Summer Intern Chapter 9

Author: lithium500mg
Title: Summer Intern Chapter 9
Date: 01 April 2015

Summer Intern Chapter 9

The Study of young male sexual capacities in which we six interns were participating was certainly strange, but it was often exciting and just plain fun. Take, for example, the Fast Panning Game. This cardio activity took place at the gold panning site in the Panamint Mountains. The loser was spread eagled upside down on a large smooth boulder in the stream bed. We took turns dropping rocks from above onto his steel cup which was pointed more or less towards the heavens. The shock was transmitted to his balls and often elicited a yelp followed by some words one does not hear in church.

The game involved speed-panning. This is just like the normal dry panning to separate gold from sand and gravel except that it is timed, the one getting the least gold in an hour’s time loses. Working fast with the heavy pans is great exercise for the shoulders, arms, back and pecs. The faster the pan shakes, the faster the gold sinks, but everything has to be kept nearly level for it to work at all.

The loser’s feet are tied to ropes on the ground. The ropes are pulled up from the top of the boulder to lift the intern well above the ground, and then pulled apart to splay out the legs. His wrists are then fastened to ropes attached to stakes in the streambed below. The loser is suspended about two meters above ground at about 60 degrees on vertical. If he is not cooperative, he gets his time on the rock extended past where he can control his bladder.

I think Number Five, Surfer, liked to lose. He enjoyed his upside-down boulder-riding four times when twice was the most for the rest of us. I’ll describe my time on the rock in later notes.

The semen release for the first four weeks produced steadily reduced quantities over the eight sessions, at least from me. To counteract this trend, Ming the Merciless indicated, or more rightly, “dictated”, that change was called for.

We were lined up Saturday evening after our eighth cum session, all of us weak from the combination of pain and gratification. Ming’s cock-versus-ball feedback system to maximize semen release made on-the-fly adjustments so that the pain was 100 percent of what we could withstand and still shoot. This experience would be banned by international treaty and the Geneva Convention except that, after only a few hours, we wanted more.

Control described the changes to our harnesses and their purpose. “Today you are finishing the 29th day of your contracts, and our Study is going nearly as planned. The physical stimulus needed to continue the production of semen at a balanced rate, however, needs to be adjusted. Earlier today, your penis containment device was exchanged for a slightly longer and less restrictive model that contains in it a polished urethral stimulator.”

I didn’t know exactly what a “urethral stimulator” was, but just the word “urethral” made me shudder. In just a few seconds, my brain imagined just about everything Ming might have thought of and Welder might have manufactured. Number Four couldn’t help himself, and cried out “No, I didn’t sign up for this.” I shuddered again. I could feel the inevitability of discipline and electroshock on my balls coming. Supervisor gave Swede a little tap from behind, and he calmed down.

Control continued, “The new configuration will help stabilize your yields. You shall maintain your genital hygiene at a high level. Supervisor will help you with this. You will feel the stimulation on your next erection, perhaps while retired, so do not be alarmed. The stimulator will block fluid release and maintain all your reproductive fluids at an optimum level. Olive oil now lubricates your erections so that expansion within the containment maintains its register.”

The idea of having my dick corked at any time was scary. It also occurred to me that I didn’t want to be in contact with the plug when we suffered the inevitable discipline from Number Four’s outburst. All of us, probably, were so frightened at the prospect of a cock cap that “flaccid” would be an understatement for our genital state of affairs. Later, Weeper told me what “register” meant. It means in our case that when the cock slides in its containment, it lines up correctly with the plug.

It was getting time for bed, and we showered and brushed and tried to keep our minds off of the expected invader. I wondered if Flash Gordon would stand for it. When I started to imagine Flash getting front-plugged on Ming’s cross, I could feel myself getting hard. I used all my mental energy to suppress the images, and won the battle.

That night, however, there was no such suppression. There were six distinct “cry outs” in the night, followed by moans. “First Contact” was a shock. When it was my turn, I withdrew at first, then, sometime later, allowed re-contact. My dick was like a fish examining the bait. The whole group seemed to be doing the same, and it must have looked like a swarm of eels on the bed as we repetitively touched and then recoiled from the plug.

There was no winning. The new cock cage was slightly longer, and my dick could extend itself more than before. This new freedom, while minor, seemed to make my cock come alive. I can see why guys give names to their cocks since they often act like independent beings. I was reminded of Peter Johnson Junior, the Republican commentator on Rupert Murdoch’s Fox News in the U.S. My cock snuggled up to the plug, and, after several approaches, I was ready for a plug-fuck.

Ming was indeed Merciless. The cock cage was sufficiently long that the best I could accomplish was a plug semi-fuck. The plug barely touched the tip of my dick. My hands worked the steel cup to get a little extra penetration, but Control’s measurements had proved correct. I was horrified at the thought of urethral penetration only a couple of hours before. Now I was cursing because I couldn’t get enough of it.

It was almost getting light when most of us got to sleep. We spoke about our night at breakfast, and all had about the same experience of the fish and the bait. Sunday went as usual with games and exercise. Sunday night delivered more tantalizing plug semi-fuck and I encouraged my dick as much as possible to get more. I was relieved when discipline from Number Four’s outburst was not forthcoming.

When we woke up Monday, we all were cuffed, wrists and ankles, the wrists locked painfully high mid-back to the harness. Fuck that Swede!