Give me the best of you 1
by Romain

Ben

At the gym there is a new guy who took a three month subscription. According to some, he would be passing through the city. As my schedules are irregular, I met him a dozen times. We sometimes talked together. He is frank and nice. His name is Ben.He must not be over 27 years old. He is not especially handsome with his bony face but he has a wolf smile and almond eyes that pierce you with their blue laser. He is of medium height, slender with broad shoulders. It has sex appeal because the women in the room caress with eyes him. Since he's always wearing a sweat suit too wide, I thought he was lean. I changed my mind the day I saw him coming out of the showers.

That day, after a good session, I return to the locker-room to change clothes before leaving. Ben comes out of the showers when I open the door. He is dressed only in a small bath towel he has tied around his thin hips. He has a perfectly proportioned and very muscular body. The definition of his musculature is impressive as each muscle is chiseled. It emerges from this athlete an impression of almost animal strength.Drops of water shine in her very short hair and her eyebrows. I utter a slight hiss of admiration that makes him smile.

I add:-My compliments, man, it's hard to imagine this musculature under your XXL tracksuit.Always smiling, he explains that this tracksuit accentuates his perspiration. He wants to sweat a lot to dry his muscles to be even more ripped.I answer him that he has already obtained an excellent result. Indeed, I see perfectly that the muscles are striated under his skin.By derision, he makes play the muscles of his arms and his long legs. Then suddenly becoming serious again, he inflicts on himself a violent punch on his abs, saying:-And my abs, what do you think?The snap echo throughout the locker room. Ben has planted his eyes in mine and awaits my answer with an expressionless face.A little surprised by this provoking issue, I contemplate his extraordinary abdominal muscles. They are squared by deep furrows, as sculpted by an artist of the Italian Renaissance. I have never seen such a beautiful and sensual pack of eight. Shining and salient, it must be very hard.

I decide to answer very directly to this very direct man.-Your washboard is so attractive that I want to pound it without mercy.

-So, man, do it!

I have a shiver all over body when I see him cross his fingers behind his neck and arched his belly towards me. He is beautiful with his muscles all deployed.Is he serious or does he have fun? I warn him ironically:-Be careful man, I have dynamite in the fists and I do not want to damage this masterpiece.-You will not hurt anything at the masterpiece, man, my abs are as hard as a tire and only one man has managed to break them... a lucky day. Go ahead and give me the best you can. I like taking blows in my stomach because it reassures me about my strength and endurance.Go there, I'm waiting!

After a brief hesitation, the ears buzzing, I place myself in front of Ben and sends him a good forehand drive in the solar plexus. Direct!He does not flinch. Not a single flutter of eyelashes.My fist clashed a skin soft and fine but under this skin, there is a brick wall. On the sensual lips of the boy, there is a slight ironic smile when he guesses my stupefaction.

It annoys me a little.I was the middleweight champion of my university and I know how and where to bump. I'm concentrating and I'm punching now in a more technical way. I alternate forehands, hooks and uppercuts. The young athlete keeps an impassive, almost haughty face.For 2 or 3 long minutes, I vigorously hammer the muscular abdomen carefully targeting the most sensitive points. I gradually increase the strength of my blows now slamming very hard. The young man takes my hardest blows with a casualness that amazes me.

However, I notice that a vigorous erection raises his bath towel. Seeing that makes me hard and I increase the strength of my punches again and again.I'm pounding now so hard that the towel is loosened and falls to the ground. Ben does not make a move. He remains stoically naked in front of me. In his eyes, I read a frank challenge. He has the cock of an alpha mustang and big and heavy balls that sway serenely to the rhythmof my punches. A long trickle of pre ejaculatory liquor flows from his meatus.He's rock hard and I'm afraid he'll unload himself at the next punch.

But we stop our game because a noise in the hallway announces the arrival of someone. Ben picks up his bath towel and carries his proud manhood in the showers and I sit on a bench to take off my shoes.

