Sparta College P6 - Special Training

by Dustin W
Posted: November 22, 2016, 12:01

beep beep

Xiaolong’s phone lit up with a message from Mo-senpai.

Tonight, 8 p.m. My room.

The last time he’d seen the student president was during the welcome party.

Even in memory the man was overwhelming—broad chest, narrow waist, tiger-like back, built like an American soldier who lived on protein and heavy iron.

Just thinking about the sheer size of the cock he’d glimpsed that night made Xiaolong’s stomach twist with equal parts fear and dark curiosity.

What kind of “training” was waiting for him tonight?

The dorms at Sparta were mostly shared—four to six new students crammed into each room.

Only the senior trainees got single rooms.

Mo’s door was plain, unmarked, just like the others.

After two grueling hours of evening conditioning, Xiaolong was drenched in sweat, muscles pumped and aching, skin flushed and tight.

He felt like he might explode.
A glance at his phone showed 7:58.

He broke into a jog.

The moment he pushed the door open, heat rushed into his face.

Holy shit…

Xiaohu was the only other person in the room.

He wore nothing but a pair of assless leather shorts, crisscrossed with fresh, angry red welts from a recent caning.

Right now he was on all fours between Mo’s spread thighs, head bobbing steadily while Mo sat back in his gaming chair, one hand lazily resting on the back of Xiaohu’s neck, the other clicking away at his keyboard.

Mo flicked a glance toward the door.

“Still haven’t showered, huh? Bathroom. Clean your ass properly. Then come back, kneel on that chair, hands on the floor.”

The voice was deep, calm, absolute.

Xiaolong didn’t dare hesitate.

He hurried into the small attached bathroom, scrubbed himself thoroughly, trying to ignore the sharp crack of leather meeting skin and Xiaohu’s muffled whimpers drifting in from the other room.

When he emerged, naked and still damp, he obeyed exactly: knees wide on the seat of the chair, torso folded forward, palms flat on the floor.

Ass lifted high.

Hole exposed.

He’d been put in this position before.
He knew what came next—belt across the cheeks, maybe lower.

His cock was already thickening against his will, betraying him.

Long minutes passed.

Finally the game ended with a decisive click.

Mo stood.

Up close in the small room the man was even more imposing—veins snaking over thick forearms and thighs, old punishment scars etched across his skin like battle trophies.

Mo stopped right in front of him.

“You were sloppy at the welcome party. We agreed there would be consequences.

When a junior performs badly, the senior shares responsibility.

So Xiaohu will be punished alongside you. Understood?”

Xiaolong nodded quickly, even though the logic made his head spin.

“We’re changing the format tonight,” Mo continued. “You make a mistake—Xiaohu gets punished.

Xiaohu makes a mistake—you get punished.”

Xiaolong glanced down.

Xiaohu looked back at him with quiet, resigned misery.

“Let’s start with your biggest failure last time,” Mo said. “They told me you couldn’t clench hard enough.

Tonight you’re going to prove you can.

I’m giving Xiaohu thirty lashes.

If that vibrator falls out of your ass even once, I give him thirty more.

We keep going until you learn to grip properly. Clear?”

Xiaolong swallowed.

No choice but to nod.

Mo circled behind him.

One large hand clamped down on Xiaolong’s shoulder, steadying him.

The other guided a thick, ridged vibrator—clearly one of the senior-grade toys—against his hole.

It was noticeably bigger than anything Xiaolong had taken before.

Tears pricked his eyes as it stretched him open.

Mo didn’t rush, but he didn’t pause either.

Slowly, inexorably, the entire length disappeared inside.

“Xiaohu. Suck him.”

Xiaohu crawled forward without hesitation and wrapped warm lips around Xiaolong’s now painfully hard cock.

“Ahhh—”

The dual sensation hit like a wave: the heavy vibrator filling him from behind, Xiaohu’s skilled tongue swirling over the head in front.

Xiaolong’s legs trembled.

“Feels good, right?” Mo’s voice was almost amused. “You’re going to count for Xiaohu.”

The first lash landed.

CRACK!

A single perfect red line bloomed across Xiaohu’s already marked ass.

His whole body tensed.

Mouth still full, he could only whimper around Xiaolong’s shaft.

“One!” Xiaolong gasped.

Mo was known for his whip work.

Every stroke landed with surgical precision.

By the fifth Xiaohu was shaking, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Xiaolong watched in helpless horror as the bright, sunny boy he’d come to adore was reduced to muffled sobs.

The shock made him clench—then falter.
The vibrator slipped half an inch.

“Count!”

“Six—!”

Mo stepped behind him again.

A soft click.

The vibrator roared to life—powerful rotating head grinding relentlessly against Xiaolong’s swollen prostate.

“Ah—! Hss—ahhh—!”

A week of denial had left him hypersensitive.

The relentless circles against his g-spot were devastating.

He clamped down hard to keep the toy from sliding out—only driving it deeper, harder against that spot.

Pleasure surged so fast he moaned out loud.

