The Quarterback

By Willie Cici
published February 1, 2015
Summary

The insolent professional football player needed some off-season training.

The head coach and his long-time assistant sat in the screening room at the practice and training facility, reviewing video of the last game of the season. The team had possession of the ball for all of 20 minutes of the 60 minutes in a regular football game. The film review of these 20 minutes lasted longer than eight hours. The head coach continued to review the film, from different angles and different camera perspectives. Finally, after a long tedious day, he turned to his assistant, and said, “I give up. I cannot understand the decisions he’s making and the horrible skill set. It’s as if he doesn’t care.” His assistant said nothing in reply. “This last game – it was ours for the taking. That last drive – bonehead. Has he no pride?”

Henry Tudor, “Hank” to his friends, finally spoke in desperation. “It’s your fault. That boy was molly-coddled from day 1 by ownership and by you. It’s four years and he still plays like a high school freshman. The only thing he can chase down effectively is a stripper. It’s got to …”

Teddy Windsor, the head coach, interrupted Hank and said, “Stop. I know. But how?”

Hank thought before he spoke. “What quality does our star lack?”

“I don’t know, but we’re not going to resolve this issue today.” Hank replied. “We have at least four months before OTAs. For now, let’s go home and celebrate the New Year.” With that, the long-time friends and working partners closed the lights of their office and departed the Team Training Complex.


Sometime in early February, after Super Bowl Sunday, Hank walked in to Teddy’s office to run by an idea. “Teddy, I want to send our QB to a week-long life skills training. It dawned on me that it’s not his skill set or athleticism; it’s his lack of discipline. I found a program that will teach him discipline. It’s very private, in a highly secluded, undisclosed location. The program comes and picks you up.”

“Sounds like some pansy-ass, expensive bullshit to me, Hank.”

“We gotta try something. The program will take him the 2nd week of March.”

“Okay, I’ll call our star and tell him that he has to report for training that Sunday morning here at the Training Complex.”

Both men agreed that the situation called for drastic measures.


On a bitter cold, March Sunday morning, a black luxury sedan pulled into the parking lot the team’s Training Complex. Mike “Woody” Woodward, the team’s QB, leaned over to the driver’s side of the vehicle and kissed the barely dressed, buxom blonde driver. Woody exited the vehicle wearing clothes that one wears at a nightclub. His hair was disheveled; his face, scruffy. He wore sunglasses even though the clouds blocked any sunlight. After he retrieved his leather duffle bag from the trunk of the sedan, Woody sauntered towards the entrance of the Training Complex, greeted by Hank and Teddy.

“Jesus H. Christ, boy, you look like shit. Have you been to bed?”

“Bed, yes. Sleep, no.” was his snide remark. “You’re lucky I’m even here. My agent says I don’t have to go to this bullshit training.”

“Did he also tell you that if you refused, you wouldn’t have a job?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”, was his reply.

Teddy and Hank walked away from their star QB. As they did, Hank said, “That’s why he needs to go to this training. It’s as simple as that.”

Minutes later, a stretch limousine pulled up to the Training Complex. A young woman, a redhead, wearing a tight, spandex sweat suit, exited the vehicle and said, “I’m looking for Woody.”

“That’s me, gorgeous.”

“Good. Let’s get your bag in the trunk.” As she grabbed the duffle bag, Woody grabbed the redhead’s ass. She turned to him and said, “Behave.”, ala Austin Powers. Woody smirked and surmised that he had the green light at some point during their trip. He entered the limousine and made himself comfortable for the three-hour ride to the program’s facility. About an hour into the ride, the red head said to Woody, “Are you feeling okay, sugar?”

“Yeah. I’m just bummed. I’m supposed to be in Hawaii, vacationing with friends. Team scheduled this bullshit. Agent said I had to go. Fucking bullshit.”

“Relax, sugar. Have a drink. It’s Johnny Walker, Blue Label. The good stuff.”

Woody knew his scotch. He grabbed the crystal decanter and poured himself a generous two fingers of his favorite scotch. He slowly sipped his scotch, all the while staring out the window of the limousine. “Man, I’m tired.” He gulped the remainder of his scotch. As fast as he said those words, Woody was out like a light, unconscious. The redhead placed a call to the facility. “Yeah, he’s out. About an hour.”


When Woody awakened, he found himself in disconcerting circumstances. To begin with, he was tied spread eagle to the four-post king sized bed in his room. He wore a pair of undersized rubber briefs. As he surveyed his dilemma, he noticed that he had no upper body hair except for his legs; the hair on his legs had been manscaped. The final piece actually lay in his mouth, a ball gag. Despite the gag, Woody began to holler and scream for help.