When I leave the gym, I am pleased to see it waiting for me next to my car.He gives me his wolf smile and says:-Excuse me but you turn me on with your nice boxing technique. I am like that when I face a good puncher and you, you are very good, man.Flattered, I answer him that I am ready to start again but only in a quiet place. I promise him to break his pretty abs in small pieces if one day we can arrange a meeting man to man. This project appeals to him a lot and he invites me to have a drink so that we can talk more about it.In front of a drink at "The Happy Rooster", we speak frankly. He tells me he is an officer instructor in the Navy and has a sexually insatiable girlfriend. To my amused question, he answers me that it does not bother him because he is able to cum several consecutive times. Decidedly, Mother Nature has been very generous with this boy! I also learn that he had an old friend with whom he made very hot "gutpunching" deals. It was always Ben who took the blows but only once his partner had managed to put it ko. He had never discharged so hard as that day. He would have liked to continue but his friend had refused to go further.He still regrets it. His eyes shine when I tell him that instead of his friend, I would have continued without scruple my demolition work.Where is this friend? Alas, he was posted to a naval base in Australia. For two years! So, Ben is looking for a ruthless perforator to satisfy his obsessive passion.
What is nice is that he says things simply, without detours. I will do something for him!This conversation full of reciprocal provocations excites us like beasts and we must draw desperately on our jackets to hide the formidable erection that distorts our jeans.It's a pleasure to talk with this guy!To conclude, I ask him if he will accept being tied up for our next balance of power.He replie that his friend almost always tied him up, but he took precautions not to leave markson the skin.With this condition, he accepts that I bind him. He adds that to be tied up and to be at the entire mercy of the perforator, stimulates even more his endurance abilities.We exchange our addresses and our telephone numbers because we will have to grant our schedules for the next meeting.He must now return to the naval base for work. I watch his slender figure move away from a flexible swaying gait.

Give me the best of you 2
by Romain

I stay a week without any news from Ben and I start to wonder if he has not changed his mind. Yet, without being a psychologist, I can recognize a bluffer, especially when it comes to gut punching. Indeed, it takes courage and endurance to suffer a lot when after a very long hammering your abs become weak and the fists of the perforator can then sink deep into your internal organs.
In the locker room of the gym, last week, I inflicted very strong and very "professional" shots at Ben's muscular abdomen. He took all the assortment without flinching but our balance of power was too short to know if I will have managed to break his beautiful washboard. Just after this little test, we agreed to a face to face between men in the basement of my home to find out how long his abs will resist my assaults. I am astonished by Ben's silence because he gave me the impression of being a tough and determined man. He's not like those boasters shouting mercy on the third shot. Many "hard" guys came to my basement but very few came back. I advise these little proud to stay at home with their fantasm of invulnerable abs.
But I'm wrong to doubt because the phone rings in the evening.
I recognize his deep voice. He did not want to call me earlier because he had been sick along three days. With colleagues he ate at an exotic restaurant where they caught a nasty bacterium that made them sick like dogs. Fever, vomiting etc ... He lost 3 kg and today he is more ripped than ever.
He announces to me that he can devote to me the evening of Friday if it suits me. It suits me very well! He will come Friday at 18h.
He has doubled his series of crunches to prepare his abdominal muscles. They are so hard now that he's scared for me because I'm going to break my fingers by banging in it.
I laugh and I imagine very well his wolf smile.
I ask him, however, if he can recover his forces by Friday because this kind of poisoning weakens a man a lot. I warn him that on Friday I would be ruthless with his abs even though he is exhausted. Would not it be more reasonable to postpone the gut punching session to a later date? He answers in a jovial tone:

- Do not worry about my strengths, man. Friday, I'll be up. Even if this voracious Daisy (his girlfriend) continues to devour me every night, I recover very quickly.
I do not want to postpone our meeting because I leave Saturday on a mission for a month. I want to leave with the painful guts.

For me, the time has come to say frankly things. Ben is a nice guy and I do not want to ruin our relationship by inappropriate behavior.

- I want to be honest with you Ben. Certainly, I am a fanatic of gutpunching but ... I am also a practitioner of gay sadomasochism. There is a risk for a nice athlete like you to make be tied up in my dungeon.
In the heat of the action, I risk going too far and I do not want to humiliate you by doing this. Now that you know who I am, you can decide not to come.
We will remain good friends, that's all.

- I'm not a choir boy, man! I've known for a long time who you are and what you do in your fucking dungeon.
I know it because I know a man who has already come to your home. You broke it and yet it's a very strong guy. He told me everything in detail. He's a hetero guy, but I'm sure he'll come back to see you because you've inflicted him so much pleasure and pain than he loved it a lot.
I will come to your house because none of this scares me. I'll prove to you that I have a very strong armor of muscle.

I am annoyed to hear that. I was manipulated by a boy I thought was "ignorant" of the things of the gay sadomaso. I croak:

- Why did not you tell me you knew all that?

- Because it was useless. I know from this man that you are the best puncher of all the state and that's what interests me first. For the rest, if you want to have fun with my body, I do not see any problem. Thanks to you I'll maybe know why I'm hard as a donkey when a tall and strong man like you bangs my abs with violence. I will also know why I want so much to know the limits of endurance of my abs.

