The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Milk Bar (Return to The Milk Bar)—Chapter 26

Friday morning at last! One more day of schlepping through work and they’d have a weekend to relax. They went to work together and parted company, as usual, in the garage; Jim dropping Greg off at the “drone bee” level after kissing him goodbye. Then he drove off to the more privileged parking and headed in to the office.

Greg slogged his way through the morning, responding to calls, inquiries and assignments from his superiors and tending to the countless details of his job. He lunched at his desk and continued with his work. When he glanced up at the clock on the wall again, it was 3:35. “Time flies, whether you’re having fun or not,” he mused to himself and went back to his paperwork. Then his phone rang. “Barber here,” he answered. As soon as he heard the voice on the line, he sat up straight. “Yes Sir. I understand Sir. I’ll be there at 5:30. No, that won’t be a problem. Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” As he hung up the phone with a shaking hand, he exhaled nervously. Then he picked up the phone again and punched in Jim’s extension. “Downey, I’m sorry, but I won’t be home this evening. Yes, that’s right; they called. They want me there at 5:30.. No, all weekend. Would you? I’d love that. Yes, you’re my only one. OK, I’ll see you tomorrow night then. Great. Me too. Thanks. Bye.”

Lt. Greg Barber left police headquarters at 5:00 and went to his car. He drove over to the west side of town and down to the seedier side of the city. He parked his car in a private “garage” (really an abandoned warehouse) and headed for The Milk Bar. Stopping a moment, his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath, and went in. Just inside the door, Burt was waiting for him. “Barber! It’s good to see you again! Ready for some work?” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered quietly, looking down to the floor. “Good! I’m ready too. OK, go into the locker room and strip. I’ll be in in a couple of moments.” Greg knew that his training had already begun, so he’d better hurry. His Master wouldn’t appreciate being kept waiting. So he hurried into the locker room, found his locker and stripped off his clothes. Around his neck was locked the thin chain collar placed around his neck as the mark of his servitude at The Milk Bar. He fingered it idly as his heavy cock began to harden and lift. His feelings were a mixture of excitement and fear. He’d been summoned back for further training and service. What would he learn? Who would he be ordered to serve? He felt comfort in the knowledge that Downey would be coming tomorrow night and that Burt would remove the block that prevented his knowing him when he was there. Then again, maybe his Master would be someone else on Saturday night. Maybe someone else would buy his “option”. Oh well; no way to know that now. Best to just deal with that as it came.

Burt walked into the locker room and Greg immediately dropped to his knees, his legs spread as far as he could manage, his hands behind his back, his head bowed. Burt came and stood in front of him. He felt the chain around his neck lifted, heard the rattling of a key and felt the chain opened and lifted from his neck. Then a leather collar took its place. “There, you’re marked again as a first level man-cow,” Burt said and stepped back. “Thank you Sir,” Greg said and felt the impact of his servitude hit him once again. Here he was; one of the city’s finest, naked, on his knees in front of another man, collared and subservient. His purpose now was to serve other men.

“OK, come on,” Burt said. “We have some work to do before the customers arrive.” He snapped a leash on Greg’s collar, wheeled and strode out of the locker room with the cop-slave hard on his heels, scrambling like crazy to keep up with him as he crawled on his hands and knees. Burt led him down the hall to the training room. There were four other man-cows in the room in various restraints either having further induction via computer or being trained by their masters. When he glanced up, Greg noticed that Ted, whom he’d worked on in his first training, was there. He was shackled to a post, his hands raised over his head. From his vantage point on the floor, Greg could see the bottom of a metal dildo up his ass, from which a wire ran to a circuit box. He was fully shackled this time, including a leather band around his neck and a cock gag in his mouth. Greg noticed that, unlike the first time he’d seen Ted, his armpits and chest were completely bare: He’d been given a punishment shaving. Sweat poured off his smooth body and his large dick was rock hard and dripping. There was a two-inch ball stretcher around his distended nuts, making them look like huge, pink pearls. His eyes were glued to a monitor that was placed in front of him and every few seconds, he would jerk spastically and scream through his gag. Greg realized that he was receiving electrical jolts through the dildo. He wanted to ask what Ted had done to get this kind of punishment but he didn’t dare. Maybe he could find out later. He certainly didn’t want to cross that line, whatever it was, and end up against the post.

