It was mid-afternoon and McInnes was at his desk in his office, having already finished his slate of classes for the day.

He wasn’t a professor, but he taught his classes as if he were one. He tried to do right by his students every day and he wanted nothing more than to set them up for success the best that he could.

McInnes liked to think that they appreciated the extra effort that he put in. The downside was that they probably noticed when he wasn’t on his best footing.

He sighed as he stared at the stack of papers that needed marking. He knew he should get started sooner rather than later so he could get them back to his students on time, but his mind kept wandering back to his performance today.

No one had said anything to McInnes, but he was sure someone must have noticed. It wasn’t often that he was distracted in class, but he was today. And he’d definitely had to consult his notes more than usual.

If he was being honest, he was glad that he didn’t have Leo today. It wasn’t that he favored Leo more than the others, he just knew how much potential Leo had.

McInnes was certain of it; Leo was destined for great things. Leo just needed to have the opportunity for those great things. He needed to have doors opened for him and it was McInnes’ responsibility, as one of the people in charge of his education, to see that they were. He couldn’t do that effectively while distracted.

It couldn’t be helped, though. McInnes had a lot on his mind. He’d been through a lot in the past few days.

McInnes’ ordeals were going to stay with him for a while he was willing to bet. Not that his experiences over the past few days were all bad. He’d had White Tiger in his bed, after all. Maybe not in the way that he wanted, but if he was reading the room right, his fantasies weren’t going to stay fantasies for very long.

It was amusing how a single chance meeting could change a person’s worldview. He always believed that the heroes he admired growing up were trapped in the four corners of their respective narratives, but White Tiger had changed his mind.

McInnes would have liked to say that he wasn’t so easily swayed, but he was at least intellectually honest enough to admit what was right in front of his eyes. White Tiger had occupied his every waking moment—or near enough to—ever since they met.

There was every chance it was a passing thing, of course, bias toward the person who saved his life, or even a lingering sense of gratitude misinterpreted to be romantic feelings. There were a dozen rational explanations he could conjure, but none of them quite felt right.

So maybe there was something about the age-old trope of a person being saved and falling in love with their savior. The brave knight and his damsel in distress, who rewarded his courage with her affection.

McInnes never imagined he would be the damsel in that scenario, but he was certainly smitten with White Tiger. It was silly. It was juvenile. But he couldn’t deny the facts: he had a crush.

He felt like an awkward teenager again. He was always the anti-social, cooped-up-in-his-room type, the sort with more action figures than real-life friends, the kind that obsessed over his comics, TV shows, and movies.

McInnes closed out of his browser with a sigh. He had maybe three tabs related to work. The rest were various articles, forum threads, and social media posts. It had been a while since he was so fixated on something, but he felt compelled to seek out anything he could find about White Tiger.

There was precious little about the man on the world-wide web, but McInnes had expected that. Vigilantism was frowned upon, at least planet-side. Known supers were quickly hunted down, captured, and remanded to government custody. What happened when the suits picked up an esper? No one really knew. But anyone who cared enough, and didn’t buy into the propaganda, wasn’t stupid enough to think it could be a good thing.

The lack of information was frustrating, but what little was there did paint a clear picture. White Tiger and the rest of his team were good people. They defended the defenseless. They protected the powerless.

McInnes was incensed at the injustice of it all. Were they in the Commonwealth, White Tiger and his team would have been rewarded for their work, lavished with recognition and praise. Here, they had to wallow in obscurity as a matter of survival.

As much as it frustrated him, McInnes was glad there wasn’t much online about the team. Vigilantes needed to keep a low profile. Small things could get by under the radar. Saving an instructor from getting bashed in a parking lot at night, for instance, was exactly the kind of thing that a vigilante could get away with.

On the other hand, blowing up a warehouse while trying to run a criminal syndicate out of town was probably not the best idea for a vigilante. Anything attention-grabbing was dangerous. The government was hands off with the poorest neighborhoods in the city, but that didn’t mean the government would ignore a big incident.

McInnes had other ways of getting information, anyway. Being a shut-in teen had its benefits. His friends were mostly online and, thanks to that, he’d developed certain skills—made certain connections. He hadn’t flexed those muscles in a while, but it all came back easier than he expected.

He grabbed his tablet and sent a few messages on a secure messaging app. Soon enough, he’d managed to finesse his way into the Artemisian Commonwealth’s version of the world-wide web, the ComNet, with a bit of help from some old friends. Since espers were embraced over there, he knew they were likely to keep track of vigilantes planetside.

It was one of the reasons that vigilantes were a thing at all. There was a sweet spot, between complete obscurity and being dangerously notorious, where the government couldn’t just disappear vigilantes off the streets. There were complex politics tangled up in the whole thing.

McInnes shook his head. It had been years since he talked to some of these people. There was never any falling out, really, just a gradual drifting apart like so many friendships were wont to do. And yet here he was, chatting with them as if they’d lost no time at all.

