[Note to readers: there are preceeding episodes in the B. B. stories and this one would make more sense if, at the least, you read "B. B.'s Saga-Part 3" in the MMSA Stories archives.]

" B. B., I've been thinking its definitely time for you to get into shape! This is one time we are both going to keep our New Year's resolution. You keep telling me how much you would like to drop some of those pounds and get some conditioning started so I signed you up for some serious work with a personal fitness expert."

"Somehow I think this is one of those times where you get what you wished for and then wish you hadn't," B. B. answered. "So, tell me, Tom, where and when?"

"Today after work, B. B. And you won't believe who I enlisted as your very own personal trainer!"

"Tell me, please," B. B. asked, rolling his eyes.

"You remember, of course, our new found friends, Sean and Roger, right?"

"How could I forget them? They recommended this gym, right? Already I see what's coming here, I think," B. B. replied.

"Ah, yes, it is Sean Oaklaw, B. B., and he is looking forward to giving you a bit of personal training," Tom said. "I'm going to have a cab pick me up around four to take me out to the airport so I would be happy to drop you off for your first visit if you like. Sean says he specializes in motivation so I think this will be just what you need to get on a program and stick to it."

"I'll bet he does specialize in 'motivation', as you put it!" B. B. answered. "But I'm willing to give it a try, if you like. Where is this place?"

"It's a private gym in the basement of the high rise where Sean works over on Michigan Avenue. His office is nice, B. B., posh actually. His firm holds four seats at the Merc. So you just go up to the office and he will take you down to the gym. They even have a sauna and a small pool plus a full array of work out equipment."

"Sounds good, Tom. You sure he is ok, though?"

"Positive. I spent an hour over in his office myself and looked the place over. He is high profile with plenty at stake so you'll be just fine."

"If you say so."

"Just don't be late. I have got to make this flight and I'm cutting it close already. It will be a Yellow cab outside the south entrance to your building right at four. Be there!"

"I will, Tom," B. B. replied. And he wondered what he was getting himself into with this.

Later that afternoon B. B. hung on as the cab jerked out into the Loop rush hour traffic, Tom sitting next to him in the back seat. Several minutes later the cabbie yanked the cab into an alley and rocked to a stop, nearly throwing both of them against the front seat.

"OK, B. B., this is it. Just check in with the valet and tell him you have an appointment with Mr. Oaklaw at Global Exchange, then take the elevator to the seventeenth floor. His office is marked on signage just outside the elevator. Check in with his secretary and get ready for your first serious work out," Tom said as B. B. opened the door and stepped out into the alley. "I should be back from Atlanta tomorrow night if all goes well but I'll call you later tonight."

"Got it," B. B. said, grabbing his brief case from the seat. "Have a good flight."

B. B. watched the cab back into the traffic and listened to the horns scream. Then he checked his tie in the window, squared his shoulders and entered the building. The doorman guarding the elevators had him on the sheet so he took a car and punched it for the thirtieth floor. Directly across from the open doors on thirty was a sign pointing him down the hall to Global Exchange, Ltd. There a receptionist took his name and buzzed the intercom to Sean Oaklaw's office.

"Hey, good to see you, B. B.!" Sean said, extending his hand and smiling broadly. "Got together with Tom yesterday for lunch and he said he would try to get you over here. Glad you could make it!"

B. B. shook Sean's hand and followed him down a short hallway to his office. Once B. B. was inside, Sean carefully closed the door. Then he buzzed the receptionist on the intercom and asked that he not be disturbed.

"So, B. B., Tom is off to Atlanta?"

"Yeah. Should be back tomorrow. How you doin'?"

"Fine, B. B., just fine. Always glad to get someone started on the road to fitness! Nothing can more energize you than some good exercise."

"Well, if I had a buck for every program I started and quit I could invest with your firm, I think," B. B. replied. He looked around what was a very, very nice office in a high rent district. The view was extraordinary and faced Grant Park and the lake shore. B. B. walked over to the window behind Sean's desk and looked south to see far below the roof of the Art Institute and, beyond that, the new museum campus across Lake Shore Drive.

