432 Justice gang

432 The Justice Gang
Part 1 of 6

Lt. Katz of the Fairview Police Department was talking with Willie Adams, who had an insurance agency in town. "Okay, Willie, I understand your concerns about Officer Dennett. He’s had issues with his attitude toward gays and other minority groups. But we thought we had addressed those issues in various sensitivity training programs here at the department. But… "

"Yeah, I knew him in high school,” Willie said. “He has always been a jerk, to be blunt. He may be cute, but he’s always showing off like he’s the cock of the walk. He thinks he God’s gift to man, but he’s an asshole. And just because he’s the Mayor’s son, should be a reason to keep him on the force.”
“I understand. But I’m not the chief, and I don’t have any sway over the political forces of my superiors.” “That’s shit! Remember a few years ago, Officer Clark Bingham? He needed an attitude adjustment also, and some of my friends gave it to him, on the down low. Remember?” “I don’t know anything about that…officially. But it’s true, Bingham’s attitude and work ethics have greatly improved.” The lieutenant paused, “I’ll say no more.” This sounded like tacit approval for Adams to re-educate Dennett in his own way using the Justice Gang. “OK, lieutenant, OK. Let’s not discuss this any further, and what I‘m not telling you is that my friends will take on Officer Dennett the same way we took on Bingham.” "Well, like last time, you've got to promise not to hurt him and, more importantly, don't do anything to embarrass the police department."

“The Justice Gang can deal with him as we cared for Bingham. But this one will be real fun, Lieutenant."

"And in return, you'll cooperate, look the other way, and be flexible about where Dennett is?"

The lieutenant chuckled. "Yeah, Willie. I can manage that. Dennett's not stupid, and he's pretty eager. If you can eliminate his strong tendency to be a bully, he just might make a good cop."

Adams laughed. "We'll start this afternoon."

“Remember, officially, I don’t know anything,” said the lieutenant and hung up. That afternoon Officer Peter Dennett was dispatched to the Adams Insurance Agency to check out a complaint just at the end of his shift. He was told he could go home after he'd checked out the problem. Fairview, like many smaller cities, allowed its police officers to take their cruisers home with them when they were off duty. It made citizens feel safer to see patrol cars parked in driveways in their neighborhoods.

Peter was 6'2' tall and weighed 185 pounds. He had blue eyes and yellow-blond hair. He'd played quarterback on the Fairview High football team but hadn't been good enough to play for a respectable college. Since his grades weren't all that good either, he had opted to get an Associate of Arts degree in criminal justice at the local community college and then go to the police academy. So here he was, just barely 21, and a rookie cop. He knew he looked good in his uniform, and he swaggered a bit as he walked into Willie Adams's insurance office. He hadn't seen Adams often since they'd graduated high school. The two hadn't been friends. They'd come from different sides of the tracks to use an expression Peter's grandmother had liked.

"What's up, Adams?" Officer Dennett asked, ignoring Willie's outstretched hand.

"Come on out back, and I'll show you."

"Graffiti in the alley, a dumpster problem, something like that?"

Willie chuckled. "Yeah, you might say it had something to do with trash."

When they went out the back door into the alleyway, Peter saw a group of young men standing around. Checking out his surroundings as he was taught at the academy, he noticed a car blocking the entrance to the alley at each end of the block.

The men immediately surrounded him, who'd obviously been waiting for him to appear with Willie. Two of the largest grabbed and held him while a third handcuffed his wrists behind his back. Peter yelled and threatened but to no avail. He was helpless.

Willie Adams stood directly before Peter, and the others formed a circle around the two.

"Officer Dennett," Willie said with heavy sarcasm, "before you can be a useful policeman in this town, you must be re-educated. Let me introduce you to the Justice Gang."

"What the fuck does that mean? And who the fuck do you think you are to talk about my education? You fuckers are all in deep shit. You know that, don't you? I'll call the precinct and have you all arrested for assaulting a police officer and anything else we can think of to charge you with. You'd better let me go before you get into more shit."

"Officer, shame on you!" Willie laughed. "Such language. But we're calling the shots here, not you. So, here's the deal. You're gonna listen to each of these men while they point out the things you've done in the past that are unacceptable behavior from a police officer. You will listen, and you will learn. We're gonna see to that."

Peter continued to curse and threaten. "You'd best shut your mouth, Officer Dennett, or Antonio here can go into his dad's hardware store and get some duct tape to stick it shut. You want that?"

Peter shook his head no and wisely remained silent.

“First thing, since you are not much of an officer, strip.”

“What? Here? Why? I can’t…”

“Grab him, boys. Get the uniform off him.” And in no time, Officer Peter Dennett was bare-ass naked… in the alley. For the first time, all these guys, Willie’s Justice Gang, saw Peter's magnificent athletic build. Not only was his face youthfully handsome, l but his well-toned body was perfect. Pete just stood there, encircled by his educators.

"All right then, gentlemen," Willie said, "Why don't you remind the officer of what a prick he is."

In turn, the men, who were Peter's age and had known him in school, began expressing anger at him.

“Wait a minute, guys,” said Willie. We are addressing a police officer, yet he doesn’t look like a police officer. I mean, is he too ashamed of his job that he refuses to identify himself?” Peter was confused.

“Let me have his uniform shirt.” Maynard retrieved it from the pile of clothes. “Ah, I see the problem, his uniform shirt has his badge and his name tag pined to it. So when he is wearing his uniform, we know who he is. But now he is naked, and we are not sure he’s an officer or what his name is. Let’s fix that.” Willie unpinned the badge and name tag from the shirt and held them up.

“Antonio and Maynard, grab hold of his unknown naked man and bring him close to me.” And they did. Peter was not putting up any resistance. He didn’t know what was going on. Willie reached out with both hands and began to pinch and pull each of Peter’s nipples. Peter tried to pull back, but the guys held on to him firmly. “Let’s see how perky these nips can be. I like them to stand out and be proud.” After a few minutes of tit torture, with Peter still twisting and jerking to try to get loose, his nipples did look much better, nicely pointed.

“Okay, hold him tighter,” and Willie took the police badge and pushed the pin into and through the right nipple, and quickly clipped the pin closed.

“OOOWWWEEEE! You fuckers!” Peter screamed, now four guys were holding him still.

“OK, so much for the shield. Now, we know he’s a policeman. Neat. Okay, but who is this handsome, sexy policeman?” Willie looked Peter in the eyes. Now, he showed the name tag to Peter. Peter shook his head wildly. He started to struggle with all his might. But there were too many guys holding him in place.

“Okay, here we go,” and Willie held the pin behind the name tag, pushed it through his left nipple, and closed it. “Wow. Okay. Now we know this is a naked police officer named Officer Dennett. Isn’t this so much better, Office Dennett?”

Peter was angry and wanted to strangle Willie Adams and the whole bunch of lunatic, fagot bastards.

“Now, officer. We just properly identified you. Can you say thank you?”

Peter spit in Willkie’s face. He had had enough.

“That was a big mistake. You just added a little punishment to tonight’s festivities. We’ll get to that later. But for now, this is how it goes, you either thank us for pinning your nipples all proper like, or we pull them off, ripping our titties, and then pin that badge and tag to your dick.”

Peter was beaten. He didn’t want his body mutilated any further. He cried. “Please don’t. Please, Mr. Adams. I’ll be good. Please stop.”

“I guess you didn’t hear me. Either thank us for pining your nipples or suffer the consequences. And you better make it sound convincing.”

Peter continued to cry in his surrender. His body shook, and his lips trembled. “Thank you for pinning my badge and name tag on me.”

“I’m not convinced. Maybe we should rip them off and start…”

“Oh god! Thank you so much for sticking my badge into my right nipple and my name tag through my left nipple. Oh, thank you all. I am so pleased you did me this huge favor. So pleased your Justice Gang has taken time to improve my attitude.” Then he just broke down and cried.

“So, now, Officer Dennett, now that we raised your level of sensitivity and have your attention, we all like you to address our grievances.”

Peter was trying to stop his tears. “Thrust your chest out. Show us your amazing titties. Are you pleased and proud?” Willie asked bluntly.

“I am so pleased, so fucking proud to protect and defend and serve you all. I have not been the best policeman, but I want to learn how to serve you better. I want to give you the best service I can. I will be and do as you require. Sirs!”

“Who wants to go first?” Several spoke up, yelling that he was a nasty, arrogant jerk. They were all obviously still angry. Several of them had repeatedly been called faggots or pansies in front of their friends and girlfriends. Some of these guys in Willie Adams’ Justice Gang were gay, others not, but Peter called them all fagots all the time. Two of them had been pantsed, one guy three times in the high school hallway. Antonio Barone had repeatedly been called a wop and a dago by Peter, and he harassed others because they were in the drama club, the chorus, or the band, saying they were nerds or queers because they weren't jocks. Another told about how Peter had fucked his sister for two weeks and then dumped her, telling everyone she was a slut. Another, Maynard Brown, who was Black, said that he had overheard Peter referring to him and his friends as "niggers."

Peter started to reply when Maynard finished, but one of the guys holding him from behind reached between his legs and grabbed his nuts. "Not a word until you are allowed to speak, fucker, or you lose these."

Peter wasn't courageous like most bullies, so he decided to be quiet. He didn't have to wait long to see what would happen next.

"These gentlemen have asked me, Willie Adams, to be in charge of your re-education, Officer Dennett," Willie said, smiling. "Today, we will all be involved in your first lesson." He nodded to the two men holding Peter.

Before the young cop knew what was happening to him, Willie had sat on an inverted garbage can, and Peter was stretched naked, belly down, across Adams's lap. Willie began to spank the pale ass cheeks. Peter yelled at the first slap, mostly from humiliation and outrage but mostly because his painful, skewered nipples were pressed into Willie’s thighs. He began to plead with Adams to stop. Finally, he was further humiliated by his own weakness. He began to cry again like a little boy. Soon his ass and face were both red, his nipples raw and bleeding, and his faced contorted with tears streaming down it. At that point, a laughing Antonio Barone pulled out his cell to take photos, clearly showing his face and ass red.

Trying to quit snuffling and recover dignity, he said, "Okay, you guys. I guess I've been a jerk sometimes. I'm sorry. But you aren't gonna show anybody those pictures, are you?"

“Here's the way it's gonna be, boy," Willie said. "You got two choices. Either email these pictures to Lt. Katz, or else you do exactly what we tell you."

"You aren't going to make me do anything criminal, are you?"

"Probably not. But we own you. Unless you want us to send those pictures to your lieutenant, we'll get on with your attitude adjustment training. So, what's it gonna be?"

Peter took a deep breath, considering the options. He didn't want to be further humiliated by these guys, but even worse, he didn't want to be in trouble with the lieutenant. If those pictures got into his superior’s hands, he'd be kicked off the force.

"Okay. I don't guess I've got any choice. What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, nothin' much," Willie said, grinning. "We'll be taking pictures and videos to document your retraining, and we want to get one more while the whole group is here. Lie down."


"You're not that stupid, Dennett. You heard me. Lie down. Just lie there. Don't move until I tell you you can get up. Got that, officer?"

Afraid, Peter lay down on his back, not wanting to leave his red ass exposed. The group gathered around him, making a kind of oval. Peter was horrified when all of them unzipped and took out their cocks. They proceeded to have a circle jerk. One skinny guy whose name Peter couldn't remember, had the longest dong he’d ever seen. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he pumped his hard pole. They didn't all come at the same time, of course, so Adams was telling them where to shoot their jizm it.

"Aim for his face and hair. Somebody get some nice big strings of splooge on his face for photos. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to puke at the thought of having the cum of twelve guys on him.

"Open your eyes, boy!"

Peter forced himself to open his eyes, still fighting the urge to barf. It seemed an eternity, but within ten minutes, every man in the circle shot his load onto the young policeman. Willie, the last to cum, bent his knees slightly and aimed his big load onto the front of Peter's face, “Now, beg me for my load.”

Peter was stunned. But in a daze. So, “Please give me your load.”

“No better, beg and tell us you’ll be a good boy.”

“Oh fuck! God damn it. Give me your manly cum load, please. I promise to be a good boy for all your guys!”

Willie smiled, thinking that breaking him completely would not be as difficult as he first thought. “Open up.” Then Bruce took his cell to video, sometimes zooming in close, as Willie unloaded blast after blast of his man juice into Peter’s waiting mouth.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Peter paused, realizing they needed more. “I thank all of you, kind sirs, for your loads."

“Bruce? You got that all on video?” Bruce nodded. He told the others to pack their equipment back into their pants. The late afternoon air smelled strongly of cum. Willie unlocked the handcuffs and handed them and the key to the young officer.

"You can get yourself back together now. But while you're doin' that, listen to me, boy. You gotta realize that you ain't the cock of the walk. You're just a swell-headed mother-fucker. Your shit smells like anybody else's. And until you know that, until you really know that deep down inside, you ain't gonna be of any use as a police officer in this town. We've got the pictures and video of you getting your ass spanked and wailing like a baby. And, of course, of your taken our loads. I promise you won't get in trouble over these pictures," he grinned at the others, "if you complete your training."

"Can I ask a question?"


"How long will this `training' last?"

"As long as we want it to. Until we think you've figured out how unimportant you are. Until we think you might be a good cop, doin' somethin' useful in the community. So, Officer Dennett, what's it gonna be?"

"What choice do I have?" Peter asked with a hint of his usual abrasiveness.