Part of him regretted letting things get away from him, but this was a good first step in reconnecting, at least. More importantly, he’d found something of a fan group on the Artemisian ComNet.

The 5HB Fan Alliance, they called themselves. McInnes assumed “5HB” stood for “Five Heavenly Beasts” who were, in turn, mythological creatures in Eastern culture that seemed to have inspired the aesthetic of White Tiger and his team.

Much of the group’s infrastructure was built on old technology. The main hub of activity was a message board. It had been updated with modern conveniences, of course, but message boards had been around since before supers were even a thing at all.

It was amusing but unsurprising for McInnes. Sometimes, old tech was the best choice. It wasn’t inherently more secure or resilient against attacks by hostile actors, but since it was old, fewer people were likely to know how to exploit it.

The funny thing was, to McInnes at least, that White Tiger and his team probably had no idea that they had a fan group. That there was someone keeping a log of sightings and a record of their activity not to turn them into the government but to help keep them out of trouble.

McInnes was just about to get into the meat of the new data when there was a knock on his door. He set aside his tablet and looked up. “Come in,” he said.

He half expected Leo to come through the door, but instead, it was one of Bart’s goons. He tensed immediately. Surely, they wouldn’t be so stupid to try anything on campus in the middle of the day. He’d have liked to think that, but with these guys, he couldn’t be certain. The guy’s hands in the air gave him little comfort.

“What do you want?” said McInnes. It came out a bit testier than he had meant, but he didn’t care. These guys had threatened his life. “If this is about your grades, I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t be intimidated into compromising on my principles.”

The goon shook his head. “I promise we’ve learned our lesson, Sir,” he said. “I’m just over here to invite you to a party. Bart would like to apologize face-to-face but he’s organizing things right now so he can’t come and he’s hoping this invitation can be a bit of an olive branch?”

McInnes wasn’t impressed. “I’m not interested in crashing a frat party. If he wants to talk, we can talk when the party’s done, whether that’s later tonight or whenever Bart isn’t hungover anymore.”

He also wasn’t particularly interested in being one-on-one with Bart after everything that had happened. Maybe it was wrong of him as a teacher to be suspicious of a student, but he had good reason to be.

“Well, Sir, the Dean is hoping that you might accept the invitation,” said the goon. “A-and you’re welcome to bring a friend in case you want a witness to make sure no fishy business happens.”

McInnes narrowed his eyes. Everything about this was suspicious, especially the Dean’s involvement. If it were up to him, he’d just turn the invitation down, but the Dean wanting him to go was a complication.

“Don’t pretend to give me a choice if I don’t have one in the first place,” said McInnes with a scowl. “When is the party?”

“15 minutes, Sir.”

McInnes frowned. He would have liked more notice, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do at this point. “Your frathouse, right?”

The goon nodded.

“Alright. I’ll be there,” said McInnes, all but shooing the goon out of his office as he picked his phone up. He needed to ask a favor of one of his friends and fellow doctoral candidates.

---

“I’m glad you decided to come,” said McInnes.

“You know I’m not the kind to pass up a party, bro. Fratboys and booze are a match made in heaven,” said Ambrose. “Now, I’m not saying I’m gonna be a perv, but I can promise you I’ll be eyeing the merchandise.”

McInnes sighed and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie. “We’re not here for the party,” he said.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t mind if I stayed over after you were done with your business, right?” said Ambrose. “Honestly, I probably teach some of these guys. I want them to see that I’m more than just some fuddy duddy instructor, you know? I can be fun, too!”

Ambrose chuckled. “And who knows, I might be able to come home with a fratboy on either arm if I promise an A on the next assignment for anyone that can drink me under the table.”

McInnes rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to think it was a bad idea to ask you along,” he said.

Ambrose’s expression softened. “Oh, come on, man. You know, I was just kidding around. Of course your thing comes first.”

McInnes gave Ambrose a small smile.

“Honestly, I’m surprised Bart’s apologizing,” said Ambrose. “He’s the big-man-on-campus, right? I’ve heard a lot about him. This seems dramatically out of character.”

“That’s why I’m so worried,” McInnes said. “I wouldn’t even have come if the Dean wasn’t involved. Bart must have pulled some strings through his parents.”

“That’s not ominous at all.”

McInnes sighed. “Tell me about it. Anyway, I don’t think he’s going to try anything physical, but be ready just in case. In was already almost bashed twice. I wouldn’t put it past him to play dirty a third time.”

---

A well-appointed study was the last thing that McInnes expected walking into the room that he and Ambrose were directed to. It wasn’t the kind of place that he would have ever imagined seeing in a frathouse.

The room was relatively neat. It looked like the frat bros tried to clean the place on a semi-regular basis, at least. There were certainly signs of use from the fratboys scattered about the place—cans, chip bags, and dirty clothes, among other things.

