Cuffed, Caged, Tied and Tormented · Part 2 (2/2)
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tle bit. We stumbled back to my room and there was hot tea and food waiting. I was famished and I ate. Then I hit the bed and was immediately out cold. Then the two men came and visited me again.
Expensive drugs are wonders. Whatever I was dosed with put me completely out, but only after I was washed and fed. How does that work? Anyway, I jerked awake with a surprisingly clear head and when my senses came back to me, I quickly realized I was definitely in the middle of another jackpot. This woman did not waste any time.
Her bedroom, I assumed, was astounding. Airy and lush with top-end furnishings and accessories. I could only see a portion of the room, but I craned my neck as much as possible to get a glimpse. This woman lived very well. Was she trying to impress me? I could have been set up like I was in the basement room where the first romp took place. Or out in the street for that matter.
I was seated in a sturdy, well-padded, high-backed chair. I sat fairly straight up – this was no recliner, and my arms rested on padded armrests. The chair fit me almost perfectly and, if not for some other things, was quite comfortable. Yes, there were quite a few other things.
Where to begin. I was not completely naked this time. I was naked, however, from the knees up. My arms were strapped to the armrests at the wrists and below the elbows with thick leather. New thinner straps were above my elbows and fixed to the back of the chair. It was not an uncomfortable position, but I could not move except to wiggle my fingers. Straps that wrapped around my chest and midsection were also bolted to the chair. Luckily, the chair’s padding at the back kept me snuggly and comfortably seated for the entire performance. The coup-de-grace were my legs, and my other parts below the waist.
My legs were spread to the two front chair legs, and my ankles were set to the outside of each leg. There were no straps on my thighs above my knees. My ankles, however, were strapped to each chair leg. But that wasn’t the best part.
The bitch, whom I now loved more than ever, had dressed me in a fine pair of black, leather, lace-up, knee high boots with 4-inch stiletto heels and semi-pointed toes. I could see most of the boots from my position and I was impressed. Exquisite black leather polished and gleaming. Not too shiny like patent leather, no sir. The heels were a tiny bit chunkier than a woman’s heel, for extra strength. They were tight and well-tailored and just my size. They hugged my calves like a lover. I wished I were in front of a mirror.
Just above the boots were thin leather straps that grabbed my leg just under the knee. The cruel bitch wouldn’t even allow me the pleasure of hopping my feet up and down to test the heels and possibly make noise. But I tried anyway.
Wearing heels is fucking sensual for a guy with a shoe fetish. Watching women walk, stand, and sit while wearing high heels is an extreme turn on for me. I don’t know how or when it started. A woman doesn’t even need to be that attractive, as long as her legs, ankles and feet can handle a 4- or 5- inch heel. Thin, stiletto-style heels really do it for me, but a chunkier heel is also very nice. The boots she’d put on me checked all of those boxes. I had tanned, well-toned legs (thanks, tennis) without a lot of coarse man-hair. I actually had depilated them with removal cream recently to demonstrate the technique to some high-school swimming prospects, so I’d say I looked pretty damn good in those heels.
The feeling was unique. I marched lightly in the boots, as much as the straps allowed, and listened. The low carpet muffled the click of the heel, but it still sounded hot as hell. My arches were stretched and my toes were bent up considerably, which also felt sexy and strong. I was digging this sensation for a short while, until I realized what else I was wearing.
I was gagged again, but without a fucking rubber ball this time, something else. Another leather harness was strapped around my head, under my chin, and also up over my face and head to the back where it connected to the neck strap. A plastic whiffle ball filled my mouth. The straps were much tighter than before, and they pushed the ball securely into my mouth. It sucked, and I hated it. I could breathe much better, though. I could make more noise, too, but I’m sure no one was gonna hear me.