"Watch it! You'd best not be pitchin' attitude around here. Just answer the fucking question."

"Okay, okay! You got me. I'll do whatever you say. Just don't let anybody see those pictures and videos."

As Peter was getting his uniform back on, Willie unpinned his badge and name tag from his nipples. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Adams, sir. Thank you. You are so kind. I will behave.”

“I don’t know about kind, but I’m glad you think so. However, remember when you spit on my face?” Peter cringed in fear. We will address that now.”

As Peter stood there in his police uniform, Willie stepped closer and pinched Peter’s tender right nipple through the shirt material, then he speared the nipple through the shirt with the name tag and closed the pin.

“Fuck! Please, I said I’d obey.”

“Yes, after you spit in my face. You don’t know it yet, but you need punishment each time you disrespect one of us.” Now the badge was on the shirt, stabbed though the nipple. “You now have your badge on properly, don’t you.” Peter was silent. Willie just stared. He wanted a response.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

“Now, I’ll pin your name tag to your other tit similarly if you want. Would you like that?” Willie grinned most evilly.

Peter knew what his tormentor wanted, no doubt. “Yes, please. Please pin my name tag to my shirt through my left nipple, so I can be properly dressed in my uniform. Oh God, please. Please.” This humiliation seemed endless. He wondered how he would remain on the force. Surely the Justice Gang’s requirements would interfere with his job as a police officer.

“Well, OK, Mr. Policeman, here you go.” And his name tag was then pinned to his very sore left nipple. “Now, if you want to spit in my face again, please do. I've never cut a man’s dick off, but I’m always up for new things. Aren’t you?

Peter’s face went ash white. He thought he would generally comply with orders, but now he knew he’d do EXACTLY as told, without resistance or variation, ever.

"You realize we'll be taking more as your training goes on? You'll have quite a photo album by the time you're finished, not to mention exciting videos." He chuckled. "Maybe we can put it on a CD for you to show your kids someday." Peter was shaking with anger and humiliation. His nipples were agonizingly painful. He wanted to remove his badge and name tag but didn’t dare.

"You can go home now, but you can't go through my office looking like that. You'll have to go down the alley and around."

Peter could never have imagined being so humiliated. Things had always gone pretty much his way, and here he was, with cum all over his face and in his hair, and down the front of his shirt. And he felt the now-cold, sticky place on the front of his briefs where many shot their loads. It soaked through the front of his uniform pants.

“I want you to walk to your car slowly. If you hurry, we’ll have you do it again. We’ll be watching. See how slowly you can saunter.”

He complied and slowly walked to his car. He unlocked and jumped into his cruiser, started it up, and peeled away toward the little house he was renting.

He was only a block from the scene of his degradation when he stopped at a traffic light. Across the intersection from him was Lt. Katz in his unmarked police car. Peter was nervous enough from his ordeal already, but seeing the lieutenant made his palms begin to sweat on the steering wheel. He couldn't disguise who he was. After all, he was sitting there in a numbered patrol car. But he did try to turn his head to the right as he pulled through the intersection, hoping desperately that the lieutenant couldn't see the cum drying on his face, shirt, and hair.

When he was several blocks away from the “scene of the crime,” he pulled over. He stopped. He wanted to wipe the cum off his face, comb his hair down, and remove the pins through his nipples. But oddly, he thought the gang would know, so he just continued to drive home as he was.

When he got home, he ran to the bathroom, stripped off all his clothes, and took a very long, hot shower, trying to wash all the cum and perhaps the memories of the experience away.

"I'm fucked," he said later as he sat in his living room having a beer. "I'm really fucked." Try as he might, he could not avoid the rest of what Willie Adams called his "re-training."

The next day he heard nothing from Willie Adams or the others. Lt. Katz seemed to have noticed nothing when they saw each other from their cars the previous afternoon. Peter worried all day, waiting for the axe to fall for any summons from his tormentors. Peter fumed that they'd dared to do what they'd done to him. He wasn't such a bad guy, he thought. He couldn't understand why they were so pissed off at him. And he was a cop, too. Where'd they get the balls to humiliate a cop? He wanted to tell his superiors what they'd done. Still, he would have died of shame to have to tell the lieutenant about getting himself into a situation where he was overpowered, not to mention the spanking and the circle jerk. It would have been even worse if the lieutenant had seen those pics.

So he went through the motions of doing his duty that day. It was three days after the first episode when Peter got the call. By that time, he'd practically convinced himself that it was all a bad joke or something and that he wouldn't hear any more from Adams and the others. He was wrong.

Dispatch came over the radio in his patrol car and gave him a phone number to call. He thought it was unusual that she'd relay a personal call, but he used his cell to call the number.

"Barone's Hardware."

"Uh, this is Officer Dennett. Someone there wanted me to call?"

"Well, Officer Dennett! Nice of you to call back. This is your wop, dago friend, Antonio. It's time for another training session."

"Look, are you sure you . . ."

"Shut the fuck up, Dennett, and just listen."

Peter, whose mouth suddenly was parched, said, "Okay, I'm listening."

"Be at your house at 9:00 this evening. Leave the front door unlocked. Oh, yeah," Antonio chuckled, "and be naked on your knees inside the door when we get there." Peter almost objected but figured it wouldn't do any good. He had to do what these bastards wanted.

The Justice Gang
Part 2 of 6 When he got home that evening, he put a frozen pot pie in the oven, but when it was ready, he was too jittery to eat it. He decided what he needed was a beer.

He got out of his uniform and hung it up to stay neat. Then he pulled on a pair of jeans. After all, he'd be getting undressed later anyway. He clicked on the tv, but he couldn't concentrate on it. He kept wondering how his life, which had been going along pretty well, was now being fucked up by Willie Adams and his friends. They were a bunch of goddammed losers. So how come they had him in such a bind? He had another beer while he thought about that.

Before he knew it, it was 8:50. "Fuck!" he said.
"They'll be here in ten minutes." He ensured the front door was unlocked and checked that the curtains in the living room were drawn. He didn't want his neighbors to see him naked. Then, as ordered, he stripped off his Levi’s, threw them behind the sofa, and knelt where he could be seen when Antonio arrived.

At about five past nine, Peter heard a car pull up to the curb. Then two doors slammed. A minute later, his front door opened, and two men came in.

"Oh my God, Maynard, just look at that! There's Big Man on Campus, Peter Dennett. He's naked. And he's on his fuckin' knees!"

A slow smile spread over the face of Maynard Brown, 6'4" and 225 pounds. "Cool!"

"So, Dennett," Antonio said, "you don't look like such a hotshot now, do you?" Peter glared at him but didn't say anything. "Come on, you arrogant bastard, say something! How does it feel to be naked and kneeling down in front of a wop and a nigger?"

"Look, Antonio, I'm – "

"Shaddup. We don't wanna hear it. Go get a glass of water and come back here." By the time Peter, blushing all over as blonds sometimes do, keenly aware of his cock swinging back and forth as he walked, went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, Barone and Brown had sat down in Peter's small living room.

"You got the stuff?" Antonio asked Maynard.

"Sure do." Maynard reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of folded Kleenex. He unwrapped it and held two blue pills in his hand. He handed them to Peter. "Take this."

"Hey, guys, what is this? It won't kill me, will it?"

Antonio grinned at Maynard, who grinned back evilly. "No, they might even make you happy. Now, take it! Peter took the pills, put them in his mouth, and washed them with water.

"Okay, good. Now, let's go to your bathroom."

Peter looked sick, not from the pills, but from the idea of having these two males with him in his bathroom. When they got there, Antonio, who seemed to be the spokesman of the pair, said, "Listen, motherfucker, here's the deal. You are gonna shave your pubes, your cock, your balls, and your ass. Got it?"

"Aw, come on, Antonio! How can I do that? I've gotta change and sometimes shower at the precinct station. What would I tell the other guys?"

"That's your problem! Now, you got an electric razor?"


"Well, start with that. Remember, pubes, cock, balls and ass."

"Could I have some privacy while I do that, please?"

"No way. Now that you mention it, we're all a little crowded here in your john. Bring your razor out into the living room." Razor in hand, Peter followed Maynard and Antonio back to the living room.

"Okay, now get busy."

When he had used the beard trimmer attachment of his razor to clip off most of his pubes, Peter then began to use the razor on the rest. Then he did his cock and was embarrassed when it began to get hard as he worked on it. By the time he had all the hair removed from his balls, he was sporting a real boner. Getting his ass crack clean of hair was a bit of a problem. You really need someone to hold your ass cheeks apart to do that, and, of course, Peter only had two hands.

"Uh, could one of you guys help here?"

Maynard chuckled. "No way, man. I ain't puttin' my hands on your white ass."

"Aw, fuck," Antonio said. He squatted behind Peter and pulled his ass cheeks apart, carefully keeping his hands as far as possible from Peter's crack.

When that chore was done, Peter put the razor on the coffee table and turned to face the other two men. His cock was fully hard, pointing at an angle toward the ceiling. He didn't know why he was stiff, and he blushed again to be seen that way by Barone and Brown.

Maynard elbowed Antonio, chuckled, and said, "Hey, man. That stuff must have done its job."

Antonio grinned. "Nah, I think maybe Officer Dennett here is just happy to see us. After all, he was always calling other guys fags and stuff. Maybe that was just his way of covering up the fact that he's gay. You suppose?"

Maynard chuckled. "Could be, man, could be."

Peter, meanwhile, wanted to sink through the floor. He was embarrassed, not turned on, by being naked and shaven in front of these two relative strangers. But his cock was hot, hard, and throbbing.

"Looks like a Kodak moment to me," Antonio said, reaching into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. He pulled out a digital camera.

"Okay, Dennett, say `cheese.'" He took a full-frontal picture of Peter. "Now, turn around, bend over, and pull your ass cheeks apart. We want to see how clean you've gotten them."

"You don't really -- "

"Yeah, mufucker," Maynard said, "we do. Now, turn around and spread `em."

Blushing profusely again, Peter did as he was told. He was beginning to wonder when these degradations would stop. But try as he would, he couldn't think of any way to escape from the "training program" Adams and his friends had thought up.

"Now," Antonio said. "Next step in showing this arrogant bastard just how worthless he is. Let's get some evidence that he's the cocksucker, not the guys he called that in high school."

Maynard looked at Antonio and said, "Do I gotta?"

Antonio grinned. "No, dude, you don't gotta. But your face won't show in the picture. Just your dick. And I've always heard it's nothing to be ashamed of with you guys, right?"

Maynard grinned. "You're sure my face won't show?"

"Ya got my word, bro. Now, drop `em."

Maynard unfastened the belt on his jeans and let them fall around his ankles. He was freeballing, so immediately, he was naked from the waist down. A big cut cock draped out and over equally huge balls. Even limp, his tool must have been 6" long.

Peter was sweating by this time, not knowing exactly what was in store for him. He couldn't believe they would make him suck Brown's big cock. He'd never in his life done anything like that. He'd never even played around with a friend when he was going through puberty. He was straight, after all.

"Okay, `Officer Dennett,'" Antonio said, "kneel in front of Maynard here so I can get a picture."

"Antonio, please, don't make me suck him. I'm not like that, man. I'm not a fag."

"Don't matter, man. We're gonna get the picture anyway. But look, somethin' for you to remember. Most of the guys you kept calling queer or fags or pansies in high school weren't gay, either. So, what goes around comes around. Besides, look at your hard cock. I'm surprised, by the way, it isn't bigger. The way you acted in high school, everybody thought you must have been packin' at least ten inches." Peter glanced down at his hard seven inches and wished it wasn't hard just at that moment.

"Now, man, as I said, kneel! Get right in front of Maynard and open your mouth. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out like you would swallow his cock."

Maynard was just standing there, hands on hips, waiting. His dick wasn't hard, but it was big enough as it was. Giving Antonio one last, desperate look to ensure he wasn't kidding around, Peter sank to his knees and knee-walked up to Maynard. He shut his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

"No, no, stupid. You're too far away, and you gotta keep your eyes open. I've always thought you were probably a queer because you made such a big deal out of other guys being gay. But right now, even if you're straight, you gotta do an acting job. It ain't what you want that matters here. You don't count for nothing. So, act like you want to swallow Maynard's cock. Play to the camera. Stick out our tongue and look anxious!"

When he got close enough, Peter could smell Maynard's scent. It was like a locker room, only it was much stronger and right in front of his nose. He wanted to puke, but he also felt a little dizzy. Remembering to keep his eyes open, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

"That's good," Antonio said. "Now, just lick it a little."

"Hey, Barone," Maynard said. "That's too queer, man. I didn't say I'd let him do that."

"Aw, come on. It won't hurt. It'll feel good. Just imagine, bro. You've got this guy who's humiliated you big time right here, ready to lick your cock. You gonna turn that down? Think how long you've waited for this moment."

Maynard grinned. "Yeah, well, I suppose it can't hurt."

"You heard the man," Antonio said. He fished the camera out of the big pocket in his cargo’s. "Now, grab his cock and just put the tip of your tongue under its head. You don't have to swallow it. After all, no one here is gay, right? We just want a picture of you where it looks like you're about to swallow Maynard."

Feeling sick inside, Peter nevertheless scooted a little closer. Squinting his eyes shut, he took Maynard's big cock in his hand, stuck out his tongue, and leaned forward until he felt it. The taste wasn't bad at all. A little salty, maybe. The idea, more than the reality, made him want to vomit. But there was nothing in his stomach to hurl.

