Rival Pro Wrestling 5: El Presidente vs. Flyboy Fiero

Rival Pro Wrestling Arena. 1982. Backstage.

Narrator: Slim Jim Bartlett

'Slim' Jim Bartlett

“Wow, that was tough to watch, Lance.”


Lance is Rival Pro Wrestling’s main cameraman and I’m the main announcer. We just watched kissing cousins Kerry and Kevin O’Shea enjoy some after-match ‘fun’ at the expense of ‘The Latin Lover’ Rico Bandana and ‘Dangerous’ Daryl Rose. Kerry beat Rico in a shady match. At least the cocky cousins accepted a challenge for a tag team re-match, so hopefully they’ll get a chance to even the score. (To see the whole story, check out RPW 4)

Lance, the cameraman

The cameraman never says a word while the camera is running, but he squats to one knee, putting the portable camera level with my crotch. My blue blazer does nothing to hide the fact that they are bulging with excitement. I know he’s trying to say that I’m a hypocrite for criticizing something that so obviously turns me on. I don’t think being turned on by the O’Sheas dominance makes me a hypocrite. It makes me a man.

Down the hallway, I see Flyboy Fiero. The 18-year old masked superstar is pacing. He’s still in his sexy pro wrestling gear. His smooth muscular 5’9”/170-lbs body is still pumped from his earlier match. As a third-generation Lucha Libre wrestler, he never appears in public without his mask, which is red with gold and orange leather patches that look like fire around the eyes. It has deep significance to him, even though it obviously covers a handsome face.

I have to just admire the young star for a moment. Fiero’s tight red trunks are adorned with fiery wings on the front and yellow fringe that runs from the waistband at his hips diagonally down in front to his prominent pouch and in back to the middle of his cute bubble butt. His red knee pads have matching wings and fringe that hangs down over his red leather pro wrestling boots. As a high-flyer, the fringe dances like flames when he jumps around the ring. The last bit of adornment are red straps that cut over his sculpted biceps.

It's Flyboy Fiero!

Yes, Flyboy Fiero is a beautiful young man, but don’t mistake his flawless prettyboy body, youthful exuberance and commitment to fair play as signs of any kind of weakness. He is a fighter, able to go toe-to-toe with anyone, which he proved earlier today against the rough-and-tumble brute Butch Jansen. The young wrestler still looks hot under the collar. No wonder. He only lost because the boss of RPW, El Presidente, interfered and cost him the match.

Being Rival Pro Wrestling’s main announcer, I can’t resist the urge to see what’s up. I wave the cameraman my way and get my mic ready.

“Flyboy! Flyboy! You look upset. Care to explain to all the RPW viewers what’s going on?”

“Hey, Slim Jim. You really need to ask? This place is a joke. No one gets a fair shake. The best are held back while cheaters and liars thrive. I had that beast Butch Jansen down. I had him pinned. Then that no-good lying bastard El Presidente distracts the ref and I lose?”

“I hear you. We all saw El Presidente’s dirty trick. We all watched in horror as you were knocked out by Jansen’s signature lariat move. His boot on your mask while the referee counted 1-2-3. Then how he hogtied and dragged you to the back like some calfling from his ranch. It was a crime. Are you okay now?”

“No, I’m not okay! If it wasn’t for my damn contract, I’d be outta here!”

Behind us, we hear a reply along with a deep raspy laugh, “But you do have a contract, little boy. An unbreakable contract.”

Uh oh, the boss is here.

It’s El Presidente. The 35-year old runs RPW with an iron fist. He’s shirtless in black dress pants and shiny patent leather shoes, showing off his powerful hairy torso. At 5’10”/200-lbs of pure muscle, the sexy hunk is no regular businessman. He’s also an accomplished wrestler and can back up his words with physicality. No wonder he’s so confident as he faces us.

The boss saunters up between us, pushing me aside with disdain as he faces the angry young upstart. El Presidente puffs out his meaty pecs, letting the young man know he’s the man around here, both literally and figuratively. The two studs stand chest to chest, staring each other down, neither giving an inch. Their faces are so close they can feel each other’s breath.

El Presidente finally steps back, “You wanna wrestle? You’re gonna do it for me under my rules. And rule one?” He suddenly kicks up, driving his shoe into the young stud’s smooth supple stomach. THUD! OOF! “No whining!”

The hairy muscleman delivers a series of hard forearm smashes to the smaller stud’s back. WHOMP! WHOMP! WHOMP! Flyboy is dropped to a knee as he’s beaten down. The Mexican superstar lunges forward, grabbing El Presidente around the waist and driving him backwards into the wall. SPLAT! I involuntarily let out a ‘yes!’, excited that the rising phenom will get some much-deserved revenge.