Bart was inside, waiting. He smiled when he saw McInnes, though it looked more like a sneer. Come to think of it, McInnes wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Bart with a genuine smile.

“Alright,” said McInnes. He didn’t feel comfortable, whether that was with this weirdly well-furnished room or the cordial way that Bart was acting. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

“Won’t you take a seat?” said Bart. He gestured toward the seats in front of the fireplace as he took one.

“I wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t rope the Dean in,” said McInnes. He liked to think that he was a fairly gracious man most of the time, but he didn’t think anyone could blame him for being short with a guy willing to threaten his life over grades. “Honestly, it probably isn’t healthy for the university that your family has this much influence. It probably isn’t healthy for you, even.”

Ambrose hadn’t said anything since they came in. He was looking around and seemed pretty impressed with what he was seeing.

Bart chuckled. “Maybe it isn’t,” he conceded, “But it’s definitely useful when I need someone to do a favor for me.”

McInnes shrugged. Maybe Bart had a point there. “Except you’re not doing yourself any favors, are you? Are you going to use your family as a convenient shortcut for the rest of your life?”

Bart smiled at McInnes. “We all gotta make use of the cards we’re dealt, Prof. But anyway, I didn’t ask you here to discuss philosophy or my relationship with my family’s money.”

McInnes folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t usually let students get under his skin like this, but there was something about Bart’s smug self-confidence that rubbed him the wrong way. “Then why am I here? What was so important that you needed to get the Dean to tell me to come?”

“I was hoping that we could put everything behind us and start over,” said Bart. “I didn’t want things to go as far as they did, but we really needed you to cooperate. We’d have been kicked off the team, otherwise.”

McInnes’ nails dug into the palms of his hands as he balled his fingers into fists. “My responsibility,” he all but hissed through gritted teeth, “is to teach you guys the subject materials. It is not my responsibility to keep you and your friends on the university football team!”

He didn’t usually have much trouble keeping his composure, but he was seething. He was sorely tempted to give Bart a piece of his mind, but the colorful language going through his head would have made it unprofessional.

“Even if it was my responsibility, that doesn’t give you any right to—!”

“Hey.” Ambrose must have noticed that McInnes was getting riled up. He put a hand on McInnes’ lower back and subtly but firmly pushed him toward the set of chairs by the fireplace. “Maybe it’s a good time to take a breath and sit down before we do anything rash.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Bart as he gestured at the seats across from him. “I understand where you’re coming from, Prof. But playing for the university, it’s my life. Anyway, it’s water under the bridge now.”

McInnes reluctantly took one of the chairs. He narrowed his eyes at Bart and said, “I don’t see how it can be. There’s still the matter of the assaults. Plural.”

“I’m sincerely sorry about all that, Sir,” said Bart. Much as McInnes hated to admit it, it seemed that Bart was being sincere. “I was angry. I wasn’t thinking. But a new friend showed me that I didn’t have to get violent about it.”

“That’s good and all,” said McInnes, “but I’m not changing my mind about your grades. Are you and your friends okay with being taken off the team?”

Bart waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter now, Sir. We managed to get a waiver for the academic requirement.”

McInnes scowled. “So you guys just went around me? That was your solution?” he said.

“It’s just a one-time thing to let us see the season to the end. We’ll have to pass your class if we want to play next year and we’re gonna have to work hard to do that.”

McInnes scoffed. “I don’t want to sound too skeptical and mean, but you guys are going to need to ace the final, given the state of your grades right now.”

“We’ll study hard, Sir,” said Bart. “I just hope you won’t pursue this any further. I’m prepared to compensate you for any distress that may have been caused.”

McInnes should have been relieved for this whole thing to be over, but he was unsettled instead. Even if Bart sounded sincere, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of some sort of ploy.

He looked to Ambrose. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, really. Support, maybe. Or validation, perhaps. Ambrose gave him a look as if to tell him that he should seriously think about Bart’s proposal.

McInnes sighed. He didn’t think Bart deserved it, but he would have given any other student the benefit of the doubt in this situation. “Alright. First of all, I don’t need your money,” he said. “But I will take a promise. You and your friends will work harder for your grades from now on.”

“I promise,” said Bart. “And we’d be happy to sign a commitment to that effect,” he said.

McInnes thought about it for a moment. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll draft something up.” Having the guys’ signature would be useful for covering his ass in case things went sideways.

Bart extended a hand toward McInnes. “I’m glad we were able to resolve things, Sir. If you’re not going to take my money, then I hope that you’ll stay for the party, at least.”

“I don’t—”

“It won’t be a huge to-do, Sir. There’ll be food and booze and the entertainment’s going to be top-notch, but it’ll mostly just be the bros and me,” said Bart.

“I have work to—”

“I’d love to stay,” said Ambrose. He didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he was looking Bart up and down.