There was a click and a flash. "One more," Antonio said, "and I want to see those blue eyes open this time!" He went around to the other side and took another picture. Then he showed the two snaps he'd taken to Maynard and Peter. Both showed Peter apparently about to take a big black cock in his mouth, but they didn't show Maynard's face.

"Okay, Dennett. That's all for this evenin'. Just remember. When you hear from us again, whenever that is, we've got the pix we took the other day plus these. So you'd better answer the next call promptly."

"Can I ask a question?" Peter said.

"I like it that you're being respectful, boy. Yeah. Ask your question."

"What was this all about? And what was in those pills?"

"That's two questions, but okay. First, you ARE gonna learn that you don't count for shit. You will do anything, and I mean anything, that we tell you to do. It doesn't matter what you want. Your `dignity' don't mean diddly with us. Your reputation don't mean nothin' either. You will do what we tell ya. That clear?"

Peter rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah."

"Watch the attitude, boy, or maybe we'll make you actually suck Maynard's dick." Maynard looked askance at Antonio's remark but didn't say anything.

"Second question. What was in the pills? Look at that boner, man. That's quite a stiffie. Are you gay? Is being here with us turning you on? Have you been queer all along? Is that why you got such a charge out of calling everybody who wasn't like you a fag or a pansy?"

"No, man, I don't think so."

Antonio grinned. "Well, then maybe it's the Viagra in the blue pills we gave you that has you all boned up. But it don't matter, man. Anybody who sees the pics will know you’re a hungry cocksucker."

Peter groaned. Antonio continued. "So, if you don't want Lt. Katz and the other cops at the precinct to see those pics, you'd better show up right on time, dude, whenever you get the word. Got that?"

Peter stood there, cock pointing toward the ceiling, eyes downcast. "Yeah, I got it."

Antonio grinned. "Good!" He slapped Peter's bare ass. "Come on, Maynard, let's go. I imagine our boy here needs to beat his meat."

Maynard chuckled as he and Antonio left. Peter was resolved not to do as Antonio had suggested. He wasn't gay. Nothing that had happened that evening had turned him on. It was just those little blue pills that had given him his aching hard-on. But he couldn't make himself pull his jeans back on. He just couldn't help himself.

He sat on the sofa, put his big, bare feet on the coffee table, and began to stroke his cock with one hand, tweaking a nipple with the other. Again, they made him wait. The second day after the visit from Maynard and Antonio, he began settling down, getting back into his work routine. During the third day, Peter almost dared hope that Adams and his band had forgotten about him.

The call came on the fourth day. "Hey, mufucker!"

"Uh, hi, Maynard."

"Tonight. Yo place. 7:45. Naked. Kneelin'. You got dat?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Maynard chuckled. "From now on, white boy, you call us all `Sir.' Now, answer me again."

"Yes, sir, I got it."

"That's better." He hung up.

Although he didn't do anything to screw up, his mind wasn't on his work that afternoon. He was lucky he didn't get in trouble with Sgt. Kerns, who was his supervisor that day. Sometimes Kerns was scarier than Lt. Katz.

That evening it was Willie and Maynard who came to his house. "Stand up, Dennett," Adams said. "Let's have a look at you."

Peter stood up, trying unsuccessfully to cover his genitals with his hands. "Take those hands away, boy. We want to see if you've got stubble."

Blushing, Peter put his hands at his sides. "Yeah, Maynard, look. He's got stubble." Adams reached into a small shopping bag he was carrying and pulled out a safety razor and a can of shaving gel. "From now on, Officer Dennett, it's your responsibility to keep your cock, pubes, balls, and ass smooth as a baby's ass. Now, take this stuff and go clean it all off. And don't let us find any more stubble."

"Uh, Willie – "

"That's `Sir'!"

"Sir, last time I couldn't get my ass crack by myself." Peter wanted to sink through the floor for even having to mention that.

Willie chuckled. "Bro, I think Officer Dennett here wants somebody to feel his ass for him."

"Ya think?" Maynard replied.

"You're on your own, boy. We ain't gonna touch that white ass of yours. You'd better get it real smooth. And hurry up. We ain't got all night." He held his hand out to Maynard, who handed him some little blue pills. "While you're in the bathroom, take this. If you throw it away, we'll know in twenty minutes, and you'll have to take two. If you take two, your dick will probably explode."

Peter was angry, humiliated, and nervous. He was afraid he might cut himself with the safety razor. And he wondered what the hurry was and why they wanted him to take more Viagra.

When he presented himself for inspection, Willie and Maynard seemed satisfied with his shave. Willie reached into the shopping bag and handed Peter some clothes. "Here, put these on. Then put on the oldest, funkiest sneakers you got."

The clothes were a Tee shirt that was at least a size too small for Peter, cut off just below his pecs, so his washboard and navel showed, along with the treasure trail of blond hair running south from his navel. The other garment was a pair of cut-off jeans, again at least a size too small. Peter could barely fasten the buttons. They were so tight and so short that parts of his ass cheeks showed. And without any underwear, he couldn't keep his balls from hanging out one side or the other in front. He looked like a boy whore.

"Sirs, you can't make me go outside in this. I look like a slut. What if someone sees me?"

"Oh, people are gonna see you," Maynard said, chuckling evilly.

"Yeah," Willie added. "Remember that you don't count. What you want don't count. People are gonna see you in this get-up, and believe me, you'll be glad to put it back on later."

Peter gulped when Willie said something about "putting it back on."

They took him outside. At the curb was a pickup truck. Willie and Maynard rode in the cab, telling Peter to get into the truck's cargo bed. As he was climbing in, Willie slapped him on the ass. The Viagra had obviously begun to work, for that touch on his ass gave him an instant erection. As he rode through the town streets, still quite light, he tried to tuck his big boner into the shorts, but the shorts just weren't big enough. He had to let it stick out one of the legs. The shorts were too tight to let it peek up from the waistband. An SUV pulled in behind the truck a block or two after they left his house. In the front seat were Antonio Barone and Bruce Jessop, the guy who claimed Peter had pantsed him three times in the high school hallway. They could see his stiffie and were laughing and pointing at it. When they stopped at a stoplight, Antonio kept tooting on the horn so that pedestrians and other motorists were staring at them to see what the fuss was about. Peter put his hands over the head of his cock, but Antonio gestured for him to take them away.

After a few more minutes, they pulled into the city's big old park. They made Peter leave the truck and start down a paved pathway into a denser wooded area. The others refused to walk with Peter. They told him to walk about fifteen paces in front of them, commenting about what a slut he looked like and laughing. Eventually, they came to a place far enough into the woods that no other people were around.

"Okay, Officer Dennett," Willie said, "Strip naked.” He did, fighting his nervousness. He was learning to just fucking obey. “Now, stand with your back to that tree and put your arms to your sides." He indicated a tree a few feet off the path. Its trunk was thick. Adams produced a pair of regulation police-issue handcuffs and fastened Peter's wrists together behind the tree. Then, from a small sack they brought, they used quite a bit of rope to tie him up. Willie just thought the rope was a hot look on a handsome naked man. So even if someone untied the rope, they still needed the key to release him.

"What are you guys gonna do to me, sir?" a frantic Peter asked.

"Can I do this part?" Bruce asked Willie, who nodded affirmatively. Bruce produced a black cloth strip to wrap around his head as a blindfold. Then Willie handed Bruce something.

"Look, Dennett," Bruce said, "this is the key to your handcuffs." He reached between Peter's legs and shoved the key between his ass cheeks, with the long part inserted in his asshole and the wide part sticking out.

"Oh my God, what are you guys doing to me?" Peter wailed.

"Here's the deal," Willie said. "It's 8:00. We're gonna go have some beers. You're free to go home if you can persuade anybody to take that key and let you lose. Of course," he added, grinning broadly, "you may have to fight off a few admirers on your way."

"Christ!" Peter said.

"If you are still here at midnight, you will be released. Come on, guys, I'm thirsty." They started to walk back to their vehicles. Willie turned and said over his shoulder, "Have a nice evening, Officer Dennett!"

Peter's first thought was to yell for help, but then he couldn't bear the thought of being seen there, naked. He was clenching his ass cheeks together tightly so the key wouldn't drop out onto the ground and be lost in the leaves around his feet. Just then, he heard skateboards approaching the macadam path. Two young Teens came into view around a bend to Peter's left. They were both about 5'6" with hair long enough to fly in the breeze created by their movement. Both had thin, wiry bodies and good tans. They had removed their shirts and tucked them into the hip pockets of their baggy shorts.

"Whoa, man," one of them said. "Look at the dude!"

"Holy fuck!" the other exclaimed. They walked over and stood in front of Peter.

Ready to pass out from shame, Peter couldn't think of anything to say, so he just looked at the boys with a panicked expression.

"Hey," one said, "this is a real fag. He doesn't have any pubes."

"Dude, look at his balls. They're clean, too. Yeah, he must be like a real fairy."

The Justice Gang
Pasrt 3 of 6 Peter thought about pleading with them to release him. But then he remembered the law. If he asked them to take that key out of his ass crack, he'd probably be guilty of statutory rape.

"Fuck off, kids," he said. He could tell they were teens by the sound of their voices. "It's just a fraternity initiation thing."

"Funny time for an initiation. It's July, man," one of the Teens said. He looked at his friend. "I think he's looking for somebody to suck him off."

"Yeah, dude," said the other one. "If you're looking for some action, you should go back that way," and he nodded his head in the direction they were headed. "The toilet's there, and you might find another queer to give you some head."

After the two boys got on their skateboards and left, it was quiet for a while. Then three guys who looked like they might be Fairview Community College students came along. All were wearing Tees, cargo shorts, and Birks. They spotted Peter from ten yards or so and walked up to him, looking puzzled and amused.

"Hey, man, what's up with you?"

One of the others giggled and said, "Well, duh! It's pretty obvious what's up with him, his boner."

They all had a good laugh at that witticism. Peter realized he couldn't use the fraternity hazing excuse with these guys, so he said, "Please help me. I was grabbed by some perps. They took my clothes and fastened me to this tree."

"You must be enjoying it, dude," one of the guys said, looking down at Peter's pole.

"Naw, man! They made me take Viagra."

"That's the most unbelievable story I've ever heard."

The third college guy, who hadn't said anything to that point, asked, "So how do you want us to help you?"

"Well, ya see, the key to these cuffs is hidden nearby. I just need you to untie me and then get it and unlock them. Then I can get the fuck out of here."

"Yeah? Where is the key?"

Peter tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He didn't know whether he could say what he had to or not. "Uh, it's, well, it's – "

"Come on, guys," one of them said. "This is too weird. I think we should just move on."

"Please, dudes," Peter said, "ya gotta help me. At least remove my blindfold. Think what it would be like to be here."

"Man, I can't imagine."

"So, where is the key?"

"It was pushed into my asshole, but the flat part is sticking out, easy to grab."

"Oh, fuck!"

"Ewwww! That's so gross!"

"That's plain sick, dude. Come on, guys, let's get out of here." Looking at Peter with disgust and sympathy, he reached up and pulled the black cloth blindfold off and stuffed it in his pocket, likely as a souvenir. Without saying anything else, the three left quickly down the path.

As disappointed as he was not to have been freed by the college guys, he was relieved that no women had come down the path. Then it occurred to him that he was lucky there weren't more people out skating or walking at that hour. Perhaps it was because Adams and Justice Gang friends had taken him to a remote part of the park.

Just then a pair of cyclists, wearing full cycling gear, including spandex pants and those funny little helmets, whisked around the corner and toward him. They went right on past, but as they went on, Peter heard one of them say, "Did you see that?"

"What?" the other asked. They kept on going.

Almost immediately from the other direction came a lone pedestrian. He was as tall as Peter but probably 30 pounds heavier. He wore cutoffs, a wife beater, and hiking boots. His shorts didn't leave much to the imagination. The guy, who wore his black hair in a crew cut, had about a two-day stubble on his face.

He approached Peter, stood very close to him, looked him up and down, and said, "Looks like Christmas in July. But a seriously cute piece like you doesn't have to resort to such extreme measures to get someone to give him head. There are more subtle ways." He chuckled.

"Hey, man, I had nothing to do with this. Some guys who don't like me did this to me. Can you turn me loose?"

"Loose? I don't think so. But I can give you some relief from your problem." He looked down at Peter's throbbing dick, grinned, and sank to his knees.

"Oh, noooo, man! I'm not gay. Please don't do that."

"Not gay? Puleez! Look at you, boy. You've shaved yourself all nice and pretty all over. Your cock is obviously ready for some action. You're here beside a public path. Don't tell me you're not gay."

Having said that, he first kissed the tip of Peter's cock and then engulfed it, taking Peter's seven hot, hard inches down his throat as if it were nothing.

"Shit! Fuck! Oh, God!" Peter had, of course, had blow jobs before, but nothing had ever felt as good as that. He was revolted by the idea that a man was giving him those feelings, but he couldn't deny how he felt. He went from protesting that he wasn't queer to quickly moaning with pleasure.

The big man on his knees stopped, pulled off, and said, "See, I knew you were gay." Then he went back to bobbing and sucking. Peter was startled and embarrassed to find that he was pumping his hips, trying to face fuck the stranger. When he realized what he was doing, he quit. But he couldn't hold in the moans that went with his incredible feeling. He wanted the guy to stop. He wanted the guy to keep going forever. And then he knew what was going to happen.