The smooth young beauty unleashes a series of fast fists to the flat furry stomach. THUD! THUD! THUD! El Presidente takes the shots then pushes the young buck away. Flyboy moves back in, leaping and spinning to use his body as a wrecking ball. THUMP! The men crash backwards into the wall with the boss taking most of the punishment. SPLAT!

Flyboy Fiero bounces off, landing in a squat. He whips his leg around, sweeping the boss’s feet out from under him. The hairy hunk crashes to the floor. The masked youngster leaps up, flipping in the air and splashing down on the older muscleman. SPLAT! Fiero spins, putting his shins on the boss’s shoulders. He schoolboy pins El Presidente down, drawing his right fist back as a warning against any retaliation.

From the floor, El Presidente calmly says, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You sure you wanna fight, kid? You know what happens to whiny jobber boys who lose to me, right?”

Flyboy Fiero grabs his bulge with his left hand and shakes it over the boss’s chin, “Same thing that happens to dirty old bastards who lose to me! You might own my contract, but I’m going to own your ass right now!”

The smirking older muscleman replies, “Okay, just as long as we’re clear.”

The hairy hunk bucks up, throwing the smaller stud off him. Both men roll into a crouch and rise slowly in unison. They face off in the hallway, both men ready to go. The stakes are clear and neither plans to lose. Their chests and stomachs visibly rise and fall as they’re already breathing hard from the fast-paced showdown.

The boss smirks, “All right, boy. You really want to put your ass on the line? Come get me.”

El Presidente vs. Flyboy Fiero

Flyboy Fiero charges in. El Presidente braces and goes for a lockup, but the quick young superstar ducks and dodges, moving behind the surprised muscleman. The masked stud leaps onto one of the black steel equipment trunks. As the hairy hunk turns, the smooth stud leaps backwards, twisting in air. Flyboy splashes into the boss, flattening him to the floor! SPLAT! Luckily for the older man, there are warmup mats down to cushion the fall.

The masked superstar rolls off. He charges at the wall, launching his feet up. He literally runs up the black brick then launches off, flipping around and splashing down from eight feet in the air onto the boss. SPLAT! El Presidente’s eyes almost pop out of his head as he loses all the air in his body. Flyboy Fiero sees his opening, quickly hooking a leg.

ONE!

TWO!

El Presidente kicks out in time. He rolls away onto hands and knees. His head hangs down as he tries to catch his breath. Flyboy Fiero isn’t slowing down, though. He’s already flying in with a low dropkick into the hairy hunk’s side. WHOMP! The boss isn’t looking like a boss as he flies sideways, slamming shoulder-first into the hard brick wall. WHACK!

Flyboy Fiero spins on his back in a smooth breakdancing move then he springs up to his feet. The young stud moves in, leaping up and coming down with both feet on the rising boss’s back. The force drives the hairy hunk down again. CRUNCH! The masked stud squats then does a backflip off El Presidente’s back, sticking the landing. PLOP!

I’m doing my job, calling the match, “El Presidente is really struggling to rise. He’s getting humiliated by the talented young wrestler. It appears that Flyboy Fiero is just too fast and too aggressive for the older brawler. Perhaps crime will not pay today.”

El Presidente climbs to his feet. Flyboy Fiero is squatting behind the slow-moving hairy hunk. He’s carefully stalking his prey, setting him up for something. The boss turns to look for the masked superstar, but he’s met with two boots to his meaty pecs. WHOMP! The impact of the dropkick sends him flying backwards into a pile of folding chairs. CRASH!

The boss lies unmoving, clearly stunned by the impact. Flyboy wastes no time. He leaps onto another equipment trunk and flips off, aiming to splash onto the helpless hunk. As soon as the young high-flyer pushes off, El Presidente rolls out of the way. There’s nothing Flyboy can do as he splashes down onto the piles of chairs. CRASH! He bounces and rolls over, moaning in pain from the impact.

El Presidente is up. He moves slowly, but he he’s determined. He grabs the young wrestler by his mask and drags him up. He says, “That’s enough gymnastics, kid. Let’s fight.”

The hairy hunk whips Flyboy Fiero into the brick wall. KA-THUD! He runs in behind, splashing his 200-lbs on top of the hot young stud. SPLAT! El Presidente puts one hand on the back of Flyboy’s mask, pressing his face against the brick. He uses his other hand to unleash a brutal series of kidney punches to the young wrestler’s back. POW! POW! POW! The vicious blows have the daring high-flyer crying out in pain.

