Nude Ledger - Part 3

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Tomorrow the alumni GroupMe opened. He was fucked. Literally. And the worst part? His cock wouldn’t go soft no matter how many times he told it this was punishment.

——————

The alumni GroupMe lit up like a slot machine.

Rhys posted one photo: Nolan on his knees in the foyer, cage dripping a thin string of pre-cum onto the hardwood, face still streaked with dried cum from last night.

Caption: Our new Ledger is open all weekend. Cash only for alumni. Double rates. All proceeds go to the Homecoming Party Fund. His current balance is $9,150.

Within five minutes the fire emojis were in the hundreds. 

The first reply came from a 2015 grad now working private equity in New York: I’m landing at 2. Holding $2k cash for that ass.

Rhys didn’t answer in the chat. He just walked to the foyer, grabbed Nolan by the back of the neck, and bent him over the entry table. His phone propped up on a stack of mail live-streaming to the group. 

“Say good morning to the donors, Ledger.”

Nolan’s voice cracked. “Good morning.”

Rhys spanked him ten times, hard, each smack echoing off the marble. The cage swung and dripped with every hit. Rhys ended the stream and slapped Nolan’s red ass one more time.

“Start cleaning the backyard. That’ll be $100 off.”

The house turned into a construction site. Current brothers barked orders while they dragged kegs and set up the sound system. Nolan crawled from job to job hauling trash bags, wiping tables, hosing down the patio. Every time someone needed a break, they bent him over whatever surface was closest and fucked him quick. Two hundred here, three-fifty there. By lunch the balance was down to $7,300, but Rhys kept adding “labor fees” faster than they could subtract. Weirdly, Nolan didn’t mind. 

The first wave of alumni rolled in around 3:00. Six rental SUVs with out-of-state plates pulled up one by one. Guys in Patagonia vests, Rolexes, wedding rings, all grinning the second they saw Nolan standing naked by the front door, hands behind his head like he’d been told.

A glass donation jar the size of a fishbowl sat on the entry table. HOMECOMING PARTY FUND written in gold Sharpie.

The first alumnus (class of 2011, a tech VP with a thick beard) peeled off six hundreds, folded them neat, and dropped them in the jar.

“Been waiting eight years for something like this,” he said, already unbuckling.

His cock was short, maybe 4”, but thick as a soda can. He bent Nolan over the same entry table and fucked him raw while the rest of the arrivals watched and counted their cash out loud. Ten more bills hit the jar before he finished and bred him deep.

After more guests arrived, they moved the party outside. Nolan got bent over a teak patio table near the pool, wrists zip-tied loosely to the far legs so he couldn’t stand but could still take it. Music thumped. Red Solo cups everywhere.

Alumni lined up like it was a carnival ride. And the money was rolling in:

$400 for a quick pump-and-dump. 

$600 if they wanted his mouth too. 

$800–$1,000 if they took their time. 

Every guy folded his bills and dropped them in the jar himself while still inside Nolan. The clink of cash on glass became constant. By 7 p.m. the jar was stuffed ($11,000 and some change). Current brothers stood around looking salty because their $250 loads suddenly felt cheap. But they didn’t have to actually pay with real money, so…

When it was time to head back inside, they hosed Nolan off with the backyard hose, carried him inside, and laid him out on the twenty-foot mahogany table like a roast. Wrists and ankles tied down, ass right at the edge.

Rhys stood at the head with a wireless mic and a second jar.

“It’s time to auction off our 30 minute blocks, gentlemen. Have your cash ready.”

Bidding went fast.

Prime ass, 8:30 slot: $1,400

Mouth, 9:00: $800

Double-team 9:30: $2,200

Ass again 10:00: $1,800

Every winner walked up, dropped their cash in the jar, and wrote their initials on Nolan with Sharpie wherever they planned to cum. By 11 p.m. his chest, thighs, and ass were covered in names and dollar amounts. Cum leaked out of him in a slow river onto the polished wood.

Rhys dumped both jars on the table at the end of the night. Stacks of twenties, fifties, hundreds. The room went quiet while he counted out loud.

“Aaaaaand the weekend total so far is…$18,760!!.”

Cheers and whistles erupted. 

He updated the whiteboard they had set up:

CASH IN FUND: $18,760

LEDGER BALANCE AFTER PENALTIES & FEES: $4,390

Someone yelled, “Best party fund we’ve ever had!” and threw another hundred in just for fun.