"Hey, man, you'd better pull off. I'm gonna cum!" The guy didn't pull off.

Peter felt the guy's tongue going around and around his cockhead. He screamed something unintelligible and exploded into the big stranger's mouth. He couldn't ever remember having such an orgasm. He had no idea how many spurts he pumped out, but it must have set a record. Then he sagged and let the lops of rope hold him up. The tree bark began to scratch his ass, and he stood straight up.

Peter still wasn't capable of speech. The other man stood. There was cum running down his chin. He opened his mouth to show Peter the load he had caught there. Then he leaned forward and put his closed lips against Peter's.

Peter was revolted. "Hey, like I said, dude, I ain't a fag. I don't kiss guys!"

The stranger simply pinched Peter's nostrils together until he had to open his mouth to breathe. Then he stuck his tongue in Peter's mouth and swabbed his tongue, lips, and cheeks with it, leaving a deposit of cum everywhere he touched.

Peter's mind was reeling. He was sickened by the thought that he had the stranger's tongue in his mouth. Having never tasted cum, his own or anyone else's, he wasn't too happy about that, either. But two things registered dimly through his confusion. The cum didn't taste bad. It was sort of bland and tasteless. Getting frenched was getting frenched, and he was shocked to find that he was enjoying it. He wasn't supposed to enjoy it. And it felt really weird to be kissed by someone with scratchy whiskers. But much as he wanted to hate it, he didn't.

"Thanks, doll." The guy pulled a card from his hip pocket, bent down, and stuck it under Peter’s barefoot. "You really don't have to pull desperate stunts like this. You're too cute. Just call me when you want a blow job. Or more." He caressed Peter's cheek and strolled away. Peter noticed that the guy's dick was sticking down out of his shorts and that precum was running down his leg.

Peter's arms and shoulders grew tired from being stretched around the tree behind him. His cock had gotten hard again, thinking about his encounter just now. His mouth was full of the taste of his own cum. Not bad, he thought. He needed to get out of there, get home, and try to process everything that had happened to him. Then he remembered that Willie said he'd be set free at midnight. He just guessed he had been there for hours and that midnight, when he’d be released, was not long off.

Soon, a lone figure came around the bend from the direction of the parking lot. Peter watched carefully to see if it was Willie or one of his cohorts. He was horrified to see that the man approaching was one of his colleagues, a member of the Fairview PD.

He was blinded by the flashlight shining on his face. A voice chuckled. "Well, Peter Dennett, I do believe! What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?"

"Bingham, is that you?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, man. Looks like I came along just in time. You might have been in deep shit if someone else found you like this."

"You mean I'm not in trouble? You're not gonna tell Lt. Katz?"

"No, man. Relax. Let's get you out of here." Officer Clark Bingham, who had taken the flashlight away from Peter's face and set it on the ground, reached into his pocket and took out a latex glove, which he pulled onto his right arm. Then he squatted in front of Peter.

"Man, you've just cum, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Peter admitted, humiliated to be found like this by Bingham.

"Is the key where I think it is?"

"In my ass is where it is!"

“How did you know that?’ Bingham removed the key from its hiding place. Holding it between his fingers, he peeled off the glove with the other hand. Continuing to hold the key with the glove, he unlocked the handcuffs, turned the glove inside out with the key, and shoved it in his pocket. He put the cuffs next to the flashlight. Then he took out a pocket knife and made short work of cutting the ropes.

Peter began to massage his wrists. "Thanks, man. I'm so glad it was you that came along. You're not shitting me? You aren't gonna tell anybody?"

"Relax, Dennett. I know what's going on."

Peter found the pile of his slutty clothes nearby and put them on. "Hey, are you in on this?"

Bingham picked up the flashlight and the cuffs. Putting his left hand on Peter's bicep, he said, "Let's go back to the car, and I'll explain."

Peter was relieved they didn't meet anyone on their way to Bingham's cruiser. He may have been unfastened from the tree, but he didn't want anyone to see him in his boy-whore outfit.

"Get in, and I'll drive you home."

In the car, Peter had to ask. "You said you'd explain, dude. How did you know I was there? You sure you aren't helping Adams and those bastards `cause it sure looks like you are."

"Look, Dennett. I'm not really `in on' what they're doing. Let's just say I was tied to that tree a year ago." He looked over at Peter and grinned. "I know what you're going through, bud."

"Those fuckers did this to you, too?"

"Yeah. Everything. They had me in the slutty clothes and the key up my ass and cuffed, just like you."

"Oh, my God! They did this to you too. Wow. So, what's this all about? What's going to happen to me? How can we get back at them for all this?"

Bingham pulled the cruiser up in front of Peter's house. "I can't tell you any more about that. I can tell you that you must do exactly what they say. There is no way you can get back at them. Your ass belongs to them for as long as they want it to."


"I can also tell you that it won't be all bad if you go along with the program. Maybe a lot better than you think."

"But –-"

Bingham put his hand on Peter's knee. "That's all I can tell you, Peter. Trust me. You'll get through this. Then maybe we'll talk."

"You've really got me confused, Clark. But thanks, man, for saving my ass out there in the park. I owe you big time."

"No prob. See ya at the precinct."

Peter exited the patrol car and ran into his house as Clark drove away. He didn't want nosy old Ms. Pinchbek next door to see him like that. She'd tell his folks, for sure, and probably everyone else she knew.

As he had after the previous experiences with Willie, Peter needed a long, hot shower. Afterward, he pulled on a pair of shorts and entered the kitchen. Unlike the other times, this night, he was ravenous. He put a frozen pizza in the microwave and nuked it, washing it down with a beer.

Later, on the sofa with another beer, he relived the whole evening's experience. What bothered him most was, surprisingly, not the humiliation, which had been excruciating, for sure, but the fact that he had really gotten off to the big stranger blowing him and that he had enjoyed the cum-filled kiss afterward.

`Fuck!' he said to himself. `What happened tonight sure as shit isn't gonna make me start looking for sex with guys. But maybe I can see now a little bit about why the fags like it."

As usual, Willie let Peter stew awhile after the episode in the park. Peter thought it was strange that Willie seemed so familiar with his work schedule. He got a call on Friday telling him to save both that evening and the next evening for his "retraining." He was told to be in his uniform at 8:00 that evening, ready to go with whoever picked him up.

Peter worried that they wanted him to wear his uniform. He feared doing anything to bring discredit to the force or to get himself into trouble with his superiors. His imagination went wild thinking of what Will Adams and his cohorts might have in store for him. He had a cheeseburger and fries at BK on the way home after his shift, and a couple of beers after he got home.

He showered and put on a clean uniform. He didn't want to look sloppy in his blues. There was a knock on his door promptly at 8:00. He opened the door to find Willie and Antonio standing there.

"Lookin' sharp, Office Dennett," Willie said.

"Uh, thanks," Peter replied.

Antonio handed him a folded Kleenex. "Here, Dennett. Here are your pills. Take em! We want you on top of your game tonight."

Peter wondered what that meant and why there was, in addition to the blue Viagra, a smaller, white pill. Having asked and gotten permission, he went into the kitchen, where he washed the pills down with a drink of water.

The three men got into Adams's car. They drove to the edge of the city to an area along the railroad tracks, pulling up, finally, to the Barone Hardware Co. warehouse. Several cars and trucks were already parked out front. Antonio led them into the cavernous building and down a dark hallway. He tapped on a door, which Bruce Jessop and Garth Cantrell opened.

"The others are all here," Bruce said.

They took Peter into a room lighted by a single incandescent fixture. In the dark, Garth undid the belt of Peter's uniform trousers and pulled them, along with his boxers, down to his ankles.

"Don't look down," Willie commanded.

Bruce grabbed Peter's cock and seemed to tie something on it. Then he pulled up his boxers and uniform pants, zipped, and belted them. The Viagra had taken effect, for even that slight handling of his dick had caused Peter to get a boner.

"Okay, Officer Dennett," Willie said, grinning, "Come with us."

They led him from the small, dark room into a huge warehouse room that was brilliantly lit. There were all sorts of hardware items on shelves around the room's edges, like Home Depot, but there was a cleared area in the middle. There, Peter was shocked to see about two dozen men, including those present at his first humiliation in the alley behind Willie's insurance office.

All the men were standing in a horseshoe pattern. When Peter was brought in, they turned their backs, lowered their underwear and pants, to display their asses, and remained bent over. Antonio, Bruce, and Garth also ‘dropped trou’ to join them in the horseshoe.

Willie reached into a pocket of his cargos and pulled out a video camera. "Okay, Dennett. You will kneel behind the first man, Antonio, and stick your nose right against his ass crack. Take a big breath. Smell those funky asses!"

Peter started to protest but realized he couldn't avoid doing what he was made to do, and there was no point in complaining. `These fuckers own me,' he thought. `I guess I gotta do whatever they say.'

Actually, Antonio's ass didn't smell all that bad. In fact, what Peter smelled was the male smell of Antonio's balls. It was the horrifying image that he – as a police officer, in full uniform - was on his knees smelling the asses of these degenerates and fagots.

"Thank Mr. Barone for letting you smell his ass, Officer Dennett," Willie said.

"Thanks, Mr. Barone, for letting me smell your ass," Peter responded. All the rest laughed.

"Now, go to each of the others and do the same thing."

“When Maynard Brown cut a big fart in Peter’s face, he vomited. He coughed and pulled back from Maynard's ass. "Fuck!" he exclaimed.

"Watch it, Officer Dennett. Maynard has given you a gift. You must give him special thanks. Kiss his ass and thank him."

"Thank you, sir, for allowing me to breathe your fart," Peter said through gritted Teeth.

"No, that doesn't sound like you mean it, man. Lick his crack and try again."

Peter thought he would puke, but he managed to lick Maynard's ass crack and made a more sincere-sounding apology. Then he was allowed to complete the ritual of ass-nuzzling and thanks.

Willie had been taking videos of the whole procedure. Peter was sickened, not so much by what he'd just been made to do as by the thought that maybe others would see the video that Willie had taken. However, he didn't have time to worry about that for long because Willie told him it was time for the evening's next event.

Antonio and Maynard went behind some shelving and began bringing out folding chairs for the others, who had pulled up their pants. They arranged them in a large semicircle. Willie came over to Peter and put his arm around his shoulder.

"Now, Dennett, here's the next thing on the program. There's a boom box over there by the wall. When it begins to play, you're gonna do a strip dance for these gentlemen. And, man, you'd better give it everythin' you got! Shake your bootie! Grope your package. Lick your lips. Make like a fuckin' exotic dancer, a whore in heat. What happens afterward depends on how good a job you do."

"Willie, sir, I've never done anything like that before. I don't think I can --"

"Of course, you can. You gotta! Make love with your eyes to every man in the room. Make him want to fuck you. Here's a chance to show your acting talents. And, man, you better make it good!"

Somebody started the music playing softly, but it was very rhythmic and sensual. Antonio stepped into the center of the circle. "Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to present a former big man on campus at Fairview High School, star quarterback of the football team, one of Fairview's finest, who will dance for your pleasure, Officer Peter Dennett." Antonio began to applaud. The others clapped, and some jeered. The music gradually got louder.

When Peter stepped into the circle, everyone saw his hard cock pressing against the dark blue fabric of his uniform pants. Someone said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Look at that woodie. And he called me a fag!"

Peter blushed, trying to ignore the men watching him and perform as ordered. He turned his back to his audience and bent over to untie his regulation black shoes, thus presenting his ass.

Everyone clapped and whistled. "Nice ass," Bruce said. "Very fuckable." Peter couldn't see it, but Garth was adjusting his package.

Peter straightened up, kicked his shoes aside, put his hands on his hips, and stared at his audience. Then, leaving his hands where they were, he began to gyrate his hips in time to the music, his cock still obscenely tenting his pants. More applause and whistles ensued.

"Take it off," someone shouted.

The Justice Gang
Part 4 of 6 Slowly, Peter began to unbutton his uniform shirt, still swaying his hips in time to the music. He couldn't understand why he was getting into this striptease, but he was. He enjoyed the enthusiastic responses of his audience, even though he knew they were making fun of him and enjoying his humiliation. What was with that?
He pulled the shirt's tail out of his pants, slipped it off, and began to whirl it around over his head, finally throwing it aside. He didn't throw it toward the audience because he was hoping he'd be able to wear it home.

"Yeah, bitch, strip for us!" someone yelled.

Again, very slowly, he pulled the tail of his white Tee out of his pants. He raised it enough to show his six-pack and quickly pulled it back down. He turned his back to his audience and pulled the Tee up as far as his pits, giving them a look at his muscular back. Then he lowered it slowly again.

He turned back toward his audience and slowly pulled the Tee over his head, whirling it around as he had his uniform shirt. Then he tossed it on top of the shirt. That left him naked from the waist up.

Switching from rotating his hips to pistoning his pelvis forward and back, he reached up and rubbed his nipples. Peter had always had sensitive nipples, as some of his women had discovered. He quickly decided that was too erotic. He didn't want to come and already had a monster hardon. He unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled it out of the belt loops, tossing it on top of his other clothing.

The audience was enthusiastic and jeered at him, "What a fag!" "Look at that cocksucker!" "He's really gettin' into it!" Peter was momentarily distracted when he noticed that Willie was taking videos of his performance and Antonio was taking still shots with his cell.

