Sparta College P1 - Physical Assessment
We’ll start with a 1000-meter warm-up run on the field, then move to several equipment circuits. We hold our trainees to a very high standard. To make sure you actually push yourself, we incorporate controlled corporal punishment during training.
by Dustin W
Posted: October 3rd, 2015, 16:41
In the dim light of his small rented apartment, Xiaolong sat slouched in front of his laptop, clicking aimlessly through websites.
So boring ... Maybe it’s time to find a proper gym and get some serious workout again.
Half thinking, half already searching, he quickly discovered that a place called “Sparta College” was located just a short walk from his new apartment.
The name sounded a little odd, almost theatrical, but the website immediately caught his eye.
There was one striking photo dominating the landing page: two powerfully built sports college guys, shirtless, each casually holding a wooden paddle or cane, standing beside a pommel horse.
The image hit something deep inside him.
For a split second he pictured those handsome, athletic young men barking orders at him, forcing him through brutal sets, then bending him over and really laying into his backside with those paddles.
A sudden rush of heat spread through his body.
…Maybe I should sign up and see what happens?
He quickly filled out the form—176 cm, 64 kg, 22 years old, looking to gain muscle etc.—and hit send.
A few minutes later, a reply popped up with an appointment slot:
Date: Tomorrow, 7:00 AM.
Location: Sparta College Gymnasium.
Note: Please arrive in proper athletic wear, prepared for a high-intensity fitness evaluation. After assessment we will create your personalized training program.
Seven in the morning? Seriously?
Xiaolong stared again at the photo of the sports-college guy on the website and spent the rest of the night lost in increasingly vivid fantasies. Sleep barely came.
The next morning he was up and out the door far earlier than necessary.
The gym was eerily quiet.
He followed the signs deeper inside until he reached an office.
Sitting there was a seriously jacked coach who looked to be in his mid-thirties, clearly waiting for him.
Standing right beside the coach was the guy from the website photo—only in person he looked even more impressive. Early twenties, bear-like waist, tiger-wide back, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of training shorts.
And on the wall behind them hung an assortment of wooden paddles in different shapes and sizes.
The sight alone made Xiaolong’s throat tighten.
He swallowed hard and stepped inside.
“Chen Wenlong, right? I’m Coach Zhang. This is Xiaohu, one of our top sports college students and assistant coach here.”
“H-hi… hello.”
“We’ll start with a 1000-meter warm-up run on the field, then move to several equipment circuits.
We hold our trainees to a very high standard. To make sure you actually push yourself, we incorporate controlled corporal punishment during training.
Can you accept that?”
“Uh… yeah. I’ll… I’ll try.”
“Good. Go outside. 1000 meters. Four minutes. Fail that you get punishment. Go.”
Xiaolong followed Xiaohu’s gesture out to the running track.
He watched the younger man casually pick up one of the paddles from the office and stand waiting, eyes locked on him.
Suddenly the whole thing felt very real.
It had been months since Xiaolong last ran seriously.
When he staggered back, chest heaving, Xiaohu glanced at his stopwatch.
“Four thirty. Looks like you need a wake-up call. Thirty paddle swats. Come here—over my lap.”
Being ordered around by a guy younger than him made Xiaolong’s face burn, but his body moved almost on autopilot.
He bent over and laid himself across Xiaohu’s thick thighs.
CRACK!
Holy shit—does it have to be that hard?!
His wrists were immediately pinned.
Lying across the lap of this powerfully built younger man, Xiaolong felt an unmistakable rush of heat between his legs.
CRACK! CRACK!
He was already fully hard, pressing right into the tight space between Xiaohu’s powerful thighs.
Xiaohu clearly noticed.
He deliberately squeezed his legs together a little more.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Mmm—”
To deal with the sting, Xiaolong instinctively started squirming—his erection rubbing harder and harder against the solid muscle.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Ah—ah—ah—”
“Stay still.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The wriggling only got worse.
“Alright. You asked for it.”
Xiaohu yanked Xiaolong’s shorts and underwear down in one motion, reached underneath with his left hand, firmly gripped Xiaolong’s leaking cock, locked his whole arm around his waist like a steel band, and then really went to work with the paddle.
“Ahhh—!! Ahhh—!!” …
Thirty full-force swats later, Xiaolong’s buttocks throbbed with a strange, stinging pleasure.
A thin trail of pre-cum glistened at his tip.
“That was just the warm-up,” Xiaohu said casually. “Now we move to equipment. Chest first, then smaller muscle groups. Fifty reps per station.
Can’t get it done? You will get caned. Got it?
Oh—and no need to pull your pants back up. No one else is here anyway.”
Surprisingly, the paddling had left Xiaolong strangely alert and focused.
He threw himself into the exercises, grunting with effort.
CRACK! “Chest up!”
CRACK! CRACK! “Stop arching your back!”
Xiaohu circled him with the paddle, correcting form instantly.
It was, without question, the most punishing workout hour of Xiaolong’s life.
By the end he was soaked in sweat, muscles trembling, completely spent.
“Go report to Coach Zhang,” Xiaohu said. “You’re not done yet.”
Coach Zhang scanned the evaluation sheet Xiaohu handed him.
“We believe you need our intensive program. You can join the advanced group in one week—think about it.
That said, discipline is non-negotiable. You didn’t complete today’s requirements, so there will be punishment.