After a couple of minutes, a tall, distinguished man, about 40 years old, entered the room. The man was 6’2”, a spritzing of salt and pepper in his hair. Despite his age, the man, clearly an athlete in his younger days maintained the physique he developed in this 20s: the sculpted, defined, sexy body of a swimmer, with the six-pack abs of a professional football player. He wore a pair of lycra-spandex black sweat pants and a matching black t-shirt. He strode into the room with an air of confidence. “Don’t waste your time yelling. No one is coming to your rescue. It’s time for your training to begin.” With that, the man grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off the rubber briefs exposing his ass and cock.

With his cock exposed, Woody screamed again, in a muffled tone, “What the fuck is that?”

“That is a cock cage. It will teach you the discipline to be a man.” Trey, Woody’s Trainer, approached Woody and placed some pillows behind his head to lift it. “Now watch the screen.” The man activated the DVD player. Woody’s eyes were filled with images of naked women, sucking handsome men’s cocks. His cock began to swell and stiffen, but the pain was unbearable. “The cage is measured for a 5” male. Instead of whining like a little boy, you have two options: put the images out of your mind or deal with the pain. Channel your emotions.”

Woody continued to stare at the video, trying to resist the pleasurable images displayed on the DVD. Try as he did, he continued to thicken and harden, his cock pressing again the rigid sheathe of the cage. “I can’t do this.,” he mumbled, the ball gag preventing his speech.

“Focus. Discipline yourself to avoid or minimize the pain.” The pain was unbearable. Woody began to tear. Trey screamed, “Focus, you little boy.” He closed his eyes, assuming that he could avoid the images. Trey increased the volume of the screen. Woody continued to moan. “You’re not even trying, little boy.” Trey left the room, the video streaming for the next three hours. When he returned, he found Woody squirming to free himself from the restraints. “You child.” He shut off the video and said, “You little boy. If you can’t control your passions, how do you expect to excel as a quarterback?” Trey shook his head in disgust. “Enough.” When Trey pulled on a velvet chord on the wall, an assistant entered the room. He untied Woody and removed the ball gag. He also brought Woody a whey protein shake and a snack bar. “Eat. You need your energy.” Trey tossed Woody some workout gear and said, “It’s time for your physical regimen. Follow me.” Trey led Woody to an adjacent training room, complete with gym equipment. “Now, do what the trainer says. And don’t bother trying to run away.” Woody complied with Trey’s order. The personal trainer worked Woody to exhaustion. For more than three hours, he exercised, lifted weights, work on core strengthening exercises, cardio, and then more weight training. At the end, the trainer gave Woody another protein shake and protein bar. Trey entered the room and led Woody back to his room. “Now take off those sweaty clothes and put these on.” Trey handed Woody a pair of rubber biker shorts. “Now go to sleep.” Woody reclined on his bed afraid of what lay ahead.


Woody’s second day was a repeat of his first; however, he was restrained to a chair instead of the bed. Woody had not showered in days. He began to hate the odor of his body. Trey continued to punish the QB with another video of buxom blondes, brunettes and redheads sucking the cocks of appreciative male models. Once again, he could not fight his erection as it strained against the tight fit of the cock cage. Once again, Trey hollered and humiliated Woody as he continued to ignore the lesson of the last two days. After four hours, Trey again removed the restraints and led him to the training room. The trainer provided another session of relentless physical activity, followed by generous servings of protein shakes and bars. The second day ended as the first.

On the third day, Woody arose and went to the bathroom. He used the facilities, despite the inconvenience of the cock cage. The bathroom had been plumbed in the European style with a toilet and a bidet. When Woody had finished urinating, he used the bidet to clean himself as urine had remained in the cage. He also sponge bathed himself as best he could given his condition. When he entered his bedroom, Trey was waiting for him. He inserted and strapped the ball gag in his mouth. “Follow me.” Trey led Woody to another room near his room. This room contained all the requisite equipment for bondage. “Go stand in front of the x-cross.” Woody complied. After Trey restrained the now-naked Woody, he cover his eyes with a mask. He then grabbed a flogging whip and struck Woody on his balls.

“What the fuck?” Woody hollered.

“Don’t think about the pain. Ignore it or enjoy it.” Woody could do neither. He whimpered as Trey flogged, whipped, paddled, and beat the restrained trainee. Even masked, Woody would flinch, anticipating the next blow. This continued for the next hour. Disgusted with the lack of progress Woody was making, Trey took of the mask and hollered, “How do you expect to lead men when you don’t know how to follow? Discipline requires a restraint of passion. You keep acting like a pussy. Is that what you are? A pussy?” Woody began to cry from the pain of the beating and the humiliation. “Okay, if you’re a pussy, enjoy this.” Trey took out a glass butt plug and inserted in Woody’s quivering hole. The pain was horrendous. After an hour of writhing, Trey removed the plug and restraints and handed Woody his rubber biker shorts. “Get dressed, you little boy. You’ve learned nothing.” Once Woody had dressed, he followed Trey back to his room. “Now put this on and follow me to the training room.” Woody put on the workout clothes Trey gave him and proceeded to the training room where his trainer fed him a protein shake and bar. Then, he began that’s days rigorous exercise regimen. When he was finished, the trainer led Woody back to his room, where Trey waited for his return. “Take off all your clothes and put this on.” He tossed Woody another pair of rubber biker shorts. “Now go to bed.” Woody fell fast asleep exhausted from the training of Day 3.