The boss uses the back of the mask to pull the young superstar into a standing dragon sleeper. He really bends the smooth sculpted body as he smothers Flyboy’s face with his hairy right armpit. El Presidente pauses to explore the beautiful chest, running his thick, rugged hands over the flawless flesh then down onto the luscious abs.

With a sudden and devastating move, El Presidente drops down to one knee, dragging Flyboy Fiero down with him. He slams the struggling masked man on top of his knee, maintaining the dragon hold. CRACK! This gives him an even better angle to control and explore the battling masked beauty. I love how the teen phenom keeps fighting, but he’s locked in too tight to escape.

The boss’s hand slides to the trunks, toying with the long fringe. It makes its way to the fiery wings then cups the young wrestler’s sizable bulge. El Presidente squeezes and is rewarded with a gasping cry under his armpit. The hairy hunk laughs and slides his hand back up the abs and rests it on the heaving pecs.

The boss says, “Yeah, this body. Gorgeous. This is why I hired you, boy. Why I locked you into that contract. This body is what I bought and it’s what I own. Remember that. I don’t care what you think or feel. This body belongs to me and you got no say in how it gets used.”

El Presidente arrogantly tosses Flyboy Fiero aside. He drags him up by the mask then forces him against the wall. WHAM! A shoe to the abs forces the masked superstar to bend forward. The boss locks on a front facelock, grabs a handful of red trunks and executes a picture-perfect snap suplex onto the mats. BOOM! The hairy hunk casually rolls onto his knees and flexes his biceps.

The boss grabs the mask and rises, pulling his young opponent with him. He scoops the teen phenom up across his hairy chest then casually bodyslams him down. BOOM! He plants his shoe on the smooth chest like a conquering hero, even though he’s anything but a hero. El Presidente arrogantly raises his arm and counts the pin, raising his fingers.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

Flyboy Fiero lifts his shoulder, breaking the count. Ha! I knew the feisty fighter wouldn’t go down that easily. El Presidente bends down and drags the suffering masked superstar up again. He scoops the young stud up, but Flyboy jumps with the lift. The teen phenom swings his legs up and over the boss’s shoulder, landing safely behind him. PLOP!

The masked superstar pushes on the surprised hunk’s back, driving him forward into the wall. KA-THUD! Flyboy Fiero reaches over the thick shoulders, grabs under the boss’s chin then jumps, pulling El Presidente backwards with a backcracker. CRACK! The young wrestler’s knee digs into the hairy hunk’s back before he bounces off to the side. I smile as the dirty dealing hunk lies on his back, moaning in pain.

Flyboy goes for a pin. ONE!

TWO!

Nope, El Presidente kicks out at two. Shoot. Flyboy Fiero is like a cat. He’s up on a nearby ladder the crew left around. The boss groans as he rises, swearing and cursing as he talks about how Flyboy is “gonna pay”. No sooner is the hairy hunk on his feet than the teen phenom is flying into him with another crossbody. WHOMP! SPLAT! They crash down hard with the boss taking the impact.

Flyboy Fiero unleashes some big fists into the boss’s abs. THUD! THUD! THUD! He plants his hands on the mat. He kicks up, doing a beautiful handstand beside the hairy muscleman. After he holds the handstand for a few seconds, the masked superstar swings down, driving his right knee down into the boss’s flat stomach. THUD! OOF! El Presidente coughs and rolls onto his side, holding his midsection.

The young superstar rises and grabs the hairy hunk’s legs. He spins so he’s standing with his back to his opponent then he bridges back, using his body to trap El Presidente in a perfect cradle pinning position. Flyboy’s smooth torso is stretched and his hips are raised as he arches over the trapped muscleman. He counts.

“ONE!”

El Presidente squirms and struggles, but his weight is added onto the teen phenom’s.

“TWO!”

The boss can’t power out. This is it! This is it!

“THR - NO!”

At the last second, El Presidente whips his forearms up, slamming them into Flyboy Fiero’s sides. POW! POW! It’s enough to throw the young superstar off-balance and allow the hairy musclehunk to roll to the side and get his shoulder up. The boss pushes the teen phenom off him and rolls away. He lies on his back, trying to get his breath back.

Time is always in short supply against an opponent as fast and dynamic as Flyboy Fiero. The young stud is already up. He does a backflip, aiming for another splash. Unfortunately, El Presidente is ready. He gets his knees up and Flyboy flies right on top of the raised shins. WHOMP! OOF! He bounces off and writhes on the mat, holding his stomach.