The whole time I was admiring the fucking boots and all of that, I was dreading what else the bitch had done to me. There was something knocking at my back door. Not knocking. Something had busted down the door and come inside. I could squirm just enough to sense that a plug had been placed in a very strategic location inside me. It wasn’t too big; it felt thinner and longer than a regular butt-plug, and it seemed slightly curved and set right where my prostate gland sits. This is gonna be interesting. I’ve had kinky-girls in the past that loved to get a finger up in me and tickle my prostate to see how my junk responds, and boy, does it respond.
The right stimulation up my ass can make me come instantly whether I’m hard or soft. A tickle to the prostate when I’m being jacked-off can make me come way harder than usual, if done correctly. It’s an amazing little gland. She knows this and she’s gonna fuck with me big time, I can tell.
Fucking hell. This was not the worst of it. There was a contraption strapped to my crotch. With my legs spread nicely, arms tightly bound, lovely heels to keep me entertained, and a squishy plug up my ass, I had what looks like a big, cylindrical jock strap that encased my cock and balls. It was about ten inches long (custom made?) and rested on the chair seat in front of me. It stuck to me firmly with elastic straps holding it secure around my waist, around my upper thighs, and down through my butt crack. It was black and rather bulky. I shifted my butt around and it seemed to have tubes and wires attached that ran through the seat and under the chair.
All I could feel is a ring or strap at the base of my dick and balls, similar to the fucking cock cage but softer and a bit more elastic. I wriggled in my bondage because I was now dead sure this contraption was a milking/sucking/fucking machine and it wasn’t coming off of me any time soon. I couldn’t feel anything on the rest of my tenders. The sexy boots did make me a tiny bit hard, and I could only feel my shaft resting on something knobby and well-lubed. Oh, shit, this was bad. Thank God I couldn’t feel anything holding my ball sack.
The last thing I notice before starting to really struggle is the big TV in front of me. It was equipped with a movable video camera just underneath it. No doubt, the bitch was gonna show me stuff, talk to me, and watch me and all that. I did NOT like this. I am very susceptible to visual stimulation, sounds, and most of all, people watching me. Women in my past always loved to watch and look at my giant prick. They grabbed and jerked and stroked and waggled it. They watched it grow and turn colors. They listened to me groan and moan and pant and cuss and all that shit. It was always great turn-on for them and aggravating as fuck for me. But I still got rock-hard and stayed that way until I eventually came, and they wanted to start all over again.
So, at this point, I was a little pissed and a lot scared. I worked my arms in the straps and gained nothing. The chair was bolted to the floor so no rocking or scooting. My legs were effectively pinned and spread, and the boots restricted any movement from my ankles. My heels thumped on the carpet and the sound reminded me of the bondage videos I love to watch where a woman bangs her high-heeled pumps on carpet with ankles tied and rope under each foot, keeping the shoes from being kicked off. Fuck, I loved that sound. I was horny and frustrated and angry. I growl through gag and the sound startled me. It was loud. The leather of my boots squeaked.
Through all of this ruckus, though, guess what? I was hard and getting harder. I was hopeless. I knew then that my cock was set inside a tube with oily knobs throughout. When (not if) I got fully hard, those tiny bastards were gonna set me off with the smallest of movement. Worse, I thought there was actually something around my balls. Very soft and not tight, but definitely there. I guessed that, in my squirming, I allowed my ball sack to drop into something waiting there. I whimpered and thrust my hips back and forth. Yep. Something got a hold on my boys.
My ball sack is mostly out of bounds. I don’t enjoy testicle-play. It’s tricky and I’m way, way too sensitive. One bad flick, knock, bump, thump, or rattle is a turn-off. The pain is frightening at first, and the dull throb afterward is horrible. Enough said.
As I struggled and spat curses, I became concerned about another thing. Through all of this “activity” I seemed to be getting hard for all the wrong reasons. I struggled; I got hard. The boots make me hard. The sudden sensation on my ball sack, and I stayed hard. This is not like me. Then it hits me. I’ve been roofied.
