The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 46

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 47

We decided to drive over to the barns since it was at least half a mile and we didn’t want the kids getting tired out before we got there. As we drove along the dirt road crossing the expanses of fields, Sarah looked out the window. I gave her a playful pat on the thigh and she looked at me and smiled. But there was something wistful in her smile. I looked into her green eyes and she looked away. I had a sudden sinking feeling. I’d been really stupid last night. What a jerk. Why had I imagined that she wouldn’t wake up and miss me? If, as Mark suspected, she’d figured some of it out, then all I did was confirm her suspicions. And to run off to be with him after making love to her; now that was a really sensitive thing to do. What must she have thought? I breathed a sigh through my nose, embarrassed by my own thoughtlessness and cupidity. God what a schmuck!

We pulled up in front of the barn compound and went to meet the stable master, Bill Enright. While he got to know Jackson and Jessie, I looked around the tack room. The smell of the leather and the sight of the straps and other accoutrements made me suddenly hard. My hole grasped at my shorts in its search for something to hold onto. I banished these thoughts and returned my focus to my kids. We’d taken them riding before and they were excited to meet new horses and have the chance to ride here. We climbed into the saddles and, following Bill’s lead, set out on the trail.

We’d been riding for a while and Bill and the kids had gotten ahead of us. I rode up next to Sarah and she looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, without preamble.

“You should be,” she said emphatically. “Do you have any idea how I feel?”

I hung my head.

“I can appreciate it,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“What were you thinking?” she demanded.

I was silent.

“Patrick,” she said, “look at me.”

I lifted my head.

“This isn’t the time or the place to go through all of this. I can’t tell you how hurt I am. It’s not that you’re gay or bi or whatever. I understand that. But that you’d make love to me and then sneak away to be with him. Do you know how much that hurts?”

“Yes, I do,” I said truthfully. I’d had it happen to me too. But I wasn’t going to say that to Sarah; at least not in that moment. “I’m sorry. I was stupid and thoughtless. I hope you can come to forgive me.”

“Just answer two questions for me,” she said. “Do you love me and want to stay and do you love him?”

“Yes,” I answered fervently. “I do love you and want to stay with you. You mean so much to me. And it’s not just that you’re the mother of my children. I love you.”

“And him?”

I paused, looking away at the shining lake. Then I took a deep breath; I couldn’t lie to her.

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “I love him too.”

“Patrick!” she said, calling me to look at her.

“He’s a good man. I understand why you’d love him. Just don’t hurt him; he doesn’t deserve that... And don’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry; this can’t be easy for you,” was all I could say.

“No it’s not, but we’ll work it out. There’s just one thing I can promise you,” she said firmly. “If you hurt our children, I’ll come after you. They don’t deserve to be hurt and I won’t have it!”

She is a tigress when it came to our offspring. That’s one of the things I love about her.

“We can work this out can’t we Sarah? It won’t be easy but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart and want to grow old with you.”

Sarah looked at me pensively, her eyes brimming.

“I’ve known for a long time that you were attracted to men; actually since before we were married. But I’ve never doubted that you loved me. I guess I was waiting to see whether you’d figure yourself out. Maybe I was too afraid to ask you because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. Maybe I should have. I guess I knew shortly after you started seeing Mark that something had happened because you changed: you became more centered and at peace. I guess I should be happy that you found such a good man to fall in love with.” She chuckled wryly.

Startled to hear this, I looked at Sarah, my mouth agape and drew a breath, then closed my mouth.

“How? Why?” I finally managed. What did this mean? Did everyone know but me?

Sarah laughed. “Oh men are so funny. I can see that you’re worried about your masculinity. Did everyone else know and you didn’t?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t know until a couple of months ago. Was it obvious to everyone else?”

“No, it wasn’t and isn’t,” she smiled gently. “Patrick, you’ve no need to worry. It was things I observed that made me wonder. The way your eyes would follow some men and something in your gentleness and sensitivity. I just had the feeling. I’m not sure I can explain it to you.”

“Why didn’t you say something to me? Ask me?” I asked.

“Would it have mattered? What would you have said? As you said yourself, you didn’t realize it until you fell in love with a man. If I’d asked you, would you have said yes? Would it have changed anything?”

“No,” I said, considering. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t have. I’d have just denied it.”

She just smiled at me.

Bill and the kids had halted on a rise overlooking the lake just ahead of us.

“We’ll talk more when we get home,” I said. “Thanks for being you, my love.”

“You’re a lucky man Patrick Wolfe and don’t you forget it!” she smiled.

She was right! And I wouldn’t forget it.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 48

I drove down the Thruway, trying to think of something other than what I was sure awaited me at home, but the thoughts refused to be stifled and my damn cock remained hard, squeezed between my thigh and my trouser leg. Sam would be disgruntled at being left without a cunt all weekend, even though he’d given me permission to go. The fact was that he couldn’t really have told me no, since I was involved in the “wedding party”. There would have been too many questions. So he would be edgy and boiling when I got home. The anxiety and fear found their flag in my cock and they ran it right up the pole.