El Presidente is up. He drives his shoes down into the injured abs, viciously following up on his successful desperation move. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! The boss kicks the weakened Flyboy Fiero onto his stomach then drives his shoes down onto the chiseled back. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! The boss steps back and rolls his shoulders, gathering his focus back.

The hairy muscleman grabs hold of Flyboy’s mask and trunks. As he drags the teen phenom up, he wedges the trunks up high, exposing his smooth and supple bubble butt. Oh my. El Presidente whips the young superstar into the wall, shoulder first. WHAM! The masked stud drops in a heap. Shoes rain down onto his body. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Again, the dominant devil drags him up by his mask and trunks. He whips him into an equipment trunk. CRASH! This isn’t wrestling! With a firm grip of the mask and trunks, the stunned stud is forced up then sent flying into the ladder. CRASH! Flyboy Fiero lies over the wooden ladder, his hips and bulge raised as his head, arms and feet rest on the floor. He’s moaning, obviously dazed by the disgusting display.

El Presidente moves in, “Looks like you’ve been grounded, Flyboy.”

The pumped muscleman grabs Flyboy by the mask and drags him up to his knees. The young stud fires a fist into the flat hairy stomach, but it just bounces off. THUD! El Presidente fires fists into the masked forehead. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The teen phenom’s body goes limp, only remaining on his knees thanks to the tight grip on his red mask.

The boss pulls Flyboy up to his feet then lifts him across his shoulders. He’s obviously feeling supremely confident as he literally struts around with the 170-lbs muscleboy on his shoulders. The older muscleman carries the helpless young superstar over to the mats then slams him down. BOOM! He flexes over the moaning young wrestler, no longer fearing him at all.

El Presidente grabs Flyboy’s boots. He lifts the legs and flips him over into a Boston crab. The teen phenom pounds the mat as he tries to hold on in the painful submission hold. He plants his hands, but he can’t overpower the older muscleman. The boss is way too strong for that. The hairy stud sits back more, increasing the pain exponentially.

Flyboy Fiero is whimpering in pain, but he’s a courageous young man. He’s not giving up. While he can’t power out, he shocks me by pushing sideways and twisting, toppling the 200-lbs muscleman off him. Finally free, the teen phenom fights to rise, but he’s clearly moving slower. El Presidente is back up. He dives at the masked superstar with a double axehandle. WHACK! Flyboy drops back to the mat, lying flat on his stomach.

The boss fires fists and forearms down onto the beautifully sculpted back. POW! POW! POW! Flyboy tries to roll away, but El Presidente grabs the side of his trunks and forces him onto his back. More fists, this time pounding away on the smooth torso. The hairy hunk rises up and wildly drives his shoes down onto his helpless opponent. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Flyboy Fiero can only cry out as the brawling beast unleashes hell on his young opponent. The teen phenom rolls into the fetal position, desperately trying to withstand the brutal onslaught! Like I said, this isn’t wrestling! This has become a street fight! El Presidente finally pauses. His hairy pecs rise and fall as he’s breathing hard, overwhelmed by his own exertion.

The sweaty muscleman drags the masked phenom up by his wrist and pulls him over his shoulder. Flyboy Fiero just hangs limp over the shoulder as El Presidente moves him into position. The boss bends forward fast, whipping the young man’s carcass over and down to the mat. BOOM! The hairy hunk keeps the legs as he smirks at his dazed opponent.

El Presidente drags the limp body around. He carefully positions his feet under Flyboy’s beautiful uncovered ass cheeks. After a moment to focus, the boss class backwards, using his knees and feet to lift the young superstar. Flyboy slingshots up and over the hairy hunk, running right into the black brick wall. SPLAT! I wince at the sight of the poor guy hugging the wall then sliding down slowly to his knees.

The boss moves in. He grabs hold of the back of the mask and the wedged trunks, using them to force the stunned stud to his feet. He shifts then easily lifts the young superstar into a torture rack. Flyboy Fiero cries out and struggles, but there’s not much he can do as he’s paraded around the mat like a 170-lbs piece of masked beef. Oh, the humanity!

I try to will the teen phenom to just surrender. He won’t. He bravely holds on, showing the kind of competitor he is. What an amazing young man! As I call the match, El Presidente stops to look at me. He asks, “You think this loser’s amazing? Then what the fuck am I?”

Uh oh, El Presidente is looking at me.

