The Motivator Chapter 2

Author: metalbondnyc
Title: The Motivator (Chapter 2)
Date: 01 November 2009

The Motivator

By MetalbondNYC, located at www.MetalbondNYC.com

Chapter 2

I want to make something 100% clear: I was not beating off in the shower. That’s why my current predicament of not being allowed to ejaculate these days is even more fucked up. It’s all Dave’s fault. That arrogant prick got me in trouble after my very first session I had with Bryan, my new personal trainer. Let me explain what happened.

I had just been through the most rigorous and intense workout of my life. Bryan had pushed me harder in the gym on that first day than I had ever been before up to that point. Just as I had done under John’s direction, Bryan started me out on the treadmill. His instructions were very clear: I was to complete the one-mile warm-up run in less than nine minutes, or, he said, I would “be sorry.” He stood next to me the whole time. I was relieved when I finished in eight minutes 50 seconds.

“Cutting it close there, Rick,” he said. “But you made your time today, so you won’t be punished.”

Next he brought me over to the free weights, where he put me through the whole series of exercises I had done with John. Since he could see my whole routine from last time on his remote control device, he knew exactly how many reps to have me do and how much weight I was to lift. If my form needed correcting, he told me right away. He was all business with me, and I was never permitted more than a minute, two tops, between sets. The worst part of the workout came toward the end: abs. He had me do crunches, incline sit-ups and a couple of other movements that are too complicated to explain.

By the end of the 90-minute session I was completely exhausted as I followed Bryan back to the trainers’ locker room. I needed to get into the shower, to wash off all the sweat and to let the water massage me a bit. And as if the humiliation of wearing rubberized metallic bands around my wrists and cock and balls weren’t enough, when I grabbed for a fresh towel it got worse.

“Those towels are for use by the trainers only, not you,” Bryan informed me with what I interpreted to be a sadistic smirk on his face. “When you are done with your shower, you can dry off under the hot air blowers.”

But it got worse still.

“Before you leave, I want you to pick up all the trainers’ towels off the floor and put them down the chute over there,” Bryan said, pointing to a square opening in the wall by the door. “That’s your job for today.”

Great, I thought to myself, here I am a client of the gym, and I am forced to be totally naked in front of the trainers in the locker room. (Well, I was totally naked except for the three bands I was wearing around my wrists and cock and balls, which Bryan had rudely informed me were not to come off.) Beyond that, I now have to do chores like some fraternity pledge.

But despite the humiliation of it all, I was surprised to feel a little excited about the situation. I put my sweat-drenched gym clothes in my locker, locked my combination lock, and padded off, bare-assed naked and without a towel, to the shower area.

Unlike the showers in the regular locker room, which had private stalls separated by curtains, the shower area in the trainers’ locker was one large tiled room, about 20 feet long by 10 feet wide, with two vertical metal pipes from floor to ceiling, about four inches in diameter. Each pipe had three separate shower heads and dials attached every 60 degrees complete with dispensers for liquid soap and shampoo. A total of six guys could shower at the same time. I made a mental note that without a towel for me, there would be absolutely no privacy if any of the trainers were to be showering at the same time. On that first day, however, I was relieved that the trainers’ shower happened to be empty, so I had the whole room to myself. Directly opposite the shower room was a tiled bathroom area with two toilet stalls and two urinals, three sinks, a large mirror, and two blow dryers — one “hands level” for drying hands, and another at “head level” for blow drying hair (and the whole body in my case).

Since Bryan had left the locker room and I was apparently alone in the shower, I took my time. I washed completely, and I then I stood under the water, letting it massage my back and shoulders. Despite how exhausted I was from everything I had experienced that day — the run on the treadmill, the heavy workout with weights, and the abs routine — my dick started to get hard. And when I thought about Bryan and how he had been treating me so far, I got a bit harder. I couldn’t help it. As my mind wandered a bit more about having more than just my workouts controlled by Bryan and the other trainers here, I got really hard. And that’s when the rubber and steel band around the base of my cock and balls started to feel really tight. It was a two-edged sword: The harder I got the tighter it felt, and the tighter it felt the harder I was getting. Before I knew it my cock was standing at full attention. And damn, now that cock and ball band felt really tight. Just as I was reaching down to see if I could adjust it a bit, all of a sudden one of the toilet stalls popped open and out came Dave. He looked at me right in the eye, looked down at my rock hard cock with my hands on the cock ring band, and then he looked me in the eye again.

“You can’t do that in here,” he said, as he started to wash his hands at the sink. I could feel my face turning beet red, and before I could say anything he disappeared around the corner and was gone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I thought to myself. Now Dave, the trainer who had given me the flier for personal training sessions in the first place, thinks I am masturbating in the shower. But I wasn’t. I was so embarrassed that my hard-on went down.

