The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Exhibit

© 2003 v1.3


The Lodge is one of a number that shares a very private nature Preserve several hours from the City—several thousand wooded acres jointly owned by gentlemen’s clubs scattered throughout the region. There was some rivalry among the old boy networks of the lodges, and each, no doubt, had its share of secrets to protect; especially those lodges that had a reputation for risqué goings-on.

As did the H. Lodge—but the importing of whores from the city (against the old “no women allowed” rule enshrined in the Preserve’s 19th Century Charter) was just a bit of high-jinks and intended, by those who knew, to divert attention from the special interests of the Lodge initiates. It was unfortunate that the local papers picked-up on it. They never found out about the Exhibit, though. None of the members of the Lodge knew for certain when the Exhibit had been started. Some of the early records indicated expenditures for some items exhibited in the Old Library over a hundred years before.

The Exhibit began with a collection of some turn-of-the-century police and military equipment—old combat equipment, nightsticks, early restraints, the first officer-issued handguns. These were now displayed in the Old Library on the spacious first floor of the somewhat rustic, but large, main Lodge structure. This is what guests from other lodges might see if invited to dine at the Lodge and sample some of its renowned wine cellar offerings.

But only a few of the wealthy initiates of the Lodge had access to the Special Exhibits, and only after years of the peculiar mental training that was part of the Lodge culture, of being led to appreciate the peculiar interests to which the Exhibit catered.

Since membership in the Lodge was very much a family affair, several generations of rich men had continued the Lodge’s traditions, including both the superb wine cellar and the developing exhibition of correctional and restraint equipment. Teen boys, from both their families and their servants’ families, were hired for summer jobs at the Preserve, isolated from the “wrong” influences, available for the special initiations that bound them to the Lodge structure and each other.

Sometime in the mid Twentieth Century, led by a clique who called themselves the Hellions, the Lodge inner circle became very interested in all aspects of total control, especially mind control. It was from this interest that the Special Exhibit developed.

It was fortunate that the Lodge was very well endowed financially, since the Special Exhibit was expensive to create and maintain. It required a full time Curator who had to have unique talents to maintain the Exhibit to the standards the members expected. The members were fortunate indeed to find in Master Sgt. X just the right person. The son of several generations of retainers for Y (one of the wealthiest of the members) X had been imbued since childhood with a sense of complete loyalty. After a time in the military, he naturally gravitated back to the member’s establishment, and under the member’s tutelage, became the perfect Curator for what the member knew would be truly the most extraordinary Special Exhibit.


Gunnery Master Sgt. X had not been back to the vast estate, known as The Woodlands, where he was born, in nearly a decade. Now his boyhood friend Y, son of his father’s employer, was master of the Estate. He had been called back for, as he was told, “something special...” So, without thinking that he had been conditioned to do so, he took his accumulated leave and returned to The Woodlands.

When he arrived at the estate a doorman led him to the old master’s Study. There his friend met him with a warm smile, firm handshake. He had not aged much. The Master Sgt. looked at him: pale blond hair, wireless glasses, wearing expensive slacks, loafers and knit shirt, all in various gold tones. Mr. Y looked the Master Sgt. over with great care, noticing that he stood and walked like a soldier. Yes, the Marines certainly knew how to train men. Y smiled, “Have a seat. Can I get you a beer?” “Sure, OK.”

With beer in hand, on a big, soft couch, he relaxed, “Well, it’s been a long time. Tell me about what you did in the military...” So X gave a run down of the skills he had learned: martial arts styles, weapons, “but mostly I learned about long marches, an’ hard livin’ in battle zones...” “What did you learn about loyalty?” “Only that it’s the most important soldier’s virtue.”

“You look good. I see you haven’t changed much since Father, uh, invited you to leave The Woodlands. But now that I’m master here. As I promised, I have a place for you. If I hire you, I’ll expect—and demand—loyalty and obedience. I’m sure you’re good at obeying. Right?” “Yessir!”

Y chuckled, “That’s good. I always liked you—had a real crush on you as a teen... cried a lot when you left. You’re five years older than I am, and at that time I was just the right age for hero-worship! You were always my protector and, I guess, idol. I have some vague memories of Father’s psychologist, Professor Smith, counseling you too. And, of course, the summer we spent at the Preserve was the best summer of my youth... though exactly what we did there is somewhat vague. If I had understood, but now I see, sending you off to the Marines was for the best. I think you have become what I always knew you were; what I’ve been looking for.” Y smiled at Sgt. X and the soldier’s face reddened.

Y then began his carefully prepared fabrication, “Let me tell you why. As you know, I’m independently wealthy. I talk to my brokers every few days, but except for that, I’m free to do what I want, be where I want. As a result, I travel a lot—like exotic places. I need a bodyguard and companion. I need someone who’s tough, loyal and willing to obey even when he does not want to. The deal is room, board, exotic travel, and a hundred new-bucks added to an offshore account for you every month. Yearly renewable contract. Are you in?”

“Uh... sure. OK.” “Well?” “Yessir!” “That’s what I want to hear. Good. Here’s a contract. Read it and sign it.” X looked at the sheet of paper. It was straight forward, money, loyalty, no off-duty time, “Hey, don’t I get vacation time?” “Don’t you get it? It’s always vacation time with me! There’s no time off because I am buying you full time for the year, or more. I need that control if I am going be able to trust you. I need to be able to condition you, to train you to be loyal and obedient. That was started years ago; the Marines just continued it. I’m not going to be easy on you, but you are used to discipline. You always were tough enough. Sign it.” X signed the paper carefully.