Burt led Greg to another post that was slightly partitioned off from the rest of the room and ordered him up against it as he unclipped his leash. Greg rose, briefly stretched his limbs and backed up against the post, raising his arms over his head as he did. Burt shackled his arms and then his feet. Then he brought over the cock-syringe with the rohypnol and held it up to Greg’s lips. “Downing phoned this morning and gave me some instructions on your trance state,” he said. “So I’m going to put you under and do what’s needed. Now suck it up.” Greg pulled the rubber teat into his mouth and drank eagerly as Burt squeezed the contents into his waiting mouth. In a few moments the fuzzy horniness was spreading through his body. His already turgid cock pulsed and slammed up against his belly. “Oh God,” he whispered. Burt pulled a monitor in front of him and started the program. He stared into the whirling vortex and felt himself relaxing into its center as the voice in his ear was telling him to do. So relaxed. So easy. Then he heard Burt’s voice giving him instructions. And he lost any awareness he had of anything but his raging hard-on.

The Milk Bar (Return to The Milk Bar)—Chapter 27

When he returned to consciousness, the monitor was gone and Master Burt was unfastening his shackles. As he unbuckled the last cuff he ordered Greg down on the floor. Greg dropped to his hands and knees and followed Master Burt across the room toward Ted, who was being placed in one of the pillories. He was weeping as his master shackled his feet to the beams of the metal frame. Then his considerable endowment was pulled over a half hole in the beam that was seated in the frame at crotch height. Then Ted’s master (it was master Sam) took a beam with a matching half hole, inserted it into the grooves in the frame and slid it down, trapping Ted’s heavy cock and pendulous balls. Next, he slid a beam into place just below the level of Ted’s shoulders. Ted’s neck and wrists were placed into the holes in this beam and the last matching beam was slipped down, pinning his upper body in place. A very effective and very humiliating device. It was bad enough to be placed naked in a pillory, but to have your genitals trapped and exposed as well was completely humiliating. Tears wet Ted’s red checks as he wept over and over “I’m sorry Sir. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry. Please Sir. Please don’t do this. Please Sir.” Master Sam had finally heard enough. He grabbed Ted’s exposed organs and glared at him, his face just inches from the slave’s. “I’ve heard enough out of you. Now shut up boy! If you hadn’t tried to avoid us, this wouldn’t have happened! Now you’ll be lucky if we ever let you go again. Now shut up or I’ll gag you. Do you understand, pig?” “Yes Sir,” Ted whimpered. “I’ll be quiet Sir. I’m sorry.”

“Now boy,” Burt said to Greg, “I’m going to teach you how to bring a man to the brink and back him off. This is one of the important skills for a good milker to learn. And just so you know, you’re going to work this man-cow to distraction. You may recall that he’s one of our recruits from City Hall. Well he tried to escape us by ignoring our calls. We seem to have given him a little too much freedom on his last trip to the outside. Thinks that just because he’s straight he shouldn’t have to service other men. But we don’t let go that easily. So just in case you were considering not returning one of our calls, this shows you what happens. Do you understand boy?” The cop-slave looked up into the stricken face of this humiliated straight slave, whose body had been shorn of its outward signs of manliness, and who was now trapped in this degrading pillory. “Yes Sir. I understand perfectly. I will never try to escape, Sir.” “Good boy. Because you’ll get this and worse. We’re still not finished with this pig yet. We have even more in store for him. By the time we’re finished with him, he may never want to touch a woman ever again he’ll be so queer.” Ted began blubbering as tears welled in his eyes. “P-p-please S-s-sir. P-p-please don’t. Don’t make me queer. I’m sorry Sir. I’ll do anything you want. I can be a good boy. I can take it. Just please don’t turn me q-q-queer,” he wailed. “Shut up,” Burt barked, “or we may turn you into a eunuch for good measure. At least we’re letting you keep your cock and balls. What would we do with a steer anyway? Keep it around to mind the herd maybe?” Ted struggled to control himself and checked his tears.