I turned off the water, then I stood under the tall blow dryer to dry my hair and body. I found that I could hold my wrists up to the hot air current and the air would blow a little bit under the bands, just enough to dry my skin. Whatever kind of metal and rubber these bands were made of, I observed, they were durable enough to withstand the heat of the blow dryer without losing their shape or softening in any way. Still naked, I returned to my locker to put on fresh clothes and get the heck out of there. As I was heading out the locker room door, I remembered Bryan had told me to pick up the trainers’ towels before I left. Fearing the wrath that would ensue if I did not follow his instructions, I headed back into the locker room and picked up all the towels I found on floor. There were three or four of them, and I put them all in the laundry chute, just as I had been instructed, then went back out the door.

I wasn’t far from the gym exit when I heard Bryan call my name.

“Hey Rick,” he said with a frown on his face. “I need to talk to you, come with me.”

Two minutes later, I was sitting again in head trainer John’s office, getting a stern lecture from my new personal trainer, Bryan.

“Dave tells me you were playing with yourself today in the shower,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t,” I tried to say. “I, um, let me explain …”

But Bryan cut me right off. “I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “In fact, I want you to shut up and listen to me. Let’s be clear: You are here for one reason and one reason only — and that is to do what I and the other trainers here tell you.”

I turned bright red, and I gulped.

Bryan went on, “You hired us to motivate you to get in shape, and that is exactly what we are going to do. In fact, we are not only going to get you in shape, we are going to get you in great shape. You agree with me on this, don’t you Rick?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good,” Bryan replied.

“And there’s another thing I want you to understand,” he said. “If you don’t show significant improvement in your physique, that will reflect poorly on me. And I would never let that happen. You may not know this, but all of the trainers here are evaluated on how well they help their clients attain their goals. Things like raises and promotions, better hours, extra time off — all of these things are dependent upon how well I train guys like you.”

As he said this, he reached into his pocket for the remote control device.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but your behavior in the showers today leaves me no choice,” Bryan said, as he typed in some numbers on the device’s keypad. The remote emitted a series of electronic beeps.

“There. I have just activated the ‘orgasm deterrent’ feature on your motivator bands,” he said. “That means starting now, there will be no jacking off for you. Not in the showers here at the gym, not even when you go home. From now on, I don’t want you wasting any energy on trying to get yourself off. I want you to focus 100% of your energy on your workout regimen.”

I gulped again.

“The way this works is simple,” he explained. “If your wrists come within six inches of your cock and balls for more than 30 seconds, the alert, warning and punishment sequence will activate. And since I won’t be there to deactivate the sequence once it has begun, if you play with yourself again you will find yourself in a world of hurt. Don’t find this out the hard way. You have enough time to wash yourself in the shower, if you move quickly. When you need to take a leak, I suggest you move quickly as well. Take your dick out of your pants, aim, then move your hands away as you piss. After your bladder is empty, zip yourself back up — quickly — and go on your way.”

I was so shocked that I was nearly speechless.

“But, what if …” I said.

“Shut up, Rick,” Bryan replied. “From now on, I want you to keep your hands away from your dick. If you don’t, you will be sorry. Trust me on this. You will need to be especially careful in bed at night, when your hands might tend to wander.”

“Hey, hold on a second here,” I protested.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Bryan answered. “Now get out of here, and I will see you in two days for your next workout.”

I got up to leave, and my trainer stood up as well. I glanced down quickly, and it looked like his own sweat pants were tenting out a little bit.

“But wait! I need to know how …” I protested.

He cut me off again. “Go home and read the contract,” he said, pushing me out the door.

Twenty minutes later, I was back at my apartment, sitting on my couch reading the paperwork. That’s when I realized just how much trouble I had gotten myself into. My heart sank. I got a terrible knot in the pit of my stomach.

It was a long two days. I was on pins and needles constantly, making sure to keep my hands away from my dick so that I would not set off the shock device. Knowing full well how painful the electronic shock could be, I erred on the side of caution.

Constantly, I was thinking about when Bryan had demonstrated the power of the shock bands for me in the locker room, before my first workout session. The alert shot was annoying and the warning shot painful, but both of these were bearable. But having also tasted the severe pain of that third shock — the “punishment” shot as it was called — there was no way I was going to willingly let those bands shock me in the nuts like that again. When I had been shocked that first day in the gym, the pain knocked me to the floor and it took me several minutes just to recover. I realized then that I was in for some serious pain. And to make things even more unfair, I was being denied the ability to beat off as punishment for something I did not even do.

Despite living in constant fear for the next two days, I found myself more sexually excited than I can ever remember. My dick was in an almost constant state of arousal. It got so bad that the second day, I put on one of my tightest jock straps, with my dick pointing down, in an attempt to keep myself from getting distracted and also to keep myself from being tempted to touch my dick. How great it would feel, I thought to myself, to be able to beat off.

end of Chapter Two

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