It was a bold move, McInnes had to admit. More shocking still was the fact that Bart hadn’t yet socked Ambrose in the face for it. He supposed that Bart probably didn’t want to get into any more trouble, but what truly threw him for a loop was the fact that Bart seemed to be enjoying the attention.

Bart leaned back in his chair. He spread his legs, almost as if he were inviting Ambrose to take a closer look. “Of course that’s alright,” he said. “In the interest of burying the hatchet, any friend of the prof’s is a friend of ours.”

“Well, now that is hospitality,” said Ambrose with a grin. “You’ll stay too, won’t you? You wouldn’t leave a friend out to dry after he did such a big favor for you.”

McInnes pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He still had a bad feeling about all of this and had hoped that he might be able to get away as soon as possible, but Ambrose had a point. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay. But not for long. And just because I appreciate what you did for me. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we’re even friends.”

Ambrose laughed. “Oh, come on,” he said, patting McInnes on the shoulder, “You know you need someone wild in your life.”

---

The party was well underway. There was a pleasant hum of conversation in the air. The music was brash and loud but not really obnoxious, though maybe McInnes could attribute that part to the alcohol, making him a lot less sensitive to that sort of thing.

A bunch of the fratboys were vaping, producing a thin purple haze in the air. McInnes thought it would be a lot more offensive than it was, but the smell was actually quite pleasant. The strange thing was that every time he breathed some of it in, he felt oddly tingly all over.

McInnes was holding a can of beer in one hand. Bart had managed to talk him into having one just to loosen up and take the edge off. He wasn’t familiar with the brand and the beer itself had a strange purple tinge to it but it tasted great.

He’d worried that Bart might roofie him or something, but the besides giving him more of a buzz than he was used to, the beer had been a pretty good choice in retrospect. He was just about to get to the bottom of the can he was holding and he was seriously contemplating getting another.

Ambrose was over to the side, chatting up a bunch of fratboys. He was probably a few drinks in since he was being openly flirtatious with the boys and making no attempt to hide that he was staring.

The weird thing was that the fratboys were reciprocating. As far as he knew, the guys were all supposed to be straight. And yet here they were, practically throwing themselves all over Ambrose.

McInnes sidled up to the group and said, “Good to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I am, trust me,” said Ambrose. “These boys have been such good company for me tonight,” he added as he slung his arms around the shoulders of both the fratboys that he’d been chatting up.

“Did I ever tell you that I avoided anything to do with Greek life when I was in college?” said Ambrose.

“Really?” said McInnes, a wry smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t think you would have been able to stay away.”

Ambrose laughed. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but I did. Although, these guys are making me regret it. Man, the stories they could tell. Isn’t that right?”

One of the bros laughed. “Hell, yeah, bro,” he said. Then he patted Ambrose on the chest. “But he was telling us about his conquests and honestly, we were very interested in finding out more.”

“I wouldn’t mind a practical demonstration, if you know what I mean,” said the other fratboy, who had taken to pressing his body up against Ambrose’s other side.

“Hear that, Hugh?” said Ambrose with a grin.

McInnes rolled his eyes. Knowing Ambrose, those stories were likely embellished. But then again, his friend was a notorious man whore, so what did he know?

“It’s never too late to enjoy the benefits of Greek Life, Prof,” said one of the fratboys as he popped open the top button on Ambrose’s shirt. “It might be even better for you now. Everyone wants to fuck their teacher, after all.”

“You’re all incorrigible,” McInnes laughed. “You can all get in a lot of trouble if any of this gets out,” he added.

Ambrose shrugged. “What the Dean doesn’t know won’t kill him,” he said. “Besides, these guys aren’t the kiss-and-tell type, right?”

The other fratboy walked his fingers up along the middle of Ambrose’s chest. “Not unless you want us to be, Prof,” he said.

“Alright, I’m going to leave. And the three of you should take this to a room if you’re really intent on making bad decisions tonight,” McInnes said with a laugh. He had a feeling that things were progressing to a place that he wasn’t sure he wanted to witness.

“Oh, there you are, Prof!”

McInnes had just taken the last swig of his beer when Bart caught up to him. “Yes, Bart?” he said.

Bart grinned and offered another can of beer to McInnes. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss the main attraction.”

McInnes had been agonizing over whether to get another beer, but as soon as one was proffered to him, he barely even had to think about it and accepted. “Well, I was just thinking of heading out. This isn’t really my sort of scene, as you might imagine.”

“Oh, come on, Prof! Live a little!” said Bart, motioning for McInnes to follow him. “If you don’t see anything you like, then you can go. But the guest of honor’s just about to arrive.”

McInnes cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not unless you agree to come with me,” said Bart with a grin.

Any other day, McInnes would have just walked away. He was pretty steeled against these sorts of tactics, but today he felt genuinely curious about this main attraction that Bart was so eager to show him. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Is that what the stage in the middle of the grand hall where we need to go?”