I answer calmly, “I can’t comment on that right now. Boss.”

“Maybe you need to experience what I’ve done to this little bitch to appreciate it.”

I gulp, “No, I’ll take your word for it.” I hesitate, but continue, “Even now, Flyboy Fiero is still refusing to submit. His lean, muscular body stretched over the boss’s broad shoulders. Sweat dripping down. His moans filling the hallway. What an incredible show of courage, resilience and stamina. There aren’t many men on the Rival roster who could endure this.”

The hairy hunk growls at me then drops the limp masked dishrag off his shoulders. Flyboy Fiero crashes down hard. He rolls onto his stomach, whimpering. El Presidente flexes for the camera as he stares me down. His pumped muscles look huge as they glisten under the bright hallway lights. The boss turns back to his opponent and I resume my job.

El Presidente sits on Flyboy’s back. He pulls the young stud up into a camel clutch. The teen phenom realizes what’s happening and fights, but it’s too late. The boss is too powerful. He locks the masked superstar’s arms over his thighs and pulls back on his chin. Flyboy lets out a long moan as he’s pulled so far back that he’s staring at the ceiling.

The smooth stud is flexible, but his endurance is definitely being tested right now. He whimpers as he fights to focus. With escape seemingly impossible, all he can do is hold on. With 200-lbs of muscle bearing down on his back, squishing his manhood onto the concrete hallway floor, I know he must be in pain in multiple places. I would love to help, but I can only watch.

The boss eases up a little. Is he going to release the hold? He slides one hand to the back of Flyboy’s head. What’s he up to? Oh no. No! No! NO! He wouldn’t! He couldn’t! He is! El Presidente tugs on one end of the lace that secures the teen muscleboy’s mask in place. He pulls slowly, drawing it out. The loop gets smaller as the end gets longer. Suddenly, it pops and the knot is halfway undone.

Flyboy Fiero feels it. He starts thrashing, but he’s locked in too tightly. He cries out, “Stop Leave my mask alone!”

El Presidente snarls, “Who’re you giving orders to, boy? Me? You’re telling ME what to do?”

The boss uses his finger to pull the knot apart. He then starts working it out, slowly pulling the long red lace out of the first eyelet. Flyboy shakes his head, desperately trying to escape the camel. El Presidente uses his other hand to pull on his victim’s chin, bending him back harder until he screams. He slowly slips the lace out of another eyelet, toying with his victim.

The teen phenom begs, “Please stop! Don’t take my mask!”

The boss pulls back on the camel while leaning his head forward so his mouth is right at the masked superstar’s ear, “Was that a ‘please’? Now you’re being smart.”

The plea doesn’t stop the hairy hunk, though. He pulls on the lace, continuing to slide it out. The mask is already loose. While El Presidente could rip the mask off right now, he doesn’t. Instead, he re-focuses on the camel clutch, bending Flyboy backwards. The young stud cries out in pain, his limits being tested. His boots kick up and down and his hands form fists as he desperately tries to hold on.

Meanwhile, El Presidente is being a complete bastard. When the cries get too loud, he eases up. He’s making the helpless young man suffer physically in the camel and mentally with the loose mask that could slip off at any second. Will he actually expose Flyboy Fiero’s face on camera or won’t he? It’s finally too much for the young stud to take.

Flyboy submits, “Please! I GIVE! I GIVE! Please let me go! I GIVE!”

The boss laughs as he eases up on the camel without releasing it. He draws the long string back, pulling it out of the final holes. He dangles in front of the whimpering loser’s face, taunting him. The young wrestler whimpers, “Please, no more! I gave! You win, you win!”

El Presidente brings the lace around his victim’s throat and chokes him with it. The teen phenom thrashes as he’s strangled by his own gear. The boss laughs, “Be careful, boy. You struggle too much and your mask will just fall right off.” He eases up on the choking.

The smooth young man begs, “Please, sir. Please forgive me. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, I’ll do anything if you just leave my mask on.”

The proud young man continues to beg until he’s finally released from the killer camel clutch, mask gratefully still on. He writhes on the cold concrete floor, adjusting his unlaced mask, trying to keep it aligned. The hairy hunk puts his shoe on the teen phenom’s back and flexes for the camera. I can see his cock tenting the front of his black dress pants.

Into my microphone, I say, “Well, we’ve just witnessed El Presidente completely humiliate one of the bravest, most admirable young stars in all of wrestling. One wonders how he can be so cruel to one of his own employees, especially a fan favorite like Flyboy Fiero.”

