Summer Intern Chapter 6

Author: lithium500mg
Title: Summer Intern Chapter 6
Date: 16 March 2015

Summer Intern Chapter 6

If you’ve never had your cock and balls forcibly shaved while you are harnessed and restrained, and when you haven’t cum for a week or more, you are missing something good. I forgot to mention in my previous notes the sensation of having your cock and balls tightly encircled and then having your already-squeezed cock stuffed into a tube not quite big enough to contain it. Both actions make you really glad you have cock and balls. On the other hand, it makes you really not want to lose them, or any part of them, or any of their functions.

I finished my last entry at the point where six Spartan fighters were getting ready to dry-pan for gold in the Panamints. It was Monday, just the day after we six interns incurred what we came to call “internment.” It was still two and half days before we could shoot. We oiled each other up with sunscreen and got ready to move up the canyon to look for gold.

The oily sunscreen felt particularly good on my neck. While the chain harnesses were generally pleasant and felt and sounded great as they jostled up and down the skin, the collars were there for security (Control’s, not ours). They were heavy and tight, and, as we found out before, transmitted electrical current well enough to keep us in line. The good thing they did was keeping the upper two body-circling chains high on the chest, embellishing the look of our pecs and nips.

It was hot in the Panamint Valley, 40 degrees (104 F) in the late Spring being about normal. Before we went out to hunt gold, we helped Cook and Supervisor with the sun shelter, which needed stabilization in the hot wind. We all drank lots of water, and, before we went out, were supplied with an additional liter bottle. Up the canyon we went in our Roman sandals, chain harnesses and steel jocks. We carried just the pans, little plastic containers for the gold, and the water.
It took a little time to adjust to the mode of walking where the legs are farther apart than usual. The steel jock rubs slightly on the upper leg and torso, and the groin locks also get in the way. Compensation for this awkwardness was the jostling of the steel jock, which could be felt mostly on the balls but very little on the cock.

Number Six and I stayed together, looking for a likely gold-panning site. The best spots are the inside shores of where a stream changes direction since the slower water flow allows the gold to settle. Number Six and I found a spot and settled down on our haunches to start separating gold from sand. We were out of sight of Supervisor and Cook, and could feel free to talk opening, although quietly.

Number Six is a track-and-field athlete at Mount San Antonio College east of Los Angeles. He specializes in javelin, and sometimes participates in the shot put and hammer throw. In other words, he is crazy strong for being only 82 kilos. His abdominals are super ripped, his arms and legs show the ropes of muscles underneath, and he looks like he could break the chain harness like Hercules. Number Six’s nipples barely stood out from his chest. Perhaps I could make them more prominent, I thought. We called him “Ripped.”

The first thing I asked him is whether he did present himself to his friends and others as hetero, and whether he was a homo. He only hesitated a little, and replied “yes,” and that he felt relieved to say it. He was pleased to be around fellow travelers, especially when they were total strangers dispersed throughout southern California. I replied something that meant “me, too.” I felt at ease looking at his sweaty chained body working over the stream bed gravel and knowing that his dick was trying its best to break out of its lockup.

We talked about what we expected from the internship as it goes forward. None of us could have guessed that we would be chained and naked for 60 days, that we would be subject to discipline, and that this discipline might be painful. Worse, we expected to jerk off daily, but now we can’t even see, much less stroke, our own joysticks. Number Six liked the look and feel of all the metal. He speculated on throwing the javelin in his current gear. “I wonder if we’ll have photos?”

A horn sounded, and we all came down the canyon and assembled for lunch. Everyone was dirty, but the sweat had dried in the hot breeze. We looked like gladiators in the dusty Colosseum. Lunch was delicious – I hate to use that word too much, but Cook made very tasty food. Fruit, sandwiches, even chocolate cake. I thought it was strange, but, as a college student, this was the best food I’d had in months, and I didn’t care if I had to be naked to get it.

During the meal the talk included if we all were “denying faggots” and if none of us had had a homosexual experience. No prior experience for any of us. That was not going to change in the next two months since we were not even going to see our packages until our internship ended. There wasn’t talk about the details of our capture, partly because we didn’t want to be overheard, and partly because we all, more or less secretly, were enjoying it. Control had said we were turned on by capture and restraint, and he was right about that.

As to the gold panning, Number Two found a nugget while the rest of us just found some fine particles not much bigger than dust. But we all had some. Finding gold is surprisingly exciting, like free money. I had an irrational “gold fever” that made me forget for some time my pressured balls and imprisoned cock. We were going to get the $35,000 and the gold! Number Two was now the favorite for getting to shoot first.

After lunch, Number Six and I returned to our spot, pulled out a few more grains, and, as the horn sounded again, got back to camp, got a snack, broke camp, and returned to the main complex. We dropped the sandals, rinsed off the dirt at the showers, and were surprised when warm water came out. Solar heating had done its job. We dried off in the warm wind, and, at Supervisor’s instructions, waited on the Office porch for Control to arrive.

When Control showed up, we all went back to the Welder’s barn and lined up. I had a shudder thinking of the electrical business we experienced the last time we were in the barn, but I followed orders. It was an inspection line. Control checked the security of our collars, checked the welds, and tapped our steel jocks with a small crowbar. The shock went from my balls to my throat, but strangely, I and no one else complained. In fact, I wanted a few more taps, although not as hard. I didn’t get them.

Next, Control checked out our bodies. It was like our skin was part of a dress uniform. As Number Three I was third to get the treatment and knew what was coming. I stuck out my chest as ordered and raised my arms high above my head. Control had an electrical contraption that clamped lightly on my nipples and gave a little shock. Had I had the capability, I would have cum right there during what Control called the “sensitivity test.” He checked under the arms and at the groin for abrasions, and checked the fit of the butt chain.

“Thank you again for your participation in our study,” Control started, “You all look very healthy and should provide an excellent semen volume over the term of your internship. Your responses to our sensitivity tests are excellent. Your response to the tapping of your genital containment indicates that your testicles are functioning perfectly. The excellent electrical conductivity of your nipples means that our nourishment is correctly balanced for optimum health. Congratulations to you all.”

I nodded, but I also remembered that we are not to speak to Control or the other study team members. Control continued, “Now you will have your cardio exercise, and, after that, dinner. Supervisor will instruct you on the exercise protocol.”

We went outside to the space between the Office and the barn. Supervisor joined us. He had marked a chalk circle about four meters in diameter where we were to have combat with bamboo sticks. We were issued 1 ½ meter poles with which we were to strike each other’s groins. The rules were that we could not go outside the circle, and that the poles could not ever be lifted above groin level. The reason for this was that we were not wearing eye protection. As usual, all the rules we were to obey seemed reasonably plausible.

Supervisor issued the bamboo sticks, and we commenced combat. It was crazy fun. Our legs were slightly splayed outward from the steel jocks, so our movements were somewhat awkward. The harness jostled and rubbed my horny skin, the butt chain stimulated, and the occasional blows to the steel jock intensified my focus. It was difficult to protect the groin while delivering blows, partly because the legs could not close around the steel. My quads and shoulders took a massive workout.

“Ripped”, the javelin thrower, was the best by far, but this was not a competition and there was no reward. After about 45 minutes we were asked to stop, but I think we all wanted to continue just a little longer. Then it was dinner, another very nice meal, shower, brush, floss, and bed. Number Five and Number Six took the outside bed positions by choice. I think they were not yet into all the skin-to-skin contact. All I could think about was “46 hours to cum.”