“Good. Now I want to inspect you. Stand.” X complied, “OK. You’re the boss. Hey, what do you want me to call you?” “My people usually call me “Chief”, but “Boss” is fine too. ‘Yessir’ when I give you an order. Mr. Y when outsiders are around. Now take off your sweater.” X complied and Y openly admired the strapping soldier’s burly torso, the planes of muscle dropping to his trim waist, the brown curly hair the ran riot across his chest and down, darkening toward his pubes, “You are in good, hard shape, but rather bigger than I remembered. They do know how to build men. A great Tradition!

“There is a new martial arts center near the Estate,” he reached up to stroke X’s chest; the big man backed off a little, but Y, reaching, continued, “and we’ll enroll you as soon as we can. In about a month or so we’re going on a ‘round the world tour...” He walked around X, still reaching up, to his shoulder, massaging across the back of his neck. “Relax. You are like a high-strung race-horse. You needn’t be skittish. You’re a fine soldier and athlete and I will enjoy keeping you fit and trained. You’ll remember all your training. Breathe deep and relax, like the Professor used to say...” He heard X take a deep breath.

As Y worked both hands down the tight, broad back, X relaxed a bit. Then he relaxed more, remembering how good it felt to let his mind go and obey. Y stopped as he reached the young soldier’s pants, “But what you need now is a long, hot shower. It’s rough being on the road. And I’ll order up some lunch. How would you like steak and trimmings? X turned to him with a shy smile, “Uh sure, that’s great! Shower sounds good too. Where do I go?” Y motioned and he followed upstairs to a large suite.

Y led him though the suite to the bath. “Give me you clothes and I’ll have them put in the ultrasound cleaner.” “Sure.” X turned away and dropped his pants. Y’s breath caught as the warrior bent over, as saw the firm roundness, as the hard muscles in his legs flexed. In his jockey shorts, he sat on the john to remove his boots. Y stepped forward, crouched, “Here, I’ll help take those off.” Deftly, before X could object, he untied and removed both boots and socks. Backing off and picking up the clothes, “Now your briefs.” The warrior stood, again turned aside, shucked his shorts, handed over and stepped quickly into the shower.


By the time the shower stopped, lunch had arrived and Y had it laid out on a low table by the couch. He was waiting with a big terry towel as X stepped from the shower, his breath catching as he watched the water running down the soldier’s chest, torso, legs, “Here, towel off, wrap up and meet me by the food.” “Sure, boss!”

Still a bit damp, X came over to the couch, plopped on it, and fell at the food with a big smile, “Haven’t eaten like this for so long... Feed in the Corp is enough, but not great.”

“Good. Eat as much as you want, then we’ll begin to talk about your duties.” They both were silent, But Y had to look at the soldier again and again, noticing the way his arm muscles moved as he ate, noticing the fine shape of his head and neck, how those muscles moved as he chewed and swallowed.

When he finished, X leaned back, hands behind his head, with a satisfied grin on his broad face. Y turned to him and placed a hand firmly on his bare chest, “We need to talk about what I expect from you.” X looked him straight in the eyes, “OK boss, like when we were kids... shoot.”

“We all have needs. We all have desires. I like to have beautiful, rare or perfect things around me. And now I have the wealth to get what I want. You are one of those. You are... an experiment. I know I would enjoy the experience of mastering warriors. I have a fantasy, of which you are the start.

“You know I can have any girl, or boy, I want. But I want more than beautiful young bodies. I want ownership, body and soul.” “I... don’t understand...” Y’s hand stroked down to the towel tucked around the warrior’s trim waist, “Yes you do.” “Look, boss, I don’t make it with men. Hey, I don’t mind gettin’ sucked on, but I don’t do anything anymore... You can’t be in the service as long as I was without gettin’ your cock gnawed on kind of regular... Barracks are horny places... like in the back of your old man’s stables... remember what ya used to do with me...” He shrugged. Y smiled, sensing victory. “I have always remembered...”

Y stroked across the warrior’s hard muscles. “Why don’t you just relax, stretch out. I give a really good massage. You remember how I used to do that too, when you were sore from pitching hay.” He nodded, “Sure, you’re the boss.” With that, X rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes. Y slipped the towel off.

He started, in silence, with the young warrior’s feet, massaging his toes, carefully working between each, kneading the souls and instep, rotating the ankles. Then with one hand on each calf, he massaged upward, stroking passed the knees, and deeply working his thighs and gluts. X squirmed at this, and Y began to talk to him quietly about relaxing and letting go of tension. He timed his statements to his boyhood friend’s breathing and soon had him at ease and entranced. He noticed the viral vax mark on his thigh. As he stroked the small of the back he repeated the mind control code words, “Breathe and Relax,” began to implant suggestions about obedience. About remembering when they were just teens.

Kneading the youth’s hard back and shoulders, he could feel him relaxing further. Then his neck and scalp. “Good X. Now roll over.” Y reached under his chest to help him over and leaned back to marvel at the warrior’s full manhood, laid out before him. “You look so good. I remember too. Now close your eyes and Relax.” He continued the mind control suggestions. Starting with face and jaw muscles, he firmly worked across and down the neck and shoulders; then across the hard mounds of chest muscle, pecs. Stopping above the nipples, he went first to the right arm. Rotating the shoulder, he began to work down the upper arm, feeling its bulk; then the elbow and hard forearm. Again he rotated the wrist, kneaded down each finger. He repeated this with the other arm and turned to the chest again. This time he massaged more deeply, carefully repeating suggestions about loyalty, duty, hard work and obedience, over and over as X’s eyes glazed.