I pulled into the garage in the late afternoon as the shadows of the buildings, stretching toward the East River, were suffused with golden light and the leaves on the maples and ginkos were bright vermilion and shining gold. I took the elevator up and let myself in. As I was sorting through the mail that had collected I got into my voice-mail box. There were a couple of telemarketing calls (delete!), a request from a colleague for a consultation and a message from Sam.

“Well boy, I hope you had a fun time. Now it’s time to pay up. You will be at my apartment door exactly ten minutes after you get this message. Call me now and tell me what time it is and when you’ll be at my door. Strip off and put on the items in the bag by the door. Put your clothes in the bag and then ring the doorbell. By the way, I expect your hands to be cuffed behind your back boy. I’ll let you in and we’ll spend the evening together. Now call me!”

I shivered with dread and excitement, my cock throbbing as I thought of the humiliation that awaited me. I put my hand on the phone and then pulled back as though I’d been burned. What was I doing? Why did this turn me on so much? But it was as though I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to be humiliated; it was like a compulsion. I picked up the phone and dialed his number. The phone rang and he picked up.

“Master, I’ve received you message. Thank You Sir. I’ll be at your door in ten minutes as you’ve ordered,” I said quietly, my voice shaking.

“I’ll be waiting,” was all he said and hung up.

I quickly discarded items of clothing I didn’t need since I wasn’t sure I’d see them again. I removed my undershirt, briefs and socks and redressed with only a tee shirt, jeans and running shoes. Then I took the elevator down to the basement. Sam’s apartment was at the end of the hall and there, in front of the door was a gym bag. I opened it and saw shackles and chain, handcuffs and a wide leather collar. I knew that only service staff lived down here but still I began to sweat, realizing that I was going to have to strip off and put myself in bondage out here in the hall. I looked around nervously and began to remove my clothes. All I could hope was that he wouldn’t leave me standing out here too long. I pulled my shoes off and stowed them in the bag. Next came my tee shirt and finally, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, I unzipped my pants and slipped them off. The cooled air brushed over my naked body, sending shivers up my spine and making my flesh contract into goose bumps. Looking around nervously, I buckled the shackles onto my ankles. Next came the collar. Its width made it difficult for me to move my head so getting the cuffs on was going to be tricky. I raised my hands up to eye level and snapped a cuff onto my right hand. Then, holding the other cuff firmly in my right hand, I pulled my arms behind my back and tried to get the cuff around my left wrist. It took several grunting attempts before I finally felt the cuff close around my wrist, pinning my arms behind me.

There I was, naked, collared and shackled, standing in a more-or-less public hallway. I turned around and tried to reach the doorbell with my hands but realized it was too high for me to get at. So I faced the door again and bent my chin to press the bell. I heard the chime inside and, in a blessed moment of inspiration, got down on my knees. Perhaps my obeisance would wipe away some of his anger and ease my punishment. My body was shaking in fear and embarrassment, I was so afraid someone would come home at that moment and find this naked slave kneeling in the hall. My dick, rather than shrinking away at the thought, stiffened and bobbed as pre-cum leaked from around the shaft of the padlock that held it prisoner. It seemed like forever before I finally heard Sam’s steps approaching the door. As he unlocked the door, I cast my eyes down.

He opened the door and stood there for the longest time. I assumed he was looking me over and taking stock. My cock bobbed up and down as his eyes swept over me. Then he grunted and turned, walking back into his apartment, releasing the door.

“Get in here boy,” he said. “We’ve got things to do.”

Apparently he had an automatic closer on his door because as he walked into the apartment, it began to swing shut. In the same instant, I heard the elevator door opening to my left. In a heartbeat, someone would be walking out of the elevator and finding me in their view. Desperate to get inside and hide myself, I tried to scramble to my feet (not an easy task when you’re on your knees, cuffed and shackled) and realized I wasn’t going to make it before the door closed. So I fell forward to block the door with my body. I hit the door with my shoulder and then fell on my face on the floor, bending my stiff cock down. I cried out from the double blows and lay there for a moment. Then, groaning, I pulled my knees under me and struggled to my feet as the door shut behind me and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t be humiliated in public, though that may have been what Sam wanted.

He was leaning against the back of his couch, his corded and bulging arms folded over his massive chest. He was scowling, looking me up and down and I realized my faux pas. Quickly I dropped back to my knees and lowered my gaze.

“That’s better,” he said. “I hope you didn’t damage my door or I’ll take it out of your hide. I had to pay a security deposit to live here and I don’t expect a worthless pig dick slave to be reducing my assets with his carelessness. Well I’ll check it later. C’mon cunt. I want to get started.”