When a man takes a blue-pill or anything similar, it does bring on side effects. Nasal passages restrict; some get a mild headache. I get both, plus my eyes water a bit more than usual. Yes, I’ve probably been injected with the big V. My watering eyes looked down at my crotch. I was unusually hard inside the milker. My shaft felt very hard, but my head felt not fully engorged. This is common when the blue-pill takes effect. That fucking cunt had no business giving me dick-juice! I never needed it and I sure as fuck don’t need it now. I rage against the straps, grunting like a trapped wolf. Nothing. And, you guessed it, I was harder than ever.
The struggle had rubbed my cock against the knobs and now the head of my penis felt as big and firm and sensitive as ever. Was I gonna come? I just might. More struggling and I could get close, very close. It wasn’t gonna happen, though. The juice also gives you unbelievable stamina. The feeling waned and I was soon back to bound, gagged, pissed and horny. Just then the TV goes on. Great.
It was her. Big as life. God, she was good looking. This was not a talking head view like a skype. The camera was away and I got a shot of her sitting on a simple chair with her legs crossed. Dark business suit with low cut blouse, professional length slitted skirt and black hose and black pumps. Red soles. Heels to the sky. Outstanding thick legs down to perfect ankles. She wanted me to see all of this. She was holding a small fob in her hand.
“How’s my little puppy?” she asked. “Looks like you’re just where I want you.”
“I hate you, but the boots are great.” I mumble.
“I heard ‘boots’ in there somewhere. I hope you like them. I don’t have time to chat. You’re gonna get what I was hoping to give you in person. See you soon! Enjoy!” she sings and clicks the fob and the screen goes blank. Then all hell breaks loose.
Everything seemed to activate with the click of that little fucking fob the bitch was holding. The TV screen jumped on and a video started. A beautiful blonde woman bound harshly on a bed, mewed and cried behind a big red ball gag. Thin ropes on her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles were connected by a twisted cord running from her ankles to the other cords, effectively putting her in a very tight and uncomfortable hogtie. Purple stiletto heeled shoes were tight on her feet. Her blouse was open, showing big fake tits with giant hard nipples. Her tiny skirt was ripped open, and a pair of thong panties were hanging around her bound ankles. She struggled with her head and pelvis rocking, giving quick glimpses of her naked pussy with short-cropped pubes. A tight crotchrope was inside her front to back and it looked delightfully painful. She was amazing.
My crotch-works started shortly after the video began. First, there began a dull vibrating of my balls inside the little pouch. I jumped. There would be some pain coming soon, but not too bad, I hoped. I tensed and tried the bondage again. Nothing. Next, the same type of vibe hit the butt plug. Small and quiet but enough to make me gasp. The fucking thing was expertly placed. The stirring inside me was right on that sweet spot, making my cock ripple with stimulation. Oh fuck, what happens when these vibes go higher? I’m not ready for this shit.
I squirmed to see if I could escape the machines, but to no avail. Each piece held on. I tried to look away from the video, but hearing this woman squeal and suffer made me look and look and look some more. Videos of women in bondage with heels were my favorite. It seemed like she was in the next room experiencing the same torment I was under. I was full-on hard. The greasy tube held my thick girth and the knobbies scraped with even the slightest movement. I started to thrust my pelvis by instinct, but the tube moved with me, increasing my frustration. If I could just get my hand on the crotchworks, I could steady it and get some friction going! I huffed and cursed through the gag, which let me get plenty of air for all this struggling. I started to sweat.
The last bit of icing on the torture-cake was the vacuum. I heard the hum of a small pump just before the dick-tube suddenly and forcefully SUCKED my cock into itself. I let out a loud OOF and then felt the knobbies grab onto me like a fist. Holy shit, what the fuck is happening? This contraption is gonna pinch my giant, meat right the fuck off!
The rest of the machine took off immediately. The ball sack pouch turned up, and my sack was engulfed in a strong but smooth vibe; not bumpy at all. I didn’t like it, but it could have been worse. The butt plug went from small vibe to a pulsing, bumping routine that shook my guts, especially that small silly gland. It was not pleasurable, but certainly not uncomfortable, either.