Working down the hard belly, he began to stroke the area around the pubes, intoxicated by the aroma and feel of the curling bush there. Stroking the growing cock and handling the massive balls, he could feel the relaxed breathing quicken. He leaned closer with open mouth.

After a few minutes of such close attention, moving with an increased tempo, he was rewarded with the soldier’s quick, long ejaculation. Swallowing, he leaned back, tasting and smelling the results like a connoisseur of fine wine. “Ah yes...” he thought, “This is where the power arises. This is what I want to possess and display.”

Without let up, he returned to now gently massage X’s upper legs, knees, down to the shins and feet again. The warrior had strong, handsome feet, and Y continued to knead them as he continued the hypnotic suggestions, telling his friend to sleep until he was awakened. X mumbled something about a “Ya’lways wer’a great cock-sucker...” as he drifted off.


Y knew he had to bring X slowly to a realization of his deeper plans, just as he had to bring his wealthy Lodge friends to an understanding of how they could improve their century old exhibit of control. He began to take his new bodyguard with him wherever he went. They did the “around the world” tour, stayed at the best hotels, enjoyed the best the world had to offer.

He allowed Sgt X to see himself as a warrior protector, as he had been Y’s protector when they were children together, over a decade ago... as he allowed his Lodge friends to become as interested as he was in complete domination. It was just continuing an old family tradition.

Over a few months the aristocrat and his guardian grew ever closer, as Y alternated travel with weeks at The Woodlands when X would be trained in the martial arts and his mind further conditioned. Y contrived nearly every day to massage and brainwash his warrior, draining his precious manhood regularly. The training included lots of exercise, running, martial arts work and many hours’ meditation and mind control exercises. Sgt. X learned to act as and when ordered, or to do nothing but maintain specific postures, in a mind-numbed trance state, for hours at a time. Often Y would have him stand naked in the library or other mansion room wherever Y was, at brace, on display for his eyes alone.

It was during the next summer lodge season that he first brought Sgt. X back to the H Lodge. He had the warrior dress in his Marine fatigues, campaign cap, combat boots, “You may wear a jock, socks, but no other underwear.”

Y permitted his guardian to drive the Porsche for the three-hour trip from The Woodlands to the Preserve. “As you may recall, the private Lodge you’re driving to is part of a large preserve with a dozen or so lodges—each with members from the best families. My great-grandfather was a founder of H. Lodge. I’m now a leading member there. I see the look on your face. It’s not as boring as that... Actually, the woods and hills of the preserve are wonderful, as I’m sure you recall. While we spent that summer in the rather Spartan worker’s barracks there, the Lodge has great facilities—gym, spa, the works. It also has one of the finest private collections of old police and military equipment, some from over a century ago. Wonderful wine cellars. It’s not as stogy a place as you think. But that’s what I don’t want you to do—think. When we are at the Lodge I want you to stay focused on obedience. I want to show you off, a bit, to my friends. Understand?” “Yessir! Soldier at your service, Sir!” “That’s the attitude! You’ve got the right stuff and I want you to be proud to show it off. Right?” “Yessir!”

Sgt. X followed Y’s directions and soon had them through the winding roads of the Preserve, to the large, dark stone mansion that was H. Lodge. It was build like a rustic old castle, with turrets and thick walls. Y let them in with his key. The style was familiar to X from the mansion at The Woodlands, the same dark, rich interior, glossy stone floors, deep woodwork. No one was about. He was led to the Old Library where he and Y looked at the collection of police and control devices. Y led him about, his hand resting firmly on the small of the soldier’s back. “What do you say about our collection?” “Well, Sir, it’d be pretty hard to get out of some of these restraints. They’re pretty thick wrought-iron...” “Can they hold you?” “Don’t’ know, Sir.” “Well, let’s find out.”

Y took a set of restraints from a case—four black iron cuffs lined in leather, connected short iron bars and a few links of iron chain. “Strip ‘n get on the floor.” “Yessir.” Sgt. X pulled off his uniform and boots, standing before his master just in his jock and socks. “Those too.” The warrior complied and squatted naked on the floor. Y rolled him over and quickly clamped the cuffs on his ankles and wrists, pulling all four together. “Comfortable?” “No Sir.” “Good. No one is likely to be here for a while, so we’re going to use some of this equipment to train you. You are to remain silent no matter what. Understand?” “Yessir!” “Let go and stop anticipating or thinking. Breathe and Relax.”

Sgt X could not see what equipment his master was retrieving, so he focused on his instructions, tried to relax and blank his mind. Y understood that full conditioning for his exhibit trainees would require the harshest methods; that his strong feelings for this warrior could not hold him back. In truth, those feelings compelled him to the utmost rigor in perfecting this trainee. Of this Y was certain.

While Y mused thus, he selected gag, belt and night stick, returned to Sgt X, laying on his belly, arms and legs bound behind and together, with opposite wrists and ankles held nearly together by the short iron bars between the cuffs. Y knelt with one knee slid under his trainee’s bound limbs, pressing on the lower back. He pushed the ball of the gag into the warrior’s mouth, pulled the strap tight around his head. Then he stood, took the belt and struck the warrior sharply about the legs and thighs. Sgt X began to struggle against the blows. Y struck harder, pushed him over with his foot, struck him across the chest, “Eyes shut! Stop resisting! Now!” The trainee shut his eyes and submitted to the blows. “That’s right. You submit, then I push you harder.” The soldier was rolled over again. Y again brought his knee down, this time taking the night stick and bringing it between the warrior’s legs, pushing a few inches into his rectum. “And then harder... but not now.” He released the pressure, withdrew the stick and let the trainee catch his breath.

