The Asylum 8
NOTICE: All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story! Please read no further if you are underage 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental.
Synopsis: Men and boys who commit crimes are taken to an island for punishment. They are put through inspections and into sexual service rooms. In this chapter, I go back to the U.S. on an excursion with Velasquez to make some short visits in the Midwest in which we would round up candidates, but also deliver some warnings to wayward men and boys. But we stop in New York City first.
Visiting the States
Velasquez had persuaded me to take a trip from the Island at the end of a year, to visit the states and participate in one of our round-ups. For my part, I liked the idea of finding someone to play with while I visited, as well as assisting in the effort to corral strays who needed to be taken to the island. Before I left though, I made sure that a routine was established for all the current visitors at the Asylum. The patients and inmates were always cycled, to keep them sexually frustrated and in need. But it was rare that not one of them was worked during a given week...only on the occasions that I left the island. So during the ten days I was away, the current crop of malefactors were put through paces by the guards who ensured that when I returned they would be ready for more of my treatments and, as appropriate, punishments.
The women were not allowed to sleep with their legs together to make sure they did not give themselves clit cums by rubbing their legs together. In the case of some of them, keeping their legs spread wide made their clits grow even more erect from the exposure and the walls of their pussies slick with juice from the mere movement of the air on their itchy labia, and turgid clits. They couldn't help it...once they spread open, they were bitches in heat, hot to have something frig their nasty, tight holes and rub their joy buttons. So I had all of them put on the horse for one hour in the morning, one hour in the afternoon and another one before they went to bed, but with strict instructions that they were not to cum. The horse was a wonderful device which could be used on men or women. In the case of the girls, they sat tied leaning forward with their arms cinched up to the middle of their backs usually gagged or blindfolded, or both. Their feet were strapped into stirrups on the side of the horse that were angled to help keep them leaning forward. From behind, up out of the saddle into their sticky, wet cunts, a six inch long, 1.5" wide vibrating dildo replete with knobs, ridges, and bumps was inserted into them and screwed in place through the saddle. Depending on the girl, she might also get a slender knobby dildo up her asshole, sometimes as part of one sweet, wicked device. The horse (actually their were six of them), was programmed to send signals to the dildoes and to buzz and vibrate their pussies in a programmed sequence, till they were creaming, and then shut down just as their heart rate sensed through the dildo itself indicated they were climbing the ladder and close to orgasm. Each girl was given this treatment every day, and then her legs were tethered apart at night, and her hands secured so she could not reach her cunt and clit. That way, I knew they would be primed when I returned. I was told they had to douche most of them each morning from the stink of underfucked, horny pussy, seeping cunt juice at night from the desperate need for relief.
The men were similarly shackled at night, only with them a curved and raised spreader bar also kept their sheets from touching the aching, unsatisfied and horny dicks. Each man was given a turn on a horse as well. In their case, they were strapped on their backs with legs spread wide in overhead stirrups. With their arms tethered back over their heads, they almost looked like cowboys on bucking broncs, missing only their chaps, hats, and boots. Like the women, they were either blindfolded or gagged, or both depending on the level of resistance shown by the respective inmate. In this reclining position from the saddle, a sweet, slender curved dildo was inserted into the anus with the same goal it had when used on the women, to vibrate and buzz them with a focus on their exposed and helpless prostates. The saddle had a wide, thick waist restraint, and stirrups were also designed to keep their legs firmly in place. Aimed down at their midsections, and swinging back and forth over their engorged dick heads, and occasionally moving high enough to rasp their hard tits, was a firm, wide brush on a pendulum. The brush would scratch back and forth, roiling and tingling the desperate dick tips only, and scratching horny jutting tit flesh. But when any guy was close to ejaculation...the sensors in the dildo which controlled the entire mechanism acted with malice to leave the men straining to get their throbbing pricks a little friction. It was delightful to watch them fucking the air madly for the last bit of contact that might provide relief and at the same time forcing them to fuck their own bungs on the curved little dildo. If a guy's joy button was getting too much work, the dildo would automatically rescind an inch or two to keep him from shooting spontaneously from the prostate rub. Then at night, it was back to their beds, tethered so they could not help themselves, hard cocks punching into the air, often assisted by a good night jerk that would curl their toes, but failed to grant the desperately needed relief. There were a few nocturnal dreams that resulted in some ejaculations for which punishment would be meted out upon my return. But for the most part, these randy prick brains needed something to assist bringing their unruly dicks to spurting satisfaction. When I returned to the island, there would be a group of men and women raging with fuck lust who would be ready for my latest ideas on how to train them.