As he unfastened the top button of his uniform pants, Peter made sure he was turned toward Willie and Antonio, playing to the cameras. He didn't know why, but he felt he had to do what he was told to the best of his abilities. Besides, this forced strip dance released something that had long lay hidden. He wasn't quite sure what or why, but he wanted to be as sexy as possible.

Ever so slowly, he unzipped his fly. Then, looking straight at Willie's camera, he lowered his eyelids, licked his lips, and pulled the zipper back up again. The watchers roared.

"Who'd a thought that bastard was such a slut," one of them commented to the guy next to him. The other replied, "I can't believe that's the great Peter Dennett. If only we'd known when he handed us all that shit."

Peter let his pants drop to the floor and then kicked them away toward the pile of clothes he'd already discarded. That left him in his blue boxers, which were severely tented out from his boner, and his black socks.

He turned his back to his audience and pulled the back of his boxers down over his muscular ass, the ass they'd all seen getting a spanking in the alley not too long ago. It was no longer red. Now it was pale once more. He wiggled the ass as provocatively as possible and then pulled the boxers back up. As he turned one more time to face the audience, he was greeted with calls of "Lose `em, drop the shorts." And, "What a whore," someone shouted.

At that moment, Peter had a flash. `Why am I doing this?' he asked himself. `Because I don't have any choice. Because what I want doesn't matter. Because this is what they want.'

He dropped his boxers. When he did, the men laughed simultaneously. As Peter's red, throbbing cock was freed from his shorts, it slapped up against his flat belly. Flying proudly from its fleshy mast was a miniature rainbow flag taped to it.

Looking down to see what everyone was staring at and laughing about, Peter lost his sense of euphoria. Once more, he was mortified and sickened to find himself standing there naked, except for the tiny, taped-on rainbow flag on his stiff bobbing dick. As he felt the blush rise from his chest to his neck to his face, he asked himself if he really had been such a jerk as to deserve all of this.

Everyone was whistling and applauding. He wanted to put his hands over his genitals but knew he wouldn't be allowed to keep them there. So, he did what he thought the guys wanted him to do. He thrust his hips forward and wiggled his hips to make the flag wave. Everyone cheered.

"Man," Antonio said, "you're a natural. Maybe we should see if we can get you booked into one of the gay strip clubs."

His first instinct was to plead with Antonio not to do that, but then he realized he'd better not say anything.

"Well, now, Officer Dennett. It seems you still have a little problem." Willie was staring at Peter's erection. "So, to cap off your performance tonight, you can pound yourself off for us. Oh, and I guess you'd better take off that flag first."

Peter carefully pulled off the flag and tossed it aside. All the feelings of wanting to please Willie and the others were gone because beating off was a bridge too far. Peter felt the cold reality that he was there, a member of the Fairview Police Department, naked, hard, about to jack off in front of a dozen guys. He looked at Willie with panic in his eyes, but the expression on Adams's face told him there was no appeal there.

Taking a wide stance and grabbing his throbbing cock, Peter closed his eyes and began to stroke himself. Unconsciously, he played with one of his nipples with the other hand. Several of the onlookers were calling him a queer and a faggot, but he recognized Bruce's voice saying, "Yeah, Peter, pound it, baby. Show us your man juice." Peter smiled inwardly. He had been right when he called Bruce a queer in high school!

Peter's cock had been hard and leaking ever since they arrived at the warehouse, but he didn't feel very sexed up as he tried to jack off for his jeering audience. It felt good in a way as he fisted his shaft, but it took longer than usual before he felt the familiar feeling in his balls. Tweaking and rubbing his nipples did help some, however, and eventually, despite his humiliation and shame, he knew he was about to come.

Willie must have seen the signs, for he said, "Catch it in your hand, Dennett!"

Moments later, Peter shot the largest load he could remember. As instructed, he caught the big, white, viscous puddle in the palm of his left hand. After his head cleared from the intensity of his orgasm, he stood up straight and looked at Willie for instructions.

"Eat it," the audience began to chant. Willie grinned and nodded his head. Knowing he had no alternative, Peter licked his hand clean. The crowd applauded and laughed. "A real cum-eater!" Thinking of the pictures Willie and Antonio had been taking, Peter felt like a rock was in the pit of his stomach.

Most of the men left. Antonio, Willie, Bruce, and Garth remained. Antonio slapped Peter on the ass and said, "You're such a queer, Dennett. And you used to call other guys names."

"But I'm not queer," Peter protested.

"Come on, man, you were really gettin' off up there. We all saw it! You're the biggest fruit in our class." Peter wanted to strangle Antonio, but he knew better.

"You can get dressed now, Officer Dennett," Willie said, grinning.

They took Peter back to his house. As he exited his car, Willie said, "Tomorrow night at 7:00, you will be naked, as usual, on your knees. Garth and Bruce are going to come and spend the evening with you. You're going to learn a lot about yourself."

Peter went inside, stripped off his clothes, and had a long, hot shower. Sitting on the living room sofa with a beer afterward, he wondered how his life could worsen. Then he mused that, despite the trials, he'd been put through, he hadn't really been forced to do some of the most humiliating things he'd feared. Except for having to put his tongue on Maynard Brown's dick and being sucked off in the park, he had no homosexual contact with anyone. He wondered how long that situation would last.

At 7:00 the next evening, Saturday, Peter had made sure the front door was unlocked before he stripped and knelt in the living room.

There was a lock click at the door, then Peter heard a voice. The door opened, and Bruce Jessop came in, followed by Garth Cantrell. Both men had changed since high school. About 5'9" and slim, Bruce had grown a goatee and mustache. He had black hair and blue eyes. Garth had simply grown. Peter remembered him as a skinny kid about Bruce's size. Now, however, Garth was close to six feet tall. He had curly red hair and green eyes. He was carrying what looked like a nylon book bag.

"Peter," Bruce exclaimed. "Stand up, man. Willie has been making you get naked and kneel whenever anyone comes over here?"

"Yes, sir," Peter said, standing. He had learned not to try to hide his genitals, so he simply stood naked before the other two, hands at his sides.

"Sir, huh?" Garth chuckled. "You're coming along in your training. You sure don't act and look like the bastard Peter Dennett we knew back in high school."

"May I say something?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Look, I'm not saying this to get you guys to go easy on me with whatever you plan. I know now that you'll do whatever you want, and I can do nothing about it. I just wanted to say I was a real jerk with you guys back at Fairview High. I've learned a lot in the last week or so about what it's like to be on the receiving end of bullying shit, you know? I know for the first time in my life what it's like to feel helpless like things are totally out of my control. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I had no right to make fun of you because you weren't like me and my friends. So, I know I deserve whatever you guys have planned for tonight."

Garth grinned at Bruce and said, "Looks like Willie's program is working."

Bruce nodded, looking intently at Peter. "Peter, go pull on some shorts or something, and then come back here. We need to talk a little about what will happen this evening, and you don't have to sit there naked while we're fully clothed." Then he grinned. "Besides, seeing you standing there in all your glory is too distracting."

Peter started to say something, then changed his mind. He went and got a pair of boxers, pulled them on, and returned to the living room. The last thing Bruce said seemed to be an admission that he, at least, was gay, as Peter had maliciously accused him of being back in school. But these two seemed to be a lot less nasty – so far – than the others in Willie's group.

When the three of them were sitting, Bruce said, "That was quite a performance you put on last night. How do you feel about it?"

"I'm humiliated. But I know I must do whatever you guys say; what I want doesn't matter. Besides, it's over. I just want to get through all this and return to my life. That's assuming nobody shows all those pictures and videos to my superiors at the precinct or to the general public."

"Peter, you can trust Willie Adams to do what he promised you. We wouldn't be having anything to do with his `project' for you if we thought he wouldn't keep his word."

"Well, thanks for that."

"Now, look," Garth said. "Bruce and I are actually grateful to you in a way. You see, both of us are gay. Back then, when you harassed us, we were both very much in the closet. But we started talking after our run-ins with you and came out to each other. One thing followed another, and now we're a couple."

Bruce picked up the narrative. "We don't live together. I am in charge of computers for the county library system, and Garth is the manager of his dad's music store. In a town this size, we have to be discreet. But, yeah, you were right. We hate to hear gay people ridiculed and called names like the ones you called us. And we hope to help you understand that we're not such bad guys."

"Yeah," Garth said, grinning, "you may actually enjoy this evening. And at least we're staying right here, not taking you out to humiliate you somewhere. And we aren't going to hurt you."

"Well, guys," Peter said, "I understand you can do anything you want, so let's get on with it. What do you want me to do?"

"First of all, you won't need Viagra this evening. Just show us your bedroom."

Peter took them into his bedroom, where he had a king-sized bed. He had hoped it would be the scene of many a fuck session with some of the better-looking of the local women, but he'd been "inducted" into Willie's retraining program so soon after he got his job on the force that he had had no time for a social life.

"Okay, Peter," Bruce said, "this will do great. Take off your boxers and lie on the bed, face up."

When Peter did as they said, Garth took pieces of clothesline rope from his bag. There were four pieces, two of which they tied around Peter's wrists and then secured them by attaching the other ends to the legs of the bed. His ankles were similarly bound, and the ropes were attached to the legs at the foot of the bed. There was enough slack in the ropes on his legs and wrists to move his limbs, but only a foot. In m other words, he could squirm around, but his arms could not reach his body; the ropes were too short. This was intentional. Some bondage experts like ropes tight, while others like to watch their victim struggle, twist, and flay about in frustration. Perfect for Peter. Soon both men were standing naked beside the bed. The first thing they did was kiss each other, the deep kissing Peter liked to do with a hot chick. Peter was more fascinated than repulsed. He'd never seen or even imagined anything like that. They actually looked as if they loved each other.

When Garth and Bruce separated, they both climbed onto the bed. `Here it comes,' Peter thought, `here's the queer part!' Then he gasped. Bruce was tickling the tip of his right nipple with the tip of his tongue. Peter had always had sensitive nipples, but none of his female dates had ever licked or sucked on them. He liked to play with them when he was pleasuring himself, but he thought it would seem unmanly to ask a woman to do that, and none of them had ever offered. So, when he felt Bruce's tongue there, he jumped and said, "Oh, shit!" Bruce began to lick and suck and nibble on that tit. Peter was moving his arms and legs but to no avail. Garth had gotten a video camera out of the bag and had it pointing at Peter's dick, which was, to his great embarrassment, slowly rising from his balls, gracefully, like a ballerina. Soon, as Bruce continued, it was pointing toward the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

"See, Peter, it feels pretty good, doesn't it?"

Peter didn't want to admit that it felt good, even though his cock had betrayed him by announcing to the other two just how great it was. He reminded himself that this guy was sucking on his nip, but his cock got harder and harder. In his confusion, he was aware that Bruce's hair smelled good.

Garth put down the camera and got onto the bed on Peter's left side. Lying on his stomach and propped up on his forearms, he put his face over Peter's. At that distance, Peter caught a faint scent of Garth's aftershave and thought it smelled nice. Garth smiled down at Peter and then, lowering his face, very gently rubbed his lips against Peter's. Peter clamped his lips closed. He wasn't going to kiss another man if he could help it. That was just too gay! Yeah, he'd had to do that some days back, and it hadn't been as bad as he thought, but something in Peter's mind said he had to resist.

Then Garth stuck his tongue between his lips. In coordination, Bruce bit hard on Peter's nipple, so hard that Peter opened his mouth in a gasp. That's when Garth gently inserted his tongue into Peter's mouth. What he did after that was pretty much what Peter did when he had his tongue in a woman's mouth. As Garth continued to explore, Peter found that being on the receiving end of such a kiss was as erotic as taking the dominant role. He moaned. Bruce chuckled. Then Peter's tongue began to respond. He didn't want it to, but it began to probe back, touching, twining, and dancing with Garth's tongue.

"Oh, this is too hot! I've got to grab the camera," Bruce said. He began taking vids of his lover and Peter in what had become indeed a very hot face-sucking session. He also pointed the camera at Peter's cock, which was throbbing and beginning to leak precum, without the benefit of any Viagra.

Peter found himself disappointed when Garth pulled away. Then he remembered what they had been doing and blushed.

"Aww, look, Garth," Bruce said, "he's blushing."

Garth grinned. "Yeah, but look at his cock. He likes it, I think. You do like it, Peter, don't you?"

"Nooo. I just know I have to do what you guys want me to. This is wrong. It isn't natural. I'm not gay. I can't like it. It’s not erotic."

“But you are porting a huge erection and leaking all over the bed.” “You guys slipped me the Viagra again. It wasn’t obvious this time, but that’s the only l way I’d Get hard with you two guys,” Bruce and Garth both chuckled. "Well, let's move on to the next phase."

Garth began to do to Peter's left nipple what Bruce had been doing to the right one. Bruce stretched out between Peter's legs, pushed his cock out of the way, and began to lick his sac.

"Oh my God," Peter exclaimed, overwhelmed by the stimulation to his nipple and balls. He knew he should hate this, but he couldn't. It was incredibly exciting. He wished his hands weren't tethered so he could grab his cock.

Bruce managed to take each of Peter's nuts into his mouth. Something deep inside Peter's mind asked, `How can he stand to do that?' But Peter was beyond caring about the answer. He wanted so badly to come that he began to plead. "Fuck, guys! That's fantastic. But I gotta get off. Please untie my hands."

Garth chuckled. "Not yet. In fact, you won't be allowed to get off until we say, and there's something you've got to do first."