After a few moments, Y knelt by Sgt X, leaning down, wrapping one arm around his forehead, the other around his knees, and squeezing together, forced him into more of a curl. When the warrior stopped resisting the pressure, he let go, then unlatched the cuffs, releasing the trainee, “Good. Now stretch out and let go. Breathe and Relax.” He leaned over and began to massage the soldier, working the muscles cramped by his confinement in the old manacles.

After a few minutes he stopped, “Stand and dress.” He motioned toward a small wooden platform between two of the exhibition cabinets. “Then stand at brace between these while I get myself a drink. My friends will be here shortly.”


Sgt. Major X stood like an exhibit among the exhibits, in fatigues, waiting patiently while his master sat in a comfortable chair by the Old Library fireplace, sipping some fine liquid that he had retrieved from the Lodge cellars.

X heard the Lodge front door open and close; heard several sets of footsteps coming toward the Library. He was not facing the door so he could not see for whom Y stood in greeting.

“Glad you could come on a weekday afternoon. The Lodge is empty except for us. I have a new exhibit to show you.” Y led two of his Lodge mates around the cabinets to stand before the Sgt. Major. “Here is a prime exemplar of military discipline.”

While staring straight ahead, X took what notice he could of his master’s companions. They were both medium height and builds, with the same sort of expensive sports clothes on that his master favored. He knew he was not supposed to be thinking, but he could not help seeing. He had to keep an eye out for his master, if he was to be a proper guardian. He knew that. His master taught him that, during those long night sessions together over the past months, where they would be so close together, master and warrior, and after satisfying, he would drift off, to his master’s voice, reminding him of his duties and his unique value to his master.

So intense was the memory that he did not notice his manhood bulging his fatigues, barely heard the conversation, “Very lifelike...” “How does one maintain such an exhibit?” “Where did you buy it...”

“This is the Sgt. Major, fresh from a decade or so in the Marines. He is, as I said, a prime exemplar of the species. His family has belonged to our estate for generations. I called him back when I inherited my Father’s position. I thought you would appreciate the exhibit. Come sit down and join me in this wonderful cognac, while I explain my plan.

After they took their drinks and sat in the easy chairs, assembled before the new exhibit, Y spoke at length, “I propose that we, and a few other choice members of our inner circle, establish a new, living exhibit, to add to our Lodge’s holdings. This new exhibit would be established beneath the Lodge—you may be aware that there are several sub-basements that are not in use. I doubt that many members even know they are there.

“We’ll each need to commit some resources, but with the Sgt.’s help, I am certain we can develop very effective techniques to assure a permanent and interesting—I should also say, interactive, exhibition.

“Some of our families may have retainers, like the Sgt., who we can commit to the exhibit. We will have to retrieve some exhibit materials ourselves. We should not assume that any of the exhibitions will, uh, cooperate, so control—mental and physical, and discipline—will be paramount. I have in mind control exhibition mounts we will need to build, a full processing facility to train and maintain the exhibits. As we perfect our techniques and equipment, using the Sgt. for our experiments, we can reach out and retrieve exhibits from various positions—warriors, cops, second-story men, tough guys, whatever...”

One of his Lodge mates spoke up, “Very impressive, Y. I know that brainwashing and control techniques exist that would make such an exhibit possible, but this will require the utmost secrecy. We can spare no expense if we are to do this safely. As I look at your Sgt. I can imagine a paneled room beneath the Lodge. On the walls, in large frames, various uniforms and... in front of them, the exhibits they go with, bound and... um, available...” He stood and walked toward X, nodding back to Y, “May I?” “Of course, we Lodge brothers must all share and share alike here.”

Reaching the soldier, he unbuttoned X’s shirt, then pulled down his pants’ zipper, reaching in to expose the warrior’s manhood, stroking it hard, pulling it, so it thrust outward. Then he resumed his seat, “Now that’s better, I do favor mostly naked exhibits... with thrust...” “Well, then let it be so. Sgt., strip and resume your position. Remain erect.” “Yessir!” The Lodge mates watched, sipping their drinks, while X stripped, folded his uniform neatly, stacked it on his boots, just in front of his exhibition platform. He then stepped up, stood tall and proud, his manhood signaling before him, knowing that this would please his master.


The next months were very busy. Y nonetheless made time to continue his warrior’s training, both in the martial arts and discipline. Any thought of X returning to the military was long forgotten. His trainee worked hard with him and a small group of his friends at the Lodge, preparing several sub-basement rooms for what they were all calling the Special Exhibit. Two of the Lodge brothers were able to donate young men from their estates, from family retainers who would not question the removal of the teens (the “boys” as they called them) to some other location. The two were turned over to the Sgt. Major for training and they took up residence in the secret rooms of the Lodge. Y spent most of his time there too, focusing on the mental training of his new charges, while also arranging for the purchase and delivery of the equipment and materials needed to establish the exhibition space.

It was decided that the boys would both be exhibited (as would the Sgt. Major) and would assist him in training and maintaining the rest of the exhibits, the “Exhibits we’ll pluck from the wild...” The idea that the best exhibit units would be “manly men from the real working world” had become almost obsessive among the members. They formed a private paramilitary group and began to train together in the woods around the Lodge, under the Sgt. Major’s direction. They started to search for appropriate exhibit materials. “We want vigorous young soldiers, truckers, cops... without close family or friends, so they’re less likely to be missed.”

They built the restraint and exhibit equipment and tested it on the Sgt. and boys. They set up a state-of-the-art holding facility, with sleep restraints, forced feeding gear, cleaning and exercise equipment furnished with restraint straps. Smaller rooms were set-aside for what Y called, “the Private Exhibition, where any brother could have an exhibit unit brought for his own use.” That room was fitted with a mirrored ceiling over a large divan fitted with various manacles and control gear.