Dick for the Taking
While Velasquez made arrangements for us to go to America's heartland to pick up our latest punks, I was able to stay in New York City for a few days. Renting a car, and using the subway, I had the opportunity to visit all the sleezy sperm banks that had produced some delicious toys for my enjoyment before I had left the mainland, and signed up to work at the Asylum. On a trip out of the city, I stopped at one road side rest stop that had produced many a weekend prize for me in years gone by. I parked my car, and at 8:00 on a Friday night, I went in to the john and waited. I was dressed in a security guard uniform, with black military boots, a cap low over my brow and all the appropriate tools of the trade on my belt. I was wearing a pair of dark reflecting shades which allowed me to view things without any difficulty indoors. I went to the sink, and as I washed my hands, I noticed that the last stall--a disabled stall--was open,. I went in, and as I expected, a large hole had been cut into the metal partition, and buffed to take away any sharp edges. Attempts had obviously been made to cover it, but they had failed. I sat down, lowered my uniform pants and sparkling white briefs, revealing three-quarter length over the calf socks held up by traditional sock garters around my hairy, muscular calves. I didn't need them, but I knew that they would drive some men wild, and so I wore them. I unbuttoned my shirt to expose my firm hairy pecs and hard tits, with a patch of dark hair running between them. I threw my tie over my shoulder, loosed it slightly and waited. I had a plan for this night, and I just needed the right male ingredient to make it all work out.
After several men had come and gone using the urinals, the first guy to come into the can next to me was a business suit. He looked about 28-30, with just the hint of one or two gray hairs in his otherwise healthy light brown mane. His hazel eyes, were soft and inviting, but his boyish looks were belied by a firm body. He hung his coat on the door, and dropped his blue suit pants and briefs to reveal a pair of strong thighs, fully furred with a dusting of even lighter hair. His skin was tanned, so the hair just looked like a thick, darkening shadow over his legs. I wondered what his feet, still encased in his leather loafers, looked like. I did not see much more, because I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing I had looked at him when he came in the stall. This was a waiting game, and his job was to want me. Within a minute, a face appeared at the glory hole, gazing expressionless first at my face, then at my seven inch gristle that curved up wickedly toward my chest with a sticky fat plum on top. A long drop of pre-fuck had already started to drool down my stalk from the deep well of my piss lips, and he unconsciously licked his lips when he stared at it. He leaned back, waiting to see if I would return the gaze at the hole, but since I had dark glasses on, he could not tell whether I was looking at him when he had peered through the hole. In another minute, his head appeared again at the hole, and this time he looked at me boldly, basically inviting me to do something. I turned and gave a sarcastic smile through the expressionless shades, as I used my thumb to rub the fat spongy head of my dick, and cause more lube to drip out and down the stalk. His lips parted slightly, and I could sense he was getting desperate.
