this ever so much more erotic was that he was face-to-face with his Boss, kneeling on the car’s seat with his knees to the outside of his Boss' thighs. That position caused his ass cheeks to spread wide apart, in turn causing his body to fully sink down further on that big, powerful dick.

“OK, boy, now make my cock feel good. Massage it with your ass muscles - move it up and down.” But Ricky didn’t need any encouragement; he bobbed all over the place, his dick making a messy drool on Mr. Gorman's hand-crafted Italian suit. Then Ricky let himself be still, to just relax and to take in the wonderful, erotic sensations he was feeling in his asshole. He put his hand on his dick to pump it, but as soon as he did, his Boss shooed it away.

Chris, the secretary, was still busy writing. His job in the car was to observe Ricky's behavior and make detailed notes on how Ricky responded to various sexual interactions. Chris' role may have seemed voyeuristic and prurient, but his work was more like that of a clinical behaviorist. He was recording what stimulated the boy and to what degree.

What added to the erotic aura was that Mr. Gorman was a big man - not fat - but 6' 2” and even more imposing as he was still fully dressed in an impeccable dark suit. Though he wasn’t hairy, he looked bearish with his dark hair and trimmed beard. Ricky, on the other hand, was the opposite. Small, muscle-toned, tight, with a body build of 5' 8” and totally naked. To all the world, he seemed like the quintessential boy toy.

“Come on, move up and down. I want to just relax here and feel your asshole mouthing my cock.”

Then Mr. Gorman pressed another button on the side control panel, and the large windows on each side rolled down. How often have you passed a limo with dark glass and wondered who was inside and what they were doing? I guess Mr. Gorman didn’t care; he wanted to show off his naked boy trophy. The chauffeur, James, was driving slowly as instructed. From the outside, anyone looking in would clearly see the naked young man on the lap of a fully-suited businessman. Ricky, highly energized by this, began moving more briskly up and down on his Boss' big fuck pole.

Then, all of a sudden, the car began shaking dramatically. Ricky was startled but then realized they were driving slowly on a bumpy cobblestone roadway, which was part of the Historic District's charm and character. Ricky felt the strong vibration of the dick in his ass as if it were a vibrating dildo set on high. His dick was really hard too, and because he was belly-to-belly with Mr. Gorman, it was laid against his necktie, pointing straight up at his Boss' chin. Again, he reached to pump his dick, and again, Mr. Gorman comically flicked his hand away. Ricky was in an erotic cloud of multiple sensations. The underside of Ricky's stiff, upward dick was now rubbing against his Boss' broad silk tie. His ass was filled with a nice, big, warm dick that was vibrating from the bumpy cobblestone pavement. People were looking into the open windows and gawking at the nude boy doing a lap dance. Ricky had to hold onto his Boss' shoulders to steady himself.

All the while, Chris was observing and recording every response to every touch, including how the touches were delivered. “No, boy. Put your arms straight up, through the roof.”

Ricky raised them a little.

“No, higher. Reach as high as you can up to the sky, and don't touch the sides of the opening. I know you can't balance yourself very well like that, but I like it when you are helpless,” Mr. Gorman laughed out loud. So, Ricky stretched his arms straight up and out of the top of the limo for all the world to see and wonder about. As noted by Mr. Gorman, this position afforded him no stability because he had nothing to hold onto, and his Boss loved the way the boy's ass was bouncing wildly on his buried dick; it was as if Ricky was doing a lap dance on a lubed-up pole, and his body was at the mercy of the bumpy ride caused by the cobblestone roadway.

With his arms way up, Ricky was ripe for a nipple attack. Mr. Gorman used his fingernail to tickle, pinch, and lightly twist the boy's hard, pointed peaks, making him twist and squirm all the more. All of a sudden, Ricky's ass began to jerk forward and backward, making more friction between him and the dick inside him. Mr. Gorman suddenly thrust up, and the financial wizard of Wall Street made a massive, warm, jolting, manly deposit deep up inside Ricky’s tight hole.

That was it, the last straw! His Boss’ hot spunk finally triggered Ricky to shoot! Volleys of his day-long, pent-up boy juice shot from his hard dick. Gushes landed all over Mr. Gorman's face, not to mention all over his expensive suit, tie, and shirt, as well as all over the nice, spotless interior of the limo. Ricky continued to spasm for a minute, which he deserved. When he was finally done, he collapsed in exhaustion into a tender hug, his arms around his Boss' neck and with his head nestled between the man’s shoulder and neck.