Y was especially proud of the “power runner” set-up he built. They could bind the exhibit to it, ankles and wrists, and force the exhibit unit to work the runner, turning muscle power into electricity that fed into the Lodge system (feedback loops on the system kept close watch over the exhibit’s heart rate, hydration and breathing, using electric jolts to keep the exhibit running at maximum safe levels). Using the exhibits to produce the power needed to maintain the exhibition would prevent the power usage from being noticed and would maintain the vigor of the exhibits.

“With these runner set-ups we can make them work for their feed and exercise them between exhibitions. With audio tapes we can prepare, it’s good for mind training too. I want to keep the exhibits in the best possible shape. With enough exhibit materials, we can run a shift routine, strict and military in nature, keeping the exhibit racks in the Special Exhibition Room filled while running, processing and training other exhibit units here. The Sgt. and our boys will be great at man-handling the exhibits and maintaining the strictest mental and physical control.” All this was carefully concealed from the rest of the Lodge membership, with false walls and careful changes in drawings and records found in the Old Library. Once all was functioning, Y thought that perhaps nearly half the members would be the “right sort” to be initiated into appreciating the Special Exhibit.

Then it was time to get the first “outside” exhibit. Late one night the Sgt. Major led Y and two other brothers on their first planned raid. They had decided to take a cop from a nearby city. They had singled out a particular unit, a young cop who lived alone. They would have to enter his apartment building and take him, without arousing suspicion. The plan was to make it look as though he had packed-up and gone away.

One of them had posed as a deliveryman, leaving a loop of metal tape across a rear door alarm. One of the brothers had a lock-picking hobby so entry to the building and apartment was easy. The cop did not even stir in his bed as Y held the ether rag across his face. Y pulled back the covers, revealing the new exhibit unit lying there in his jockey shorts. He was a well-built youth in his mid-20’s, broad shouldered, reddish-brown short cropped hair, a Celtic pug nose. “Nice example of the type...” Y thought. They bound, gagged and stuffed him into a body bag they had brought for the purpose. Quickly remade the bed, found his wallet and suitcase. They packed enough of his clothes so it would look as though he had taken off. They carried him down the fire stairs and out the rear door to their waiting van. “Like clock-work, Sgt., like clock work!” Y remarked, smiling to his warrior as they drove off, “Yessir! Like a military op, Sir!”


Training Red, as Y had dubbed this first exhibit unit, became their main focus. First the unit had to be persuaded that he could never escape and would never have any choice but to submit to control. This was accomplished by maintaining strict physical domination over all of the unit’s movements and activities while continually reinforcing certain repetitive statements about his permanent exhibit status. Every detail of his existence was rigidly controlled by the Sgt. Major, helped by Y and the boys.

Red was always bound and gagged, often blindfolded. He was forced to wear an anal plug, with all of his bodily functions closely restricted and controlled. He was force fed and permitted to evacuate only on command. Under local anesthesia one member with medical training inserted certain micro-implant devices in various places, including behind each ear. The implants could be used to track the unit in the unlikely event of escape, to stimulate certain functions, cause brain endorphin release, trigger the pain and pleasure centers of the brain, and even broadcast directly to the unit, providing a constant computerized voice in its head, to continually reinforce exhibit mind control.

There were long sessions where he would be tightly bound to a table, forced to wear a face-mask that allowed complete control of his breathing. While bound so, Y would sit next to him, an arm resting down the middle of his broad chest and tight stomach, to allow Y to exert and release pressure, controlling his breathing, explaining, over and over again, that he was an exhibit unit, and what that meant. How he was going to be completely controlled, used and exhibited by the masters. Y would end by resting a hand on Red’s taut body, sometimes massaging him, sometimes kneading with his knuckles between the unit’s ribs or joints, feeling him writhing, though bound, in response to the pain. Y loved the closeness he felt during these training sessions and he implemented a schedule of regular bound training sessions for X and the boys as well.

Various drugs were used, including Sodium Pentathol. Often he punctuated his brainwashing commands with the use of an electric prod. He taught the unit to take beltings with a specially prepared strap, one with beveled edges, so as to avoid bruising and cutting the skin. As many sessions ended, though, he took time to handle Red’s hefty balls and thick cock, stroking it to erection, leaning across his trainee, drawing out all the sweet man-cream the unit had to offer, sometimes by mouth, sometimes with a penis pump. Y had noticed that he could extract far more with the pump, so he began to include suggestions that the trainee drain fully and completely whenever pump-mounted. He mused as to how much he could collect when they had additional units for the exhibit. Enough, he thought, to preserve the emissions in alcohol, bottle it and have it ready for when he could not be at the Lodge. “Yes,” he thought, as he carelessly squeezed Red’s testicles before standing and turning to leave the training room, “a taste of the Lodge away from the Lodge...”

Then Red would be left bound, in the dark, waiting for the Sgt. Major to come and take him, to clean or feed him, or train him or mount him on the runner; though always bound, forced and subdued.

The Sgt. knew that the stricter he was with the trainee, the better the training and ultimate exhibit. He was the one who first taught the unit to submit to anal entry. He loved to feel Red at first try to resist his turgid manhood, then receive him completely as he pushed in, the unit’s legs bound apart on a frame Screw Rack or even on the regular Training Rack, where he was cleaned or fed, in the training room. Eventually the Lodge brothers started using Red the same way, and X would often have to rack him onto the Screw Rack or divan in a private room for Y or one of the others. It was about the same time that the unit was introduced to the various exhibit devices in the Special Exhibit Room.