Burt pulled the cop-slave closer to the man-cow in the pillory and ordered him to kneel up. “Now start with some basic tongue work. I want you to do some cradling and tonguing on the underside of his dick. Work him for a hundred counts, alternating between the two strokes.” “Yes Sir,” Greg responded and began working Ted’s dick as he’d been instructed. Cradle, lick, cradle lick, cradle lick. As he approached fifty, Master Burt gave him his next instructions. “OK. Good boy. Now, I want you to suck his balls in and play pocket pool for twenty-five counts.” Greg simply obeyed, knowing that no answer was called for. He pulled Ted’s smooth, golf ball-sized nuts into his mouth and pushed them from one cheek to the other, pulling down slightly as he did. By now, Ted was groaning. His orientation didn’t much matter at this point. Greg’s technique was so good that Ted was loosing all sense off self, except for his acute awareness of his cock and balls. The able cop-slave counted to twenty-five and listened for his next orders. “Mouth music. Sing him high!”

Greg knew what this meant. He relaxed his throat and swallowed the man-cow’s large, stiff, dripping cock, massaging it with his throat muscles as he inhaled it. He used all his skills, singing a song that went low, then high, then low again, vibrating his pipe around the tube that filled it. Then, as he felt the column of flesh beginning to jerk, he felt Master Burt’s hand on his head. “Pull off now! Back off in small increments and bite firmly as you go!” Immediately Greg remembered how Delaney had milked him the first time. That was it! That was the secret. The biting was arousing, but also arresting. It stopped the impulse to come, but didn’t completely deflate the desire, so to speak. So he pulled back slowly, biting firmly along the length of Ted’s shaft as he did, until he had the spongy head between his teeth. “Not too hard! This is the tricky bit. If he were a customer, you’d want to be very careful not to hurt him. Since this is your first lesson on prolonged milking, I want you to learn how it feels. Otherwise, I’d let you bite his head off! He doesn’t deserve to have a dick!” At this, Greg felt drops falling on his head and realized that Ted was weeping again. He also realized that Ted’s situation could be his own if he didn’t mind his Master, so he ignored the tears falling on his head.

Master Burt was whispering in his ear. “Did you feel the pulse when he was getting close?” Greg nodded, the dick head still in his mouth. “You’ve got to learn exactly how that feels and how it feels leading up to that. You can only bring a guy back from the brink so many times. The trick is learning what proceeds that so that you can stop him before he gets that far. Then you can bring him closer and closer. A good milker can work a man for two hours, keeping him on the verge. When he finally lets him come, the orgasm is phenomenal OK, this time I want you to concentrate on every response you get from his cock as you milk him and register them. When you feel him begin to pulse, remember what he felt like just before that as you back him off. Understand?” Greg released Ted’s cock. “Yes Sir. I understand Sir.” Then he began milking the man-cow again. He noted how the shaft in his mouth throbbed as he worked him, trying to catalog the strength and feel of each twitch. Suddenly, he felt the column of hot flesh begin to pulse. Immediately, he pulled back and bit along the shaft in half-inch increments until he reached the firm head of Ted’s dick. He noted a series of quick twitches just before the pulsation started and figured he would watch for that the next time.

The cop-slave backed the man-cow back from the brink, biting along the length of his pole as he pulled off of him. Then, when the twitching had stopped, he dove onto his rod again. He sang around the rigid stalk, teasing the soft underside with his tongue. Then, as he worked, he felt the tell-tale series of twitches inside his mouth and he released the hard meat. He went for Ted’s bloated milk balls instead, playing pocket pool with them and pulling on them as he held them between his teeth. “Good boy!” Burt cheered. “Very good. You learn fast! Now I want you to repeat it three more times so you have it down pat.” Ted, the humiliated, frightened, frustrated straight city employee groaned and whimpered as satisfaction was denied him again.

The Milk Bar (Return to The Milk Bar)—Chapter 28

Master Burt was pleased with his trainee’s progress that day. He was an ace cock-sucker, with enough talent in his tongue and throat to match a great opera-singer. Now Burt was leading his charge down the hall to the wash room to get him ready for tonight’s “show”.