He leaned back again, and suddenly I saw his feet tap at the floor, But I just sat, knowing that he craved some response. Finally, he stood up, and without any warning, thrust his dick through the big hole. That was the fucking sight I'd been waiting for. This big shit, probably some hot shot young lawyer, wanted his wang worked, and now was asking me to do him. I intended to, but not like he thought. His cock was a fine, fat six inch cudgel which thrust straight out of the hole, angling up slightly but without any noticeable curve. The body of that prick had an unusually wide stalk and head. The fat knob showed a wide, vulnerable flange that met at his piss lips and circumcision scar, revealing his own deep piss lips. I wondered how many college girls had slurped their tongues around that bulbous knob, massaging it within their hot, wet mouths, wringing gobs of scum from it. At the same time I sensed that this dong was no stranger to the vacuuming mouths of men either, and it expanded and began to drip a bit of pre-sap with the thought that my mouth might envelope it with a hard suction and soothe the ache in the starchy smelling nuts that hung in a fat tight hairy sack beneath. Now it was time to let him know the score.
I whispered loudly, and with calm force: "Hey you shithead, now that you stuck this pecker through the hole, it's mine." And with that I grasped the smooth head and veined, pale shaft in my fist. "Now grab the top of the partition, and lean as close as you fucking can...you hear me?" At first he tried to pull back, and I barked at him..."Hey fucker, don't mess with me...I gave you and order...now DO IT!" I almost laughed out loud when I finished telling him what to do, knowing that he was probably sweating and wondering what he'd gotten himself into. No matter, he followed my instructions to the letter, and as he did I pulled his big nut sack through the hole as well. I had the fucker where I wanted him. Using a piece of strong twine, I quickly tethered his balls and dick to the paper dispenser next to the hole. He squeaked as I roped him, and began to speak to me urgently in more than a whisper: "Jesus, what the fuck are you going...someone might come in here any second...shit, lemme go, are you crazy...we could be arrested!" Now it was time for me to laugh...and as I did I spoke back in a regular voice: "If you were so worried about being hauled into jail, why'da come here in the first place, and stick you big, horny cock through the hole. You saw my uniform, didn't you? You wanted to get your dick worked, and that's what's gonna happen. I'm no nut...and I'm not gonna call the cops. I'm not gonna make this cum one of the best of your life...so relax and keep your hands on that partition slimeball."
His dick never went soft, and in fact it seemed to squeeze even more lube out even though I had him tied up under his flange. Anyway, it gave me time to pull on two finger gloves, one with a palm covered in my favorite little nodules, soft and pliant, but bumpy and uneven. The other had simply three fingertips covered with short, firm horsehair bristles that could induce the most remarkable sensations from a man whose cock was massaged by them. My suit's leather slip ons were shoved under the bottom of the stall, and his fingers gripped the top, showing hair and a wedding ring. I liked that.
Using my palm hand, I gripped his pecker, and unlaced his the thin rope to free his dick. But I left his balls tethered so that he couldn't pull himself back into the stall. "Fuck, you asshole, lemme go before we get busted...Jesus, what kind of fucking weirdo are you...just gimme a blow job and lemme get outta here...." He spoke with manly bravado, treating me like the clients for which he had contempt each day...people who weren't as smart as my Ivy Leaguer with the big dick head who was used to screwing, not being screwed. I slowly rotated my fist around his stalk, and that elicited a healthy groan...."aaaaaaaahhhhhhhfuck...that feels good, shit, what're using on my dick?" I responded in a tone that made his cock throb unconsciously:
"Shut up fuck-up...you're nothing here...just a dick that needs to be drained...and I'm gonna do it the way I want and you're gonna beg me to do it." He just groaned again when I dripped some lube onto his dick, and my nodule encrusted fist slipped easy round and back without teasing his aching prick tip.
That's when I gave him my hairy surprise. My thumb and index finger caught his spongy prick tip in a sweet vice, and began an insistent roil, moving back and forth rapidly. "Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeee, what the fuck is that....not my dick head....shit....you're killing me.....aaaaaaggghhhhhhhh FUCK, lemme gooooooooooo....sweeet jesus, what're ya doing to me....aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" I laughed a deep laugh, and said, "that's it dick brain...give it up...you're pecker is getting what it needs and you're gonna have that knob worked till you scream for mercy...."