The Room was large with a high ceiling and indirect lighting that could be controlled from a panel set into the low table near the couches that stood back to back in the center, so members could sit and observe the exhibits. They had four exhibit mounts and were busily planning more. The devices had certain things in common: they were built of titanium steel and a special high-impact lucite, set onto fine wooden bases, with retractable lucite panels let down from the ceiling around each. They were well lit from within, preventing the exhibit from seeing who, if anyone, was in the room observing. The devices were mechanized and fitted with velcro bindings to secure the exhibit unit.

First Red was trained to the Five Point Rack Mount. This device, similar to the Training Rack, was mounted between two strong lucite and metal columns. It held the unit in a standing position, suspended a few inches off the base, wrists and legs apart and taut. An added strap and mask held the head up. Like each of the exhibit devices, there was a small control panel mounted on a post before it. Each panel had four toggles on it, color coded for the members benefit and named for the unit’s submission. The black toggle was called the Humiliator. When a member played with this toggle, the wrist and ankle bindings would be pulled farther apart, stretching the exhibit by several inches in which ever directions chosen; pulling on the toggle stretched all at once. The red toggle next to it was the Penalizer. It sent painful jolts through the wrists and ankles, the intensity controlled by the positioning and pulling of the toggle. The blue toggle next to that was the Opener and it caused the front or back lucite panels to raise for direct access to the exhibit. The final toggle was the Erector. It would activate the chips implanted under the unit’s testicles and in the brain pleasure center, causing an erection to be exhibited.

All the members were present for the first exhibit. They stood admiringly around the Five Point Rack, drinking rare champagne, imbibing various tasty treats. The Sgt. Major, in full dress uniform, showed them the use of the toggles and they all tried various combinations. X was very proud of his role in making the exhibit finally come to fruition. He beamed proudly at the unit, whispered to it, “This is what we exist for. You are going to be the best exhibit, the most obedient...”

Red was taken off the Five Point exhibit and mounted on the other devices, one after the other, so the members could see how each worked. The second was the Seat Mount. The unit was bound into a seated position, fully exposed, with each buttock resting on a separate base and head affixed to a cross post. For this mount the Humiliator caused the ass-cheeks to separate and a ten-inch rubber penis anal probe, nicely visible through the lucite, to be inserted in the exhibit unit’s rectum, to a depth controlled by the toggle. The other toggles had their usual effects and the members found using the Humiliator and Erector together, in order, quite amusing.

The third exhibit device was the Brace Mount. Here the standing unit’s wrists were bound back to a lucite post while the ankles were held to the floor in a slightly spread position. Lucite bands around the forehead and chest completed the control. This mount’s Humiliator had a dual action. Pulling the toggle caused the post to descend, forcing the unit into an arch that made the Erector effect more obvious. The other way caused the post to raise, forcing the unit’s arms higher up its back, stretching the exhibit from the ankles.

The final device was the Standing Mount. Here the unit stood between two lucite and metal posts, ankles and wrists bound to them, at attention. The posts were set into movable disks. The exhibit’s head was held by straps connected to each post. The Humiliator toggle had three directions of motion. It could spread the unit’s legs apart, or move one or the other forward or backward; the arms, being bound to the same posts also moved in unison with the legs and the head likewise turned. With the lucite panels up and the legs apart, this mount provided easy access to the exhibit’s manhood. The members made a little ceremony of this last mount, taking turns to fondle, and in a few case, suckle, the exhibit’s erection, stating in turn, “I take possession of this exhibit unit for the secret core Lodge brotherhood, for our use, forever.”

Y had the Sgt. bring the boys into the room “To finish the rite.” The strong youths, naked except for wide leather belts to which their wrists had been bound, at the small of their backs, were hand-walked in by the Master Sgt., as he had taught them. One hand between the legs of each, thumbs in their rectums, fingers gripping their balls. The boys walked tall and proud, showing their erections before the masters.

He had the boys positioned before and behind the exhibit unit and told them to squat. He had one suck the exhibit’s erection and the other thoroughly tongue-clean its buttocks-cleft and rectum. The members were appreciative of the display and several insisted upon being right next to the unit as the sucking brought forth first involuntary writhing and then thrusting, as orgasm was compelled and the exhibit cock fully drained.

The members agreed that the sooner they had a half dozen or more exhibition units, the better. They each wrote out the fairly large checks Y told them would be needed to recruit the additional exhibit units and discussed for quite some time what types of units they should go after. “I want a brute of a lumberjack to control.” “Wouldn’t displaying a brawny fireman next to his uniform be wonderful?” “We ought to have a soldier from each of the services too...” “I’d like to design some mounts where we can have several units exhibited together... perhaps Red and one of the boys, mechanized so we can put them, uh, conjointly... some soldiers, maybe a whole platoon... just in their boots and helmets, with utility belts, weapons, but naked...”

Y was particularly pleased with the enthusiasm of the Lodge brothers. “Yes” he opined, “such a wonderful way for us to all bond... for generations to come. Yes, it’ll be like an ancient order, an institution, self-perpetuating, with new exhibits all the time.” “But what about the aging of the displays...” “Not to worry, at a certain point, at the peak of perfection perhaps, we can have each unit mounted permanently. There are new techniques that can impregnate a body with plastic, with no deterioration. There’s a European artist who has done this with dozens of corpses...” “Yeah, I’ve heard about that, saw it on TV. It’s amazing, completely life-like, but he’s exploded the exhibit, showing its insides, most astounding.” We should buy a few of those too. “Well” Y continued, “these are very possible. But what if we could develop more advanced forms of permanentization, where the plasticized exhibit would remain flexible...”