They entered the room, where other trainers were working on their man-cows and Master Burt instructed the cop-slave to stand. “It’s time for your first trim,” Burt said. “Your bush has grown back enough that we can shape it to show what level you are. Spread your legs and present!” Greg spread his legs wide, clasped his hands behind his back and thrust his pelvis forward for easy access. Burt wheeled over a tray with shaving equipment on it and sat on a stool. He felt Greg’s pubes with his fingers, assessing the amount of growth he’d acquired since his last shave. There was a workable shadow of pubic hair. Burt applied some shaving cream to the edges and, using a straight razor, as was traditional at the Milk Bar, shaved away all the shadow except for a swatch the width of the slave’s balls. “This is a novice trim. You’ll see that, as you gain experience, skill and seniority, your patch will be permitted to become wider and wider. But you’ll never have an untrimmed crotch as long as your part of the herd here at the Milk Bar.” Greg gazed at the narrow track of hair above his genitals and felt arousal and humiliation coupled together. The thin line of fur made his cock look even larger than it did when he’d been completely shaved and it accentuated his station. “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” he whispered and hung his head.

Burt ordered him to a table to receive his enema. He climbed up on his hands and knees and lowered his forehead to his arms, preparing to receive his cleansing and stimulants. He knew that the enema would be spiked with a drug to enhance the level of his arousal and to relax him in preparation the evening’s events. Master Burt parted his ass cheeks and pushed the lubed nozzle into his waiting hole. As the warm fluid flowed into his gut, Master massaged his belly, spreading the liquid to all the nooks and crannies of his intestine. He felt the warmth of the aphrodisiacs flowing through his body. Then he felt a wave of a cramp sweep over him and he groaned and broke into a sweat. “Don’t you dare drip boy! If you do you’ll pay for it. You know that don’t you boy?” “Yes Sir. I’m trying Sir,” Greg groaned and clamped his sphincter tightly around the nozzle that perforated it. He rode the cramps that came over him until, finally, Master ordered him to climb down from the table and release the fluid into the seatless toilet that was used by the slaves. Carefully, Greg climbed off the table and walked gingerly to the toilet where he squatted down and released his sphincter. The water splashed out of him, accompanied by wet farts as his gut sought to rid itself of this unwanted matter. When he’d finished farting, he stood up and bent down to grab his ankles so that his Master could wipe his ass. “Good boy,” Master exclaimed after he’d finished cleaning the man-cow’s hole, slapping his ass cheek soundly. “Thank you Sir,” the cop-slave responded, holding onto his Master’s forearm to stabilize himself as he stood. He was a little dizzy from the affects of the enema combined with having to practically stand on his head and then straightening up. Master Burt steadied him and then led him to one of the bath tubs, steering him with his erect cock. As he settled into the hot bath, Master Burt put rubber suction cups on his tits to get them ready for the eager customers’ mouths.

When he’d been prepped for the Milk Bar’s clientele, Master Burt led him, along with the other man-cows, to the Milk Room upstairs. Greg could hear the sounds of men talking and drinking as the cattle were marched up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, the line came to a halt. A voice sounded over the PA system. Greg recognized the voice as being Delaney’s “And now gentlemen. It’s time to begin tonight’s show. As you know, since this is the second Friday of the month, we’ll be having a Circle Bar Suck. Let the lucky clients enter and take their places!” Greg tried to imagine what this was all about, but he figured that this must have been a familiar ritual to the more senior man-cows and the customers, for no one else was asking questions. Then, as cheering and whistling erupted from the Milk Room, the cattle line started moving into the room. Each man-cow was led by his trainer, who held onto his erect dick. They entered the room by order of seniority, so Greg was last. When he walked through the doorway and into the room, he saw that there was a large, raised, circular platform in the middle. Around it were lying ten men; ten naked men, head to toe, in a circle. Some of the men were very handsome, with chiseled features, good definition and a variety in the amount of hair covering their chests. Some were relatively plain. Greg also noticed a number of wedding bands adorning left hands. There were also all different colorings: black hair, brown, blond, even a redhead. One of the customers was African-American. It was certainly a diverse group.