Though Mr. Gorman's dick deflated a bit, it remained comfortably inside the boy's ass as they embraced each other. What an amazing picture they made! Here was one of the world's most important power brokers, a billionaire many times over, wearing an expensive suit, sitting in the back seat of a black luxury limo, lovingly holding a naked young man in his arms as the car slowly drove, open-windowed, through the main downtown streets. People found the sight of the limo eye-catching in itself, but once they looked inside the car, they stared! All the people on the sidewalk and in the slowly passing cars stared, open-mouthed in sheer disbelief.

Ricky was finally all spent and beginning to relax as he was in the midst of that compassionate embrace. At last, Mr. Gorman pushed the intercom button again and said, “Let's take him home, James.” Then he turned to Chris and said, “He'll need a couple of days’ rest before we start him on his new assignment.” Once again, Ricky wasn’t listening as he was in a groggy, blissful haze, being safely cuddled by his Boss.

“Chris, I expect a full report on my desk tomorrow morning.” Mr. Gorman told him as he petted the back of the seemingly sleeping boy. “Go ahead and take out the pants and Tee you brought for him. The extra apartment key you made should be in there, too. We'll be at his place shortly, so let's get him ready to leave the car.”

Mr. Gorman paused and then added, “And oh, Chris, have the inside, especially the back seat here, thoroughly detailed in the morning.” Then he looked down at the large wet stains deposited on his suit, shirt, and tie and was glad he always kept several spare suits in his office. “When we get back, sneak these clothes out to the cleaners for me - we wouldn't want Mrs. Gorman to see this delicious mess.” Then he used his finger to wipe off a gooey splatter of the boy's cum from his silk tie and sucked it off his finger. Mr. Gorman smiled with complete satisfaction as he lovingly pet his precious new JE.

In the following weeks, Ricky became Mr. Gorman’s number-one assistant in many ways. In addition to their sexual activity, Ricky Marsh was also the top account performer at Morgan Stanley. A week later, Mr. Gorman would call Rickie into his office on the pretext of discussing a big, new project they received. Unlike any of the other employees, Ricky knew on such occasions to enter and immediately strip naked. Once fully nude, he would kneel just inside the front office door and lock it, and would then be summoned over to the desk, or the sofa, or wherever his Boss wanted him to be.

“Well, well, Ricky, so how is your work going today? You making progress on the Conrad project?”

“Oh, yes, Sir. It’s coming along just fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry to pull you off of that this afternoon, but as you can see,” Mr. Gorman said, looking down at his own hard dick poking through his zipper, “a bigger deal has just come up, and I need you to handle this personally, using your wonderful, inventive expertise. I don’t want you to pay it lip service but rather to give it the full, expansive treatment. Do you think you can put this project to rest?” Mr. Gorman would ask.

Oh, yes, Sir,” Ricky would say, staring at his Boss’s stiff cock, “Do you want me to work on that big project now, Sir? I’m sure I can figure out a solution for you, Sir. I mean, I’m not all that busy at the moment, and I do have several openings you might want to take advantage of, Sir.” Ricky was always hungry for his Boss’ huge, stiff dick, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d been specially groomed to be 100% service-oriented toward the Morgan Stanley CEO.

“Yes, boy, but bear in mind that this project is not going to be a quick, easy task for you to bring to completion. The task at hand is stubbornly rigid and quite inflexible. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes, Sir, you hired me to be flexible and to work in several different positions for you, so I can take care of any mounting urgency in any position you need me to be in. I know, Sir, that sometimes one just has to suck it up and swallow, no matter how unfeasible the obstruction seems.”

“I am sure you can do just that, Mr. Marsh, as you have often demonstrated. You have that rare ability to size up a situation, to open yourself up to it, and to appropriately mount the task at hand.”

“Oh yes, Sir, Mr. Gorman, Sir.”

The End

Copyright 2018 GayTies.com. Each story part is displayed for only 24 hours, and is reposted about once a year. So, log-in every day (or upgrade) so you don’t miss a one of them!
Copyright 2018 GayTies.com. Each story part is displayed for only 24 hours, and is reposted about once a year. So, log-in every day (or upgrade) so you don’t miss a one of them!