"What's that? I'll do it! Anything!"

Bruce let Peter’s balls fall out of his mouth and said, "Don't make promises you won't keep, Dennett."

"But, man, I gotta get my nut! Please!"

"Patience," Garth chuckled. He and Bruce got off the bed and released the ropes around Peter's ankles. Then they pushed his knees back against his shoulders, exposing his ass.

"Oh, shit! Please don't fuck me," Peter wailed.

"Relax, Peter. That's not on tonight's agenda." He stressed, "Tonight's."

Garth stretched out at the foot of the bed and began to run his tongue up and down Peter's ass crack. The recipient of this attention nearly went ballistic.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, Christ! That's nasty! But it feels SO GOOD! How can you do that? But don't quit! God!" He was silenced when Bruce, kneeling at the head of the bed, facing Garth, holding Peter's legs up, scooted forward and parked his ass just over Peter's face.

"If it feels so good, maybe you should return the favor."

Peter tried to protest, but Bruce simply lowered himself until Peter's nose was in his ass crack. "Do what Garth is doing. You won't get to come until you've passed this test. This is the first of several."

Peter tentatively stuck his tongue out and licked Bruce's crack. It didn't taste bad at all. Bruce had obviously showered recently, and the only smell Peter could detect was soap and a more intense form of what locker rooms always smell like. So, practically beside himself with pleasure from what Garth was doing to his rear entrance, he did his best to follow suit.

"Yeah, man, that's nice!" Bruce said. "You're a quick learner."

When Garth began to tongue-fuck Peter in earnest, Peter did the same thing to Bruce. Again, some part of his brain was clamoring that this was not only queer but really sick, but he ignored it. When Garth quit what he was doing and knelt up, Bruce raised himself off Peter's face.

It was then that Peter heard and acknowledged the voice. "Fuck, you guys, I can't believe I just did that. That's so sick!"

"Sick? You enjoyed it, didn't you?" Garth asked, grinning down at him.

"Yeah, and you were doing a pretty enthusiastic job on my ass," Bruce said. His face appeared upside down to Peter, but he was obviously grinning.

"Well, yeah. And I must tell you, if I don't nut soon, I will explode. Please, guys, untie my hands."

"All you have to do to get off, Peter, is to suck one of us off first while the other takes pictures with the video camera. Your choice. The guy that gets sucked off will then suck you off."

"Oh, no way! What you've already made me do is sick enough. I'm not ever gonna be a cocksucker. No offense, really, but not me."

Garth gave an evil chuckle. "Bruce, baby, let's see how long it takes us to have him begging to suck cock.” Then Bruce turned to Gath, "You take his tits. I'll do his ass," Bruce replied.

Soon Peter found himself being stimulated at both ends. Garth was alternating between his sensitive nipples. He sucked on them like a baby sucking his mother's tit. Then he'd nip them, causing just enough pain to make Peter's cock jump and spurt out more precum.

Meanwhile, he felt the tickle of Bruce's `stache and beard on the tender skin in his crack. That was followed by an aggressive assault on his pucker by Bruce's tongue. In minutes he was screaming that he was about to come. When he did, the lovers stopped what they were doing, ignored Peter, sat on the edge of the bed where he could watch, and began to kiss each other passionately.

The feeling of impending ejaculation subsided. As Peter lay there watching the two other men, he realized he wasn't as turned off by that as he should have been. `They act like they really love each other,' he thought. His cock remained hard and throbbing and pouring out an almost constant stream of precum.

"Hey, guys, what about me?" Peter asked plaintively.

"Ready to suck some cock, Peter?" Garth asked.

"No, man, I, uh, I can't do that. You really ain't make me do that just to get off, are you?"

"Yep. That's the deal, a blow job for a blow job. Otherwise, we'll just keep taking you to the edge and backing off like we just did."

The Justice Gang
Part 5 of 6 "Fuck, I just can't do it." After three more trips to the edge, Peter couldn't stand it anymore.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it. I can't take it anymore! Tell me what to do."

Garth quit sucking on Peter's by now red, distended nipples and said, "You realize that you are about to become a cocksucker? Isn't that one of the terms you used to sneer at us?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. Please, guys, I'm desperate here. Whose dick do I have to take?"

"Like we said, your choice."

Peter looked at them. "It doesn't make any difference to me." Then he thought of something. "No offense, Garth, but Bruce's dick is a little smaller. That might be easier for my first time."

This was an event Bruce had dreamed about for years, being sucked off by his harasser and nemesis, Peter Dennett. He sat on the edge of the bed because he wanted Peter on his knees on the floor as he gave head for the first time. Garth got the video camera, told Peter to get into position, and said, "Okay, action."

"Uh, look, guys, you know I've never done this before. I may not do a very good job."

"Two things," Bruce said. "Watch the teeth and then just do what you know feels good. You've had lots of blow jobs from your female admirers, right?"


"So, you should know what to do."
Peter moved his face slowly toward Bruce's dick, which looked much bigger up close than it had before. Wanting to get the ordeal over with, wanting even more to have his own orgasm, he wrapped his lips around his Teeth and lunged forward. Bruce's cock hit the back of his mouth, and he began to gag. He pulled off, coughing.

Laughing, Bruce said, "Easy, boy. Try just licking it first. Then make an O with your mouth and slide back and forth gently, watching the teeth."

Peter took Bruce's rigid cock, which was drooling precum, gently into his mouth. He rolled his eyes up to see Bruce's face. Bruce was smiling back at him. "Good boy," he said.

Peter felt proud to receive the commendation from Bruce, so he tried his best to do for Bruce what he remembered some of his women had done for him. Soon he was so into giving Bruce pleasure that he didn't have time to think about what he was doing. All thoughts of now officially being a cocksucker, something he had always held in utter contempt, were gone as he concentrated on making Bruce feel good. When Bruce gently put his hands in Peter's hair and caressed his head, Peter purred.

"Oh, yeah, Peter, do that some more. That's why it's sometimes called a `hummer,' ya know."

Eager to oblige by this time, Peter began humming, though tunelessly. Bruce closed his eyes and began to moan gently. Garth was getting video footage of the whole thing, being careful that his lover's face never showed in any of the shots.

Apparently, the evening's activities had stimulated Bruce, too, for he was soon muttering that he would come. Peter kept on sucking. He assumed he was expected to take Bruce's load in his mouth.

Just then, Garth said, "When he comes, don't swallow. I want to get a shot of you with your mouth open and Brucie's cum in it."

Peter grunted to indicate that he understood and kept on sucking and bobbing on Bruce's tool. Suddenly he felt the tube of flesh in his mouth swell, and then became aware of jet after jet of hot cum being deposited there.

Bruce fell back on the bed, panting. "Man, Officer Dennett, are you sure you haven't done that before? That was awesome for the first time."

Garth nudged the dazed Peter with his naked toe so that he'd turn toward the camera. He did, opening his mouth. Garth ran the camera for about thirty seconds. Now swallow. Then he shut it off.

"Okay, Peter. You've kept your part of the bargain. Now, this part is not going to be on camera. This is just for you. You'll be gotten off by two gay guys, and no one need ever know. Except for us, of course. Get up on the bed on your back. Keep your legs together."

Peter jumped quickly onto the bed. His dick was still hard and oozing, having remained that way through his giving Bruce his blowjob. Garth got on one side of him and Bruce on the other. They both began to lick his cock. The experience of two tongues lapping at his by-now aching tool was completely new to Peter and incredibly exciting. That it was to male tongues meant nothing. The sensation was different than anything he'd ever experienced. Almost as good, he decided, as pussy.

He'd been lying with his head back, and his eyes closed. When he felt the weight of the two men shift, he craned his neck forward so he could see what they were doing. At that moment, Bruce opened up and took Peter's fat but not overly long cock all the way. Almost at once, his nose was in Peter's golden pubes. Peter gasped. He'd seldom been deep-throated, and no one had done it that quickly and smoothly. `This may be better than pussy,' a small voice said inside him.

Just then another sensation joined the ones his dick was receiving. Garth must have found his lube in the nightstand, for something cool and sticky touched his pucker. Gradually, gently, Garth worked his finger into Peter's chute. He went straight for Peter's prostate, and Peter went into sensory overload. Turning his head rapidly from side to side, he muttered, moaned, and growled.

Garth looked at Bruce and grinned. He said, "I think Officer Dennett is having a mind-altering experience, Bruce, who had Peter's cock down his throat, didn't say anything.

Peter was incapable of rational thought as he exploded.

Later, when Bruce and Garth were dressed, and Peter had pulled on his boxers again, he offered them a beer. They accepted and sat around the small dining table at the end of Peter's living room.

Garth asked, "Peter, you've crossed a line you can't re-cross. You've sucked dick. Was it so bad?"

Peter looked at his Coors can for a minute and said, "It helped a lot, ya know, that you guys were so decent. You didn't try to make me feel like shit or anything."

"I think you just changed the subject," Bruce said. "You seem to understand now what a jerk you really were. You've gone along with all the things Willie set up for you without too much complaint. Besides, we wanted you to understand that gay sex is not sickening but can be pleasant."

Peter took a big swallow of beer, burped, and said, "Okay. I gotta admit, this was more than pleasant. I don't think I'm ready to give up on women, but what we did this evening may have been some of the best sex I've ever had. You can bet that from now on I'll not be making nasty comments about gay people."

Garth and Bruce high-fived and grinned at Peter. "Yeah! Seems your attitude's been adjusted about a lot of things recently. Willie's program seems to be working."

"So, guys, can I ask how much longer it's gonna go on?"

"Peter, we're not supposed to tell you anything. But I think it's safe to say that it's almost over. After Bruce and I talk to Will, there won't be much left."

"What's that gonna be like?"

"We can't tell you," Bruce said. "But I'm afraid you won't like it. The only saving grace is that it will end your `training.' Unless, of course, you misbehave."

"Fuck, man, I won't do anything to get this bunch after me again. For one thing, I don't want to go through any more of the shit they've all put me through. More importantly, though, I understand what a jerk I've been. I'm gonna try to change."

"Good man!"

There was an awkward moment when the two finished their beers and were ready to leave. They didn't seem to know what to say to one another.

Peter held out his hand. "Shake?"

Instead of shaking hands, Garth and Bruce grabbed Peter, and they had a long group hug. Then the two partners left.

Peter had another beer and collapsed on the sofa. He had a lot to think about. He was clearly a changed man. He couldn't help remembering something one of the guys had said early in the evening. That getting fucked was on the agenda for later or something like that.

`Oh, well,' he thought. `I'll just have to do whatever Willie wants me to. But from what Garth, or maybe Bruce, said, this could all be over soon. One thing's for sure. After all this, I'm gonna be much more aware of other people's feelings.'

He took another swallow of beer and thought, `Those guys were nice. They might be fun to be with if they weren't gay. Then he remembered that he'd never had better feelings in his life than he'd had that evening. `Fuck, what's wrong with me?'

In the days following his experience with Garth and Bruce, Peter had much to consider. He worried about the fact that he was now a cocksucker. He'd used that term since he was ten to put down guys he didn't like or guys that were just different from him and his jock buddies. As he got older, he realized that when he called guys that he was claiming they were gay, they sucked cocks because they wanted to. It wasn't just a put-down anymore. It was a description. It alleged that they put dicks in their mouths. And now he was a cocksucker. You can't undo that once it's done.

But he was desperate, he rationalized. He didn't suck Bruce's cock because he wanted to. He did it because they had repeatedly brought him to the edge of blowing his wad and then quit. If he hadn't gotten released, he thought he might explode. That didn't make him gay or anything. What worried him was that he enjoyed the kissing. Kissing guys! And the blowjob with finger fucking Bruce and Garth had given him was truly mind-blowing! He couldn't deny that he'd never had a greater sexual high. And those were two guys. How could he deny he was gay? Or at least that he enjoyed some kinds of sex with men? And didn't that make you gay? Well, bi, maybe. Peter assured himself he wouldn't take up with men and ignore women.

One day, Lt. Katz called Peter into his office.

"Dennett, you've seemed distracted lately. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yes, sir. No problem. I'm fine."

"You know if you have a problem, you can always come to me, don't you?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Tell me, Dennett, are you enjoying being on the force?"

"Oh, yes, lieutenant. It's what I've wanted to do since I graduated high school. I hope I haven't screwed up or anything."

"Not at all. I just wanted to check and see how you were doing."

"I appreciate that, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Okay, Dennett, get back to work." As he said that, Peter thought there was almost a grin on the lieutenant's face.

"Yes, sir!"

Meanwhile, Kevin Wheeler, also a member of the Justice Gang, called Willie Adams to get some alone time with Officer Dennett. “Aw, come on, Will. Let me do this!"

"Kevin, Dennett has already had his cock sucking experience. What you want to do would just be doing it again. It's not part of our plan for him."

"Call it reinforcement, maybe. But, man, I've dreamed of seeing that bastard kneeling at my feet for years. I'll never have the chance again. So, what da ya say, man?"

Willie chuckled. "Okay, okay. I'll call the lieutenant and ask him to pass the word not to interfere if they see Dennett's cruiser in a strange place. And remember the rules. You can't harm him physically, and you can't do anything to embarrass Fairview PD."

"Got it! Thanks, Will!"

Then, Peter's phone rang. "Hullo?"

"This is Kevin Wheeler."