The cattle were led in a line that circled the platform. They went around it a couple of times. All the while, the customers in the room cheered and whistled. Then, the line stopped. Again, the Delaney’s voice spoke from the PA system. “Milk Bar man-cows, mount the platform!” Greg watched the others to see what he should do. Fortunately, they went in succession, starting with the most senior, so he had a chance to see what each did. The first man-cow stepped up onto the platform. Then he straddled one of the customers. He knelt down so that his hard, dripping dick was poised over the man’s open mouth. He leaned forward, assuming a “push-up” position, with his own mouth above the next customer’s stiff pole. “Ah,” Greg thought. “I get it. We have a double chain here, so that each guy, whether on the top or on the bottom, is both sucked and sucking. I guess we get to do all the work, since they get to lie down!” Master Burt was looking at him as the light of recognition passed across his features. “That’s right boy. This will be a contest. Mr. Delaney will explain the rules after all of you have taken your places. Now watch for your turn.”

Greg watched each of the man-cows as he stepped onto the platform, straddled his customer and then moved into position, ready to milk the next man. Finally, it was his turn. He climbed onto the platform and straddled a well-muscled, handsome man with reddish-blond hair. There was a light coating of hair spread across his pecks and his erect nipples were that delicious pink-red that men with his coloring frequently had. Greg looked briefly into his face. His blue eyes were fixed on Greg’s leaking cock. Then, after licking his lips, he raised his eyes to meet Greg’s and smiled slightly, a smile that Greg man returned. Greg leaned forward toward the standing-straight-up dick of the last man in the circle. Between the spread legs and swinging cock and balls of the senior man-cow suspended above his “partner”, Greg could see the brown fur covering his chest and abs. His cock was at least eight inches long and very thick. Greg swallowed hard, knowing that this would prove to be a challenge for him, whatever the contest was to be. He raised himself on his arms, hanging above the rod below him and straightened his legs. He was ready!

“Gentlemen,” Delaney announced, “the Circle Bar Suck is ready. As we’ve done before, the first customer to come and the last man-cow to come will receive cash awards. In addition, the customer will have use of the man-cow for the rest of the evening and any subsequent evening of his choosing. Man-cows, you know the rules: mouth music only. You may use your hands only to get your ‘partners’ cock in your mouth the first time. If you lose it, you’re disqualified and if you’re disqualified, your partner’s disqualified. And if your partner’s disqualified, his consolation prize is the use of your services for the rest of the evening and any subsequent night he may choose. And know this: he may use you in any way he chooses, so long as he doesn’t inflict physical harm. So be careful.” Somehow, Greg found these words singularly disquieting. This was the challenge, to try to bring his ‘partner’ of as quickly as possible while being careful not to drop his dick. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Gentlemen,” Delaney continued, “get ready. set. go!”

Bracing himself with one hand, Greg reached down and grabbed the huge shaft of his partner. Then he lowered himself onto it. As he did, he had a sudden revelation! His own dick was being taken into the mouth of the man he was straddling. Oh god! He’d forgotten about that! He had to concentrate on holding off at the same time he was trying to bring the other man off as quickly as possible. He gulped and found his throat clogged by the monster he was impaled on. He immediately calculated that he’d be better off to concentrate on taking care of his partner than in worrying about his own ability to hold off. That would be for another night. His first allegiance was to the man he was milking. So he tongued and sang for all he was worth, using his arms to raise and lower himself on the shaft he was ministering to. Now he understood why pushups and upper-body workouts were emphasized so much in the Milk Bar’s training regimen.

The sound of slurping and sucking mixed with the sounds of moaning, groaning and cheering around the room. Police Lt. Barber, naked and shaved, his cock in one man’s mouth, his own mouth working another man’s cock, felt humiliation inextricably mixed with arousal. This was what he was meant for!