- I can explain it to you without needing to break your abs, Ben.

- No, I prefer to learn it in pain and pleasure. I prefer practice to theory.
I think a serious deal in your fucking dungeon will save me from going to a psychiatrist and so saving me a lot of money. You are the man I need.

It makes me laugh and he laughs too in the phone.

- You are an amazing guy Ben. I will take a lot of pleasure to prove to you that no washboard can resist me. I have surefire methods to get that.

- Your threats do not scare me, man. Because I already know that to break me, you will not hesitate to use very treacherous means. But too bad for me, it will make our balance of power even more interesting.

This phone conversation boils my libido and probably hers too. Ben is determined and this presage a very hot gutpunching session.
We continue to converse for a while and I learn that his homosexual experience is limited to a few handjobs at the university. It was his roommate who was an expert in balls work. Otherwise, he is not attracted to men except when they are followers of gut punching. He has made many duels in the locker room and on the beaches and enjoys pounding hard abs. He thinks that when he is my age, he will also be an excellent puncher but that for the moment he is using his strength and his youth to offer his washboard at perforators fiercest possible. He likes to struggle to resist as long as possible to an opponant that has all the advantages over him. He likes to constantly push his limits of endurance and this behavior suits me very well.
Before hanging up the phone, he asks me in what posture I decided to bind him. I answer him that I still hesitate but that the posture "Tied down spread eagle" is it seems very good for him. To conclude, he advises me not to have any pity for him. Even if I manage "by chance" to defeat him, he wants me to continue breaking his abs to make a painful porridge with them. His dream!
As I'm on leave, I have time to prepare my equipment. On a wall of the basement, I fixed polyurethane foam plates and four solid eye crews arranged in square of 2X2 meters. This allows to attach a man in X against the wall. The foam is intended to protect the skin of the back of my next victim. She will suffer well in comfort.
I am a really nice man!
Then, with two hooks I place horizontally a long and sturdy airbag at the height of the lumbars. So, when I wish, I will inflate the cushion that will grow on the back of the man to bend his torso forward.
Is not it clever?
Using a hose I plug a canister of compressed air to the cushion.
A simple tap of the finger and the man tied up will be arched, the abs open.
Am not great?
Satisfied with my nasty preparations, I turn to the large mirror that I installed obliquely for Ben to witness his demolition live. It is psychologically a distress to see fists ruthless sink deeper and deeper into your weakened belly. I know it to have experienced it when I was younger. Young? I ponder myself in the diabolical mirror.
I'm 43 years old and I'm in shorts. No fat, well cut muscles longs and hards and a deep midline splitting salient abs. I am not yet a fragile old thing and I defy the majority of these arrogant young people to have my physique at my age.
Yesterday, on the phone, when Ben said me: " when I have your age " it upset me.
He said it without malice but he will pay me anyway it. And very expensive! This young insolent deer will suffer the wrath of a big alpha male in rut !!!

We are Friday. At 6:01 pm the bell rings. I open the front door. Ben is on the threshold, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. Because his T-shirt too wide, only his broad shoulders and striated forearms reveal his extraordinary musculature. He has his emaciated face and his eyes ultramarine, seem to me to be hollowed by fatigue.
He apparently did not recover its all fitness as he claimed on the phone.
But he is beautiful and I find it very sexy with his little air of thug marauding.
We greet each other and i say to him:

- You do not seem very fit, Ben. I will break your abs in less than two minutes if you are too weak. Are you still determined to face my assaults, even if you are so tired?

He comes in and answers with a small ironic smile that I am a great pretentious to believe that I could break his abs even if he is tired.
The hands still in the pockets, he looks me in the eyes.
I offer him a glass of fruit juice that he politely refuses, saying that he prefers to stay on an empty stomach because of the punches he will soon take in his solar plexus.
He is not talkative. He is like a boxer who concentrates and empties his head before getting into the ring.
I invite him to follow me and we go down to the basement.
He looks at my equipment for a long time but it does not seem to trouble him and he does not ask me any questions. However, rolls of rope, chains, leather bracelets, whips, batons and handcuffs on the walls should alarm a neophyte!?
He walks over to the overcrowded shelf of sadistic knick-knacks SM to grab a pair of nipple clamps that he examines and rests without comment.
A little surprised by his calm Olympian, I ask the question:

- It does not shock you, all this paraphernalia?

- Not at all. I think I told you that I was not a choirboy. These are only naughty kids' toys, no more.

I burst out laughing and I'm entitled to a wolf's smile ... hungry.
When he discovers on the wall the preparations for his crucifixion, he understands at a glance the operation of my equipment. He gives me an oblique look and says:

- It is very vicious the idea of the airbag in the back. The guy was right to say that you are a great pervert. So you decided to tie me in spread eagle?