“Don’t stop sucking, Xiaohu.”

Xiaohu redoubled his efforts—tongue, suction, everything.

CRACK! CRACK!

“Two—three—”

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“Four—five—six—”

Xiaolong watched, dazed, as Xiaohu’s muscular body jerked with each stroke while still desperately pleasuring him.

The combination—the hot mouth, the ruthless vibration, the sight—was too much.
He was already teetering.

“Sir—gonna—gonna cum!”

“No you don’t.”

CRACK! CRACK!

The whip landed across Xiaolong’s back—sharp, searing.

He yelped, lost focus for half a second.
The vibrator slipped free and clattered to the floor, buzzing angrily as it rolled.

Xiaohu lifted his head, eyes wide, Xiaolong’s cock still in his mouth.

They stared at each other in shared panic.

“Looks like you really can’t grip,” Mo said evenly. “We agreed—another thirty.”

He raised the whip again and unleashed a storm—fast, merciless, painting Xiaohu’s ass deep purple.

“Ah—! Ahhh—!”

“Stop—please—let me take his punishment instead—!”

Mo finally lowered his arm, breathing a little harder.

“Fine. Xiaohu—pick up the whip.
You beat him now.

Don’t stop until I say.”

They switched positions.

Xiaolong was arranged exactly as Xiaohu had been—ass raised, fresh vibrator pushed back inside, mouth stuffed full of Mo’s massive cock.

“You’ve had lessons from Xiaohu.

Suck properly.

If you don’t, I’ll whip your ass to shreds tonight.”

Tears streamed down Xiaolong’s face from the sheer girth choking him, but he summoned every trick he knew—tongue swirling, throat relaxing, hollowing his cheeks.

CRACK!

Xiaohu’s first stroke landed hard across Xiaolong’s cheeks.

Pain exploded.

He sobbed around the cock filling his mouth.

They went on like that for long minutes—Xiaohu laying stripe after stripe, Xiaolong crying openly while servicing Mo with everything he had.

Eventually Mo gave a low grunt of approval.

“Oral training’s acceptable. Get up.”

He lay back on the bed, cock standing straight up like a monument.

“Sit on it. Let’s see if your ass learned anything tonight.”

Xiaolong’s whipped cheeks were finally getting a break.

But facing Mo’s arm-thick shaft felt like walking into another kind of punishment.

He straddled Mo slowly, breath hitching, trying to relax.

Mo’s big hands suddenly clamped around his hips and yanked him down hard.

Half the length speared inside in one brutal motion.

“Ahhh—!”

“Move. On your own.”

The earlier vibrator had left him loose and sensitive.

Pain was there, but pleasure overrode it.

Xiaolong began to rise and fall—slow at first, then steadier.

“Forgot your training already?” Mo growled. “Clench.”

Xiaolong remembered Xiaohu’s lessons—start with the ring, ripple inward, create suction.

He focused, tightening in waves.

Mo swallowed visibly.
“Good… very good…”

“Xiaohu—his mouth.”

Xiaohu climbed onto the bed and pushed his own aching cock between Xiaolong’s lips without a word.

Xiaolong loved everything about Xiaohu—the clean, boyish scent, the perfect shape of him, the way he tasted.

Now he was being filled from both ends: Mo’s relentless machine-like thrusts nailing his prostate, Xiaohu’s cock sliding over his tongue.

His own neglected erection throbbed purple, leaking steadily as he bounced between them.

Mo grew impatient with the pace.

He flipped them—put Xiaolong facedown, ass up—and unleashed full power.

Piston strokes.

Deep.
Fast.

“Mmmph—ah—!”

Xiaolong alternated between sucking Xiaohu desperately and gasping for air.

The stimulation was overwhelming—two powerful bodies using him at once.

After a few minutes Mo lifted Xiaolong bodily, turned him around so the thick head pressed directly against his g-spot, then wrapped one huge palm around Xiaolong’s cock and stroked hard while slamming upward.

“Ah—I’m—coming—!”

It hit like lightning.

Xiaolong erupted—ropes of cum splattering his own face, chest, hair.

His hole spasmed tight.

Mo groaned and unloaded deep inside him—hot, thick pulses filling him to overflowing.

Mo didn’t soften.

He kept thrusting lazily through the aftershocks.

“Make Xiaohu come too.”

One hand reached out, kneading Xiaohu’s pecs, pinching nipples.

Xiaohu—already feral—grabbed Xiaolong’s head and fucked his throat in short, urgent thrusts.

“Mmm—mmph—”

Xiaohu came with a low, broken moan, flooding Xiaolong’s mouth and throat.

When it was over, Xiaolong was a wreck—face, hair, chest streaked with cum, eyes glassy, body trembling.

Mo and Xiaohu exchanged a small, satisfied laugh.
Mo patted Xiaolong’s head almost gently.

“Training results are decent.

Go shower. Rest.

You’re staying here tonight.”

Inside him, Mo’s cock gave another lazy twitch.

Xiaolong closed his eyes.

The night, he realized, has only began.