Peter remembered Kevin as a tall, skinny guy he'd liked to make fun of when they were in school together. He didn't remember why except that Kevin didn't play any sports, and he made good grades. Peter realized that that would have been reason enough to harass the guy back in those days. Kevin had been one of the Justice Gang members in the alley the day he got spanked and had laughed as he was humiliated by Will Adam.

"Uh, hi, Kevin."

"You don't go on duty tomorrow until 3:00, right?"


"That's 'yes, sir' to you, Dennett."

"Yes, sir!"

"Tomorrow at 9:00 AM, I'll be by your place to pick you up. Be in uniform. Have the keys to your cruiser with you. Got that?"

"Yes, sir!"

Peter was watching for Kevin the next morning. A few minutes after 9:00, a three-year-old Camry pulled up in front of his house. He was surprised by the appearance of the guy who got out of the car. Kevin Wheeler had obviously spent a lot of time on his body since high school. He had bulked up in the shoulders and chest. His light brown hair had been highlighted. He'd traded his glasses for contacts. Peter thought he looked great in a green polo shirt and khakis. Except that Peter's hair was true blond, and he had blue eyes, whereas Kevin's were brown, the two looked a good deal alike and were just the same size.

Peter held the door open for Kevin to come inside.

"Well, Dennett, ready for your next `lesson'?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"That's `sir.'"

"Sorry, sir."

"That's better. Now, strip. Take off everything."

As Peter began to undress, he was surprised to see that Kevin was undressing, too. He was also a bit surprised to see that Kevin was freeballing.

"Give that here," Wheeler said as Peter removed his uniform shirt. Kevin put on the uniform shirt as Peter took off his shoes and socks. Soon Peter was naked, and Kevin was wearing his uniform. It fit him as if it had been tailored for him, and Peter couldn't help thinking he looked good in it. He thought that if Kevin had looked that good in high school, he might have been a popular guy.

"Okay. Let's go. Where are the keys to your car?"

"In the pants pocket. But I can't go outside this way!"

"Peter, Peter," Wheeler said, grinning, "when will you learn that you can and will do whatever we tell you to? What does it matter if your neighbors see you? You'll just have to deal with it."

When they got outside, Kevin put Peter in the cruiser's back seat. He got a cell out of his car and then locked the car. He put the camera in his pocket and got into the cruiser.

Peter was humiliated yet again. He was afraid people passing by would see that he was naked. He was afraid they'd think that because he was in the back seat as if he was being arrested. And, not knowing that his fellow officers had been told he was on special assignment and not to worry if they saw his patrol car in an unlikely place, he worried that someone would spot his car and call in a report on it.

It was already warm since it was midsummer, so Wheeler turned on the A/C full blast. Soon Peter was cold. His nipples began to stand out, and he had goosebumps all over his body. These effects were partly from the cold and partly from his concern over what Wheeler had in mind. They drove out of the city for about half an hour. Then they turned onto a narrow country road and drove for another fifteen minutes or so. When he came to a large, unfenced field, Wheeler pulled off the road and under some trees.

He got out of the car and then opened the back door. "Get out."

Peter felt strange being naked outdoors in front of a man who looked every inch a police officer but wasn't. He hoped desperately no one would drive along the road at that moment.

Kevin grinned. "You used to call me a cocksucker, among other things. Just for the record, I've never done that. Like I always used to tell you, I'm not gay. But I hear you're a cocksucker now, and I want you to show me what you've learned." He put his hands on Peter's shoulders and pushed down. After obediently sinking to his knees, Peter looked up at Kevin. The standing man may not have ever sucked dick, but he was obviously looking forward to having his dick sucked. His tool was long and hard, sticking down the left leg of the uniform trousers. There was a wet spot at the tip, a wet spot in Peter's uniform trousers, a wet spot put there by another guy's cock.

"You look good down there, Dennett. At least it's fuckin' good to see you in that position. Now, before you show me what a good cocksucker you've become, you'll have to beg me for the privilege."

Knowing there was no use arguing, Peter took a deep breath and said, "Please, Kevin, let me suck your cock."

"Not good enough. Can't you remember that it's `sir'? And you don't sound like you mean it. Try again."

"Please, sir, I want to suck your cock. I want to feel it in my mouth and taste your juices."

Kevin chuckled. "Attaboy. You may take it out now and just kiss the head."

Peter unzipped Kevin's trousers, his trousers, and fumbled inside. Kevin's cock was so hard he couldn't get it out.

"Ouch! Careful, dammit! You'd better unfasten the pants and pull them down."

When Peter did that, Kevin's hard prick flopped up, slinging a drop of precum onto Peter's face in the process. Peter leaned forward and kissed the tip of the hard, red tool staring him in the face. He heard a click. Kevin had taken a picture.

"Now, take it in your mouth. And if I feel any Teeth, I'll let you find your own way home."

Peter obediently took the cock in his mouth, but he did nothing else, waiting for instructions.

"What are you waiting for? Go on! You know what to do."

Peter put a hand around the base of Kevin's dick and began to suck and lick the remaining part.

"Oh, man," Kevin groaned. "You do that good." He let Peter carry on as he was for a while, and then he put his hands on Peter's head, pulling him closer. When his cock hit the back of Peter's mouth, Peter began to gag. Kevin simply kept on pulling Peter's head towards his belly. Peter's eyes were watering, and he couldn't breathe. Kevin saw what was happening and said, "Breath on the outstroke." Peter caught on quickly. His throat hurt from being stretched, but he soon managed his gag reflex and learned to breathe each time Kevin pulled his cock back.

Kevin made Peter stop at one point and look up at him while keeping Kevin's cock in his mouth while he took another picture. Then he commanded Peter to go back to work. It seemed like an eternity to Peter, a moment to Kevin. However long it took, Kevin eventually knew he was about to cum. He pulled his dick from Peter's mouth and began to pump it.

"Fuck, man, I haven't come for three days. I've been saving it for you." After a couple more strokes, he exploded, scattering his thick, white goo all over Peter's face and hair. When he had finished, he made Peter clean off the bit of jizz that was left on the tip of his cock, and he took a close-up of Peter's cum-spattered face. "Another shot for your album," he chuckled.

"Okay, Dennett, stand up. I always figured you were a closet gay, but, man, all that gagging makes me think you really haven't had much experience sucking dick. And, speaking of dicks, look at yours. It's limp as a noodle."

Peter decided not to respond. He was relieved that his dick had stayed limp. But then, sucking Kevin hadn't been an erotic experience for him. It was just humiliating and, at times, painful. Even scary there when he couldn't get his breath.

Kevin gave Peter nothing to clean the spooge off his face and hair. In the car, Peter tried to slide down in his seat so he wouldn't be seen, but Kevin saw through the rear-view mirror what he was doing and made him sit up. "Lean forward a little and look out the window all the way home. Smile and wave at people who look at you. Maybe you'll see someone you know."

Peter was truly humiliated when they returned to town and had to stop at several traffic lights. One woman in a minivan looked at him and then turned away in disgust. At another light, a guy in a pickup looked at him and grinned. He stuck his hand out the window and gave a thumbs up to Kevin.

When they got back to Peter's little house, they went inside. Kevin took off the uniform and put on his own clothes. Peter was commanded to remain naked until Kevin left.

"You're a piss poor cocksucker. Wish I could give you some more practice. But you do beg nice." Taking his cell out of Peter's shirt pocket, he grinned and left.

When the next call came, it was Antonio again. "Yo, fuckface, be naked and kneeling tonight at 8:00."

Peter realized that due to their experiences with Willie and his Justice Gang of friends, he had been a bastard to them all. He had come to be genuinely sorry. His own experiences, being humiliated and helpless to do anything about it, had taught him to be more tuned into how others felt. But he just didn't like Frank Barone. It didn't have anything to do with Barone's Italian heritage. Barone was just someone he couldn't like. Thus, it galled Peter when he had to listen to those instructions and respond with a meek, "Yes, sir, I'll be ready." Then he thought about how much the lieutenant deserved to be called "sir" and how Antonio didn't deserve that title.

Nevertheless, he was ready at 8:00 that evening. He unlocked the door and knelt naked in his small living room. Antonio came in about two minutes later. He was alone.

"Well, there's something I can't get enough of seein'. Peter Dennett, all stripped down and ready for action. Kneeling like any other cocksucker. I hear you ARE a cocksucker now. As if you haven't always been. A guy that has to call other guys as often as you do must have some issues about guys and dicks. And now we know, don't we?"

"Aw, come on, Frank. You know they made me do it."

"That's `sir' to you, Dennett. And the way I heard it, you were begging Jessop and Cantrell to suck their dicks."

Peter didn't say anything. He pleaded with them and figured there was no point in arguing with Barone.

"Go get on your bed. And get out your lube. You're gonna need it."

Peter glared at Antonio, but he went obediently to his bedroom and got the lube out of the nightstand. "Okay, now lie down on the bed on your back. You can pump your dick if you want to. I know you would like to, bein' naked and all with me in the room."

Peter almost said something but decided he'd better not. He got on the bed.

Antonio reached into his nylon bag and took out the video camera. Since it had occurred to Willie or whoever, they had mostly quit taking stills and were using the video camera.

"Now, shithead, lube up a couple of fingers and stick them up your ass."

"No fuckin' way!" Peter growled. "I won't do it. You'd better remember, Barone, that I'm a trained cop. I could break you in half."

"Yeah," Antonio said, grinning, "but you won't. Willie knows where I am; if I don't call him in an hour, he'll be here with the rest of the Justice Gang. Besides, even if you did something to me, they'd still have all the pix, and you can be fuckin' sure that your lieutenant down at the precinct would have them before midnight."

Peter was practically shaking with rage. He'd been goaded and humiliated for a couple of weeks, but something about Barone's attitude made him rebellious. He really was considering jumping the shorter man, but he realized that Antonio was right.

He took the lube and put a lot of it on his index and middle fingers. "Can I start with one at a time?"

The Justice Gang
Part 6 of 6 "Yeah," Antonio grinned. "You wanna prolong the pleasure, huh?"

"No, I just think two fingers will hurt, and I want to do it gradually."

"Well," Antonio said, still smirking, "whatever floats your boat."
Pushing his cock and balls aside with his left hand, he slowly inserted the middle finger of his right hand into his asshole. Instantly he remembered the feeling of having one of the guys' fingers there when Bruce and Garth had visited him. His cock began to get hard.

"See, you do like it. You're throwing wood, and you've just barely started. Now, find your nut and massage it."

After a little exploring with his middle digit, he felt the hard bump and began to stroke it with the pad of his finger. The feeling was incredible, and he couldn't suppress a groan.

Antonio laughed. "Yeah, man. You like that, doncha? You look and sound like a whore. Don't forget that other finger."

Peter removed his finger, twined the two together, and slowly pushed back in. That was initially uncomfortable, but as he twisted his fingers around, the muscle loosened up and the pain disappeared. Then, without being told, he went back to rubbing his prostate.

Antonio, meanwhile, had been videoing. "Open your eyes. Look at the camera."

Peter had almost forgotten about Antonio and his cell and only half opened his eyes.

"Oh, man, you look like a real slut!"

Peter stopped fingering himself, opened his eyes fully, and glared at Antonio.

"Now what?" he asked brusquely.

Antonio opened his bag and took out what first looked like a long dildo. But on closer inspection, it was Officer Dennett’s black nightstick. "Next scene in our video will be you fuckin' yourself with this. You can put some lube on it if you want to."

Peter was horrified. His nightstick? Up his asshole? FUCK! Peter thought it was impossible without tearing it apart. Butthenagasin, he never had anything up his ass. It was huge compared to the hole he would be forced to shove it in.

"PLEASE. Oh god, please. Not my nightstick. I’m not disrespecting you guys, but…. I can’t. I don't think I can get it up there," he said to Antonio.

"Sure, ya can. Your fingers aren't exactly dainty, and two of them are almost as big as this. So get with it!"

Peter applied the gel liberally to the black weapon and slowly pushed it in. It hurt when the head popped through his ring, and he paused.

"Come on, Dennett. Don't be a baby. Shove that fucker in there."

Slowly Peter pushed the stick up his chute. He felt uncomfortably full, but Antonio was right. It somewhat went beyond his middle finger's reach, but there wasn't all that much pain. Peter waited, allowing himself to adjust to the feeling of the invader.

"Go on, man. Fuck yourself with it. I don't need to explain how to do that, do I?"

Peter began to twist the nightstick around, not pulling it out. Though his ass burned a bit from being stretched, it felt good when the stick moved. Encouraged that he wouldn't damage himself, he slowly pulled the stick out. That felt even better. Soon he was lying there, feet flat on the sheets, knees in the air, reaching between his legs and fucking himself with the nightstick dildo. Instinctively, he had his eyes closed.

Someone was groaning. He was shocked to find that it was himself. Barone laughed and said, "Oh, this is great. The guys are gonna love this. Peter Dennett fucking himself with his own nightstick and groaning like a slutty whore in heat. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being gay, but, man, you're disgusting. And you're a fuckin' hypocrite, too. Calling everybody names when you love getting your ass fingered or fucked."

"Antonio, I've never been fucked in the ass. Making me use this is the closest I've ever come fucking."

"That's what you say. But you can't deny you loved it, and I've got it all here on tape. And don't congratulate yourself because you have never taken it up the ass. You have one more `lesson' coming up."

Antonio put his cell back in his bag. "It’s your nightstick, but now you have a new use for it. I think you're gonna like it a lot. We'll be calling you one of these days."