The boss looks over, “My place. My rules. Remember that. He’s not the only one around here that I own with an unbreakable contract, Slim.”

I hold my tongue as I realize that he’s talking about me. I was worried about being fired, but maybe there are worse fates. I answer with my play-by-play, “The victorious El Presidente has wisely left the rising star with his mask, but he has still sent a powerful message. Not just to Flyboy, but to all of the Rival Pro Wrestling locker room and beyond.”

El Presidente smirks at me then grabs Flyboy Fiero under the arms and forces him up onto his knees. He circles in front then forces the kneeling teen wrestler’s masked face into his bulge. He rubs the shiny red spandex, “Slim thinks I sent a powerful message, boy. But did I?”

Suddenly and shockingly, the boss pulls on the loose mask, actually stripping it off. Flyboy lets out a cry and hides his face the only way he can - by burying it deep beside the hairy hunk’s bulge. As the exposed young stud presses his face against the black dress pants, El Presidente looks at the mask then tosses it aside, “Now THAT’s a powerful message.”

Flyboy unmasked!

The winner grabs a handful of the loser’s thick black hair. He pulls the kneeling stud back, away from his bulge. He forces the unmasked wrestler to look up at him then El Presidente draws his knee up into the smooth pecs. WHOMP! Flyboy Fiero topples backwards onto his ass, his face visible. Oh, he’s a cutie. Lance steps forward and zooms in, capturing it all. A follow-up kick to the pecs sends the confused young man sprawling onto his back. THUD! SPLAT!

I mutter, “It’s a dark day, folks. A dark day indeed as El Presidente has cruelly and unnecessarily revealed the young masked wrestler’s face. That mask was more than just wrestling gear. It was the continuation of a proud legacy. Flyboy’s Fiero’s grandfather and father wore the same style of mask during their illustrious careers. Where does this third-generation wrestler go from here?”

The hairy hunk smirks and grabs the front of his pants, “C’mon, Slim, you know exactly where he’s going right now. He’s going on my cock.”

The Final Lesson

I feel like El Presidente looks directly at me as he says, “Now, let’s make sure you remember who’s boss.” He might be looking at the camera beside me, but I still swallow hard and take a step back. He smirks and beckons me forward with his finger. I reluctantly move closer. The boss says, “Some guys just need a reminder of their place in the world. Right, Slim?”

I nod, “We all have our role to play, sir. Like I’m supposed to be an honest voice for RPW. You know, call things like I see them. I’m sure you understand and appreciate that.”

“Once I’m done with this punk, maybe I need to arrange for you to get your eyes checked.”

I gulp but stay silent. Even though Flyboy Fiero is his current victim, I take his warning very personally. Yes, maybe there is a fate worse than being fired. Especially as the hairy hunk never takes his eye off me while he unfastens his belt. He slowly pulls the black leather strap from his waist. He grabs both ends and lifts it over my head so it hangs on my shoulders around my neck. I stay calm, fearing he’s going to choke me with it, but he just carefully moves it so the ends are even.

The boss moves away from me and I breathe easier. He casually places his left foot on Flyboy Fiero’s naked face. He presses the tip of the black dress shoe onto his lips as he says, “Unlace that for me, kid.” His tone is so firm that I almost drop and do it, but I hold my ground. The teen phenom reaches up and pulls on the laces, loosening the shoe. The process is repeated with the right shoe.

The black dress shoes get slipped off. El Presidente unbuttons his black dress pants, revealing that he’s going commando with nothing underneath. He drops them down and steps free. The boss is naked except for his black dress socks. He looks incredible. His hairy muscles are pumped from the fight and his cock is semi-hard as he clearly enjoys dominating the young superstar and intimidating me.

El Presidente picks up, and carefully folds, his pants. He hands them to me, “Hold these for me, Slim.”

I nod, unwilling to risk a beating. I’d rather be the boss’s clothes rack than Flyboy Fiero right now. The hairy hunk reaches for the belt and again I fear he’s going to choke me with it. Fortunately, he just slides it off me and puts it around his waist. It’s a little loose, but his mountainous ass holds it up in back as it hangs low against his trimmed pubes in front.

I raise an eyebrow, confused by the look. El Presidente casually steps on Flyboy’s stomach then over him. The young superstar coughs as 200-lbs of muscle bears down on his midsection. The boss bends over, grabbing the mask. He stands up and tucks it into the belt, letting it hang beside his growing manhood. Now I get it. The belt is just to hold up the mocking reminder of the helpless loser’s humiliation.

