What follows is pornographic.... Genuine feedback (positive or negative) is welcomed. Jackass flaming will be ignored.
I want to thank all of you who wrote to encourage me. I truly appreciate your input. Since I don't really consider myself a writer, I depend on reader feedback to let me know what I write is not fucking boring.
This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but you proceed at your own risk.
This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.
=============================================================== What does he want?
I'm not through with him yet. I give him a chance to recuperate and then start to organize my next protocol. The last huge ball is still inside of him. The delightful string is hanging out of his ass. I want to add weight-- just a little at a time until there is nothing he can do to resist; until every last bit of effort to hold it in turns to failure.
With a bit of ingenuity, some boy scout knots, an empty two liter Coke bottle and a piece of rubber tubing, I concoct a swell weight to haul the ball out of his butt hole. The rubber tube drips water into the empty bottle. What could be simpler?
While the bottle gradually fills I tell Jake a story. During my story I provoke him with caresses, pinches, clips, dick strokes, slaps, bites, ball twists and kisses.
My Story to Jake:
Once there was a jaded man, a very powerful, rich man. He could indulge himself without reservation. He bought slaves from all over the world. And because he hated the idea that they might masturbate and waste some precious drop of sperm, he had their hands cut off. Thereupon he found them so unattractive without hands that he had them killed and replaced them with dexterous men possessing huge balls. Yet he could not make his powers work for himself.
The man could not find satisfaction. He tried ordering his stable to be milked daily and their cum brought to him to drink. Thus, each morning the men were forced to jerk off. No cum, no food. He tried drinking it. Then he tried pouring on himself. First he poured it over his face. Then he tried spreading his legs and pouring it onto his crotch. The jism isn't fresh enough he thought. So he ordered that dozens of men be brought to him each morning to ejaculate fresh sperm onto him. Still he felt unfulfilled. Why was it all so lackluster?
He was distraught. If he, with all of his money and power, could not find what he sought, then was something wrong with life itself? He became insomniac, walking the splendid halls of his palace day and night, coming to ill-thought conclusions and reckless plans for his pleasure.
One night he heard a groan. A sexual groan. He walked quietly towards the sound and peered through a peek hole into his harem. He spied a man. It was impossible to determine if the man was in pain or ecstasy. Sweat dripped from him; his body was convulsed; he seemed oblivious of everything but the arm of another man between his legs, up his ass. He watched the man squirm and cry and beg. He watched the man lost in desire for a long time. Finally the man's orgasm arrived; his perpetrator slowly withdrew his arm. It was amputated at the wrist.
Shaken, the rich man went to his room. He had a dream. He dreamt he was both the amputee and the crying, begging man. He could never be sure of what he felt, of whose emotions were driving his dream. He woke up. It was raining. In the gloom of the dingy morning, he lay there, the bedding all snarled around him. His sorry, stupid, belligerent face hanging.
Later that day he had his hands amputated.
End of my story to Jake.
I get a long fierce stare, but Jake is beginning to agonize as the weight does its work teasing him open. His body claims his mind. His hole bulges as he tries to keep the ball inside of him, the red color of the last ball peeking out. The pins I've clipped to his nipples wobble as his pecs grip and give in.
I start working, attaching yet more pins to his ball sac and dick, all the while caressing his belly with my free hand. I tangle my fingers in his pubic hair still sticky with cum from his last ordeal.
"Thank you, Sir." The words make my cock jump. I take a deep sniff of poppers myself. I wait for the emptiness to fill me. With dreaming, half closed eyes, I hold my balls and cock, squat to match his, press my hips forward and use my dick to distress the pins clustered on his cock and balls. He is still in possession of himelf. There is some time,
"Jake, tell me a story." I order. He hesitate for a long time, then, speaking almost inaudibly he begins.
Jake's story to me:
A jaded powerful man bought me. His money could buy him anything. I was put in his harem. He had every hair on my body plucked out of me. Someone would come every morning and force me to jack me off then collect my sperm. They were unrelenting, pressing me with caresses, pinches, clips, dick strokes, slaps, bites, ball twists and kisses.
One of them had no hands. He could not pinch me, put clips onto me, nor grab my balls. Still, his kisses made my cock stand up. He would look at me with such intensity, I would look away. Every morning he would come to me and press his tongue into my mouth, my cock would fill with blood and drip clear precum. I would hold the cup and he would touch me. I would shudder and my dick would spit big gobs of sperm into the cup.
One night, I was asleep and he came to me. He kissed me in that way that makes my body tense up then soften. He holds me. One arm around my neck, the other between my legs, prying me open. His handless wrist presses against my hole. His eyes drill into mine. "Who am I?" I think, and I return his pressure. When I stop thinking, his arm is in my gut.. "Oh God... Who are you?" I ask him.
I wake up. I am alone. Outside it is raining.
Later the powerful man comes to me. Shows me his bloody stumps.
I throw up.
End of Jake's story to me.
When he has finished, I silently scrutinizing his face the way he does mine. My cock swells, pushing my foreskin back, the wet dickhead sneaking out for air and ripe smelling ass.
It won't be long before Jake looses his impossible challenge, and I will be forced to punish him for his disobedience. He bravely struggles to squeeze the ball back inside. But his muscle is tired and weak from the repeated effort to hold itself shut against the growing strain. He can't talk anymore. Sweat beads up on his face and drips off. I wipe away the drop hanging from the tip of his nose. Every ounce of concentration is on his muscle. I distract him, adding a clip. He groans as he looses his grip and the weight drags the ball down. He's loosing ground. He cries out when the ball strains him, hitting the point of resistance where he is still tight and then continues heartlessly to stretch him open yet more. His asshole distends under the weight. Clenching his teeth he makes a mighty effort and the ball disappears once again up his ass. With his ass now clenched, he tries to catch his breath. I hold the poppers under his nose, knowing that it will be his undoing. So does he. He breathes in deeply. He slowly releases his grip; unchecked the ball stretches him wider and wider. He starts groaning and arching his back, his thigh muscles shaking with tension. I take his cock in my hand and start to pump it. All of the clips on his balls and crotch shake and make their presence unmistakable. I feel his orgasm growing, ruthlessly swallowing his ego, his self-control, his self-awareness, taking him into its complete control. Its ferocious spasms shake him as it unmasks to reveal itself a demon yanking on nerves endings and soul. Jake can't take any more. He savagely grinds his hips, pumping his cock into my fist. Clips drop off. The ball hits the floor. He screams and the demon flees, tearing something out of Jake's heart as he goes, and leaving behind souvenir goobers of warm sperm on my face.
For a while, aftershocks continue to rock Jake.
It's raining outside. I can hear it on the skylight. Jake hears it too. Cautiously, his ego comes out of hiding to reclaim its territory.
I let Jake down and untie him. He wilts in my arms. His long limbs hang exhausted, his breathing returns to normal and he searches my face again with his eyes. "Thank you, Sir"
I am pleased with myself. Why shouldn't I be? Why shouldn't I be.
How long have we been here in this room? I don't want to know what time it is. The two of us are quiet and listen to the rain.
To be continued... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- As always, your comments, criticism and thoughts are welcomed. But please don't ask me about the two stories built into this episode. I have no answers. I don't know where they came from nor what they mean. My only feeling is that they are like dreams which are seldom about what they are about. They were not written to exploit brutality or fetish.
Thanks, hjxol@hotmail.com