He left. The stick dildo was still up Peter's ass. He began to wiggle it around again and then to fuck himself with it. His cock was hard and drooling, so he grabbed it. He pumped it with one hand and his tool with the other. He had exploded all over his chest and abs in no time.

Willie seemed to know Peter's work schedule. It was ten days before Peter got his next summons. They wanted him on a Saturday night, and the first weekend after the “dildo” episode, Peter had been on duty.

Then a call. "Somebody will come by for you. Be in your boy whore shorts, Tee, and sneaks at 9:00."

It was raining when Maynard and a guy named Jack Kaster came to pick Peter up. Kaster was a skinny guy who used to wear glasses. In his early twenties now, like Peter and their classmates, he had finally gotten beyond his severe Teen acne. In high school, Peter had teased him unmercifully about the glasses, about the acne, about being a beanpole. And, as Jack reminded Peter, the blond jock had often called him a faggot, too.

They ran through the rain for Jack's car. He drove them to the Barone Company warehouse, the scene of a previous humiliating episode for Peter. When they pulled up at the loading dock, Kaster said, "I've got an idea. Dennett, get out and stand in the rain for a while. You'll look the part even better if you're really wet."

Peter stood in the rain. Although it was summertime, he was chilled when Brown and Kaster let him inside the warehouse. They took him into the big, brightly lit space he remembered. His hair was plastered to his head, and his soaked cutoff Tee and shorts were clinging to his body. The group of guys lets out a collective whoop when they see him.

Willie tried to look serious but couldn't help grinning when he saw how cheap and tacky Peter looked, with his perky, erect nipples protruding under his wet Tee shirt. The weight of the water made the shorts even more revealing. This time, though, Peter's dick was in its most shrunken state from the cold, so it wasn't poking out of the leg of the shorts. He stood there, head up, looking into the faces of some of the dozen men who surrounded him. He wondered about them, what sort of lives they were leading, what some of them did for a living. He wondered which ones were married or had kids. He knew that Willie had both a wife and a little boy. He knew that Bruce and Garth were a couple. But he didn't know much about the rest of them, and suddenly they interested him.

"Well, Officer Dennett, you're holding your head up after all this. Your retraining is working?"

"Yes, sir, I think it’s working. You've made me understand a lot about myself. Most of it has been stuff I'm not proud of. The rest of it just lets me know a little more about who I am."

"That's good, that's good," Willie said. "But you're here tonight for another lesson. For macho straight guys like us (he looked at Bruce and Garth and winked), "the idea of taking it up the ass is fuckin' revoltin', right?" He looked at Peter, who nodded, realizing that the long-dreaded fucking was probably about to take place.

"We thought at first of a gang bang. We decided against that for two reasons. We don't want to cause you any real physical harm, and after twelve guys fucked your sorry ass, it might be In bad condition. Second, some of these men didn't want anything to do with putting their dicks up your shit chute. They don't have anything against watching you get fucked. In fact, they're looking forward to it."

"But first," Willie continued, "tell us all what a bastard you've been."

"I've been a real prick to you, to all you guys. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm really sorry."

"You sorry for sure?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

"Then you think maybe you deserve what's coming?"

"I don't think anybody should be used sexually against their will, sir."

"That's true, Officer Dennett, and I'm glad to hear you say that. But you are a special case. There is still the question of payback. You are gonna get fucked while we all watch. And the man who will do it is, what's the word, our surrogate. And believe me, there's not a man here besides yourself that hasn't been looking forward to this moment."

"Now, bitch," Kaster said, "go get that box and drag it over here."

Peter pulled a box about a three-foot cube into the center of the lighted area.

"Now, drop those slutty shorts, macho man, and lean over with your hands on the box."

When Peter did as he was told, Kaster put a blindfold on him. So, he was naked, bent over with his weight supported by his feet and hands on the box. Someone, he thought it was Kaster, spread his legs apart and then smacked him on the ass.

"Antonio, you got your camera ready?" Willie asked.

"Yeppers," Antonio said, holding up the video camera he'd been using to record Peter's trials. "So let the fucking begin!"

The group gathered around to watch up close, leaving just enough room for Antonio to move around and tape the event.

He heard someone walk up behind him. Then he heard a buckle being undone and the sound of pants dropping. Then he couldn't tell just what was going on, but there was a pause, after which he felt someone smearing cold lube against his pucker. Then the guy leaned over his back and said softly, "Relax, Dennett. We'll take it slow and easy." Peter could smell the guy's aftershave. He didn't recognize it. Something light and sort of like lime.

It was a familiar voice, but Peter couldn't quite place it. To his great relief, it wasn't Jack Kaster. It wasn't Willie, Maynard, Bruce, or Garth, either. And it sure wasn't Frank Barone. But he just couldn't remember where he'd heard that voice. `Oh, well,' he thought, `it's got to be one of the others.'

Peter felt the warmth of a dickhead against his pucker. He gasped when the man behind him slowly pushed his cock through the anal ring. It hurt for a minute, but then the guy stopped.

"Go on, man, shove it in him!" Kasner said.

"Shut the fuck up, Kaster," Willie said. "Let the man do the job his own way."

"Yeah, well," Kaster said, "but he might enjoy it this way."

"Yeah, he might," Antonio said, chuckling. "And you know what that means."

"Hey, yeah," Jack answered. "It means Dennett here has been a fag all along."

"Uh," Bruce said, "that's gay."

"Sorry," Willie said. "We don't want to lower ourselves to Dennett's level, do we?"

Slowly the man began to push his dick into Peter. It felt big, a lot bigger than the dildo. Peter had never imagined the full feeling he had as the cock found its way inside him. It hurt some, but the pain wasn't as bad as he'd thought it might be. Determined not to cry as he had when spanked, Peter concentrated on keeping his composure. He was being fucked by a man in front of eleven other men. And Barone was no doubt taking video footage of the whole thing. Could it get any worse?

About that time, he felt the man's pubes against his ass cheeks and realized that the guy's whole dick was now up his ass. The guy paused.

"Dammit, man!" Kaster said. "What ya waitin' for? Fuck the bastard!"

The cock in his ass began to pull back slowly, and Peter gasped. After a slow withdrawal, the cock paused, then moved back into Peter. This time, however, Peter felt that sensation he'd had when he was being finger fucked. The cock was hitting his nut, and his own hard cock burped out a stream of precum. Peter couldn't help groaning with pleasure.

The fucker obviously knew what that meant, so he began moving a little faster, managing to hit Peter's prostate on nearly every stroke. Now Peter's concentration was on trying not to moan or show the watchers how much he loved what was happening. He reminded himself that he was Officer Peter Dennett of the Fairview PD, was a servant of the community, and had the dignity of the force and himself to uphold. He couldn't let the men watching, know this felt better even than the finger fucking and sucking he'd gotten from Bruce/Garth a little over a week ago. It was only with extreme effort that he didn't yell for the guy to fuck him, to fuck him deeper and harder.

Both men were sweating now. The chill Peter had felt when he came into the warehouse soaked from the rain was gone. He felt sweat dripping onto him from the man behind him.

Peter had no idea how long it went on. It seemed like forever and not long enough. Eventually, the fucker began to pant. Then he withdrew abruptly, causing Peter to feel deprived. He was mortified to know that he wanted the guy's hard cock back inside him.

The fucker grunted two or three times, and Peter felt the guy's hot jizz landing on his back and ass cheeks.

The men watching broke into applause and cheers. Peter stayed where he was, catching his breath. He heard the man behind him pull up his pants and the buckle being refastened.

Still blindfolded, he heard the fucker being congratulated and slapped on the back by some of the bystanders. He heard Willie thank the guy, though he never mentioned the fucker's name.

"Stand up, Dennett, and pull up your shorts. We don't want to look at your bare ass." It was Jack Kaster who spoke, but Peter was sure it hadn't been him who was his fucker.

When Peter stood up he winced with the pain in his ass. "Maybe this will be a good lesson in humility, Dennett," Kaster said, taking off Peter's blindfold. "You've taken it up the ass now. That may not make you gay, but you've been fucked by another man."

Soon afterward, everyone left except Willie and Antonio. They took him home. Peter's ass still hurt, and he walked with his legs spread apart a little to ease the pain. It hurt a little less when he got out of the car. When inside his house, Willie said, "Peter, why don't you take a warm shower and get some comfortable clothes on? Antonio and I will wait. Uh, and you got any beer?"

"Yeah, in the fridge. Help yourselves."

Peter was tempted to stand in the shower until all the hot water was gone, but he knew the other two men were waiting for him. He felt his puffy anal opening, and though it still hurt a little, he didn't see any signs of blood. He supposed that opening himself up with his fingers and then with the dildo had helped some. He dried off and pulled on some jeans and a Tee. It wasn't nearly as chilly in his apartment as in the warehouse. He padded back into the living room in bare feet. The others were sitting there. He got a beer from the fridge and sat down facing them.

"Well, brother Dennett, it's graduation time. Brother Barone, you got something for the officer?"

"Yep. Peter, here's a CD with all the stills we took on it. Tomorrow, I'll mail you the DVD with all the action shots we took."

"There will only be one other copy of those discs. Right, Antonio?" Willie looked very seriously at the smaller man.

"Right, Will. Only two copies of each disc. One for Dennett, and we keep the other as insurance."

"Yeah, insurance is exactly what it is. We think you realize what a nasty fucker you've always been. At least it seems (he stressed "seems") you understand that now. And it seems you might actually be a decent guy down inside, all that attitude somewhere. So, this is all over unless you have a relapse. We can keep pretty good tabs on you, and if we hear of you using your position on the police force to hassle anybody except real criminals, your superiors will see the DVD and the CD. You understand that?"

"I understand."

Willie grinned. "We ain't gonna have to use those discs, are we, Peter?"

"No, Will, you guys have made me see what a prick I've been. Your methods were pretty drastic, but you're right. They worked."

Willie stood up. "Then our work is done," he said, sticking out his hand. After he and Peter had shaken hands, Antonio took Peter's hand.

"Look, Dennett, you and I don't like each other much, and that's cool. I'd just like to be sure that your attitude toward me doesn't have anything to do with me bein' Italian." He grinned.

Peter grinned back. "Relax, Barone. I think I can find reasons to dislike you that have nothing to do with your heritage."

After the two had gone, Peter put the CD next to his PC. He didn't know whether he'd ever be able to watch it. He opened another beer and flopped on the living room couch, his mind going back over all the events of the last few weeks. He realized that he had been as bad as the others had claimed and thought he had learned his lesson. His sympathy went out to truly helpless people, for one thing.

He wondered which of them it had been that fucked him. It seemed like the guy was trying not to hurt him, trying to make it pleasant for him. Who could it have been? The voice was familiar. There was something . . . .

It was the buckle! Peter knew that sound. Regular buckles didn't rattle like that. That sound was one he heard every time in the locker room as fellow officers dressed and undressed. It was a police uniform buckle.

`Oh, fuck!' It wasn't one of Willie's groups. It was a cop. Or could it have been somebody wearing a web belt and military buckle just to mess with his head? He went to sleep worrying about that.

He woke up about midnight, realizing he'd drifted off to sleep. He dumped the unfinished beer down the kitchen sink, locked the front door, turned out the lights, and went to his bedroom, where he shucked off the jeans and Tee. He padded naked into the bathroom for his final piss and tooth brushing of the day, came back, and flopped into bed.

As he was about to fall asleep, he wondered if Garth and Bruce would be willing to answer some questions. Maybe someday soon, he’ll give them a call.

Tuesday of the following week, Officers Peter Dennett and Clark Bingham were working the same shift, so they were in the station as they clocked out.

"Hey, Peter, got any dinner plans?"


"How'd you like to meet me someplace later?"

"Sure, great."

They settled on Applebee's at 7:00.

Clark was there first, waiting out front. He was deep in thought about the intense training Willie and the Justice Gang put Peter through, the very same humiliation training they put him through a few years earlier. Yes, he thought, he deserved it. He, back then, like Peter more recently, was a bully and a fag basher. In a very strange way, those ”thugs” who worked him over and got him to suck and fuck guys made him realize he was gay. These are the same thought Peter will be considering someday soon, if not already. Clark Bingham was a fag hater because it was his subconscious way of showing he was not a fag. Willie and the gang helped him to realize he was gay. And there was no reason to hate anyone.

When Peter arrived, they went in and first ordered drinks. Peter ordered a Coors. Clark ordered Chardonnay.

As he sipped his wine, Clark asked, “You won't tell any of the guys, will ya? Most of them would think a guy who didn't like beer was, well, suspect, shall we say?"

"Hey, dude," Peter said, smiling across the table at Clark, "your secret's safe with me."

The two had a pleasant supper, chatting about work, the local AA baseball team's season, the latest news from the Middle East, and the incredible parade of hurricanes they were having in Florida. They talked about everything except Peter's recent experience.

However, as they finished their coffee, Clark asked, "Your shit with Willie Adams is finished, isn't it?"

Peter blushed. "Yeah."

Clark leaned across the table. Peter caught a whiff of Clark's aftershave. He recognized it instantly as what his unidentified fucker had been wearing in the warehouse the other night.

"Did they give you a CD video?"

"Uh huh," Peter said, still blushing.

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours," said Clark.

Peter grinned and picked up the leather folder with the bill inside. "Deal!" he said.

The End

Copyright 2023 GayTies.com.