The thump-thump of the music almost hypnotised him as he walked through the changing rooms, pausing to gaze in rapture at the rolled-up tights, scattered bras and abandoned panties. Secret, intimate wisps of delicious femininity. Clutching his membership credentials, he took a deep breath and sidled into the gym.
The instructress, lithe and supple in her gold, stretchy leotard, was bending down repeatedly, touching her toes in time to the relentless beat. Nine superb bottoms rose up to greet him as the class stretched down in obedient imitation. Then the instructress rose up, hands stretched high, raised her left knee up and turned to one side. The left buttocks of the nine young women bulged deliciously as they copied their leader. Adam froze, petrified. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Already, his taped cock twitched painfully.
The instructress paused briefly, head on one side, frowning slightly as she gazed down across the gym. She was an ash-blonde, with firm hips and big bouncing breasts that almost burst out of her golden lycra. Adam, recovering his nerve, was edging gingerly towards the back of the class. He smiled timidly and held up his enrolment form. She nodded, smiled, and launched into a bout of pelvic thrusts, her fingertips splayed around the smooth curve of her hips. The nine class members, intent on the vigorous Dancercise, ignored him. He positioned himself at the back. Looking around and focusing for the first time, Adam almost fainted with delight.
For the next half hour, Adam experienced a bliss he had never thought possible. The beautiful bodies before him offered themselves up willingly, candidly and submissively, surrendering their forbidden secrets to his hungry eyes. He was Adam, among all these unselfconscious Eves, furtively eating the forbidden fruit.
He drank in every detail avidly, carefully storing up each image for his private pleasure in the winter months ahead. The long, dark winter nights in his bedsit, where he would sit, cock in hand, remembering.
A blonde in a blue-and-white leotard paused in her prancing to finger the band of shrivelled lycra out of her hot cleft. Adam felt his face burn as he watched her knuckles dimple the curve of her heavy cheeks. Keeping in time to the blaring music, he followed the Dancercise routine faithfully, but his mind wandered as his eyes feasted.
The girl over to his left, in the red lycra, bending down to smooth her wrinkled leg-warmers up her thighs. Adam’s cock rebelled against the industrial strength tape binding it fiercely as he saw the shining red lycra mould and define her labial lips. Then he saw her pluck a dark pubic hair from her bikini line. He shuddered, his exposed glans rubbed painfully against the sticky tape that trapped it. To his mounting alarm, the ooze of pre-come smeared his inner thighs.
Over there, by the breeze block wall, a girl in green dropped out for a breather, squatting down on the floor, legs splayed; her swollen buttocks crushed down deliciously into the polished wood, and her cleft was deep and darkly inviting. The gold-sheathed instructuress, still with the beat, raised her hand up to adjust the left strap of her leotard, then cupped and bunched her breasts unashamedly as she eased them within the taut lycra’s stretch.
That did it. Adam started to come. Before he realised it, the sudden urge overwhelmed him. As he jumped, clapping his hands above his head, his burning shaft pulsed – then squirted massively, soaking his upper thighs and lower buttocks. Stumbling, panting and awkward on shivering legs, he managed to steady himself. The hot semen was silvering the backs of his thighs. He had to get out. Now.
He wobbled and slipped. Several girls turned, their pretty faces showing sudden concern. Adam managed a weak smile, shrugged an apology and scuttled out of the gym. He heard the instructress call out after him just as the double doors closed shut behind him. Out in the car park, crouching down and shivering behind the safety of a Metro, he watched the entrance to the gym. Nothing. Inside, the music and the feet of the Dancercisers pounded on. He exhaled, his hot breath billowing in the cold night air. He had done it. He had entered the Garden of Eden – and had tasted forbidden fruit.
In the caretaker’s office, it was a struggle. Panicking, he tore off the wig, peeled away the sweaty leotard and scrabbled out of the leg-warmers. A handful of tissues restored his pale, lipsticked face to normal then dried his soaking groin. Back in his overalls, and breathing normally, Adam snatched up the huge bunch of keys and checked the time. Five past nine. Time to lock up.