I was thinking I might survive all this when the knobby-vac-tube went berserk. The vacuum started to oscillate, pulling and pushing my cock back and forth across the slippery knobs with vicious suction and pressure. Intense vibration started as well, but only at the end of the tube where my precious head got the brunt of that punishment. Every time I got sucked forward into the tube the vibes would rattle my delicate head, causing an intense wave of euphoria through my whole fucking body. Back and forth. Back and forth. This piece of shit machine was literally fucking me raw, and I loved and hated every second.
The video changed from the woman to a muscular and extremely well-hung young man chained to a fortified coffee table. Thick straps on short, heavy chains were fastened tightly to his wrists and bolted to each side of the table. His legs were bent over one end, and his ankles were wrapped with a ton of thick rope which was also knotted to the table, hobbling him good. Two giant belts went across his chest and belly and around the table, buckled snuggly. A tight black gimp hood was over his head, and an ugly thick bit-gag was firmly strapped into his mouth. This guy was in for it. His flannel shirt was ripped open, jeans pushed down to his knees, heavy boots on his feet.
This guy was very well-hung. There must have been a pillow under his ass because his waist and crotch were elevated. This made his junk thrust up for all to see. He was massive. Thickest meat I ever saw. It made me look small. At least ten inches and thick as a can of soup.
A petit little woman in a cat mask came into view and I knew he was fucked. She knelt down and just started to work. The sound of the lube squirting into her hand made him start to struggle immediately. He was soft at first and her handwork did not get him going. He was probably not into this, but he needed the money. She finally got him hard and went to town with both tiny hands. He lay still and groaned though the gag, awash in the stimulation.
This all transpired in about 30 seconds, which was all it took for me to go into pre-orgasm hysteria. The machines had all stepped up their intensity and I was being vibed and sucked and fucked without mercy. I writhed and shuddered in my bondage and moaned and cried through the gag, sucking air and waiting for death or worse, climax. It would not come. I could not come.
The meds she gave me had a serious delaying effect. ED meds often help postpone premature ejaculations. Some top-shelf meds not only keep you hard but help you stay horny, aroused, and eager. I was all of these. I was also pissed, scared, elated, and embarrassed. Great combination.
That fucking bitch had me so dead to rights! I was in agony and ecstasy, bound and gagged, naked with fucking awesome boots on, getting pounded, sucked, and vibed beyond belief. Straining and writhing against the best bondage ever. Minutes seemed like hours. What could happen next? Just wait.
I’m in the throes of all this so I don’t hear the person approach my chair. It’s the Asian woman. She stepped quietly in front of me and startled me a little bit. I must have looked ridiculous. She looked me up and down, in all my naked, bound splendor. I was still convulsing and panting through my gag, and she seemed to like this. She smiled hungrily at the sight of me.
Lightning fast, she reached out with both hands and grabbed my left nipple and pulled. She fixed a clamp down on it. WTF! OUCH! Next, the right one was stretched and clamped. OW, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I jumped and fought the straps with everything I had. My fingers reached out to claw her to shreds, but she just stepped back a tiny bit to examine her handiwork. Her eyes bulged at the whole scene. She smiled. She was having fun! Now I’ve got two women to murder.
With a massive schlong like mine, and the wonderful way it works, women have never had much interest in my nipples. I suppose they’re as sensitive as the next guys, but I never thought they’d be subjected to this. My predicament has now changed dramatically.
If she could, the maid would probably have grabbed my junk and had some fun, but I was covered in vibrating machinery at the moment, so she tiptoed off and disappeared. I was back in the weeds. The vibes were hitting me everywhere. The pain in my nipples had subsided, leaving a dull pressing on sensitive tissue. It was annoying, but was it really? As I struggled, the sensation kind of fit in with the pain and pleasure of everything else. I didn’t enjoy it, but it did change all of the other stimulation going on.