Stripped and adorned, the hairy hunk orders Flyboy Fiero onto his knees. The teen phenom silently obeys. He lost and a deal is a deal. As he kneels there, our boss circles his prize. El Presidente runs his finger over the smooth shoulders. I see Flyboy shudder at the gentle touch. The powerful hand runs through the young wrestler’s thick black hair. When he circles back, the boss grabs the loser by his chin and forces him to look up.

“Cute. It’s almost a crime that you cover this up, boy. Maybe I did you a favor.” El Presidente smirks and taps the kneeling stud on the cheek. He asks, “Who’s the boss?”

“You are, sir.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You gonna remember that next time Slim here asks you a question? Assuming there is a next time.” I tense at the not-so-veiled threat.

“Yes, sir.”

El Presidente tilts his head from side to side, appraising the answer, “Hm, why should I believe you? That’s the question.”

Flyboy Fiero looks directly at his stolen mask then leans forward. He licks up the dominant hunk’s thick shaft, showing his complete submission to the boss. He licks down then kisses the growing purple head. The young superstar sits back on his heels and bows his head, “I am sorry, sir. Please believe me. It’ll never happen again.”

The hairy hunk grabs the thick black hair, pulling the head back. “Not bad, but talk is cheap. You wanna live up to your word?”

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”

Flyboy Fiero leans forward and engulfs the rock-hard cock. El Presidente clearly gets off on domination and the teen phenom is one hell of a prize. The unmasked prettyboy is not only beautiful, he’s honorable. He doesn’t hesitate or do a bad job. He goes down on the winner’s throbbing cock like it’s everything he’s ever wanted. I almost believe he’s enjoying it.

El Presidente symbolically grabs the thick black hair, but he doesn’t need to do anything more. The kneeling young stud is sucking and slurping on the thick rod, savoring the powerful cock in his mouth. He caresses the hairy hunk’s body as he works, proving his obedience. The teen phenom deep throats the boss’s cock until he gags on it, earning a “very good boy”.

The hairy hunk finally pulls the loser off his cock. He lets go of the hair and says, “Not bad. I’m starting to believe you. What else you got for daddy?”

Flyboy Fiero looks up and breathes in deeply. The unmasked loser nods and rises up on his knees then to his feet. He looks the boss in the eyes then looks down as he reaches into the waistband of his trunks and peels them down in front, exposing his shaved-smooth pelvis. El Presidente reaches out and runs his finger across the flawless flesh then up and down from navel to the base of the superstar’s cock.

“Smooth. Why’re you showing me this?” The teen phenom understands. He spins around and peels the fringed trunks down in back, showing off his beautiful bubble butt. The boss smirks, “That’s more like it, boy. That’s what I care about.”

The unmasked prettyboy shimmies the trunks down to his knees. He bends over, thrusting his amazing ass up at the winner. The young stud expertly balances as he works the sweaty spandex over his boots and off. El Presidente watches and nods. He licks his lips as he slowly jerks his cock in anticipation. The hairy hunk can’t resist reaching out and running his hand over the supple mounds.

Flyboy Fiero moves to one of the black equipment trunks that line the hallway. He leans forward over it and lifts his bubble butt in the air. With his face and chest on the trunk, he reaches his hands back and spreads the smooth cheeks, inviting the hairy hunk to take his prize. El Presidente moves in and spanks the flawless flesh. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The boss sheathes his rock-hard cock then moves in behind the waiting young stud. El Presidente slides inside the unmasked loser, who can only moan as he’s opened up. The thick shaft splits him in two, forcing Flyboy to move his hands to grip the trunk for support. He whimpers when the hairy hunk starts thrusting in and out.

It doesn’t take long before El Presidente is brutally pounding the teen phenom. He plows his cock in deeper. The young buck cries out approvingly as he gets fucked by the boss. The hairy hunk picks up speed, slamming his rock-hard dick all the way into the willing loser. Both men are sweating and grunting as the rough fuck goes on and on.

Flyboy Fiero moans and whimpers. He calls El Presidente ‘sir’ and ‘daddy’ as his ass gets ravaged, making sure the boss knows that there’s no rebellion left in him. The hairy hunk gets off on the total turnaround from cocky upstart to complete bitch boy. The dominant stud gasps, his breathing getting faster and more labored. The pounding is really rough, now. I can’t believe the teen phenom can take it, but his own uncut cock is at full mast under him.

The boss finally pulls out. He tears off the condom then explodes all over the loser’s perfect ass. He drains his load, wiping the last few drops onto the back of the loser’s leg. El Presidente circles around, ordering the teen phenom not to move. As Flyboy Fiero watches, he dramatically pulls the discarded red mask from his belt.