Sam led me down the short hall to his “workroom”. It took me a little longer to get there because I was crawling on my knees. With each “step”, my hard dick bounced and leaked pre-cum on my thighs, adding to my humiliation. When I reached the door, he was waiting for me, holding the door open just as though he’d been at the entrance of the building.

“Good evening Dr. Andrews. I’m so glad you could join me this evening. I hope you enjoy your stay,” he said, smirking with such disdain that it gave me chills.

The workroom wasn’t as large as mine but it was well-equipped with an electrical pulley system, a double-decker bench, a padded sawhorse, cabinets and peg boards for tools, a sink, a seatless toilet, a St. Andrews and a movable privacy screen. One wall was floor to ceiling mirrors.

“I hope everything’s to your liking,” he sneered. “It may not be what you’re accustomed to in your penthouse, but I trust you’ll find it adequate to your needs.”

His voice was thick with sarcasm. It was clear to me that his intent was to humiliate me not just sexually but socially too. The roles were reversed and he, the doorman, was going to grind me, the doctor, into the mud.

“Do you need to go boy? Had a chance to empty your bladder yet?” he asked.

“No Sir,” I said.

“Well then crawl over here and get to it. I can’t have you feeling uncomfortable with a full bladder. That just wouldn’t be right, would it boy?”

“No Sir,” I agreed as my stomach sank.

I crawled to the toilet and tried to get my dick over the edge.

“No, no boy. Sit down. I don’t want you messing my floor up if you miss.”

I got painfully to my feet and turning around, sat on the cold porcelain rim. Sam took my cock and pointed it inside the bowl.

“OK boy, let go,” he said and I did.

I hadn’t peed since before breakfast so my bladder was full. The hot stream flowed out of me and I sighed in relief. When I was finally finished with those last spurts, he shook my cock, squeezing the last drops out.

“OK boy, back on your knees: time for your Master to piss. Just stay right here in front of the john. Now bend your head so it’s over the bowl. That’s a good boy. Keep your eyes on the water.”

Straddling my body, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his big dick out, releasing a strong stream of piss that hit my shaved head and dribbled into the bowl. He kept peeing, baptizing my head with his hot urine. Obviously, he’d been storing it up for a while. Even though he was pissing on my head, I was relieved that he wasn’t going to make me serve as his toilet and drink it. My relief was premature.

“Well boy, I feel better. I hope you do too,” he asked with a sarcastic solicitousness as he shook the remnants from his cock onto my head..

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” I answered spitting out the piss that had found its way into my mouth and keeping my eyes on the yellow fluid in the bowl, afraid to look at him.

“So tell me something boy,” he said.

“Yes sir,” I asked, still looking into the toilet.

“Why did you come down here?”

“Sir?”

“You didn’t need to. You could have taken a nap. You could have lied to me about when you got back and gotten away with it. Why did you come?”

“Sir?”

“What’s so hard? I asked you a simple question. Tell me why you’re here!”

“Sir, I need to be.”

“How so?”

“Sir, I need to be humiliated.”

“Oh?”

“Yes sir. I-I- I need to feel... like shit. I need to be... treated like... like a, a, shit. I need to be degraded. It excites me. I can’t help it sir.”

Then I was silent. I’d said it out loud and I’d said it to him, who seemed completely capable of humiliating me in the worst possible ways. I’d told him what I needed.

“I thought so,” he said quietly. “I had you figured out a long time ago. I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses and come to the Master who can provide what you need boy.”

He was stroking my dripping head and putting his piss-dampened fingers in my mouth for me to suck and lick. The bitter saltiness of his fingers on my lips and tongue was so intimate I could hardly stand it.

“Now tell me boy. What do you think I should do to a boy who’s gone for an entire weekend when his Master wants some cunt?” he asked menacingly.

“Sir?” I asked, not sure where this was going but dreading this question.

“You left me alone all weekend. What do you think I should do about that boy? What isn’t clear? Are you stupid? You don’t understand a simple question?”

“I’m sorry Sir. It was already planned. I-I-I didn’t mean to be gone...” I stammered.

“Do you know I’m angry pig?”

“Yes Sir. I can see that,” I answered, cowering over the bowl.

“You can see that? You can see that?” he demanded, his voice rising.

Sam grabbed me by the back of the neck and using the collar, partially lifted me from the floor.

“All weekend I was without a boy. All weekend! Do you know how angry that makes me?”

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir,” I said, now becoming truly frightened of his rage. I was nude, cuffed and shackled; utterly defenseless before his wrath and beyond the reach of help even if there were any.

“Never, never, never again,” he yelled in my ear and pushed my head into the piss filled toilet.

I was caught off-guard and hadn’t had a chance to grab a breath. The urine filled my mouth, stung my eyes and nose and I struggled to get out of his grip. He pulled me out again as I coughed up piss and water.

“You’re my slave. Do you understand?” he yelled in my face.

“Yes Sir,” I gasped, panicked that he was going to drown me.