- Yes! For me, it's the best posture for a good session of punching gut. Your abs will be well stretched and I could well place my shots. But you already know, do not you?

- Yeah! I know this posture well between two poles, but never previously I was flattened against a wall with an airbag placed behind my back. It will be much harder for me, I guess?

- Certainly, because the wall prevents the body from swinging to cushion the blows and the stress of the air bag opens the ribcage.
It will be more convenient for me but not very comfortable for you.

I take a sadistic pleasure in explaining to Ben the dangerous situation in which he will be soon. It does not impress him.
Without answering me, Ben undresses by folding his clothes carefully. Admiring, I find again his beautiful body slender and muscular. A real statue this guy. He hesitates to remove his pretty white underpants, then slips it on his long legs saying:

- This slip is too expensive for you to tear as you had certainly planned.

Without a word, I hand him a solid pair of leather bracelets, which he began to tie around his wrists. Me, I kneel to fix two other bacelets around his ankles. This allows me to admire her feet with their regular and nervous design. Every detail is beautiful in this guy.
Naked, he wears his black bracelets like adornments.
From himself he stands back to the wall and I put my hand on his broad chest to lean him against. With carabiners I first attach his wrists to the two upper rings and I spread his legs to do the same with his ankles. Here it is, totally captured. I calculated well by preparing my installation. Ben's body is in X and his limbs are stretched to perfection. I am very happy with my work. I'm an artist!
The "Tied down spread eagle" posture exacerbates the definition of the young man's powerful musculature. The subdued lighting chisels his muscles deployed. It is a wonder!
The crucified man looks at me by displaying an irritating little smile
I take off my shirt and I advance towards my prey who continues to smile. I plant a thumb in the deep median line of his abs and I question:

- Are you ready, hotshot?

- Yes I am ready! Go ahead, give me the best of yourself. I can take a lot more than you are able to give me ........... humff!

He does not finish his sentence because I plant an angry fist in his belly button. I picked him by surprise. Good start!
But for the next shots, he contracts his muscles and I find myself in front of a concrete wall.
It will be a tough challenge to dismantle this fortress. The athlete takes my shots with an impressive flippancy. Yet I attacked hard from the beginning.
He looks me in the eyes while maintaining an impassive face. But at the 87 th blow, I note with satisfaction that his great sex hardens.This is the formal proof that he begins to suffer
Indeed, Ben made the mistake of confiding to me that he becaming hard-on when the balance of power became "interesting". That is to say, when a particularly talented puncher to forces him to harden more and more contracting his abs to resist painful blows.
Encouraged by his virile reaction I continue to methodically pound his superb abs that blush little by little. It's been over half an hour that I work Ben's belly and I congratulate myself for having battered my bag of sand every night to train.
Without that, I would never have hold the distance.
If I want to effectively undermine his endurance, I must remain calm and technical. Uppercuts for the solar plexus, forehands for the navel and left hooks for the liver.
I'm making a good work of wearing because Ben has not smiled for a long time. He clench his teeth and his maxillary muscles protrude strongly.
His breath becomes short and hard and he sometimes stifles a deep moan.
But it's not enough for break Ben's incredible armor. I release the bomb of compressed air to inflate the airbag placed at the back of the young atlhete.
Under the strong push, the muscular torso arched, the thorax opens wide and the abs stretch even more. It's perfect!
Now, every shot will hurt and I'll be able to effectively search the weak point of this too arrogant muscle armor
Of course, Ben realize that I arched him to make him even more vulnerable. Now he struggles to harden his abs to the maximum to resist at my attacks. He grumbles:

- You have perverse methods, man. Bend me as much as you want. You will not break my abs easily. Even in this posture I will resist you a long time.

I do not respond to this derisive provocation and I resume my work of demolition.
Carefully adjusted, each stroke slams and resonates on the walls of the basement. After a hundred punches, I obtain some real hoarse moans. Ben's sex is now hard as a truncheon twined with protruding veins. Precum liquor flows from its meatus. He is ripe!
So, in a rumbling voice, I order:

- Look in the mirror to see your defeat!

