In an expensive city like London, the hottest young straight guys are often to be found slaving away for minimum wages in menial service jobs. They're broke, they're bored, and they're normally naive - just the kind of boys we like...

Harry is the kind of shy, lanky lad you'd expect to be working in a pizza joint - and even though he's over 6 foot tall, he barely looks out of his teens.

Stan asks him to personally deliver the food later, flashing a fat wad of notes as he pays. Harry's eyes follow the money hungrily... and we know we have him.

When the gangly, shy pizza boy turns up, he notices the large pile of cash and his eyes widen. This lad's never seen so much money in all his life. I tip him a few pence and then proceed to use the promise of some decent money to bribe the broke young straight into naked obedience. He'll do anything with the lure of a fistful of twenty pound notes right in his face.

As Stan and I bark orders at him, strip him naked, and make him tug his dangly balls till it hurts, Harry cringes away from us. But whenever he sees the cash, he grits his teeth and lets us carry on tormenting him, even as we order him up onto the table, inspecting the most private hairy crevices of his body.

By the time we strap him down and begin to spank his arse, Harry's face is already flushed with humiliation. As he winces his way through the first set of spanks, he seems to be having second thoughts, but he's been through too much for him to turn back now - he needs that money.

I tell him the rules - he has to thank us after every blow, and if he does that, he'll get £5 a stroke. If not, we start all over again and he has to re-earn the money. As the spanking begins in earnest - with an extremely painful perspex paddle, Harry wails and grunts in pain, attempting without success to wriggle free and escape the onslaught of whipping. We attack him with a riding crop and a wide ended, heavy whip, every stroke making his arse more and more red, until the patches where he's been hurt are clearly marked in two dark circles on the previously pale cheeks.

The beating becomes increasingly vicious, until we're hitting Harry so fast and so hard that he can't even manage to stutter out the required thankyou between the strokes. Hot tears roll down his face as I inform him that we're starting all over again, while Stan continues to batter his buttocks.

Soon, Harry begs us to stop, evidently realising that he can't take any more - and no amount of money can be worth this kind of agony. But this just leads to me laughing in his face as I snatch away all the money, telling him we're not going to stop... and we're not going to pay him either. We have Harry right where we want him - tied up, helpless and screaming in pain. No way are we stopping now...

As we get him out of his cramped cage, Harry's too stiff and sore from his earlier spanking to fight us off as we snare him with cat catchpoles and pin him to the floor.

Stan straps on our latest and most nefarious device yet - an electric dog training collar. Harry swears as we order him around, so I press my remote control and jolt him with a voltage strong enough to make him jump out of his skin as he's subjected to the sharp shock of pain. He claws at his neck, but has no way of removing the collar, and the more he fights, the more I electrocute him.

After that taste of punishment, our new pet is suddenly a lot more compliant. He cringes and yelps in agony as we ram a massive puppy tail buttplug up his virgin hole. Then we send him laboriously to and fro on all fours, fetching a squeaky toy for us.
But the lazy git just can't go fast enough for our liking, and I have to crack him hard with my belt, in between a series of increasingly powerful electric shocks.

When I tell Harry to lick my hand like an affectionate doggie, his face is a picture of digsust and he shies away. It's obvious this straight boy is repulsed at touching things with his mouth.

So I drag the unhappy bitchboy over to Stan's bare feet and order him to lick his feet - making sure his tongue is right out, as I steer his unwanted head back and forth over Stan's toes and soles. When I cram his mouth over the big toe, Harry actually gags and heaves, almost throwing up as he fully appreciates what's going into his mouth.

But licking Stan's feet is nothing compared to what we have in store for Harry next. As he watches in disbelief, I slop a can of dogfood into a dish and order him to eat it. Harry retches as he catches a whiff of the stinking meat, reeling back in horror. But we grab his hair and shove his face right into the slimy dog food, using our fingers to cram the beef chunks right into his mouth as he gags and convulses in utter revulsion.