The five highest donors (all donated over $1,800 each) carried Nolan downstairs to the basement. They laid him face down on the pool table and took turns all night. Every time someone finished, they tossed an extra hundred or two onto the felt like poker chips.

By midnight, the basement smelled like beer, sweat, and sex. The only light came from the neon BUDWEISER sign above the bar and the green glow of the pool table lamp. Nolan was on his back across the felt, legs spread wide, ankles zip-tied to the corner pockets. His chest rose and fell fast. Cum cooled in streaks across his abs and throat. Crumpled bills were scattered over his torso like confetti.

The last alumnus (some 2012 grad with a wedding ring tan line) had just finished. He pulled out slow, watched his load drip from Nolan’s swollen hole, then tossed two more hundreds onto Nolan’s stomach.

“Worth every penny,” he muttered, zipping up and heading upstairs.

The door at the top of the stairs shut. He was finally alone in the silent basement. Then the slow creak of Rhys coming down alone could be heard. 

He wore the same gray sweats from that morning. The key on its chain glinted against his chest. He didn’t speak at first. Just walked to the foot of the table, looked Nolan over like he was checking inventory.

Nolan’s cock was already half-hard from the fucking, straining against the cage bars, head poking out purple and slick. His balls ached heavy and full.

Rhys reached for his chain and unhooked the tiny key.

“It’s been two days, Ledger. Let’s see how bad you need it.”

He unlocked the cage. It came off with a soft metallic click. Nolan’s cock sprang free instantly, fully hard in one heartbeat, seven thick inches slapping up against his abs with a wet sound. Pre-cum smeared across his skin in a long string.

Rhys wrapped one fist around the base. His grip was warm, rough, perfect. Nolan’s hips jerked before he could stop them.

“Stay still,” Rhys said, voice low. “You move, I stop.”

Nolan bit his lip and forced himself flat.

Rhys started slow. Long, deliberate strokes from base to tip, thumb dragging over the head on every upstroke, spreading the pre-cum until Nolan’s cock was shiny and dripping. He twisted his wrist just under the head, exactly where Nolan was most sensitive. Nolan’s breath came in short, desperate gasps.

The first edge hit fast. Nolan’s thighs shook. His abs clenched. His balls drew up tight. He was about to cum. 

Then Rhys stopped. Let go completely. Watched Nolan’s cock twitch and bob in the air, a thick bead of pre-cum rolling down the shaft and pooling on his stomach.

“Count to ten out loud,” Rhys ordered.

“One…two…” Nolan’s voice cracked. By eight he was whimpering.

Rhys started again. Faster this time. Tight grip, perfect pressure, twisting on every stroke. He leaned down and spat once, right on the head, and used it as lube. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the basement.

The second edge came harder. Nolan’s back arched off the table. His toes curled. A broken moan tore out of him.

Rhys pulled off again. Waited. Watched Nolan’s cock flex and leak, untouched, right on the brink.

“Please,” Nolan whispered without meaning to.

Rhys ignored him and started the third time. Slower now, almost lazy, dragging it out. He used just his thumb and two fingers, rolling around the head in tight circles until Nolan was shaking, sweat beading on his chest, hips trying to chase the touch.

When Nolan got close again (balls tight, breath short, cock so hard it hurt), Rhys squeezed the base hard, cutting the orgasm off cold.

Nolan cried out, a raw, frustrated sound. His cock jerked in Rhys’s hand, leaking another thick drop that ran over Rhys’s knuckles.

Rhys wiped it off on Nolan’s thigh, picked up the cage, and began putting it back on him. He slid the ring back behind Nolan’s balls first, then worked the tube over his still throbbing shaft. Nolan’s cock fought it, still rock hard, but Rhys was patient. He pressed, twisted, forced it in until the bars pinched and the head bulged out the end again.

Click. 

Locked.

Rhys put the key back on his necklace and just smirked at Nolan.

“Party fund hit twenty-four grand tonight,” he said, voice flat. “Your holes paid for the entire Homecoming party and then some. As for you, your new balance tomorrow morning…$6,210. Had to add some more on last minute since you’ve ruined this pool table.”

He turned to leave, then paused at the stairs.

“Oh, and Ledger? Next time you beg, it’ll cost you an extra $500.”

He killed the lights.

Nolan stayed tied to the table in the dark, cock aching in the fresh cage, cum drying sticky on his skin, another set of footsteps already starting down the stairs.