Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Ken walked out of the shower, with only a towel around his middle, to find the coach, Sergey Tsarevich, standing there, arms folded across heavily muscled chest. He was wearing only skin-hugging tights and his bulge was one that confirmed legends, the tubing of the cock and the curve of the balls clearly discernible. The man was half hard.

So far, so good, Ken thought. The Russian had been right behind him coming into the locker room and had stood there, scrutinizing Ken's body as he undressed to go to the shower. And here he was, still in the locker room, after Ken had showered.

"I wish to speak to you," Tsarevich said. "Are you really Ken Wilton, the skater who started on the circuit five years ago and left for over a year after foot surgery?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" Ken said. He knew why the man asked.

"You don't look old enough to be on the senior circuit. If I didn't remember you from before I wouldn't believe it. What nationality are you?"

"You remember me from before? I'm interracial. My mother is Japanese; my father Spanish-American." Ken was encouraged. The man had known of him from before.

"Yes, I had my eye on you from your first skating at the lower ranks of the seniors. You had promise, but you needed work. I wanted you then. I may want you now."

Ken hoped that the want was for more than his skating. His father had told him in no uncertain terms what he'd have to do to get Tsarevich as his coach. He'd have to let Tsarevich seduce him. Tsarevich would have to want to seduce him. And then, Ken would have to keep the Russian interested to maintain his position in the man's stable and to get the training attention Ken would need to become a gold medalist.

"You have an androgynous look about you that we can exploit if I take you on. You must float in air, though, and you must have specialties that other men aren't doing—some that come over from the women skaters and some, perhaps that go back in time."

He was already planning how to package Ken. That was a good sign. It was time to grasp the man's sexual interest as well. As if it was an accident, Ken's towel dropped. He remained in position long enough for the man to get a good look at his fully naked body from the front—Ken had given the Russian more tease looks at him while he was stripping for the shower. Then, in fumbling for the towel, he turned to give Tsarevich a butt shot. He even managed as he pretended to struggle to pick up the towel to pull a butt cheek aside. The intake of breath from across the room assured Ken that Tsarevich had taken in the hard work Ken had been coached by his father to put into opening his hole with a thick dildo.

"Come into my office," Tsarevich said when the towel was back into place. "If you are to work with me, you will have to put yourself completely in my hands. I will assess your attributes and skills from the ground up, starting now. And I will only make my decision after a detailed assessment and after I'm completely satisfied that you are fully mine to form and use. Do you understand?"

"Yes . . . master."

Tsarevich, who had been preceding Ken into the room off of the men's locker room stopped, looked around, gave Ken a piercing look, and smiled. Score a point for Ken. The man had appreciated being called "master" rather than "coach."

"Give me that towel and go stand in the middle of the room. I am going to closely examine your body. There are strengths and weaknesses in a man's body that serve or hinder a skating style. If you come with me, I will give you a new style—one that goes with your ethereal beauty. You were technically not bad out on the practice ice, but your style is all wrong. It's too masculine and heavy. We will make you into a thing of beauty on the ice. A male Michele Kwan. Da?"

"Whatever you want." Ken said, standing, naked, in the center of the room, legs and arms spread a bit as Tsarevich glided over his skin and tested and prodded his curves and creases and his musculature. The man was lost in mutterings of what he liked and what he intended to correct and improve.

Ken got the distinct impression that Sergey liked more than he disapproved of. He was breathing heavily and his tights were seriously tented. Toward the end of the examination, Tsarevich peeled the tights off and threw them to the side. He ended his examination standing close to and in front of Ken. He was grasping Ken's cock with his hand. Ken was erect.

"If I take you on, your body will have to be sculpted in a perfect balance of visual perfection and function. As I said, you will float over the ice. Your jumps will be higher than any other man's in relation to height and you will rise into them effortlessly. Thus, your thighs will have to be perfectly formed to give you power without making them look fat. And flexibility. You will have to have flexibility approaching a woman skater's. I want you to do split jumps—not just full splits—to the four sides of the arena in one pass—which will be your signature move—but stag splits too—leaping toward the front like a stag with legs high off the ice and bent back and your arms raised in the air. No one does those two split moves anymore. You will make them gasp by doing them.