Bart grinned at McInnes. “That’s the one, Sir,” he said.

---

Bart took McInnes to one of the seats closest to the stage. As soon as they sat down, a side door opened and two of Bart’s friends came in. They were carrying someone between them, someone naked.

McInnes’ eyes widened. He couldn’t tell who it was until they were pretty much on the stage. He got up out of his seat. “Leo!” he called out, though Leo didn’t respond to him.

He whirled on Bart, his heart thumping in his chest. He was furious. “What did you do to Leo?” he said.

Bart put his hands up. “We didn’t do anything bad,” he said. “This is what Leo wants, Sir, I promise. Honestly, he probably just had a bit too much.”

McInnes scowled. “Too much of what?” he said.

“VNM.”

“You gave him venom!?”

“N-no, Sir.” Bart chuckled. “V-N-M. VNM, Prof. It’s like poppers, but a thousand times better. It makes you crazy horny. Honestly, I didn’t realize you knew the guy.”

McInnes frowned. “He’s one of my students. A really good one, too. I didn’t think he was the sort to be into this kind of thing.”

Bart laughed. “Well, he certainly is, Sir,” he said. “How well do you really know your students, anyway? You see us maybe once or twice every couple of days?”

Although McInnes knew better than to take Bart at his word, he didn’t feel that Bart was lying to him. It was true that he didn’t really see his students outside of the classroom. He supposed even then, they were probably on their best behavior whenever they were with him.

“Trust me, Prof, you don’t know as much about this guy as you think you do,” said Bart. “He’s pretty good buddies with my roommate. They get up to this sort of thing occasionally.”

McInnes looked at Leo, perturbed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but at the same time, he had to admit that a part of him was intrigued.

“Come on, Sir. Just relax and enjoy the show,” said Bart.

McInnes didn’t say anything, but he did take his seat again. He should have left then and there, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. He wanted to see this.

The two guys dragged Leo onstage. They dropped him in the middle, where he fell onto his hands and knees. His face was flushed. His cock was very hard and leaking.

Leo arched his spine and spread his legs. He pushed his ass into the air. His gaze met McInnes’ but there wasn’t the slightest hint of recognition there, just pure, unadulterated lust.

McInnes’ cock twitched in his pants. He wasn’t a very horny guy most of the time, but he wasn’t made of stone. He had to admit that the sight of Leo’s tight body on display like this was appealing, not to mention the panting and pitiful mewling that were going straight to his cock.

Something about Leo wasn’t sitting well with McInnes, though. It wasn’t anything wrong, necessarily. There was just something that he felt like he should have noticed. Something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

As McInnes was busy thinking about what he could be missing, one of Bart’s goons came back up on stage. He was carrying something—McInnes couldn’t quite make out what—but he grabbed Leo by the chin and yanked him up.

McInnes audibly gasped. There was a sizable but fading bruise over Leo’s stomach. That was the thing his subconscious was trying to tell him. He recognized that bruise.

But he couldn’t be right. It wasn’t possible. Leo was his student. White Tiger was his hero. And yet, the more that he thought about it, the more it made sense. Why White Tiger was at the university when the team was based elsewhere.

And the closer that McInnes looked, the more that Leo’s body looked familiar to him. He’d seen that body violated, had tended to it with his own hands. He’d etched every contour into his mind, hoping to never forget.

McInnes tried to deny the evidence that was right in front of his eyes until the goon slapped the mask over Leo’s face. Just like that, the proof was indisputable.

His heart dropped into his stomach. He couldn’t understand how he’d missed it. Leo was White Tiger. Leo was his hero. And here his hero was, high out of his mind, so horny his cock looked like it was made out of steel instead of flesh, and so desperate that he was humping the air.

McInnes reached across and clutched Bart’s sleeve. His knuckles turned white from his grip. “You have to let Leo go. You have to release him right now.”

“Are you okay, Prof?” said Bart with a laugh. “I told you. Trust me. This is what he wants. We can’t just let him go. He’s the main attraction for tonight.”

---

The guys that carried Leo in returned with a cartful of equipment. On top was a wooden pillory that looked like it had been taken straight out of medieval Europe.

Behind them, a guy dressed in leather came up onto the stage. Despite the circumstances, McInnes couldn’t help but admire the physique that was on display. The guy was broad-shouldered and shredded, with huge arms and a torso that tapered at a narrow waist.

Bart leaned in and explained, under his breath, “That’s Master Lou. He’s one of our bros. He works as a dom on the side to pay for his tuition. You’d be surprised how many rich cunts love being trampled. He’s helping put on the show tonight, as thanks for everything the frat has done for him.”

Master Lou certainly looked the part. He had a leather harness strapped over his firm chest and wide lats. The straps pressed down on the nest of dense, dark fur that clung to his torso.

Besides the harness, Master Lou was also wearing ass-less and crotch-less leather chaps. He had a leather jockstrap with a detachable panel in the front and heavy leather boots.