He patrolled the empty corridor, switching off lights and securing doors. Crossing the car park, he approached the gym. One single light shone in the changing area. His heart started hammering, his hands felt hot and clammy.
Inside, he found the instructress briskly combing her ponytail. Adam turned the keys over gently in his hand. She tightened the laces in her trainers and stood up, shouldering her bag as she prepared to leave.
‘Just coming,’ she said. ‘I see you’ve fixed that shower. Thanks. Bit of a squeeze, as you can imagine.’
Adam imagined. He nodded shyly.
‘New pupil tonight. Came late, left early,’ the instructress remarked. ‘I’ve put her enrolment slip inside the register.’
Again, Adam merely nodded.
‘See you Thursday, then.’ She smiled, handing Adam the register.
Pocketing his keys, he stretched out his hand to accept it. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the glint of nail polish, then widened suspiciously at the blue-and-white sweat band on his wrist.
George had phoned. Another week should do it, either way. Hearts were tricky. Adam felt a great sense of relief. He didn’t want to go through that again – transforming himself into Eve and trespassing into the Dancercise class. Not too soon. He would do it again. The week after next, perhaps. Or maybe after half-term, when George usually had a week’s leave.
He had been unable to sleep all Tuesday night. One thought blazed in his brain, burning away any delicious memories. What would have happened if he had been caught? The tiniest mistake. The simplest slip-up. It had been madness. He couldn’t believe that he had done it. The shame. The local newspaper. Magistrate’s court, even. Then months behind drawn curtains throughout the summer’s sunshine.
Towards dawn on Wednesday morning, he had slowly conjured up the images and delicious sensations he had enjoyed, thrilled to, come to. Yes, he resolved, lapsing into a fitful doze. He would do it all again. Become Eve. But not too soon. Not just yet.
‘Go on. Just have a little taste,’ the buxom teacher cajoled, guiding the brimming spoonful up to Adam’s mouth.
The cookery class watched, waiting for his judgement. He sniffed cautiously. Something savoury and spicy. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, accepting the spoon. It was fiery. Strong and fiery. Blinking, then swallowing, he pronounced it delicious.
‘Hungarian goulash,’ she smiled. ‘Paprika, garlic and beef. Nice bit of topside. That’ll put hairs on your chest.’
Adam, conscious of his egg-smooth torso, blushed.
‘There,’ the cookery teacher purred, applying a napkin to his chin. ‘You’ve got gravy. All gone now.’
Five to nine. The secretarial class clattered down the stairs, first away. Quiz night in the pub. Adam rose from his desk and fished down the keys from the brass hook. His mouth was still sore from the paprika.
‘But my dear, there is simply no evidence of a Saxon fort on Captain Turner’s land. The man is deluded. Nothing from last year’s dig indicates –’ The local history ladies carried their folders and firm convictions out into the cold, dark night.
Adam felt suddenly tired. He strode down the long corridor. To his relief, all the classrooms were silent and deserted. Even the cookery class had cleared up and gone, leaving the room heavy with the rich aroma of their warming winter stew.
In the car park, Adam was surprised to see four cars remaining. He skirted them as he walked across to the gym entrance. It was in darkness. Still preoccupied by the remaining cars, he hesitated at the door. He knocked. No reply. He entered. All was still and silent. He shrugged, flicked the security alarm and, locking the door after him, walked back
to his office.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Adam. It is Adam, isn’t it? I think I’ve left my purse in my locker. Would you mind?’ It was the ponytailed instructress. She was sitting at his desk.
He nodded, signalling that it was no trouble. No trouble at all. They crossed the car park in silence. Still four cars parked there in the moonlight. He wondered. Unlocking the gym door, Adam switched off the security alarm and flicked the single entrance light on.
‘There’s a broken tile in one of the showers,’ she said casually. ‘You wouldn’t take a quick look?’
As he walked through the changing room towards the shower cubicles at the far end, the neon lights suddenly blazed. Adam turned, dazzled, to see the stern instructress and three of her Dancercise class standing between him and the door.
‘Forget about the broken tile. What is the meaning of this?’ She held up the wig savagely in her raised fist – as if she had just scalped a slain foe. ‘And this?’ Scrunched up in her other fist, the leotard he had worn on Tuesday night. She waited in ominous silence.
