The Professor And The Swimmer

Nobody noticed the accounting professor.

Everybody noticed Wilder Shaw.

Wilder Shaw, former child model and Greenbilt College's newest freshman swimmer caught the eye of every man and woman on campus. He was almost too pretty for a 20-year-old boy with his oversized bright blue eyes, chin length copper-y brown waves , slim button nose and thick pink lips.

Everybody noticed Wilder Shaw.

Including the accounting professor.

Nobody had paid attention the morning the professorial looking middle aged man with a Greenbilt College parking pass on his 2003 Camry offered the swimmer a ride across campus. The professor didn't make small talk with his new passenger but he did offer Wilder a powder donut and orange juice. Before the boy could remark that the powder on the donut tasted funny his body went slack in the seat.

The professor smiled giddily to himself.

---

The sound proof basement in the farmhouse on the defunct Green Pasture Cattle Farm used to operate as a necropsy lab. But the men in the professor's family hadn't used it for that purpose in years. The professor pulled up to his farmhouse, loaded Wilder into his grandfather's old wheelchair and wheeled the buy into the basement. He changed the sleeping swimmer into a pair of dark gray yoga shorts that fit snug against his slim waist before strapping the boy to the necropsy table with his ankles parted and hands above his head.

And there he'd been there for two weeks.

The professor wasn't like his deceased father who, once upon a time, he'd seen do terrible things to his captives.

The professor liked looking and touching. He liked the control and the thrill that no one on campus knew where their beautiful boy was. He was going to do something. He wanted to do something. But he wasn't quite sure what that thing was yet.

The professor gets into a routine with his captive. But it's summer and the professor isn't as diligent as he should be with the routine. One day he wakes up five hours late. He'd been on a hot streak on online poker the night before and had stayed up late in front of his computer, drinking beer and eating leftover Chinese food.

The professor quickly brushed his teeth and splashed his face with water. He picks up the clear plastic urinal from his end table and goes down to the basement. He is greeted by canned laughter and moaning. The canned laughter because he'd installed a television and kept it on all day to keep the boy occupied. The moaning because it was nearly noon and his boy was late for his morning piss.

The boy lay on the table twisting in his restraints. His mouth was covered with a ball gag and the tight gray shorts left little to the imagination. The outline of his heavy cock was prominent and the professor was pleased to observe there weren't any wet spots.

The professor found he enjoyed controlling this particular need. In his original plan he hadn't put any thought into the swimmer's bodily needs. He'd come down the first morning to find the necropsy table covered in piss. It had repulsed him and the swimmer looked almost proud to have done it. As if he'd found a way to fight back. The professor spanked the boy with a paddle until his cheek burned red and made him sit in his mess before cleaning him and buying the urinal from the medical supply store.

Wilder Shaw whined louder as the professor approached, his bright eyes wet with tears of frustration from his need to release. The boy was on a diet of canned soup and water and always woke in the morning with a full bladder. And today he'd been made to wait with it.

The professor stroked the swimmer's pink stained cheek as he squirmed, futility attempting to get his bound legs to close.

"Calm down, Wilder," the professor cooed. "Does my boy need to pee?"

The professor felt silly saying those words out loud but he liked seeing the arrogant swimmer's face when he was belittled.

The boy's cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink and fresh tears streaked his face. The professor wiped the tears away and when the swimmers body jerked he looked down to see the smallest wet spot in the center of the boy's shorts.

The professor slapped his face. Wilder made a soft keening sound like a kicked puppy.

"If you leak again, you will get spanked," he warned. "You're a big boy, you can hold it."

He'd enjoyed spanking the swimmer's perky round ass but it was always a difficult affair to get the swimmer off the table. It involved muscle relaxants, lifting, carrying and entirely more work than it was worth.

The professor moved down the table and Wilder's legs trembled as his shorts were pulled down. His pubic hair had been lasered off for swimming leaving his manhood smooth and vulnerable. His hips squirmed and his ass clenched when the professor positioned the opening of plastic urinal jug at the perfectly mushroom shaped tip of the swimmer's penis.

The professor waited a beat before giving him the command he needed to release.

"Go potty."

The words were barely out of his mouth before he heard a sharp hiss followed by the sound of liquid hitting the plastic bottle. He watched the pale yellow liquid thunder into the bottle, frothing as the swimmer quickly filled up the bottle.

"Somebody had to pee," the professor muses but the swimmer is too preoccupied with releasing to be ashamed.

The sound dies down to a trickling stream and the professor gives the boys cock a few tugs before he pulls it out of the bottle.

"Do you need to sit on the bedpan?" the professor asked.

The swimmer shakes his head like he always did but the professor pulls on a pair of green latex gloves anyway. He dips a finger into the petroleum jelly he kept near the table and lifts the swimmer's hip so he is balanced on his side. He parts the swimmer's rounded cheeks, rubs a finger against his tight pink sphincter before hooking his finger and shoving it inside. The boy grunts at the unwanted intrusion but he'd learned to bare down when his asshole was being inspected.

The boy had lied before about his bowel needs but he seemed to be mostly empty this morning.

"Grip my finger," the professor orders.

He feels the muscles tighten and struggle to stay. He had no reason for asking for this, he just enjoyed adding to the humiliation.

"Release," he says, smacking the swimmer's bottom.

The professor removes his finger but puts a bedpan underneath him anyway.

"I know you want to go home, Wilder," the professor said. "And you will. But first we're going to have more fun together."