With a gesture, Master Lou directed the other two fratboys to bring the pillory up to the stage. They held the two halves of the pillory open as Master Lou manhandled Leo into it. Once Leo’s head and hands were through the holes on the pillory, Master Lou clapped it shut and secured it with a large padlock.

When that was done, Master Lou threaded thick rope through the metal hoops on either side of the pillory. He looped the rope over a metal hook attached and used the pulley system it was attached to to raise the pillory higher.

Master Lou lifted the pillory until Leo was in a position where he was leaning forward slightly, his body straight, with his knees still on the ground. He was positioned like a plank of wood. It exposed his stomach, his back, and his dripping cock.

McInnes didn’t know if this was something he wanted to see, but he couldn’t bear to look away either. Just as when White Tiger—when Leo—was being toyed with by Chimera, he watched every moment as if he were spellbound.

The feeling of hands on his shoulders made McInnes jump. He hadn’t even noticed that Bart had gotten out of his chair. “What are you doing?” he said under his breath.

“You seemed tense,” said Bart as he sat down behind McInnes and pulled his chair closer. “You should just relax. Enjoy the show.”

McInnes shivered. He didn’t find the touch unpleasant. More to the point, he was surprised that Bart could speak in such soothing tones. The guy seemed so brutish it was a struggle to accept that Bart had a softer side even when he was experiencing it firsthand.

Maybe Bart was right, though. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do. He couldn’t very well run up on stage and break Leo out of that pillory. And even if he had the ability to do that, he wasn’t sure turning an entire house full of fratboys against him would be a good idea.

McInnes took a breath. He leaned back, appreciating the gentle massage that Bart was giving him. He’d be better off preserving his energy in case anything happened.

White Tiger—Leo—was a super. He was strong. If he wanted to break out of that pillory, he would, and McInnes needed to be ready to help him whenever that happened.

Master Lou retrieved something from the cart of equipment and he made sure to show McInnes and Bart what it was before turning back to Leo. Master Lou had shown them a pair of butterfly nipple clamps with matching weights. Decently heavy ones, too, or at least McInnes thought so.

Leo hissed in pain as the clamps squeezed his nipples. The little movements that he made as he dangled from that pulley overhead were enough to make the weights swing around. All that motion with the weights tugging on his nipples seemed to turn him on even more. He spurted pre-cum, shooting thick, glistening globs that rolled down the underside of his dick.

McInnes couldn’t look away. It was so fucking hot. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but think that there was no way this was what Leo wanted. The White Tiger he knew was a hero. Surely, that meant that Leo wouldn’t want to subject himself to this kind of indignity.

Bart must have done something. Or maybe it was Chimera. Someone must have messed with Leo to get him acting this way, McInnes was sure of it.

Leo wiggled his hips. He thrust his cock in the air, the movement making his nipple weights swing as he groaned.

McInnes sat up. Leo was struggling. Leo was fighting the restraints. That was what it was, he was sure of it. The hero he knew wouldn’t be desperately humping the air just to get off. White Tiger wouldn’t just take this kind of humiliation sitting down.

But as much as McInnes could convince himself to see what he wanted to see, when Leo’s pathetic wiggling failed to produce any results, he had to admit the truth. The desperate, high-pitched moan that spilled from Leo’s lips all but shattered the happy illusion that McInnes had conjured in his head.

McInnes tuned out the pulsing backdrop of the music, his attention focused solely on the blissed-out look on Leo’s face as his heart sank. Leo wasn’t struggling. Leo was enjoying this.

Master Lou held out a hand and one of the fratboys serving as his assistants hurried over with a tassel whip. He gave McInnes a little smirk as he held the tassels of the whip over Leo’s arched back. He allowed only the tips to brush over Leo’s skin, letting them touch the cleft of Leo’s ass.

Leo moaned, his hard cock dripping with anticipation. “P-please, Master Lou,” he croaked. He wiggled his ass enticingly, but at the same time made the weights on his nipples shake, which drew a low groan out of him.

Cold sweat trickled down the side of McInnes’ face. This was a proper show. It had been rehearsed. He didn’t want to believe that this was what White Tiger—what Leo—truly wanted. It couldn’t be. And yet, Leo wasn’t doing anything to try to escape.

Master Lou met McInnes’ gaze. The corner of his mouth turned up in a wicked little smirk as he pulled his hand back. He snapped his arm forward, and it didn’t look like he was holding anything back.

The slap of the tassels against Leo’s skin was audible. Louder still was the nigh-delirious moan that spilled from Leo as a result.

McInnes was in denial. The proof was right in front of him, but he still couldn’t accept that it was real. That it was happening. White Tiger was just putting up a front, pretending to like this as a ploy to buy time while thinking of a way to escape. He was sure of it.