A younger brother, N, scion of a very wealthy family, who usually kept quiet, broke in, “Hey, maybe we could keep ‘em sort of alive like that, sort of immortal... one of my companies is researching plastic replacement parts. If we could combine the two techniques, substitute electric power for feed... It might take years to develop the technology.” “We should try. Brother N, will you take on this task?” “I will, gladly. I can subtly manipulate research at the company. I imagine, once we’ve plasticized or replaced the parts, it would have to be permanently mounted, but the hard part would be maintaining the consciousness electronically. Though, without revealing company secrets, we may be able to do so. Perhaps we could even use this facility to further develop these techniques. I wouldn’t mind being immortalized here, with our exhibits. Controlling everything through wireless connections; we could see and be the exhibit. There are more unused chambers down here. It could be done.” So it was agreed and more resources were made available.

The next months were very full for Y and his associates, as they hunted down and captured additional exhibit units. “I enjoy the search, the hunt and capture and the training at least as much as the actual exhibiting. Though, I suppose I’ll never tire of the private exhibit rooms. I see we are all spending more time there as we have more units to enjoy...”


For the first time in a long while Y was able to sit back and look at the exhibits, fully mounted. On the Five Point Mount he had Red, the first and (because of all the individual attention he had gotten) best trained of the lot. He needed to spend more quality time with the newer recruits, to bring them up to Red’s standard. Today was an informal exhibit, just naked units racked out. Sometimes they would have a formal exhibit, with the units assembled with their appropriate gear—boots, hard hats, caps, belts (even the officer’s guns), sunglasses, but otherwise naked. The full uniforms were exhibited on the walls around the room, so extra gear had been obtained for these more formal exhibitions. They had also begun to have the master Sgt. exhibit the units without the mounts.

He had the Master Sgt. teach Red various positions, with only his wrists bound behind to a slave belt, for their pleasure. They called this “Stick Drill” since X trained Red to respond to various blows across his buttocks with a stick, by getting into the various positions. Some were exhibit positions, some X called “Penal Stances” wherein Red was taught to take blows from belt or fist; others were “Sex Stances” and the Master Sgt. would enter the unit in each, while Y or the other masters watched.

There were nine basic stances, keyed with a two-strike stick code. Thus, the first Exhibit Stance was Brace. It was signaled by striking the top of the buttocks twice, once to signal the first set of positions, then again to signal the first position in that set. Blows were struck across the top, middle and bottom of the gluts and each was similarly number coded, so that Brace was also 1—1. The first position in each set was similar, though with subtle, significant differences. Thus, Brace in the exhibit set was simply standing tall, wrists of course bound back as for all the positions, with the feet a foot apart at the heels, an extra half foot apart at the toes. For the Penal Stances the first position was Penal Brace and for it the legs were brought together with the unit leaning slightly forward. For the corresponding Sex Stance, 3—1, the heels were further apart than the toes and the unit was pushed into a deeper forward lean. The other positions in each set were: 1—2, Squat, 2—2, Back’n’butt-up (ankles together, “for butt whupping”), 3—3, Butt-up, like its penal correspondent, but ankles apart, 1—3, Sit (cross-legged), 2—3, Back-down’n’feet-up (presented for beating the soles), and 3 -3, On-knees’n’butt-up. Sgt. X never tired of Stick Drill and Y knew he greatly anticipated perfecting future trainees similarly.

X also taught Red and the others the positions, “by the numbers” so when an exhibit was brought to a private room, Y or another of the masters did not need to bind the exhibit down before instructing him with the number of the required position. He knew they would enjoy having the Sgt. exhibit the positions, entries and shifts with the units for them all to enjoy. The Master Sgt. could do this, for hours, concentrating on smooth transitions and deep entries. Mostly, though, when not sleeping or being processed or exercised, Red and the others would be bound to the exhibits. “Yes” he mused, “Red is the best, but the rest are coming along...”

They had given each of the units exhibit names. In addition to Red, there was Rod, a big fireman with an enormous cock. He was on the Brace Mount. There was Blondi, a brawny, beautiful, blond surfer lad on the Seat Mount. Blue, their other cop exhibit, was often at attention on the Standing Mount, with his uniform boots, gloves, gun belt (with weapon loaded), helmet and mirror shades. “Naked but in uniform. Very pleasing exhibit.” Y smiled.

The first of the multi-mounts was also in place. It had no lucite panels and was open for easy access to the exhibition. They had three Leatherneck grunts on it: Jo, Mo and Yo. Two whites and a black. This mount had cables, floor and ceiling, that held the three outstretched so the head of each was by the cock of another. Their positions, and special mechanical bits in their mouths, could be controlled. The mouth would open for penis insertion. Y especially enjoyed man-handling them from the rear while forcing them to face-fuck each other, waiting for them all to cum before allowing any to stop. This threesome would be taught special stances and were proving quite entertaining in private as well.

The Stallion, a new mount Y had created especially for Big Rod, was in the training room, for final testing before taking its place in the Exhibit Room. Y continued staring at the fireman on the Brace Mount, imaging him on the other device. It was shaped somewhat like a gymnastic horse, with straps to hold the exhibit against it, arms and legs belted beneath, with another belt around the mid section. The unit could be bound face down or face up, to permit either way to mount. Stirrups for the rider completed the set-up. Here in the Exhibit Room, the exhibit would be mounted face up, with one of the boys riding Rod’s lengthy manhood; posing high in the stirrups to show it off. That would be an excellent action exhibit. They were making a second mount, for one of the private rooms. Y wanted that ready now; he wanted the big exhibit bound for him alone to ride.