My thoughts flashed to Patrick: where was he? Help me Patrick! I don’t want to die like this without seeing you one more time! As I groaned in fear, Sam shoved me into the smelly water again and held me under. As I struggled and clutched for air, my diaphragm lurching in spasms, he pulled me up again, allowing me to gasp for breath.

“P-p-please S-s-sir,” I choked.

“You belong to me. Consider your personal life over. Get it?” he demanded and once more pushed me into the bowl as I tried to answer him.

He shook me and I exhaled bubbles that rose and burst around my chest, shoulders and back. I was beginning to see the sparkling lights that preceded loss of consciousness when he yanked me from the bowl and threw me onto the floor where I lay choking and gasping for air.

Sam took a bucket filled with clean water and threw it over my head. Then he flushed the toilet and washed his hands in the sink. I’d rolled over onto my back, moaning and trying to clear the water from my lungs as I coughed repeatedly and worked to inflate my lungs with air. Finally he was ready for me. Grabbing my cuffed arms, he pulled me to my feet, bending my arms up painfully in the process and making me cry out.

He took me to the sawhorse and pushed me down on it. I lay down on my stomach, still trying to catch my breath. He took a couple of straps and buckled them around my chest and lower back, lifting my cuffed arms out of the way. I groaned as he pulled my arms back farther than they were willing to go as he pinned me to the beam. Then he hooked my shackled ankles to the legs.

“Open wide boy,” he ordered and when I obeyed, he wedged a ball gag into my mouth and tied its ends behind my head.

“Now boy, I’m going to show you a new trick. I don’t think you’ve experienced this before. But if it works as well as I’ve seen it in the past, we’ll definitely be doing it again!” he said.

Unable to move anything but my head, I shivered in dread at the menace in his voice. What was he going to do to me? I felt his hands on my exposed scrotum, stroking and fondling it. He stroked the smooth skin with his thumb, cradling my tender orbs in his fingers. Having him handling my jewels was too much. What was he going to do? I felt a surge of panic and began to thrash, trying to free myself from the bonds that held me to the horse. I rocked my body violently and tried to use my legs to snap the belts, yelling into the gag and feeling my blood pressure shooting up. I had to get free! But he just chuckled a low chuckle and stroked my back to calm me.

“You have such lovely balls for a boy. Nice big, loose balls,” he cooed as he gently squeezed them and rolled them in his hand.

He stretched them, gently at first and then pulling harder, stretched my scrotal sac even farther and sent jolts of pain up into my abdomen. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around them and, forming a ring, twisted the sac around as I gritted my teeth against the pain that seeped through my body. He kept pulling my balls upward over and over, as though he were trying to move them to my backside.

“But you know what boy?” he asked as he pulled.

“No Sir,” I gasped into the gag, shaking my head.

“I don’t think a boy should have balls,” he said, giving them a jerk.

I gasped in pain and horror. What was he going to do, castrate me? The pain in my belly combined with a feeling of nausea as the idea hit me that I was powerless to stop him.

“No,” he went on. “I think it’s better that a boy look like a boy. So let’s get these man’s balls out of the way.”

Suddenly, I was seized in panic. I thrashed wildly, rattling the horse and the metal links and chains that held me. I squealed in fear, violently shaking my head and straining against the bonds that held me. “No,” I cried into the gag. “Please don’t!” My blood was pounding through my veins, driven by my racing heart, which was in full-flight mode. I squealed into the rubber jamming my jaws and jerked my legs, trying to get away. My useless hands, cuffed behind my back, clawed at the air, reaching for anything to hold onto and find and escape. But there was no escape. Finally, I collapsed, spent from my futile efforts to extricate myself from my emasculation. Master just smiled calmly, enjoying my display of fear.

“Oh yes,” he said quietly, “I know just what to do. Now hold still for your Master. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.”

I was so afraid he was going to turn me into a eunuch that I started to feel the acid rising in my esophagus and my throat clutched. He pulled hard on my scrotum and lifted my balls and I closed my eyes to fight off the fear and nausea. He took my testicles and pushed them against the sphincter of my own ass chute. Then, with his thumb, he pushed one ball against the puckered flesh. My testicle was pressed against my own body and I cried out in pain and fear. Would he neuter me by crushing my balls? Then the ring opened and the clump of vesicles squeezed through the opening. Sam moved my second testicle into position and pressed it through the chute as well while I cried from the pain. When he was finished, I gasped in surprise, pain and relief as I flushed from head to foot in embarrassment. There was the relief that he wasn’t intent on castrating me as I’d feared. But why was I embarrassed? I suppose it’s the idea of having my own body parts manipulated by someone else and being treated like a piece of meat as my sexual organs are rearranged to suit him. The feeling of warmth and pressure on my eggs was extraordinary and I wondered why my first Master had never done this to me. The problem was that it pulled my erect penis downward, opposite the direction it was wanting to go. It was an amazing mixture of excitement, pain and discomfort; the perfect combination for a pig like me. I shuddered and gave a stuttering moan as my sphincter clenched my balls.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 49

Sam slid a finger in behind and on top of my testicles and massaged my hole and nuts at the same time. It was extraordinarily exciting and I began to buck against his finger, wanting even more. After a couple of minutes of working me, he pulled his finger out with a plop causing me to whimper in my heat.