But Master Lou didn’t relent. His eyes were on Leo the whole time, but it was as if he were performing for McInnes. He never got in the way, always making sure that McInnes had a clear sight line not just to the way that Leo’s body was responding, but also to the look on Leo’s face every time that whip fell on his skin.

Leo’s body trembled with each strike of the whip. Forehand and backhand strokes lashed against his skin, his fingers curling, his thighs wobbling, his cock dripping.

From behind him, McInnes heard Bart whistle in appreciation. “I’m honestly impressed,” said Bart, his voice low and sultry as he leaned in to whisper in McInnes’ ear. “That bitch really knows how to sing. It’s amazing how much he loves this.”

Master Lou tossed the whip aside after a few minutes. One of the assistants caught it. The other one slipped a long and narrow cane into Master Lou’s expectant hand.

Before turning it on Leo, Master Lou took a couple of steps toward McInnes and Bart. He sensuously ran his fingers along the length. With a flick of his wrist, he whipped the cane to the side to demonstrate the sharp whistle that it made as it cut through the air.

Casting a knowing glance at McInnes, Master Lou walked back over to Leo, where he traced the tip of the cane along the valleys of Leo’s cobbled stomach. Leo’s abs tensed, his cock jumping at the touch of the cane.

Master Lou whipped the cane through the air, striking true. The cry that spilled from Leo was raw, but there was also a deep undercurrent of need in his voice.

McInnes watched the caning with a growing erection. From half-hard he went to rock solid, his eyes tracing every narrow red welt that the cane left behind on Leo’s skin.

He could only imagine how each of those strikes must sting, and how much they would heart tomorrow. He’d hoped that maybe he’d get a sign that Leo wasn’t enjoying this, that the pain was getting to be too much, but Leo was still just as hard as ever. If anything, he was producing even more pre-cum than before.

McInnes couldn’t understand why this was happening. This couldn’t be the hero that promised to protect him. It just couldn’t. But despite his emotions, he was also a man of science. The evidence in front of his eyes was indisputable. If Leo didn’t love this, then why he was he hard? If Leo didn’t enjoy the pain, then why was he moaning so wantonly? Why was Leo begging so sweetly for more?

Master Lou gave Leo thirty lashes of the cane across his stomach before changing out the cane for a riding crop. He teased the weights on the ends of Leo’s nipple clamps with the leather loop at the end, moving them around to elicit a low moan from Leo.

Without warning, Master Lou whipped his hand back and struck with all the speed and ferocity of a viper. There was a loud crack as the riding crop met its target, followed by a harsh cry from Leo as the leather delivered a crisp smack to his cock.

McInnes cringed away, squeezing his thighs together in sympathy at the pain that Leo must be feeling. Surely, if White Tiger had any intention of putting an end to this farce, now would be the moment.

He bated his breath. He genuinely expected the façade to come apart. He hoped to hear the sound of splintering wood and metal squealing as it deformed, but neither of those things happened.

McInnes’ heart skipped a beat as he saw that Leo’s cock was just as hard as ever. And then, he heard it, barely audible over the music but audible enough that it might as well have been screamed at the top of Leo’s lungs, “More…”

Bart winced. “Oof. Couldn’t be me. Fuck. What a pain slut,” he said. “What kind of man gets off on getting his cock literally beaten? Look at him. He’s fucking dripping. And he’s begging for more. What a fucking glutton for punishment.”

Hearing those words from Bart, something curdled inside McInnes. He couldn’t wait another second more for Leo to reveal the gallant hero he’d come to admire. There was no denying the truth before his eyes. There was no deception. There was no plan. Leo wasn’t biding his time to escape. He was enjoying this.

McInnes’ heart raced faster and faster as he watched Master Lou deliver a legendary beating. Every flick of his wrist was another smack on Leo’s cock. Every strike made Leo’s erection bounce and drip, flinging more and more pre-cum every which way.

The sympathy pains that McInnes felt to start with faded into the background. In their place, excitement started to grow. His mistake was thinking that White Tiger would be a noble and gallant hero. Chimera had been right about him being naïve, if nothing else.

It was better that he’d learned this now, because it didn’t change the fact that White Tiger had saved him. It didn’t diminish the desire that he felt for White Tiger. He still thought that White Tiger was a hero. He was just not going to keep making the same mistake of putting White Tiger—No, Leo—on an inhuman pedestal.

McInnes licked his lips, his cock swelling against his leg. Leo was just as human as the rest of them, with kinks and fetishes, just like the next guy. If this—the humiliation, the degradation, the pain—if all of this was what Leo craved, then he could give it.

He would have to learn, of course, but he’d always been a fast learner. And he would do it, too, all so he could give his hero exactly what he needed.

McInnes felt the heat of Bart’s breath on the side of his neck. Bart was looking over his shoulder and breathing heavily. “Is there anything I can help you with, Prof?” he said, his hand reaching around from behind to cup the nigh-obscene outline that McInnes’ cock made in his pants.