Day 4 started the same as Day 3. As Woody exited the bathroom, Trey stood there waiting for him. “Take those shorts off and put this on.” Trey handed Woody a neoprene jock strap. The jock strap covered his cock, but exposed his buttocks. Trey ordered Woody to follow him down the hall, to the bondage room. “Go to the bench.” Woody walked off to the padded fuck bench. There, Trey secured Woody to the bench, bent over, ass exposed. Once he was secured, a young man, tall, muscular and physically fit, entered the room. He wore a black leather jock strap. He positioned himself in front of Woody and exposed his monster cock. Trey arranged a fucking machine near Woody’s exposed ass hole. “Discipline requires a man to follow commands, even when he doesn’t want to follow those commands. Now, suck his cock.”

“Fuck you.”, Woody replied. With that expected answer, Trey placed the fucking machine closer to Woody’s tight little hole. After applying very little lubricant, Trey placed the tip of the rubber dildo at the entry point of Woody’s ass. “Suck.”, Trey ordered.

“Fuck you.” Woody again replied. With that, Trey activated the fucking machine. The pain that Woody experienced was unbearable. The dildo, slightly larger than the young man, began to thrust in and out of Woody’s tight hole. Trey approached Woody, saying, “There are consequences to disobedience. The decision is yours. Suck or get fucked.”

“Fuuuuck you.” Woody replied for the third time. Trey returned to the fucking machine and adjusted the controls, cranking the speed of the mechanism. The pain was too much for the QB. When Woody began to suck the young man’s cock, Trey stopped the machine. Woody then stopped sucking the young man’s cock. Trey, unwilling to tolerate insolence, reactivated the machine at a faster rate of speed. Woody resumed his licking and sucking. The machine remained active. “You had your chance. Now deal with the consequences.” Woody sucked the young man until jizz spilled from his mouth. Trey watched as the young man leave the room, only to see his replacement enter.

“Suck or get fucked. It’s your choice.” Woody began to lick and suck this second man without trickery or complaint. When this young man shot his load on Woody’s face, Trey said to him, “Discipline requires an understanding of the rules. What rules do you have to follow to be a good quarterback?” Woody could not answer Trey, his will obliterated by the experience of the forced fellatio. “That’s okay.”, Woody said. “This lesson you maybe learned.” Trey removed the restraints of the fuck bench and led Woody back to his room. “Get dressed for your daily workout.” When he was dressed, Trey escorted him to the training room. The personal trainer again challenged Woody to a four-hour workout. After another protein shake and bar, Woody returned to his room, removed his clothes, put on the rubber biker shorts, and went to bed.


Day 5 began as the previous two days. This morning, however, as Woody toweled himself dry after his sponge bath, he noticed that his chest and core muscles were dramatically improved. His chest was sculpted, his abs were chiseled even better than before, his thighs and legs were larger and stronger. Woody admired the improvement of his physique. He appreciated his new look, even without the coating of hair that had covered his body. When he returned to his room, Trey waited for him and said, “Lie down on the bed and put on the mask.” Once Woody complied, a young man (the same young man from Day 4 in the bondage room), lay on the bed and began to fondle Woody’s meaty, balls. His swollen cock reached massive proportions. Although his cock remained caged, Woody appreciated the pleasurable sensation. Trey spoke to him, “Discipline requires acceptance. The young lady who is offering you pleasure accepts her task. You have to learn to accept things as they come.” Woody heard nothing; he focused on the warm, inviting licking of the young man. After several minutes, Trey removed the blindfold. Woody then discovered that his cockteaser was a man. Whatever pleasure Woody was enjoying ended abruptly. “Whatever the circumstances, acceptance.” Woody simpered as he pondered the condition he faced. After several minutes, Trey halted the young man. When the young man left the room, Trey said, “Here, get dressed for your training session.” Thoroughly disgusted, Woody got dressed and followed Trey to the training room. For another day, the personal trainer tired out the hapless QB. Exhausted and spent, Woody returned to his room, changed his clothes and went to sleep.