“Calm down boy,” he said. “I’ll plug that hole in a moment. God you’re a slut.”

I had to confess that my hunger was stronger than I’d ever suspected but acknowledging that didn’t lessen it. He lubricated a butt-plug and shoved it in, sealing my balls inside my own body. I tried to wiggle my butt to see if I could stimulate them and increase my uncomfortable pleasure. Standing back to look at me, trussed like the pig I was with my testicles stuffed inside my hole, he laughed.

“If you could see what you look like!” he exclaimed. “In fact, I’m going to show you.”

He went to a cupboard and got a digital camera.

“Now smile like the pretty pig boy that you are!” he said. “Oh, sorry. You can’t smile with that gag in your mouth can you?” he asked and unsnapped it, pulling it from between my jaws.

He snapped several photos from different angles, getting a more-or-less panoramic view of my body. If I hadn’t been cooked before, I sure was now. I’m sure he’d purposely left a gag out of my mouth so that the image of my face would be clear.

“Now let me get you warmed up for the evening’s activities,” he said , putting away the camera and getting a couple of tit-pullers from the drawer.

These are ingenious devices with an elongated metal U that meets an O on the perpendicular. The O goes against the chest and surrounds the nipple. Through the bottom of the U is a long screw with a wing nut. On the end of the screw is a rubber-tipped clamp. The wing nut is turned, moving the screw until the clamp sits just above the circle, placing it right over the cone of the nipple. The clamp is opened and allowed to close over the nipple, after which the nut is turned, pulling the clamp away from the chest, taking the tit with it.

“I suppose I should take your ring out since I don’t want to rip your tit open,” Sam said, kneeling beside my prone body to remove the ring from my right tit.

I knew he didn’t care about causing me pain; he just didn’t want to have to wait for a torn nipple to heal. He placed the O over my right cone, attached the clamp and carefully twisted the wing nut, stretching my tit away from my pec. At first it was quite arousing but it quickly became uncomfortable and then painful as my nipple was stretched more and more and I began to groan. When he stretched my left tit, my groaning increased.

“I don’t need to listen to your whining boy,” he said.

He took the ball gag and ordered me to open my mouth. He lodged the ball between my jaws and snapped the gag in place behind my head again, turning my moans into squeals. The pullers were stretching my nips, holding my attention when I heard a whoosh and instantly felt the stiff leather strap collide with my exposed butt. My squeal was long and high-pitched as the fire spread up my back. Sam took no time for preliminaries: he got right into a fast-paced spanking, his arm moving the stiff, perforated strap in a circle whose arc intersected with my upturned globes. My squeal became a prolonged one punctuated by a grunt on each impact. When I had to breath, the grunt moved into my throat and became a growl. My hands scrabbled at the air behind me in a vain effort to ward off the strap or interfere with its assault. Each movement made the tit pullers on my nipples swing, stretching the stressed flesh even more. My ass was burning and must have been flaming red. I didn’t count the blows but they seemed to go on for at least five minutes of continuous belting. I could feel Sam’s sweat flying from his body and landing on my back. My throat became raw from screaming into the gag and tears were streaming down my face when he finally stopped.

My back had been arched and my head back in response to the pain. When it ended, I collapsed on the horse, whimpering and breathing desperately through my nostrils and getting whatever extra air I could around the ball that stretched my jaws. Spit was dripping out of my mouth and formed a puddle on the floor beneath my head. Sam dropped the strap and knelt behind me. He grabbed the hot globes of my buns in his hands, kneading and digging into the beaten skin with his strong fingers, making me writhe in anguish and groan again, producing those humiliating squeals from behind the gag. Sam licked and gnawed on my hot flesh, telling me how much he liked to warm his boy’s butt and get him ready for a good fucking.

“Now I can give this cunt what it needs. I’m going to make my cunt so happy he’ll want to die. My boy will know once and for all that his sole purpose and desire is to be fucked,” he said between bites and licks.

I have to admit my cock was becoming stiff and sore at the prospect of a hard, rough fuck. Master took hold of the butt plug that held my balls inside me and turned it, loosening it from its moorings. Then, with one yank, he pulled it free and I yowled as the rim of the plug split my sphincter as it made its exit. My balls, however, remained where they were, happy to be safe and warm, even if that hiding place was inside my own rectum. After taking the ball gag out of my mouth, Master uncuffed my wrists, which dropped achingly to the floor. Next he unhooked my shackles from the legs of the sawhorse and removed the pullers from my tits. Then he unbuckled the straps around my body and I fell to the floor, not having the physical strength left to balance myself on the narrow beam of the horse. He kicked me to make me roll over onto my back and buckled leather restraints on my wrists before pulling me to my feet.