A smirk tugged at the corner of McInnes’ mouth. To hear such a deferential tone from Bart was a surprising turn on. It certainly helped that, at least as far as he could tell, it seemed like Bart knew his way around a stiff cock.

“As it happens, I do have a hard problem that I could use a hand with,” said McInnes. He really should have declined. Messing with a student wasn’t going to end well for him if it got out. But then again, he’d already made out with Leo, so what difference did it make at this point?

McInnes placed his hand on top of Bart’s and pinned it in place. He could feel the warmth of Bart’s palm on his cock through the fabric of his pants. He groaned under his breath as he guided Bart’s fingers, moving the fratboy’s hand up and down along the lump in his pants leg.

He wasn’t used to being this forward. He wasn’t naturally assertive or dominant. He was usually a lot more soft-spoken. But if he was going to give Leo the treatment that Leo needed—the treatment that Leo deserved, then he was going to have to learn sooner or later.

McInnes tightened his grip on Bart’s hand. He stroked his fingers along the boy’s knuckles. At no point did he take his eyes off of Leo—he might as well make it clear that he was here for Leo—as he said, “You wanted to make it up to me, didn’t you? Don’t you suppose this is would be the least you can do?”

Bart licked his lips. “Certainly, Sir. I would love to lend a hand…” he said, his voice low and husky.

With his other hand, McInnes undid the clasp of his pants and pulled his zipper down. He pulled Bart’s hand off his cock as he fished it out, his dick throbbing as it met the air.

McInnes sucked down a sharp breath through his teeth as he guided Bart’s hand to his cock. For someone that looked and acted like such a brute, there was a surprising lightness to Bart’s touch as his fingers loosely wrapped around McInnes’ cock.

Onstage, Leo howled in pain as Master Lou took the riding crop to his balls. He yowled, squeezing his thighs together after the first hit as his stiff cock drooled a single glistening strand of pre-cum to the floor.

A part of McInnes cringed, both at the sound of Leo’s pain and just the thought of taking a similar hit to his balls. What took him by surprise was how much the look of agony on Leo’s face turned him on. His cock jumped in Bart’s hand, which the fratboy took as a sign to go harder.

Master Lou wasn’t having Leo’s futile attempts at defending his family jewels. With a grunt, Master Lou kicked Leo’s knees apart and motioned for his assistants to clap Leo in a spreader bar. They strapped the steel rod to Leo’s ankles, forcing him to keep his legs apart, and his tender balls vulnerable for target practice.

A raw cry tore from Leo’s throat, the weights clamped to his nipples bouncing as he took another direct hit to the sack from Master Lou’s riding crop. His knees bowed inward. His legs shook. If not for the pillory holding him up, he probably would have fallen forward onto the stage.

“Fuck!” Bart hissed. From the sound of it, he was jerking himself off, too. “What a fucking pig, Sir. Can you believe this bitch, Prof? Look at his face.”

McInnes hadn’t looked away. He watched everything else from the corner of his eye, but his attention was focused on Leo’s face. The tears welling in Leo’s eyes were driving him up the wall, not in anger, but with arousal. He didn’t know what it was by that rictus of agony that turned him on so much.

“Holy shit, Sir, did you hear that? He’s asking for more,” Bart whispered in McInnes’ ear. “What a sick fucking freak. You can tell he loves this!”

Yes. McInnes could see it now. This was how he could pay White Tiger back for saving his life. Sure, he would have preferred to lavish Leo with love and romance, but he never could have guessed that his hero would turn out to be such a secret degenerate.

No matter. Everyone was different. People had their needs, even heroes, and McInnes was nothing if not adaptable. If being treated like a subhuman piece of trash was Leo’s love language, then McInnes would gladly learn it.

McInnes watched fondly as Leo’s beating and sexual subjugation continued unabated onstage. He felt a bit silly now for resisting all of this to start. He hadn’t been able to see past his own preconceptions—his own biases.

All he had to do was reframe the situation. Leo wasn’t a hero struggling against a villain, Leo was filthy gutter trash getting the treatment that he craved and deserved. And Leo was doing such a good job of taking Master Lou’s beating. He was being such a good little pain pig.

McInnes’ breath hitched in his throat as Bart’s hand flew up and down along his cock. Looking around, he could see that the other fratboys were enjoying the show much like he and Bart were. It was so fucking hot. He was so proud of Leo for being able to put on such a fantastic show of being a worthless little degenerate.

This was what Leo needed. It was crystal clear to McInnes, now. All that he wanted was to make Leo happy and if this was what it took, then he was going to do it. Anything for his hero. Absolutely anything.

McInnes tossed his head back and moaned, shooting the first—but probably not last—load of the night. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy discovering this side of himself. And as for Leo, well, he couldn’t imagine that the bitch onstage with a lit candle up his ass would have too many complaints about being crushed under his boot heel.