Greg’s partner was leaking copiously by now and his pre-cum formed a froth as it mixed with Greg’s saliva. He massaged the huge tube of flesh with the muscles in his throat, sang and tongued, lifting up and coming back down, always careful to hold onto the corona with his taut lips so that he didn’t lose his prize. Then he felt the twitching that he now recognized as the precursor to orgasm. He renewed his efforts, scarcely giving himself time to breath, pushing his partner toward the edge. Then, just as he felt the first pulses in his mouth, he heard cheers from the other side of the room. As he felt the hot, bitter cum spurting into his gullet, he heard a shout from another customer. His own partner’s shout came right on the heels of the first, but he knew they’d lost. So he moved to draw his partner’s ejaculation out. If he couldn’t bring him the prize, at least he’d give him an orgasm to remember! He lowered himself further on the throbbing penis, tightened his lips and rose up slowly on his weary arms, milking the spewing teat hard to pull the last grams of cum out of it. When he reached the squirting head, he dropped down again and repeated the action. Squeeze. pull. suck. His partner yelled and thrashed, bucking into Greg’s eager mouth, his pubes smashing into Greg’s face.

Suddenly, Greg became aware of his own rampant cock! His milker was doing an expert job with his own mouth music. And then, it was suddenly too much: the taste of the man cream in his mouth and the overload of bodies, dicks, balls and tits came crashing in on him and he went over the edge, even as his milker tried to stave him off. He screamed as he shot blast after blast down his milker’s hungry throat, his penis dancing like a snake gone made. “Aaaaaaaaaaggggghhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaagggggghhhh! Gaaawwwd! Jeeeesus! Oooohhhhh! Uuuuunnnh!” Finally, his knees collapsed and his torso fell onto his exhausted arms, his chest heaving. As his breathing slowed he heard various noises all around the circle. There were still the sounds of slurping and sucking, but they were more urgent now and groans rose as more men approached orgasm. Those sounds mixed with the ragged breathing and gasping of men who’d just come or were recovering from their explosions.

As soon as he was able, Greg crawled off of the man who’d been milking him, giving him room to breath as his man-cow took him to the moon. His breathing was coming in quick gasps and he made short, gasping moans: “Uuunnnh, uuuunnh, uuuunnnnh, aaah, aaah, aaah.” Finally, his back arched, his face collapsed in a grimace and he shouted as he thrust over and over into his man-cow’s mouth, shooting his load. The man-cow couldn’t even handle it all, it was so much and cum coated his dick and dribbled down the veined, pulsing shaft. Greg just stared at it in wonder. A beautiful, translucent white column with blue veins running along its surface, now coated with rich man-cream. Greg only hoped that he’d have an opportunity to work this customer’s magnificent rod.

Greg’s own partner had finished off his man-cow by this time and was sitting up, his feet over the edge of the platform, his still-turgid cock lying along his thigh. He looked over at Greg with his dark eyes. Grabbing Greg’s arm, the man pulled him close. Then he pulled Greg’s torso across his lap and, holding his head in his arms, bent to kiss him. As Greg opened his mouth to meet his kiss, the man shot a cum and saliva mixture into his mouth. Then he thrust his tongue in and ravaged Greg as their frenzied tongues whipped the salty mixture into a froth. Overcome with the passion of his kiss, Greg reached up and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, squeezing him as close as he could. Finally, they broke, both gasping for breath. “You’re a good boy! I’m going to make sure I get you again. I sure want the chance to make use of your services in private!” “Thank you Sir. I’m glad I pleased you,” Greg answered. “No,” the man countered, “I’m glad. I was hoping it would work out this way tonight. Now I have a much better idea of your skills and will certainly look to have you again!” With that, he slapped Greg’s butt, stood up and walked away, his cock and balls swinging proudly as the cop-slave gazed after him.