The butt plug vibe brought me back to reality. The prostate stimulation took over, and my body was thrust back to work. The fucking nip-attack made me go soft a bit, but I was getting over that. The vac-suck on my cock returned and the knobbies were still doing their job. I had some numbness earlier and that was gone, too. The ball sack vibe had gone quiet. The bitch knew that ball stimulation was not necessary when the rest were working. The boys just needed to sit back and let everything else go. I loved her all over again.
I was in full stim-mode now. I was sweating again and I struggled against the bondage but with less enthusiasm. I must have become exhausted. The video showed the bound hunk shooting a gigantic wad of thick cum all over himself as the tiny chick giggled and wanked this guy into oblivion. He was wailing into his gag, slobber and tears all over his handsome face. Cum-shots got me off more than I’d like to say. I’m not gay, but this guy’s cock was fucking beautiful.
The meds do delay orgasm, yes, but when it does come, it’s very slow and builds steadily bit by bit. A man can always feel the start of an orgasm deep down. The meds make this even more feelable. I was now at the point where I was gonna come harder and longer than I ever imagined, based on the deep rumbling down in my nether region. It was gonna hurt and it was gonna be heaven on earth.
Something happened at that moment that I did not expect. CHING! The straps on my ankles and calves popped away from the chair legs. The straps fell to the carpet, leaving my lower legs free inside the lovely boots. At first, I didn’t move, I was in the beginning stages of a slow-earthquake orgasm. It was building like a thick tickle-ache inside me, from my ass to my balls. The vibes quickened and the sucking got stronger and quicker. You fucking, cock-sucking BITCH!! You’ve got me!
I set my booted feet in front of me and thrusted my pelvis like a cocaine-addled porn star. The crotch machine stayed on and firmly attached. The butt vibe buzzed loudly on the highest setting. My head rolled, I bit down hard on my gag, and the nipple clamps jumped.
It hits. I’m gone.
The first wave hurt like a bitch. A gallon of hot cum surged out of me like a volcano. I screamed through the gag, but my throat was clenched and dry, so it sounded faded and hoarse. The sensation of pleasure and euphoria took over and I shivered and spasmed. The next wave was right behind, and it didn’t hurt at all. More jizz, more sweat, more screams, more breath. My insides shuddered. My ball sack was shrunk up like two walnuts. I jerked a few more times as end-cum seeped out of me and into the tube.
All the machines stopped at once. I sat back on the chair. I had been holding my ass up off the chair, cheeks clenched, this whole time. I relaxed and breathed. The gag holes helped me get my breath. I was spent. I was sore everywhere. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted someone to just walk me outside and let me die in the front yard.
Again, she must have read my thoughts because the TV jumped on, to her. On her chair, again, looking as smug and beautiful as before. I hated her. I barely had the strength to look at the screen. I wanted to marry her and be her slave forever.
“Hey pup!” Have any fun in my little get-up?” she asked.
“Uhghhhh.” I responded with my usual charm and eloquence.
She giggled. “That’s good. I see you might be a little tuckered out, so my guys will get you sorted out and I’ll see you later on. Bye, little pup.” The TV went dark.
The two big dudes came in, unhooked me, and took me out of the chair. One helped me out of the bondage and boots and the other worked the camera under the TV. The whole ordeal was definitely captured in high-def video. I hoped she wouldn’t put it out on the internet. I must have looked like an idiot.
I was taken back to my room and had enough strength to drink some water, take a shower and get into bed. I slept with vivid dreams of strangling, masturbating, and falling backwards while sitting on a hard chair. Yuck.
The next morning, there was coffee and a big breakfast waiting for me. I ate like a horse. On the dresser there was an envelope full of hundreds, a card for a taxi service and a note that said, “Look in the bottom drawer.” I did, and there, in a box, nicely polished, were my boots. I got the message loud and clear. The two dudes were waiting outside my door. Too bad I’ll never see her again.
End
Cuffed, Caged, Tied and Tormented · Part 2 (2/2)
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