“C’mon boy, get up!” he ordered. “You still have the main course in tonight’s meal.”

I groaned, wondering what he could possibly have planned if what had preceded had been only a starter. He pulled me across the room toward the privacy screen, which he rolled out of the way. Now I could see the entrée he’d prepared for his boy. There was the electric winch and a stout rope hanging from it with a snap hook on the end. Under the rope was a stool with a dildo mounted on the seat that had to be ten inches long and two inches in diameter. I drew a quick breath and began to shake. I’d been fucked by sizable cocks before but never taken one with this combination of length and girth. And those I’d taken in the past were made of flesh and had a man on their other end. I could almost see this one coming out of my mouth as it skewered me.

“Let’s go boy,” Sam said, pulling my arm and taking me to the stool.

He lowered the rope a bit and raised my cuffed hands, snapping the hook onto the chain joining my shackles. Then he flipped the switch to raise the rope again. It dragged my arms up over my head, stretching my body. In a few moments, I was pulled off my feet and was dangling over the stool.

Master buckled a belt with D rings fastened to it around my waist. Next he buckled wide straps around each of my thighs. Then he snapped the hooks on the thigh cuffs to the rings on the belt, pulling my thighs up against my body. My hole and cock were now exposed and vulnerable as my lower legs slightly swung back and forth. He took the chain joining the shackles on my ankles and attached a bungee cord to it which he then fastened to my PA padlock. Each time my lower legs moved, it pulled on my cock. No, this was not going to be fun. As I hung there, Master took some gel and lubed the dildo, for which I was grateful; at least it wouldn’t be a dry fuck, which would have left me in pain for weeks if it didn’t kill me. He cleaned his hands off and took my face in his hand.

“Are you ready for the fun boy?” he asked, grinning at me. “I think this will be an experience you won’t forget very soon!”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir,” I answered obediently.

He used a remote to activate the winch and I began to descend on the pole. When I felt it against my rosebud, he stopped.

“How’s that feel?” he asked.

“Fine sir, thank you sir,” I answered.

“Good,” he said and pressed the remote again.

Down I went. My sphincters parted and then closed over the head of the giant penis as my body was impaled on it. It slid past my imprisoned balls, pushing against them and squeezing them. Then the rope stopped and I swayed slightly, bending the dildo back and forth as I swung. I had about three inches of it inside me. I could see myself in the mirror: suspended, thighs strapped to body, cock joined to ankles, hairless, with a huge dildo up my hole.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Master leered and I grunted.

“Yes sir.”

“Well you haven’t experienced the best part yet. Just wait,” he said.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and his legs, waiting. What was he waiting for, I wondered? Then it began to become clear. The massive plug felt oddly cool inside me but the coolness began to change and become heat. In a few minutes, my anus and gut were on fire. That wasn’t just lube he’d greased the dildo with: it was a menthol gel. I began to sweat and squirm as the pole became hotter and hotter inside me. And each squirm yanked my cock because I couldn’t use my legs for leverage. My balls were on fire too and had nowhere to retreat as the dong pressed against them and pulled them deeper into my gut, increasing the pain of the stretch. It was as though there was a circle of pain, starting in my belly, running down to my balls, which were, in turn, inside my belly. Round and round the pain and arousal circled. Master enjoyed watching me sweat and groan. I’d never experienced anything like this.

“Please sir,” I gasped. “Please give me more. Please!”

“My pleasure boy,” he smiled. “I knew you’d like this.”

He pressed the remote again and once more, I began to slide down over the column that was inexorably pushing its way into my colon. Or perhaps I should say upon which I was being inexorably impaled. I gasped for air and groaned, willing my innards to relax as it straightened my gut. It felt like it would indeed keep going and come out my mouth. I threw my head back and groaned from deep in my belly. Finally, my ass cheeks settled onto the surface of the stool and the winch stopped. I sat there, my legs drawn up, my cock pulled downward, my whipped butt against the seat of the stool and a hot poker up my ass. My fingers curled in arousal that edged on pain. I could see my reflection and truly would not have been surprised to see the head of the dildo protruding from my mouth. The image was humiliating and arousing: a helpless man-boy sitting on a dildo, his legs up to expose his cunt into which his scrotum disappeared, his shaved body available for whatever his Master desired. I just wanted to do something; I wanted something to happen: I needed relief. The sight of my own vulnerability made my cock pump pre-cum like a faucet.

“Please Master,” I begged. “Please fuck me. Please do something!”

He smiled slowly.

“Alright boy. Let’s see what I can do to help you.”