-
Option 1: restrained on the vaulting horse—Xiaohu gives you fifty cane strokes.
-
Option 2: you hold yourself in downward facing dog position, count every stroke out loud—reduced to twenty-five. But every miscount or collapse adds ten more.
You choose.”
What had started as a “yes or no” question about punishment had somehow become a negotiation between 25 or 50.
Damn, that’s manipulative…
Yet somehow Xiaolong heard himself say,
“I’ll… take the twenty-five.”
Xiaohu led him to the center of the gym, right in front of the huge wall mirror.
“Legs apart. Straight. Bend forward. Hands on the floor.
Lets begin your punishment.”
WHACK!
“Hss—”
“Count it!”
“One…”
The cane was in another league—white-hot lines of fire across already tender skin.
WHACK! “Two…”
WHACK! “Three…” …
By the tenth stroke his arms and legs were shaking violently.
Xiaohu paused, reached down, and gently kneaded the burning ass.
Xiaolong lifted his head and caught their reflection:
himself—naked, glistening with sweat, small muscles defined—being intimately handled by this sculpted sports-college athlete.
The image was so blatantly erotic that he started hardening again almost immediately.
“Maybe you should switch to the restrained option,” Xiaohu said quietly. “No beginner makes it through twenty-five cane strokes free-standing.”
“…Okay.”
Xiaohu guided him to the pommel horse and methodically secured his wrists and ankles to the four legs.
“Forty more to go. Let’s continue.”
Xiaolong could only watch in the mirror as Xiaohu’s powerful arm rose and fell with clean, merciless precision.
Each stroke landed with a sharp CRACK!
“Ahh—! Ahhh—!!” …
When it finally ended, Xiaolong was drenched, dazed, still bound, barely able to think.
Then warm hands settled on his ravaged backside.
“Let me put some ointment on.”
Xiaohu’s strong fingers spread the cooling cream, kneading deeply.
“Mmm… so good…”
But the massage quickly stopped being innocent.
Soon slick fingers slipped inside, pressing, circling, finding his prostate.
“Ah—thats hot—!”
Pain, pleasure, and overwhelming heat collided.
Xiaolong’s hips began rocking back instinctively.
“Ok I’m going in.”
What?
He twisted his head.
Xiaohu was already completely naked—every muscle carved, cock thick and rigid.
Without another word he pushed in—slow at first, then all the way in one smooth, deep thrust.
“Ahhhh—!!”
The ointment made everything slick and hypersensitive.
Xiaolong could feel every pulsing inch, the heavy head throbbing deep inside him.
It was the first time anything that thick and hard had ever entered him.
His vision sparkled.
He looked up into the mirror—Xiaohu’s expression almost innocent.
A long, charged silence.
Then Xiaolong gritted his teeth and forced out there shaky words:
“Please don’t stop…”
Xiaohu smiled.
“Okay. But no cumming until I say so.”
A sports-college athlete unleashed, Xiaohu fucked like he trained—powerful, relentless, every angle.
Xiaolong felt like he was living inside one of his own fantasies, watching it unfold in the mirror:
Xiaohu’s hands clamped on his waist, six-pack flexing, face focused and fierce, pounding into him without mercy.
With every thrust Xiaolong’s own cock slapped against the leather of the pommel horse.
He’d never been taken this hard before.
“Ah—I am gonna cum!”
Suddenly Xiaohu pulled out completely, leaving him clenching on nothing.
“Ah… ah…”
Xiaolong gasped, fighting desperately not to cum.
Xiaohu only made it worse—pulling Xiaolong’s aching cock down against the edge of the horse, slicking more ointment over the head, then gripping it tightly and twisting his rough palm like he was unscrewing a bottle.
“Mmm—!”
Xiaolong’s whole body was shaking.
The head of his cock burned hotter and hotter, right on the edge, but couldn’t tip over.
Bound helplessly, he could only whimper,
“No...Don't... stop..."
After a few minutes of cruel edging, Xiaohu added more ointment, lined up again, and slammed back in—starting another ferocious round.
The gym echoed with wet flesh slapping flesh and Xiaolong’s rising, broken moans.
“Ah… ah… I can’t—can’t hold it anymore—”
“Hold it!!”
Xiaohu slapped the cane-welted ass hard—yet didn’t slow his thrusts at all.
“Ah—no—please—”
The pressure built uncontrollably.
A white-hot current ripped through him.
Finally he shattered—cock pulsing wildly, spurting across the pommel horse.
His hole clenched hard around Xiaohu, dragging him over the edge too.
Xiaohu buried himself deep and unloaded everything inside.
Xiaohu collapsed forward, sweat-slick chest pressed to Xiaolong’s back, both of them heaving.
Hot breath against his ear:
“Haa… haa… that was… so fucking good…”
After gently unbuckling Xiaolong from the horse, Xiaohu scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking boyish and sheepish.
“Sorry… I’ve been training really hard lately and kinda… backed up. Didn’t even untie you first…”
Xiaolong pulled him into a tight hug, throat suddenly tight, eyes stinging.
“Come back next week to check in,” Xiaohu said gently. “There is a rule you have to stay abstinent for a full week before checking in. Otherwise… severe punishment.”
On the way home, Xiaolong kept rubbing his swollen, still-warm backside.
Inside he could still feel faint pulses of heat.
Thinking of Xiaohu’s shy, almost embarrassed smile, he found himself smiling too—quietly, secretly happy.