"This is one program which will work for you, B. B. Guaranteed. You just need the right opportunity and motivation," Sean said. "We have just about everything you could need right here in the building in our private gym."

"And, let me guess here, you will supply the 'motivation'?" B. B. asked, looking at Sean.

"Right!" Sean replied. "Tom and I talked about that in some detail." Sean went over to an antique breakfront and opened the upper doors with a small key. He looked over the implements hanging on brass hooks inside and took down the leather strap purchased at the Grotto Emporium a couple weeks ago when he and Roger had been shopping. It was a well oiled leather tawse with two long fingers. Sean lightly smacked it across his palm and looked at B. B.

"Looks just like the one Roger tried on you when we first met at the Grotto," B. B. said. And he knew it was only a matter of time before he felt it on his own bared backside.

"Good memory, B. B.!" Sean put the tawse back into the cabinet, then closed the doors and locked them. "The staff will be leaving here in a couple of minutes and I have reserved the work-out room for us. Alone."

B. B. locked eyes with Sean and wondered just what he was in for with this work out. But since Tom had vetted Sean and Roger and made the arrangements he figured he would give it a try.

"We have a pool, down there, too, Sean, but that is available to execs from other companies in the building so I can't reserve it. We will do a little swimming, though. Good for all the muscle groups."

"I don't have work out clothes with me, I'm afraid," B. B. replied. "And I sure don't carry a swim suit in my brief case."

"Ah, but Tom took care of all that, my boy!" Sean opened the top drawer of the breakfront and pulled out a jock, Speedo brief, sweat suit, and one old pair of Sean's well worn Nikes. Then he opened the closet door next to the breakfront, took an empty hanger, and handed it to Sean. "Get yourself dressed! I'm going out to lock up and make sure the rest of the crew has left for the day."

Sean left his office and B. B. just stood there, hanger in hand, looking at his clothes lying on the desk. Two minutes later Sean returned and B. B. was still just standing there.

"First thing you need to learn is to listen. I don't have time to sit here and debate the meaning of life with you, B. B.!" Sean took his own suit coat off, hung it in the closet, then unbuckled his belt, pulled it free, and doubled it. "You'll just have to learn the hard way, I guess. Now, get dressed!"

B. B. hesitated but then hung took his suit off and hung it in the closet, along with his shirt and tie. Sean watched him, belt in hand. B. B. looked at the wide open curtains but realized there was no way anyone anywhere could see in so he pulled his tee off and put the sweatshirt on. Then he took his shorts down, half an erection bobbing free.

"Over the desk, boy," Sean said quietly.

B. B., naked from the waist, bent across the big mahagony desk and offered his bared buttocks up for Sean's belt. He felt Sean's hand gently rub a couple of circles across his cold cheeks. Then Sean stepped back a bit and brought the belt down hard. He waited till the bright pink stripe appeared across both cheeks, then took aim a bit lower and cracked it down hard a second time. B. B. fought the urge to raise up and took another six licks with the doubled belt, well laid on.

"Are you ready now for a good work-out? Or do you need a little more incentive?"

"Ready, sir!" B. B. returned. And he wondered if the belt marks would show outside the Speedo if they did go swimming.

"Good. You might find you actually enjoy working out, B. B. But you should know with every certainly that if you cut corners or get lazy or get smart with me I will not hesitate to give you another dose. Just to be sure you know what's possible, you go over to the cabinet and you bring me that leather strap I just had out before."

B. B. stood up, his ass on fire already, his _c_o_c_k_ hard, and he looked into the steely blue eyes of his 'personal trainer'. Then he went to the cabinet, took the tawse down, and handed it to Sean. They stood there for a moment, Sean with a sly smile on his face.

"Let's do some warm up stretches first, B. B.," Sean said as he took the strap and laid it on the desk. "First we need to stretch the hamstrings and back. Right in the middle of the room. Bend and touch your toes and hold it for at least a minute."