Day 6 began as the other days. When Woody returned to his room, Trey was standing at the armoire desk in the room. Trey removed Woody’s cock cage and said, “Sit at the chair. Watch this video. Maybe it will say to you what I’ve been trying to teach to you. Pay attention. Do not take your eyes off the video.” Trey left the room as Woody sat at the desk and began to watch the video. During the course of the video, Woody noticed an intermittent flashing light. The flashing light points increased to the point of constant flashing. When Trey returned to the room, he found a dazed, befuddled Woody staring at the screen. Trey then activated another video clip, colorful, whirling spirals. The narrator of the video began this monologue.

“Breathe deeply. Focus on the spiral and my words. Focus on your desire to obey, to become a man. A man understands that discipline equals success. Relax and let your mind go. You enjoy the feeling you get when your mind lets go. Resistance is in vain. Be a man. Obey.”

Woody continued to stare at the spiral, clearly in trance. “As you stare at the spirals, start stroking your cock. Listen to my words. Let go of your mind. Discipline is good. Discipline makes the man. Discipline means obedience. It feels so good to obey. Stare, stroke, and let yourself sink deeper, deeper and deeper.”

Woody continued to stroke his throbbing, 8” cock. “The more you stroke, the better it feels. Listen to my words. When you return to the teams’ Training Complex, you will have two choices in your life. You can continue to be the screw up you are or you can be the disciplined attentive man your team deserved and needs. If you choose to be the screw up, there will be negative consequences. If you choose to be the disciplined man you want to become, you will receive pleasure. When I give you the command to cum, you will experience the most intense orgasm you have ever had. All the lessons you learned, everything you experienced these last days will govern the choice you make. If you act like a little boy, then when you hear the phrase, “Master Trey says you a bad little boy”, you will resume this trance and accept the consequences. You will also remember those consequences. If you want to be a man, then, when you hear the phrase, “Master Trey says you are good boy.”, then you will likewise resume this trance and accept all the pleasure that follows. That pleasure you will recall as well. Do you understand me?” Woody said and nodded yes. “Good. Now, cum.” With that, Woody shot his load spraying the armoire and laptop. “When I count to three, you will awaken. You will remember these instructions. You will have the tools you need to become a man. 1-2-3.” With that Woody awoke. “Go shower. You’re limousine will be here in an hour.”


Woody returned home, his girlfriend waiting for him at the Training Complex. When he met with his head coach and assistant coach, he described the program in detail. Because of the bizarre nature of the tale, Hank and Teddy shook their heads in disbelief. Disgusted at their response, Woody left the Training Complex and returned to his home.


Woody’s attitude and approach to the game did not change. He remained the consummate selfish lazy player. Hank and Teddy had no choice but to name Woody as the starting quarterback, given the lack of any real replacement on the squad.

The first game of the season was horrendous. Hank and Teddy watched Woody ignore basic signals and pre-scripted game strategy. Woody showered at the end of the game and left for his home, evading as best he could his teammates and the press.

Later that evening, two of his teammates, Buster Henderson, a star tight end, and Case Jackson, the team’s wide receiver phenom, paid Woody a visit. When Woody opened the door and greeted his players, Buster said, “Master Trey says you are a bad little boy.” Woody fell into trance. Buster and Case led Woody to his bedroom. There they tore off his clothes. They also disrobed. Buster then began to face fuck Woody while Case plowed Woody’s tight ass hole. Woody wailed as he was fucked by his teammates. Buster and Case then switched places. For Woody, that was worse as Buster’s meaty, beefy cock was 8” compared to Case’s 7”. The boys shot their loads, Case down Woody’s throat, Buster in Woody’s hole. The teammates dressed and left Woody’s house, without saying another word. Woody felt used and abused. He remembered the lesson learned at the program: discipline makes the man. Woody, the consummate narcissist, ignored the lesson and the experience.

The following week, Woody’s play cost the team a victory. For a second week in a row, Buster and Case paid a visit. They recited the same trigger. Again, Woody fell under trance. Just as in Week 1, Buster and Case fucked their star quarterback silly. The teammates left Woody alone, confused, shaken and disgusted, unaware of what he should do.

From that point on and for every weekend that followed, Woody became the model teammate and quarterback. He studied, he prepared, he followed his exercise regimen, he attended film study sessions, and spent extra time with the quarterback coach and offensive coordinator. His play improved. Every time his team won, in the evening, Buster and Case would visit him. This time, the teammates said, “Master Trey says you are good boy.” This time, however, when Woody fell under trance, the boys offered Woody pleasure. They licked, sucked, and let Woody fuck his teammates with all the vigor and passion he could exercise.

Woody came to his greatest epiphany: discipline has its rewards. Woody led his team to a winning record of 14-2, the best record in the franchise’s history. During the off-season, Woody was rewarded with a sweet $100 million dollar contract.

Apparently, discipline also pays.

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