Sparta College P4 - Welcome Party

by Dustin W
Posted: November 1, 2015, 14:40

“Keep moving forward! Don’t just lie there!”

CRACK! CRACK!
“Ahhh—!”

After a quick lunch and a short breather in the cafeteria, the four new recruits—Xiaolong, Jingyu, the big dark-skinned guy, and the gymnast—were immediately rounded up by the instructors and dragged out to the field.

The instructors called it “just an orientation workout.”
Back-and-forth sprints. Deep squats. Then dragging heavy tractor tires across the dirt like oxen plowing a field.

What made it very different from any ordinary gym session:

The four of them had been stripped down to nothing but tiny training shorts.

Any sign of slacking—any hesitation, any slowing pace—and a leather whip would snap across their ass or back without warning.

By the end of the afternoon they were drenched in sweat, smeared with grease from the tires, and covered in fresh red welts.

“That’s enough for now,” one instructor finally barked. “Everyone drop and give me one hundred push-ups. After that, head straight to the welcome party.”

The four of them practically sighed in relief.

They grunted through the push-ups as quickly as their shaking arms allowed.

Only afterward did they realize their original clothes had mysteriously vanished at some point during the day.

So—still wearing only the tiny shorts—they made their way to the clubhouse the seniors had told them to report to after training.

Xiaolong pushed open the heavy, padded leather door.

The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere hit them like a wall.

The clubhouse looked like a high-end underground nightclub: long central catwalk stage lit by hot spotlights, black leather sofas arranged in intimate clusters, a fully stocked bar gleaming with bottles, low pulsing music already playing.

But there were differences.

In the corners stood gymnastics rings, pommel horses, sturdy punishment frames, racks of paddles, canes, whips, and other implements that made every sphincter in the room clench involuntarily.

The seniors noticed the newcomers immediately.

Every one of them was visibly bigger, harder, sweat-slick from their own recent training.

Standing in front of them, Xiaolong and the others suddenly felt very small.

“The stars of the evening have finally arrived.”

A towering figure stepped forward from the center of the group.

His muscles looked almost cartoonishly full and glossy under the lights—like they might burst out of his skin at any moment.

“I’m Wang Mo. Student president.”

Mo’s gaze swept over the four newcomers with quiet, commanding authority.

Holy shit, he’s insanely hot, Xiaolong thought helplessly.

Mo turned his head slightly and called back over his shoulder:

“Let’s get started. Give our new brothers a proper welcome.”

The seniors moved like a pack.

In seconds Xiaolong and the others had their shorts yanked down and were forced to their knees, arms pinned, faces pressed to the floor, hips lifted high.

“First, a little drink. Don’t spill—or we won’t be gentle.”

Several cold beer bottles were opened.

Without ceremony, the seniors shoved the wide necks straight into the four raised asses.

Xiaolong felt the shocking cold rush inside him as the beer gurgled and poured deep.

“Mmmph—ahh—no—!”

The four of them squirmed, helpless against the overwhelming strength pinning them down.

Once each of them had taken a full bottle, the seniors moved on to the next part.

One by one they began pushing cherry tomatoes into the already-stuffed holes.

Xiaolong felt himself being filled impossibly full.

Every new tomato that slid inside made his cock throb harder, leaking steadily.

His face burned with humiliation, though the chaos around him meant no one seemed to notice.

To force the tomatoes even deeper, the seniors reinserted the empty beer bottles and left them there, letting the four newbies kneel trembling, asses impaled and shaking.

Satisfied with their handiwork, the seniors grabbed fresh bottles, clinked them mockingly against the protruding glass necks still lodged in the newcomers’ asses, and resumed drinking and laughing among themselves.

“Next,” one senior announced, “you’re going to crawl through our legs one by one.

When you reach the bathroom corner, get into the four marked circles on the floor and hold position.

If even one drop of beer—or one tomato—comes out, you get the shock baton.

Understood?”

Xiaolong felt tears prick his eyes.

He could only nod.

So the four of them—hands and knees—began the humiliating crawl between the seniors’ powerful legs.

As each one passed beneath, a paddle would casually snap down—sometimes aimed deliberately at the most sensitive spots: hole, balls, perineum.

More than once Xiaolong nearly collapsed, only the threat of the shock baton forcing him to clench desperately and keep crawling.

They finally reached the bathroom corner.

The seniors quickly bound their wrists and ankles to the four steel rings set into the floor—spread wide, asses raised, completely exposed.

Mo stepped forward again.

“Not bad so far.

I forgot to mention—the welcome ritual is called ‘Five Trials for New Blood.’

You just passed Trial One.

From now on we score every round.

The person with the lowest total score at the end will spend the next month working here every day after training—getting spanked by seniors and gang-fucked.

So. Think carefully. Perform well.”

Xiaolong’s stomach dropped.

This was only the beginning?

He clenched involuntarily.

“Trial Two,” Mo continued calmly.

“Endurance.

The longer you can hold without spilling beer, the higher your score.”

Without warning he swung the paddle and landed a heavy CRACK! across the gymnast’s ass.

The gymnast yelped, lost control for a split second—a single cherry tomato popped out and rolled across the tiles.

Laughter erupted from the seniors.

The gymnast flushed crimson, panting, desperately clenching to keep the beer inside.

“Man up,” Mo said coldly. “Hold it.”