While B. B. bent to touch his toes, Sean changed from his business suit into his work out clothes. Then he took the strap from the desk.

"Much better, B. B.," he said. "And you do have pretty good flexibility. Now spread your feet a bit and grab hold of your ankles."

B. B. did as told and looked back between his widespread legs to see Sean standing behind him and off a bit to the side, the wicked looking strap hanging down. His butt was still on fire from the belt and his _c_o_c_k_ still hard.

"Six lashes, boy. And you will count each out for me and keep hold of your ankles."

"Yes, sir!"

B. B. felt Sean's left hand gently on the small of his back, the quickly closed his eyes when he saw Sean take the tawse back.

"One, sir!" B. B. said through clenched teeth after he had felt the leather crack across his backside. He was not sure he could stay down through five more. He felt Sean's cool hand now very lightly massaging his scalded ass.

"Two, sir!" That one really hurt but did not seem so bad as the first.

Sean kept a quiet monologue going and took plenty of time between strokes, laying each below the last.

"SIX, sir!" B. B. nearly shouted. But he had passed his test by fire and remained bent and holding his ankles through the whole whipping. "Ooooooooooooh! That hurts!"

"Something to remember, then, isn't it! And you might find it a bit embarrassing when we get into the pool. That is where we are headed next, boy. You may rise now and get into that jock strap and your Speedo."

B. B. stood up and took the tawse from Sean, then returned it to the cabinet. He watched as Sean stripped naked, his _c_o_c_k_ so hard it dripped, and then both put on the swim suits. B. B. looked into the mirror on the back of the closet door and saw the angry red stripes painted on his ass above and below the skimpy swim suit. Definitely have to keep a towel wrapped around his middle getting into and out of the pool!

"You ready?" Sean asked.

"Ready," B. B.replied. Both were now in sweat suits.

"Grab your towel, stuff it into the nylon bag there, and put my belt in the bag as well. Time for a good workout. And put this in the bag, too. I promised Tom I'd take some pics." Sean handed B. B. a digital camera.

Together they took a private elevator down to the basement of the building. B. B. followed Sean down a rather dingy corridor and through an unmarked door which led into a large room, well lit, with two walls covered in mirror glass. Free weights and lifting bench, several tread mills, a Nordic track, padded mats covered most of the floor, wall track weights, speed bag, heavy bag. Just about everything you could find in a full service fitness center.

"There is a sauna and a pool, too, B. B.," Sean said, "but we share those with a couple of other companies in the building. This room is exclusively for Global and today, at least, we have it to ourselves."

"Very nice!" B. B. looked around the room, setting the bag down and looking at his full image in the mirror directly across from the door. He saw Sean set the lock on the door so no one could interrupt them. "And nice and warm in here, too."

"Helps to get the sweat running," Sean answered. "Before we get you started on the treadmill, you need to stretch. Get those sweat pants off and the Speedo and the jock. Naked from the waist down. Then you put your nose against the wall, brace with your hands, and move your feet apart and back, heels to the floor. That will stretch the hamstrings and calves some more."

B. B. stripped to the buff from the waist and did as told. Once again his erection rose all the way up. In the mirror he saw B. B. take the digital camera out of the bag.

"Got to get some nice pics of those nice purple stripes on your ass before they start to fade!" Sean knelt on the mat behind and below B. B. and began to snap the shutter. "Stretch!" he ordered. "Very nice view of your balls from down here. Bet you'd like to unload that _c_o_c_k_ about now, right?"

B. B. closed his eyes and finished the stretch. Sean snapped a couple more from the side to get B. B.'s hard on in the frame.

"Got to say you took that lickin' upstairs like a man, B. B." Sean put the camera back in the bag, took his black leather belt out, and walked over to Sean. He held the belt up within inches of Sean's face. "You see this belt, boy? This is part of your workout. When I tell you to assume the position, regardless of what you are doing, you will bend over and grab hold of your ankles. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir," B. B. answered.