El Presidente flips the mask inside out over his hand then runs it all over his hairy body, drying the sweat off him. He rubs his groin with the mask, soaking it with his crotch sweat. He uses it as a cum rag, cleaning his softening rod. Flyboy looks devastated as he watches the representation of his identity and symbol of his pride be used in such a degrading way.

The hairy hunk reaches back and uses the mask to wipe his seed off the teen’s flawless butt cheeks. I see the loser close his eyes as his prized possession is used this way. El Presidente kneels behind the young buck and wraps Flyboy’s dangling cock in the mask. He milks the loser, who involuntarily moans. He knows if he shoots, he’ll soil his mask, but can he hold out?

El Presidente jerks the cock slowly then picks up steam. He forces a finger into the young third generation superstar’s hole, finger fucking him. As he does it, he says, “C’mon, boy, give it to daddy. C’mon, shoot your fuckin’ load in your fuckin’ mask.”

The whimpering stud mutters, “No, no, please, sir. Don’t make me - AHHHH!”

With that cry, the smooth young wrestler’s body shakes as he unwillingly unleashes his cum into his mask. He’s forcibly drained of his seed as the boss takes yet another thing from him. He pounds the black trunk as he’s ruthlessly milked. Flyboy begs the boss to stop, saying he’s shot, but the hairy hunk ignores his pleas.

Flyboy Fiero writhes as the jerking continues. He suddenly lets out another cry as he shoots again almost immediately, surrendering a second load within a minute of the first! He rises and slams his torso down on the trunk as he cries out. The hallway echoes with his gasping, desperate pleas as he’s drained again. This time, the hairy hunk moves off. He reaches forward and grabs the thick black hair, using it to drop the drained teen onto his back on the floor.

“Don’t cry, boy. Here, put your mask back on.” The boss tosses it to the loser and puts his socked foot on his chest, holding him down. Flyboy Fiero looks at the filthy mask then up at the hairy hunk. El Presidente folds his arms across his thick hairy chest and the young stud knows he has no choice. He slides the sweaty cum rag over his head, hiding his handsome face once more.

El Presidente laughs, “Good boy. Your identity is safe again. Only you, me, Slim Jim and Lance will ever know about this little scuffle. And this video ain’t going anywhere but into my personal VCR when I need a good laugh.”

The handsome young man relaxes and nods, “Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you!”

El Presidente laughs, “Don’t thank me. You will be unmasked, but it’ll be in public. In the Rival ring at a time of my choosing. I’m not saying when. I’m not saying how. I’m not saying by who. Just know, it’ll happen one day. So, enjoy your little mask while you can, boy. Because it’s gonna be taken from you again, but next time, it’ll be in front of the world.”

Flyboy Fiero shakes his head and begs, “No, please, no. Please, no! I’ll give you anything. Please don’t take my mask.”

“Let’s see. I already got your career. I got your ass. I got your pride. Sorry, you got nothing left I want. Except that mask.”

The boss moves his socked foot up onto the pleading young wrestler’s masked face. He rubs the ball of his foot over the young star’s lips then forces the toe inside his mouth. Flyboy Fiero just lies there and sucks on the big toe, knowing he has no choice but to keep the man happy so maybe he’ll change his mind. If he wants to protect his wrestling legacy, he’ll have to be the boss’s little bitch.

The hairy hunk pulls his foot away. He casually says, “Yeah, it’s gonna happen. And you know what? All those fans that you think love you so much? They’re gonna cheer when it does. They ain’t gonna care about your feelings. They’re gonna love every minute of your unmasking. Their cheers at your humiliation? That’s gonna be the thing you never forget.”

El Presidente moves off. He strips his socks, balls them up then shoves them in the stunned loser’s mouth. The hairy hunk slides his black dress pants back on, adds the belt and picks up his shoes. He takes one last look at the devastated young superstar and gives him a sarcastic wink. The hairy hunk struts down the hall and around the corner towards his office as I look back at the sexy young stud on the floor.

SNAP! I turn to look back at the boss. He’s stopped and is pointing towards the curtain that leads to the ring area, “HEY! Why’re you just standing around? Back out front. You still need to close out the show.”

I realize that he’s right, “We’re on our way, sir.”

Lance finishes up with the teen phenom, panning along Flyboy Fiero’s naked body as the gagged wrestler holds his masked head, realizing the ultimate humiliation is still coming and there’s probably nothing he can do about it

The End