Adam opened his mouth to speak. But remained speechless. He thought frantically. Of course, she must have found them hidden away in the bottom drawer of the desk in the caretaker’s office. The tiniest mistake. The smallest slip-up. He had made them both.
She broke the tense silence, her voice was soft but stern. ‘We all thought it was a bit strange. Coming late and going early. Running out like that. And that run. All wrong. Set me thinking. Then I saw your blue-and-white wrist-band. So I sniffed around and found these.’ She threw the items down on to the ground. ‘Into the gym with you,’ she snapped.
Adam, pale and trembling, was too frightened to stir.
She clapped her hands sharply. ‘At once.’
‘But –’ he stammered, searching for the words of denial.
‘Silence. Now get yourself into that gym. We have decided to deal with you right here and now.’
Her three silent companions nodded.
‘I didn’t mean any –’ Adam whined softly. His voice failed him. He swallowed and tried again. ‘I just wanted to see –’
‘See?’ she barked. ‘You’ll have plenty to see in the mirror tonight, by the time we’ve finished with you.’
He bleated a loud protest as they grappled with him and marched him into the gym and ordered him to undress. He resisted, but outnumbered and overpowered, he succumbed to their firm hands. Firm, eager hands – which soon had him stripped naked and shivering under the harsh neon lights.
‘Kneel.’
He knelt. They examined him intimately, noting the lack of any body hair except the dark coils at the base of his belly. They splayed his fingers and scrutinised the glinting nail varnish. He blushed furiously as a hand weighed his balls, pushing them to one side to reveal the red marks where the sticky tape had trapped his cock out of sight.
‘Better gag him. He’s going to squeal,’ a pert blonde suggested.
The instructress nodded. Adam writhed. In seconds, Adam was tightly gagged with a pair of white panties. His eyes bulged, pleading mutely for mercy.
‘And tie his hands tightly. Behind his back,’ the instructress ordered.
Willing hands accomplished the task. Adam squirmed as, bound and gagged, he knelt before them, utterly helpless and totally in their thrall.
The instructress held out her flattened palm. ‘Razor.’
The pert blonde placed a slender, black electric shaver in her colleague’s outstretched palm. The instructress thumbed it, turning it on. It buzzed, the eerie sound echoing throughout the gym.
‘We don’t know quite what you hoped to achieve by your little escapade, young man. Perhaps we never will. But we can certainly guess. Get a good stiffy on, hmm? Get it up nice and hard, Tuesday night, did you? After watching us from the back of the class. Bet you did, naughty boy.’
He averted his gaze, blushing furiously. She caught his chin and tilted his head back, forcing him to endure her angry glare.
‘Wanted to be one of the girls. Was that it?’ she purred.
He tried to shake his head free but she held him dominantly in her controlling grip.
‘First thing, then, a shave. A really close shave.’ She thumbed his chin. He relaxed, fearing nothing more than the loss of his five o’clock shadow. She clicked the razor off and gently placed it down on the polished wooden floor of the gym. ‘But first, we’d better make ourselves more comfortable. OK, girls?’
Her companions nodded. They stripped off quickly down to their bras and panties. One, a shapely, firmly thighed brunette, wore dark tights. Adam’s cock thickened in response.
‘Look,’ squealed the blonde. ‘He’s getting big.’
‘Oh, he’s male, all right. Just curious about girls.’ The instructress smiled, fingering the elastic at her waist then smoothing her fingertips down across the swell of her pubic mound. ‘Hold him down.’
Giggling, her pupils seized him, splaying his legs and pinning him down on to his back. Adam writhed as they each knelt, their knees pressing him into the hard floor. As they jiggled above him, Adam glimpsed their breasts bulging. His cock stiffened fiercely and rose up in salute.
‘Don’t let him wriggle about,’ the instructress warned, picking up the electric razor and switching it on. ‘I’m going to give him that shave now.’
Adam closed his eyes and grunted through his tight gag as the sharp burn of the skimming blades rasped – not at his chin but through his thick coils of matted pubic hair. He froze, rigid and terrified, as the razor peeled away the crisp curls at the base of his erection.