The other members continued to surprise him with their suggestions for exhibits. Recently an old cavern had been discovered even deeper beneath the Lodge than the cellars they were using for the Exhibit. They were still debating its potential uses. One member thought a cave would be an excellent location for a penal exhibit. He envisioned mounts that would mimic old-time torture devices (“Without, of course, doing any permanent damage... just the pleasurable similitude..."). Another Lodge Brother wanted the cavern to be fitted out as a romantic grotto, “With hot tubs, secluded spots, mounts made for close personal interaction..."). Most of the members thought both could be accomplished in the large space available—a veritable Cavern of Pleasure and Pain—and a committee had been established to divide and prepare this newest area.

Over the next weeks the members had wiring brought into the caves, set up spots of dramatic lighting among its dark recesses and installed penal devices in the nearer section. Farther back they set up private areas, with various themes, such as a old west bunk house and military barracks.” We need to punish the exhibits more often and more thoroughly...” it was agreed among the members. Thus, the penal devices, though fitted with fail-safe controls, were quite real. Among them were a special “four point” vertical rack with a penis stock, an old fashion stockade, and various others.

Yes, the members were becoming quite creative, but back in the training room, the newest recruits were being trained by Sgt. X and his boys. Y could watch the progress on closed circuit TV monitors here in the Exhibit Room. He could see two of the trainees, lanky cowboys they had taken from the high range of Wyoming, latched to the running exercisers, their firm backs sweating from their forced efforts. In the mid area, his Sgt. X was processing another exhibit, dubbed Chad (a brawny stevedore from a tough warehouse section in Chicago) on the cleansing rack.

This set up was used for cleaning and evacuating the units; on it they could be stretched the same way as on the Five Point Rack. A small assembly, including hoses and various brushes and tubes, was mounted on a stand next to it, with control nozzles, temperature and pressure gauges. The Master Sgt. had inserted a special colonic irrigation hose end and was carefully watching the gauges, while massaging the unit’s rippling midsection, but not permitting evacuation. Y zoomed the camera to the unit’s face, noting how tightly he gripped the bit across his mouth. Y turned the camera to Sgt. X, admiring the fine focus of his eyes on the equipment, his concentration, his devotion to his charges. He could hear X saying, “Breathe and Relax.” After a few minutes, X reversed the pressure and allowed the trainee to release gallons of fluid. Y noted with approval that the Master Sgt. supported the unit as he sagged after the intensity of the process. Sgt. X kept all of his charges very clean and well-prepared for his masters. He knew the Sgt. loved his work and his charges.

Y’s sperm collecting concept had also come to fruition. By regulating the nutrient content of the exhibits’ feed, it was possible to greatly increase their sperm production (and libido). They were each drained repeatedly each day, though not when they were about to be mounted for exhibit, since the brothers might want to perform that service in the Exhibit Room themselves. The sperm was collected through an automated penis pump when the units were latched to the power runners, vacuum processed to a refrigerated collection device. From there, the brothers used it to make special liquors.

By mixing the sperm with sugar and alcohol, it was fermented. Then the liquid was drained off and put into a small rack of barrels, for aging and mixing like fine cognac—they named this, ManCream. The mash that remained was mixed with spring water, hops and barley and fermented again, to make a delicious drink they called ManBeer. While the unctuous, clear and slightly sea-salty ManCream was reserved for the brothers, Sgt. X and the boys (even, on occasion, the exhibits) were allowed to share in the ManBeer. They were also put onto a regular drain schedule to add to the raw materials needed.

Y continued watching the Master Sgt. train and process exhibit units while he considered devising yet another exhibit mount. This would be different from the rest. He envisioned what he’d call a Sleeper Mount—a low rectangular table just big enough to hold an exhibit unit on its back, arms by its sides, wrists and ankles bound to the table by retractable cables. But the key to this exhibit would be the breath control equipment; with proper breath control the exhibit could be kept in a semi-conscious state—as a “sleeper.” There would be a bit to prevent mouth breathing and nostril plugs attached to clear plastic tubing connected to pumping equipment in the mount—timed pumping in and out of oxygen reduced air would maintain a limp, sleeper effect while the unit’s behind-the-ears implants would maintain a steady barrage of brainwashing suggestions. Y could just imagine himself in the Exhibit Room, seated on the couch, with the exhibit laid out before him. He could see himself lifting, rearranging, the limp limbs, using the Erector Toggle to ensure that one appendage was not entirely limp... leaning close, smelling... His reverie was broken as he heard a loud slap from the monitor loud-speaker. The Master Sgt. had hard slapped the buttocks of one of the trainees on a runner unit. That crack was followed by a half dozen more. Probably the runner wasn’t focused enough for Sgt. X; maybe the trainer just felt like smacking butt. Y found watching the monitor nearly as entertaining as actually helping X train the new units.

The Lodge members all approved of the closed circuit system. One of the brothers had even suggested adding a private internet site where they could see the exhibits or watch training progress from anywhere. “Like the thousands of voyeur cams on the internet already. We just need to use the best encoding technology, but, if anyone got through, they wouldn’t know what to make of it, or where it was.” Another brother wanted to be able to remote control the exhibit mount toggles. That idea met with general approval. This newest way for the members to enjoy the Exhibit would be ready soon.

“Yes.” He thought, “the brothers are really getting into the spirit of the Exhibit...” And this weekend, he and his warrior, together, would stalk another target, a carefully chosen young mob thug—a real killer and brute. “We can exhibit him with our cops, one racked at attention on either side... could be a hanging exhibit, if the noose were rigged properly and the exhibit kept semi-conscious, just hanging limp... for the new penal section.”

“A worthy exhibit, yes,” he thought, “Yes...”