His grin was evil and I shuddered, realizing I’d just asked him to do whatever he had in mind with me. Obviously, that was what he was waiting to hear. He pulled a stepladder over and stood on it to reach the winch. His crotch was in my face and I reached forward to mouth his mound, sucking on his jeans and kneading his cock and balls with my lips and chin. He took my head in his hands and held me against him for a few moments, enjoying my oral massage. Then he let go and reached up to release a lever from the winch. I couldn’t figure out what its purpose was but it stuck out at an almost ninety degree angle from the edge of the winch’s hub.

“I had a hard time finding this,” he said, grinning, “but there is a company that deals in this sort of thing. It’s amazing what you can find on the web these days.”

He got down off the stepladder and moved it away.

“I’ve been dying to try this out on you my boy. I think it’ll prove a good investment,” he said, once again taking the remote in his hand and pressing one of the buttons.

I began to rise as the wheel reversed, reeling the rope back in. I rose at a moderate speed until I reached the point where the head of the dildo was all that remained inside me. Then, abruptly, the rope slid off the lever and I was dropped back down onto the seat of the stool. As the winch continued to turn, I began to rise again until the rope slipped off the lever and I was again dropped. Master had found an automatic fucking machine! He started me out slow, up and drop, up and drop. Over and over, I rode up the pole and slid back down. The stimulation of my balls and my prostate was making me crazy and I began to beg for more.

“Please sir, please,” I cried. “Harder, faster.”

“Very well pigboy,” he said, pressing the remote and increasing the tempo of the winch. “I thought this might be addictive. I’m glad to see I was right. You’re enjoying this aren’t you boy?”

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” I gasped as I continued on my stationary merry-go-round ride.

As the speed picked up, I began to pant and my pelvis began to buck, pulling me closer to the edge. I moaned and cried, wanting release and suddenly, the fucking stopped. I was at the top of a cycle and I swung there, the head of the dildo embedded in my fuck chute but unable to come. A deep moan escaped from my lips.

“Uuuuuuuhhhhhnnnnnnn... Please Master,” I begged. “Please let me come. Please!”

“No, I don’t think so boy. Remember, this isn’t intended to be for your pleasure, but mine and I enjoy seeing you not come.”

All I could do was whimper. I jiggled my ass but to no avail. Sam had me under his control and he wasn’t releasing me now. When I’d calmed down some, he used the remote to start me up again. As I rode, Master got out his camera and took more pictures. The only reason I knew this was because of the frequent flashes; otherwise, I was oblivious of anything he was doing. Up and down, up and down, over and over until I was once again on the edge and the motion stopped.

“Please Master, please let me come!” I whimpered.

“No, I don’t think so. Only good boys get to come,” he said, starting the engine of my torment again.

He kept edging me, taking me so close and stopping.

“Please, Master. What do you want from me? What do I have to do? Please let me come. Please, please, please,” I was babbling and crying now.

“Are you my good boy?” he asked seductively.

“Yes Master. I’m your good boy. Please let me come,” I begged, teetering on the edge and only wanting completion.

“Tell me what you did this weekend boy?” he demanded.

“Master, you know. I was in Vermont! Please let me come!”

“You were with him weren’t you boy?”

“No!” I cried, tears running down my face and mixing with the sweat.

“Tell me and I’ll let you come.”

“No. I wasn’t with him.”

“I thought you were my good boy. Would a good boy lie to his Master?”

“No sir,” I groaned.

“Was it fun? Did you have a good time?” he coaxed holding the winch so that the head of the dildo was pressing against my prostate and my aching testicles.

“No,” I insisted.

Then he did it! He took my cock between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed the head ever so lightly.

“Tell me boy. Tell me and I’ll let you come,” he urged. “You can tell me. Come on,” he cooed, rubbing softly.

“Yes!” I cried, desperate for release. “Yes, I was with him.”

“Did you have sex boy?”

“Yes sir, we had sex.”

“What did you do?” he asked, still coaxing me.

“We sixty-nined. Master, he didn’t fuck me!”

At this he guffawed. “He couldn’t fuck you if he wanted to!” he snorted.

“I didn’t fuck him either. We just sucked. Please forgive me Master. Please don’t punish me anymore. Let me come!” I cried.

Instead he grabbed my sore tits and twisted them hard, making me cry out in frustration and pain. He went to the cupboard and took out a cloth bag whose contents he dumped onto a wheeled tray: clothespins! He started with my tortured nipples, placing a wooden pin on each stretched, aching nub. Then he squeezed up a fold of flesh along the line of my pecs and attached pins, tracing an arch up to my tender armpits. After pinning my pits, he fastened pins to the lines of my abdominals. Then he went to my shoulders. After he’d finished with my upper body, he attached a line of the jaws to the top and sides of my cock and finished with the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs.