He signaled the others.

In seconds the four newbies were being whipped from both sides—hard, fast, merciless strokes.

“Ah—no—stop—I can’t—ahhh—!!”

They couldn’t take it.
One after another the tomatoes and beer erupted out in humiliating spurts.

“So soon?” Mo raised an eyebrow. “Reload.”

More bottles appeared—this time filled with a warm, slick, slightly irritating enema solution clearly designed to make everything more sensitive for what came next.
Then the beating resumed.

“Please—stop—!”

“I can’t—!”

The four of them were crying openly now, begging without shame.

After three full rounds of refilling and thrashing, the seniors finally relented.

They picked up high-pressure water guns and hosed the trembling, exhausted newbies down.

The freezing water shocked them back to alertness.

And—after the brutal workout earlier—every cock in the group immediately sprang back to full, aching hardness.

“Trial Three is simple,” Mo said. “Pair up. in Sixty-nine position.

First one to come loses.”

The seniors unlocked them and carried/dragged them onto the central stage.

Xiaolong glanced at Jingyu.

Both of them were painfully hard, eyes burning with pent-up need after a full day of edging and punishment.

Xiaolong and Jingyu paired off; the dark-skinned guy and the gymnast (whose name, they now knew, was Xiaowei) took the other position.

They dropped into sixty-nine postion—mouths on cocks, no hesitation.

“Mmm… ngh… ahh…”

Xiaolong hadn’t come in a week.

Jingyu’s mouth was scorching hot, his tongue strong and relentless, flicking mercilessly over the head.

Xiaolong moaned around Jingyu’s thick shaft, unable to help himself.

He looked down—Jingyu’s handsome face, once the golden boy of their high-school basketball court, now locked around him, brows furrowed, glaring up with fierce intensity.

So fucking hot… so good…

Xiaolong redoubled his efforts, swirling his tongue, sucking harder.

He’d practiced more than Jingyu had; soon Jingyu was faltering, pulling off to gasp—
—but only for a moment.

Jingyu recovered, attacked again with renewed ferocity, and slid two fingers straight into Xiaolong’s hole, hooking his prostate.

The combined assault was devastating.

Xiaolong’s ring flashed deep red.

He lost it—screaming, hips jerking, shooting hard down Jingyu’s throat.

Jingyu swallowed every drop, then looked up with a playful, wicked glint as Xiaolong collapsed, trembling.

Next to them the dark-skinned guy had used the same prostate trick on Xiaowei.

Xiaowei lasted only seconds longer before he too surrendered with a broken cry.

“Good job,” Mo said, sounding almost pleased. “Mood’s set.”

Then, still perfectly calm:

“Trial Four.
Jingyu fucks Xiaolong.
Dark-skin fucks Xiaowei.
Switch every five minutes.

First one to make bottom cum wins.
No hands allowed. Begin.”

Xiaolong looked up at Jingyu with a mix of dread and anticipation.

Jingyu simply lifted Xiaolong’s legs onto his shoulders and sank in with one long, smooth thrust.

The beer and enema had left everything slick and hypersensitive.

“Ahhh… so good…”

After a full day of denial, the feeling of being filled was overwhelming.

Jingyu—years of athletic conditioning in his body—started slow, then built into a powerful, steady rhythm.

Xiaolong was moaning uncontrollably.

Beside them Xiaowei was already whimpering louder—clearly the dark-skinned guy’s size and strength were brutal.

Crystal beads of pre-cum flew from Xiaowei’s cock with every thrust, sparkling under the stage lights.

Heavy bass music filled the room.

The wet slap of skin, broken moans, glistening sweat and fluids under the spotlights—it looked like a live porn shoot.

The watching seniors began stripping off their own jockstraps, stroking themselves, ready to join.

Five minutes.

Switch.

Now Jingyu took Xiaowei.

The dark-skinned guy lifted Xiaolong into a full bear-hug carry, impaling him completely—thick head pressing right against Xiaolong’s core.

Xiaolong gasped—he wasn’t going to last.

Jingyu seemed to sense it.

He barked an order and redoubled his pace on Xiaowei.

“Ahhh—!!”

Xiaowei came first—spurting violently across the stage.

Almost simultaneously Xiaolong shattered again under the dark-skinned guy’s relentless pounding, cum arcing far, some even splashing off the platform.

Jingyu and the dark-skinned guy groaned in relief, unloading deep inside their partners.

All four collapsed on the stage, chests heaving.

The seniors had waited long enough.

They dragged the exhausted newbies down from the stage and descended.

Double penetration started immediately—front and back filled at once.

The four of them were beyond resistance now.

“Ahhh—!! So itchy—!!”

Several seniors rolled wolf-hair textured rings onto their cocks—soft, maddening bristles—and lined the newbies up along the edge of the T-stage for systematic fucking.

“Final trial,” Mo announced. “Free use.
Highest number of orgasms scored wins.
Do your best.”

Even Mo joined in personally.

Whenever that monster cock of his sank inside someone, the screams were immediate—pain, overstimulation, surrender.

Xiaolong and the others were swarmed: mouths fucked, nipples twisted, cocks jerked, asses alternately pounded and paddled.

Broken sobs and animalistic howls filled the air.

The cock rings beeped incessantly.

Within minutes someone would be forced to cum again… and again… and again…