The Milk Bar (Return to The Milk Bar)—Chapter 29

Greg had barely regained his breath when Master Burt came up behind him and snapped a leash on his collar. “Come on boy! There’s another customer demanding your services,” he said and led Greg to the milking platform. There, several pairs of customers and man-cows were working away. The first pair was one of the senior man-cows, a good looking man in his late thirties, Greg guessed, with medium brown hair on his head and chest (what Greg could see of it). As with all the Milk Bar herd, he was well-built and had what looked to be a well-hung set of balls supporting a thick cock. Greg had to guess at his cock size, because, right now, he was hanging on a St. Andrew’s and his cock was ensconced in the customer’s throat. The milker was obviously enjoying his efforts, slurping and sucking hard and moaning. His own modest cock was dripping and rigid. The next couple was similar in arrangement to the first, only the man-cow was not bound. He was holding his milker’s head and verbally abusing him, calling him a faggot cock-sucker pussy-boy. He would alternate his hold on the man’s head, grabbing his ears and then moving down to take the man’s swollen tits, pinching, rolling and pulling them, much to their owner’s excited delight, for his own cock was throbbing. He moaned and whimpered, whining around the cock filling his mouth as his abuser forbid him to come. The third couple had their roles reversed: the customer was captured in a pillory like the one that Ted had been immobilized in earlier that evening. His large, thick cock and heavy balls were trapped in the cross beam and his man-cow was engaged in a hearty session of sucking, reaching up to torture his customer’s erect tits to further egg him on. There were other couples engaged in various activities as well, but Greg’s eyes were drawn to an empty apparatus with a plain looking man standing naked beside it.

The man was medium height with a trim build and a smooth chest. He obviously took care of himself and worked out, showing good definition in his arms, chest and legs, but by the same token, he wasn’t a gym rat. He looked to be around fifty with creases around the corners of his eyes and a good deal of grey sprinkled through his once dark hair. He seemed somewhat nervous as he stood there, covering his average endowment with his hands and then pulling his hands away like a boy with his hand caught where it shouldn’t be. Greg immediately noticed the wide gold band on his left ring finger. His blue eyes darted nervously around the room, taking in these sights, looking like he’d never seen anything like this before and like he couldn’t get enough. He was good enough looking, but not spectacular: just another of the multitude of American men who made up the vast majority of American manhood. Not a beauty, but not a schlumpf either. Burt led Greg up onto the platform and walked toward him. “Boy, this is Mr. Farrington. That may or may not be his real name, but that’s not important. Mr. Farrington, your boy’s name is Greg. He’s yours for the hour. Have fun!” And with that, he handed the leash to Mr. Farrington and walked away.

“Good evening Greg. How are you?” Mr. Farrington said quietly. “I’m fine Sir. Thank you. What would you like?” “I-I-I’m sorry? What do you mean?” Mr. Farrington stammered. “I mean, I’m here to please you. What would you like to do? Do you want me to suck you? It’s said my skills are very good.” “N-n-no, not just yet.” Mr. Farrington was still speaking quietly. Greg, feeling a sudden burst of empathy for this seemingly ordinary and clearly uncomfortable man, reached out and touched his arm. “It’s OK,” he whispered. “I think I understand.” And he took his left hand and held it up. “Y-y-yes. You see, I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been married for twenty-five years. I’ve always known I was different, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Then, one night on the train, on the way home from work, I found a bondage magazine in the restroom. I couldn’t put it down. I read a couple of the stories and jacked off right there on the train. It was the most intense feeling I’d ever had. And I knew.” Greg waited a couple of moments. “I know,” he said quietly, “I was a late-bloomer too. But how did you get here to the Milk Bar?” “I heard about it from a co-worker of mine. We got to talking one night in a bar after work, and I came out to him. I knew he was gay and I thought he might be able to put me in contact with people who could help me. So he referred me here.” “And so you came here tonight to see what might happen. So how can I help you? Do you know what you want yet?” “I’m not sure. Everything that’s happening here is so incredible. I want it all! I don’t know where to start. But I’m also scared.” Greg thought for a moment. “Let me see if I can help. Bondage excites you, is that right?” “Yes.” “It might help if we start by having me top you. Do you know what that means?” “Y-y-yes, I do. Why would that help?” “Because I have the control. All you have to do is experience it; feel it. You leave it up to me and that lets you off the hook.” “That sounds like a good idea. OK. How do we start?”