He used the remote to lower me back onto the seat of the stool, where I sat moaning in frustration and pain. Then, the whoosh of a cat swinging through the air and the shock of the impact as the tails struck my back. Another blow, then another. When my back was afire, he moved around to the front of me and continued, aiming for the clothespins. Some flew off with a snap followed by the rattle as they hit the floor. It sounded like it was raining pieces of wood and he removed the pins from my body with the flogger. Those under my arms and inside my thighs were the worst. The pain of having them there in the first place was bad enough but to have them literally whipped off was excruciating. He’d successfully reduced me to tears yet another time tonight and I wept in shame, knowing I’d betrayed both Patrick and myself.

The sweat from his exertion was pouring off him and stinging my burning skin. Finally and at last, the pins were all on the floor and he stopped. He started the fucking machine once more while he caught his breath. Then he released the hooks fastening my thighs to my body and unsnapped the cuffs from the rope, letting my arms drop. If the stool hadn’t been fastened to the floor I would have tipped over, still impaled on the seat. He moved behind me and lifted me from the butt spear, carrying me back to the horse where he put me down.

“Never, ever forget who is Master here!” he shouted and plunged his own spear into my ass. He fucked me hard, his pubes slamming into my tenderized mounds and his dick sliding over my aching balls.

“Don’t you dare come boy or it may be the last time,” he threatened and I believed him.

I did my best to clamp down on him and satisfy him. All I wanted by that time was to go home: by now, I knew I was not going to be permitted to come tonight and not, perhaps, for a long while. His speed and respiration increased and I knew he was getting close. Grunting, I squeezed and tightened my Kegel muscles which made my balls pull toward my anus, giving him additional stimulation. In a few moments, his spasms started and he shouted as he came and bathed my testicles in his jism.

Master collapsed on my flaming back, crushing me against the crossbar of the horse and forcing the air from my lungs. I struggled to breath, searching for the nooks and crannies in my lungs that weren’t trapped beneath his weight. At last, he caught his own breath and rolled off me, letting the blessed air flood back in. I rolled off the horse and lay gasping and groaning on the floor.

“Well boy,” Sam said, still breathing hard, “I enjoyed that. I think you stand a chance of turning out to be a good boy after all. You just need to learn control. And to help you with that, I’m going to give you training wheels.”

He took out a chastity device I’d seen before. It’s a bent metal tube fastened to a leather belt that buckles and locks in the back.

“Get on your hands and knees boy so I can get at you,” he ordered.

Carefully I rolled onto all fours as he ordered, cautious that I not unfold my tired legs too far and pull against my PA. When I was in position, he unfastened my cock from the bungee connecting it to the shackle chain and let the chain rattle to the floor. Then he unlocked my padlock and pulled it from my pierced dick before feeding my penis into the tube. The head of my cock just barely cleared the end of the tube so he had only slight difficulty in getting the padlock back through the piercing to lock it in place. Then he removed the belt he’d used to draw my thighs up and wrapped the chastity belt around my waist, cinching it tight and buckling and locking it. He now had complete control of my dick. When he’d finished locking up my penis, he put his ring through my nipple again, marking me as his boy.

“I’m tired boy. It’s tough training you and keeping you in line so I’m going to bed. You can go home,” he said.

He led me to the door, he walking, I on my hands and knees. He opened the door and pushed me out.

“I’ll figure out what I’m going to do about your sissy fag friend,” he sneered, threw out the gym bag with my clothes in it and slammed the door in my face.

I was in shock. There I was in the hall again, on all fours, shackled, cuffed, belted and collared. I looked around and shook my head. I had to get out of there! I knelt up and unbuckled the shackles on my hands and feet. Then I grabbed the bag and pulled my pants on. It was very difficult getting them over the belt but I managed. Just then, the elevator door opened and a couple stepped out. They were senior custodians and had worked in the building for years. But they’d never been aware of my activities. Whether or not they knew what Sam was into, I didn’t know. Their eyes widened as they looked at this shaven man with no shirt or shoes on and a wide collar around his neck. I flushed scarlet and grabbed my shirt, trying to turn away and hide my face. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognize me with my shaved head. I heard them whispering as they open and close their apartment door while I pulled my shirt over my head. My balls were crying for release and I pulled my jeans back down so that I could reach inside and extract them from my anus. It was rather like a double dose of the Chinese balls because the pressure was not only against my sphincters but my balls were squeezed as I pulled them free. I grunted as I worked to free them and finally they slipped out with a wet plop. I started to get my shoes on and realized that I needed to get the collar off first so I struggled with it, finally succeeding in unbuckling it and pulling it off. I tossed it and the shackles into the bag, pulled my shoes out and put them on. I started to pick up the bag but thought better of it. Sam would be looking for it and certainly no one would bother with it down here. Nevertheless, I rang his bell to let him know I’d finished dressing.

I summoned the elevator and took it to my floor. I was frustrated, humiliated, horny and in pain. My ass hurt, my back hurt, my chest and abs hurt, my cock was aching, my balls were black and blue. I slumped back to my room and collapsed on my bed. How would I ever get free of Sam? How could I be with Patrick again? Groaning, I turned over and fell asleep.