"Good. Tom said he would be joining us for some workouts once he gets back from Atlanta. And Roger may join us once in while, too. Tom says he would like to watch sometime when I lay the strap to your ass."

"Yes, sir," B. B. replied. "And about my hard on?"

"Later, B. B. Right now you need to get on the treadmill while I get my own workout started. You do fifteen minutes and then we will switch. And you keep your pants off. We'll see if a fifteen minute jog can take the starch out of that hard on."

Sean stripped himself down to tee shirt and Speedo suit. Then he picked up the belt.

"Assume the position!"

B. B. bent over, grabbing his ankles, his still striped backside waiting.

"Just wanted to be sure we were on the same page, B. B." Sean said as he put the belt back into the bag without laying a single lick on B. B.'s naked ass. "Get going on the treadmill. I want to see some sweat."

B. B. began with a fast walk and the treadmill resistance had him breathing faster in a minute. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the rather ludicrous sight of himself, naked from the waist, his _c_o_c_k_ still half hard, his legs now into a slow jog. Behind him he saw Sean stretching.

"How's Roger?" Sean asked. The first beads of sweat appeared on his brow and his breathing was now a bit harder.

"Doing just terrific, B. B." Sean replied. "But like you, he seems to need some serious motivation to keep in shape. He does come in at least three times a week after work but he could use a little more, in my view. You want me to invite him for our next workout?"

"Sure. Whatever you think. I like Roger. And Tom does, too." B. B. settled into, for him, a fairly fast pace and wondered how long he was supposed to keep at this. He was not going to last much longer without a rest.

"Might be fun to have all four of us down here together sometime," Sean said.

B. B. looked into the mirror and saw Sean lying on his back on a weight bench which had resistance bands instead of free weights. He felt his heart thumping and stopped jogging.

"Pooped already, B. B.?" Sean asked. "Geez you are in pitiful condition. Tom said you would need some work and you do."

"Just need a rest, is all," B. B. answered. He watched as Sean began repetitions to strengthen the quads.

"Well, I don't want you keeling over from cardiac arrest, boy. At the same time, you need to go a little farther than you think you can, too. Now drop and give me twenty-five push-ups. Let's see how far you have to go: two good licks with the strap for each one you fall short. And I don't want any of those wussie push-ups, B. B. Back straight, full up position, down till the chest touches, then up again. Get to it! And count 'em out for me."

B. B. groaned but dropped to the mat, his hard on now gone. He knew he would never make twenty-five in his condition but he would try. To his chagrin his arms failed him completely after just eleven. He lay on the mat, sweating profusely, his heart pounding, his arms aching.

"Give you credit for trying, B. B., but you need to do better. And you will do better. You will be doing twenty-five in no time, believe me."

"Yes, sir," B. B. answered from his prone position. He watched the muscles in Sean's legs bulge as he continued to work against the resistance of the weight machine.

"Now get the strap from the bag, B. B., and get you sorry ass across that old pommel horse over in the corner. That thing is here for just one reason boy, and it's not for gymnastics practice."

B. B. went to Sean's bag and took out the black leather belt, then bent across the pommel horse in the corner of the room, his _c_o_c_k_ hard once again. He watched in the wall mirrors as Sean came over, took the belt, doubled it, and stood back to get the right distance.

"You came up fourteen short, boy. That's twenty-eight licks, if you want to count them. You might want to be doing some push-ups at home before your next work out here."

For the third time that afternoon Sean laid the strap to B. B.'s bared backside. The message could not have been made more clearly and B. B. got it. This time, he knew, he was going to succeed. He would lose the weight and get into shape. No doubt. And he looked forward to Tom and Roger joining the workouts in the future. Imagining the possibilities were enough to keep him hard through a very hard licking. And Sean had told him he could jack himself off in the shower once they finished the workout.

" Pain before pleasure to get results," Sean said as he looked at B. B.'s well whipped butt. Sounded like Vince Lombardi's prescription for success in life. "Tom will be pleased. And so will you in the long run, B. B.!