Greg gave Mr. Farrington an encouraging smile, which he returned somewhat tentatively. Then Greg looked over the apparatus. There was a set of upper body stocks hanging from a couple of adjustable chains. A pair of leather cuffs were attached to the floor with chains hooked to eye-hooks. Greg guided Mr. Farrington into place, lowered the stocks, opened them and placed the center hole against his neck. Then he lifted his arms into place and closed the stocks. Next, he buckled the cuffs around Mr. Farrington’s ankles, pushed his feet slightly farther apart than was comfortable and tightened the chains. His customer was now quite effectively immobilized. Greg noticed that his tits seemed to be fairly well used and imagined that nipple play was part of his JO sessions. So he retrieved a pair of butterflies joined by a chain and, pinching up his cones, attached the clamps. Mr. Farrington inhaled deeply and shuddered at Greg’s touch. Then, pulling slightly on the chain, Greg began to massage his cock and balls. His groin was fairly hairy and, since he was fairly new to all this, wouldn’t have been accustomed to shaving his cock and balls. So Greg figured he’d be having a mouthful of short and curlies before he was finished for the evening. Mr. Farrington’s cock, which had been fairly unremarkable when it was flaccid, began to rise to a not-unimpressive length and girth. Greg smiled as he admired it’s handsome shape. It was cut, about seven inches long and big enough around that he could barely circle it with his thumb and middle finger. “Very nice,” he whispered. Mr. Farrington flushed a deep red. “Thank you,” he said. “Actually, I never had another man touch my penis, besides my doctor of course.” “Of course,” Greg grinned, running the ring of his thumb and finger up and down the length of Mr. Farrington’s organ.

Finally, Greg knelt down. Gripping his dick with his hand so that only the head stuck out, Greg began to do his magic. He tongued the purple plum and milked the shaft with a rippling motion of his fingers. As pre-cum oozed out the piss-slit, he caught it with his tongue and savored the flavor. The next drops that oozed out, he caught with his fingers and massaged it into the exposed parts of Mr. Farrington’s tits. “Oh God, ohh, ohhh, aaahhh,” he gasped as Greg pinched the slickness into he tortured nipples, the chain rattling as the tit-clamps were pushed up and down and sideways. Greg took his cock into his mouth, playing his tongue along the wrinkled underside as he swallowed it. He took it gradually, vacuuming and blowing as he went. He wanted Mr. Farrington to have a good experience his first time. What would it have been like if he had had a good experience the first time? What if he’d had a gentle, caring guide, rather than being taken by Mr. Delaney? Maybe it would have made no difference. Maybe Mr. Delaney’s way was the right way for him anyway. He’d certainly gotten off on it and continued to revel in humiliation and abuse. Maybe Mr. Delaney knew best after all.

Greg snapped his attention back to his customer, who was, by now, beginning to jerk against his bonds. Greg sensed the impending orgasm and back off his dick, biting as he went. He was as gentle as he could be, but he needed to bring Mr. Farrington back from the edge. He’d bought Greg’s option for an hour; he deserved to get his money’s worth!

Mr. Farrington was moaning loudly and rolling his head around as he pulled against his bonds. “Oh God, oh please, please. I can’t take any more. Please let me come. Pleeeeeez,” he groaned. Greg lifted his eyes and looked into his customer’s. He could see the mixture of acute desire and arousal and the desire for this to continue. He smiled around the fat dick in his mouth and swallowed it again, playing it like a virtuoso. Twice more he brought Mr. Farrington to the edge and pulled him back. Then he rose from his knees and leaned close to his customer’s ear. “Are you ready now? Do you want me to let you come?” “Y-y-yesss. Please do it. I can’t stand it any longer,” Farrington gasped. Greg took his face in his hand. “Yes Sir. Whatever you want Sir,” he grinned. He took the chain joining the tit clamps and placed it in Mr. Farrington’s teeth. Then he knelt again and took the oozing cock in his mouth. As he worked it, he grabbed Mr. Farrington’s balls and twisted them. Mr. Farrington was lost to all sensations but those coming from his erogenous zones: his cock, balls and tits. He yanked fiercely on the chain, grunting with each jerk, timing them to meet his milker’s stimulations. Finally, Greg felt the twitching reach his dick head and he sucked all the harder. Cum exploded into his mouth and streamed down his gullet. He could barely keep up with the geyser as Mr. Farrington screamed in ecstasy.