"And spins. Your sit spin will be lower to the ice than any other man's and you will do an ankle hold, leg straight up from your side, as Sasha Cohen did it, and at least a half Beallmann, catching your blade with your leg raised behind, if you can, or at least your calf. Do you understand? This conditioning will be very hard, but you will do it if I take you. And you will be a winner. Do you understand and accept?"

"Yes, master."

"And you understand that I will take you. I will fuck you. I will fuck you daily. Fucking in demanding positions will be part of your flexibility training."

"Yes, master."

"And I am going to fuck you now, before I decide whether to take you on."

"Yes, master."

"Let me check your flexibility" Perching Ken on the side of a massage table, Tsarevich grasped the young skater's ankles and manipulated his legs—first high above his head, pulling the young man's butt to the edge of the table, then folded up into his stomach. Lastly, he spread and raised the legs wide, moved in between them, thrust his cock inside Ken's hole, as the young man jerked and gasped, and started to pump him. His mouth went to Ken's and they kissed deeply, as Ken threw his arms around the Russian's neck. Tsarevich creamed Ken's inside and Ken only then realized he'd been barebacked. His father had warned him of this, though, telling him that it was what the Russian would demand.

They held there for a few minutes, both panting. Ken felt the Russian going hard inside him again, though. Without further preliminary, the significantly larger and much more powerful Russian grasped Ken at the waist, pulled off the table, and rotated his body so that Ken was draped on Tsarevich's front, his head down to the floor—but at the level of the Russian's groin.

"Show me you can do the splits. Put your legs in the splits position." Ken complied. "Now suck my cock and do a good job of it." Ken complied. And he gasped and moaned and groaned as Tsarevich attacked his cock, balls, and hole with his mouth.

Tsarevich fucked Ken for several minutes from the back, his cock buried up in Ken's hole and his hands palming Ken's pecs, holding the young man's body close into his. Ken had an arm stretched back and around the Russian's neck, and they had their faces turned to each other in a kiss.

And then Tsarevich fucked Ken more athletically, with Ken suspended off to the side of a massage table, his arms behind him, supporting him on top of the table, and the Russian standing and facing him, holding Ken close into his body, with Ken's legs hooked on the Russian's hips, while the Russian fucked him in slow, deep strokes and the two watched the effect of what was happening to them in the other's eyes.

Then it was back to the Russian standing, with Ken draped in front of him, Ken's legs bent back to twist around the Russian's thighs, and Tsarevich immobilizing Ken's arms in a full Nelson hold.

Tsarevich creamed Ken's channel there, having fucked Ken bareback with the declaration that as long as he was being coached by the Russian, no other man would be inside Ken. Ken had already spent his load twice by that time.

The Russian laid Ken on the massage table again, saying, "You did well. Yes, I think I will take you on."

Ken didn't have much time to celebrate, though, because Tsarevich went on to say, "Before we fuck again, you must be hairless. There will be no hair on you other than on your head. We may keep the shoulder-length hair for the androgynous look. Or we may not. But the rest of the hair. It goes. I shave you now."

"Yes, master," Ken answered in a tired voice of surrender. "Anything you want to do to me."

It all got saved: pits, the dusting under the pecs and down to the belly, the pubes, the forearms and calves. Even the rim of his asshole. Tsarevich held Ken's cock as he shaved in the privates, and Ken ejaculated for the third time.

They were in their second fuck session when Jim Wilton and Chad Culbertson heard them from the locker room. Ken was standing sideways next to the massage table, his right leg raised and resting on the table, his body twisted around to the left, as the Russian, standing behind him and fucking him from behind had both hands clutching Ken's throat. The Russian was pounding him hard and deep.

"Yes, yes, yes. Like that. But deeper, harder. Fuck me harder! I'm gonna cum! Shit, you're gonna fuckin' split me in two!" Ken was crying out.