‘Hold him still,’ she ordered, deftly straddling him and planting her buttocks down on to his face. He lay trapped beneath her soft, warm cheeks, his nose pressed firmly into her feral cleft. She enclosed her curled fingers around his shaft and shaved him until every wisp had disappeared.
‘Turn him over.’
With his cock crushed into the hard floor, Adam lay helpless, face down, as they spread his legs apart. The razor was still buzzing fiercely. He shrank as it swept up along his cleft, nipping out the odd little hair. He sensed the other girls craning to see. Twisting his head to one side, he saw their bosoms bouncing as they knelt over him, thigh to thigh.
The instructress switched off the razor and blew sharply into the blades. ‘Now let’s give him a real taste of femininity. He’s seen plenty, but not tasted the real thing, I’ll bet.’
They forced him up into a kneeling position, guiding his face into the glistening tights stretched at the upper thighs of the brunette. The dark tan sheen grazed his face. The others held him firmly as she peeled her tights down slowly, squirming her hips and buttocks sensually. She, like him, was clean-shaven. His nostrils caught her strong odour. Her labia were parted in a wet pout.
‘Lick,’ he was instructed as his gag was roughly removed.
He inched his face closer. Closer still. Then he tasted her wet warmth as his lips pressed against hers.
‘Lick, don’t kiss,’ the instructress snapped, taloning his hair.
Adam obeyed, crying gently in his shame and humiliation. He licked, then sucked, the dark fleshfolds of her pussy, flickering his tongue between their slippery velvet.
‘Deeper,’ urged the brunette, tossing her head back. ‘Harder.’
‘We’ll show you what a girl really likes,’ the blonde added.
Adam pulled away, despite the controlling hand of the instructress taloning his hair. The blonde bent down, her hand hovering just above his bare bottom.
‘I said deeper,’ she hissed, spanking him harshly. She swept her hand down five more times in savage succession.
Adam’s tightly bound hands writhed above his reddening buttocks. He buried his face obediently into the brunette. But she moaned her lack of satisfaction and grunted her cruel frustration.
‘Get the belt,’ the Dancercise instructress ordered. ‘He needs some persuasion.’
Quivering and jerking at every stroke, he yelled into t
he brunette’s wet pussy as the belt whistled down to lash his defenceless cheeks. Three more vicious swipes of the supple leather across his blazing cheeks. Adam mouthed his agony into the creaming crease. Another blistering swipe. The hide licked his bottom, adding a fresh crimson weal. He buried his open mouth into her to smother his scream. She rose up on her toes, shrieked her loud ecstasy – then raked her splayed labia down over his upturned face. The taloning grip made escape impossible. She rode him wantonly, ruthlessly and mercilessly. The final lash of leather drove his tongue into her deeply. The brunette came violently, hammering her hips and burying his face completely.
Adam, whipped, dominated and humiliated, lay curled up at their feet. They had used him ruthlessly for their unbridled pleasure for just under two hours. Sharing with him dark, feminine secrets. He had tasted the salt of their tiny love-thorns and the sour of their tight little sphincters as, panties dragged down, they made his mouth their obedient plaything. They had breastfed him, nipples peeping out between fingers of cupping hands that squeezed their swollen bosoms. He had been spanked afresh, yelling as their hard palms cracked down, each loud swipe echoing around the breeze block walls. He had come three times, but in shame and tears, not in pleasure. His face and chest shone wetly with their spilled juices. His buttocks burned red with their wrath.
‘Finished? It’s almost eleven. We’d better go,’ the blonde murmured, reluctant to leave.
‘I’m done,’ the brunette grinned, drying her pussy with her rolled-up tights.
‘Just one more thing, I think,’ the instructress replied softly. Her cleavage shone with the perspiration of exertion. ‘Pass me my purse.’
The blonde obliged. The instructress swished her ponytail as she rummaged in her purse and extracted a seven-inch dildo. She twisted the base. It purred menacingly. Adam opened his eyes – then tried to wriggle frantically away as quickly as his bound hands behind his back would allow him.
Brought to Heel Page 19