Ben obeys me by turning his gaze to the big mirror. He becomes the spectator of his own demolition. Is it him this tied up man who takes hammering his abdomen like an anvil?
He is fascinated! Before his eyes, I plant a fierce left hook in his liver. He is stunned to see my fist sink so deep into his side. Dismantled by the pain, but eyes still focused on the mirror, he grows a wounded tiger roar and spits streams of sperm on my stomach and legs.
Still ten hard shots. Do is not it fun to keep beating when the captive is out of breath and that his muscles are crooked by a bestial orgasm? Ben did not he ask me to be ruthless?
Then I take a step back to admire the result of my work. Breathless, dripping with sweat and his abdominal muscles convulsed with pain. Is Ben defeated?
A normal man would be definitely knock out but Ben is not a normal man. His physical power to resist is enormous.
Magnanimous, I give him a few minutes of rest to allow him to come to the surface.
Surprised, I see him, once again, gather his strength and straighten his head to look into my eyes. Admittedly, Ben's face is marked by a great painful fatigue but I read in his eyes a fierce deternination. I ask him:

- So back great grandson of Tarzan, you give up?

- No sir! I admit that you made me a little pain but you did not break my abs. I still have a lot of forces in store, man. My belly is not yet compote and I have not yet shout mercy.
I'll have to go finding for a perforator more effective than you.

It's too much for me! The insolence of this young pretentious exceeds the limits. Streams of steam gush from my nostrils. Arrogance amuses me in small doses ... but there!
It's overflowing! In an icy voice, I retort:

- My little pal Ben, you urgently need a lesson in modesty. Before leaving my place to your utopian super perforator, I'll give you a little demonstration of my little talents.

While talking, I approach him and I open the valve of the pressurized air bomb to inflate the airbag to the maximum. Brutally pushed forward, the muscular torso of the young arrogant is arched in a more hard way. He has the ribcage now as open as that of a body-builder performing a vacuum. His muscular abdomen is stretched to the extreme limit of the bearable. But despite this the eight muscle blocks remain bulging under the coppery skin.

From the flat of the hand I violently slam his stomach that resonates with a hollow and surd sound. Under the grip of a cold anger I hiss like a snake:

- You want to know your limits of endurance, you will know them.
Do you want to shout mercy? You will not be able to do it because in two minutes you will not have enough air in the lungs and that in ten minutes you will be knocked out.

- Ten minutes?

Ben stares at me this time without smiling. There is even a glimmer of worry in his dark blue eyes.

- Yeah, ten minutes! If you resist me more than ten minutes, I would consider that you gained the balance of power but if I put you out before this time, you will be mine for two hours. Okay?

Ben, eyes closed acquiesce shaking his head. Without further ado, I unleash on his abs with uninterrupted series of uppercuts, forehands and hooks. To my amazement, Ben instantly becomes hard-on again. I pound by pressing all my punches. Very quickly my athletic prey starts to wince, then moaning louder and louder. I feel the already injured muscles softened under my fierce blows. I smash, I pierce the provocative shield. I am pounding without scruple, without pity. Soon, each shock brings a hoarse shout out of the boy's throat.
With all the muscles contracted, he fights uselessly to prevent my fists from penetrating his abdomen further and deeper to bruise his internal organs.
I turn his solar plexus into a compote. With his liver, I make marmalade and with his belly button, I make a pudding. Ben will he respect me more after this little punishment?
In seven minutes I closed the deal.
Almost knocked out, my pretty victim looks at me without seeing me.
The time has come to finish our Apollo.
Almost unconscious, Ben no longer controls his muscles. I take the opportunity to launch a malicious uppercut in his solar plexus. My fist going up sinks under the thorax of the unfortunate boy who emits a single hiccup. I finished him.
Suspended by his outstretched arms, he is knocked out.
As I am a gentleman, I revive him by sprinkling him with ice water.
He raises his head and stares at me with empty eyes. Bile runs on his lips.
Stupor! He is always furiously hard-on.
It gives me a sneaky idea. Am I not entitled to a reward?
I grab his big velvet-wrapped balls with my big hand and roll them hard between my bony fingers. I plate my chest against his hard pecs and I purr like a big sadistic cat who has captured a plump little mouse:

- You give up?

Without waiting for an impossible answer, I squeeze, I grind his bullets without any pity.
He lets his head fall on my shoulder with a little sob. I feel his cock rigid as a bar of iron vibrate between our bellies. I hear him gasp and groan painfully as my nostrils fill with the warm smell of his sweat.
I crush his testicles even more and I chuckle:

- Woe to the vanquished. Give me my tribut

Instantly, Ben gives a strangled cry and a torrent of burning sperm floods our hard abs.
We remain motionless and silent for a long moment, then, I untie him and when it collapses, defeated, I seize him and take away him in my arms.
Now, is not it mine for two hours?

You must not have pity on Ben. He is a far too arrogant boy who will experience many other well-deserved punishments. Too bad for him!