He seemed ready to shoot within seconds, and I pulled my fingertips away, and kept my fist rotating slowly, just missing his scar and any hope of relief.
"Goddam...you fucking asshole, why'd ya stop...Jesus, my nuts feel like their in a vice, and I'm ready to shoot....lemme cum man, you got my dick...I'm playing along, now lemme shoot my fuckin' load, huh?"
"Calm down you prick...a cock like yours needs some management, sorta like what you'd like to do to those big titted secretaries in your office, huh guy? Well, you settle down. If I visited you in your office, I'd hog tie you on your desk, with you pants around your ankles, and give you a nice finger fuck while I milked your cock...might even tie you to your chair, and make you take calls while I use a toothbrush on that insolent dick of yours...what'ya think bud?" His cock lurched in spite of his bravado and protests, and I went back to just rubbing the wicked bristles over and around his helpless, randy prick head.
"Yeah, that it guy...you talk shit, but you like to have that big dick worked don't you? You want all the guys you play racquetball or basketball against to think you're tough shit, but we know better...you're just a fucking wimp who needs to be tied down and worked. Some of those guys are in your head at night when you grind that gristle into your wife's cunt, and when you're in the can at work lazily stroking your bone. You'd love to have some of them take you home and work you over. Well, you're fuckin' tied by the balls to a dirty stall in a stinking john, and your dick is being worked over by some guy you don't even know. Yeah...that's it, fuck the hole, move your ass and hope I give you what you dying for, bub." (The use of this crude tone and accent only seemed to turn him on more....) His ass was grinding against the stall all, and now he began to bump against it and his knuckles turned pale white from gripping. He grunted and babbled, not quite begging but clearly accepting everything my twirling fingertips and rotating fist were doing to him. "Aaaaaaahhhh fuck me, just make me cum you fuckin' sadist....jesus I'm almost there...please...finish it...lemme shoot my cum! Judas priest...play with my big prick and make it shoot scum!" I laughed again, and this time, I concentrated the bristles with a firm motion up and down on his piss lips and against his scar. He banged his ass even harder against the stall trying to relieve the maddening itch that tingled over his dick head, and then without warning he made on final lunge and shot six long streams of thick, white goop almost to the other wall of my stall. I laughed again, and milked him for all he was worth, scrubbing the little bristles without mercy against the now overly sensitive head of his cock, his ass now moving every which way to evade my fingers, but unable to with his balls firmly tied in place.
"Oh Goddam...stop...stop you crazy mutherfucker...you're killin' me...STOP, JESUS, PLEASE, stop now....aaaaagghhhhhhhhhhhhh...no more, oooohhhhhhh shit. You're fuckin' killing me....aaaaaahhhhhhhhh not the head...not the fucking head.....!" After I was sure the last dregs had been milked from his prick, still up and hard, and now mottled and red from the maddening bristles and bumpy glove, I stopped. I untied his nuts, and spoke to him as he hurriedly yanked his dick back through the hole and pulled up his pants, groaning as his briefs covered his sensitive dick. "That's it fuck-head...go home, and beat off tonight after your wife goes to sleep...beat off thinking about me working you over, and wondering how it would be to have other guys do this to ya. Cause that's what you want...your dick told me so...so sweet dreams baby...maybe I'll find you again and give you another trip to heaven." Then I laughed again as he banged out the door, muttering and swearing and wondering why his dick was still hard in his pants. We were lucky that we had not been interrupted. I had a sense that tonight he'd jerk that dick with a vengeance, unable to forget how he'd begged and was stretched out against the partition in a dirty bathroom with his dick under the control of another man.
Tommy's Big Boy Boner
I had decided to wait another ten or fifteen minutes. I wanted to catch another pigeon, my own dick raging with lust, but carefully untouched so as not to lose my horny edge. I figured there might be a chance for me to find someone who could be my assistant on this trip. If I could find the right person, I would manage him and have him help me with the boys we were going to pick up for some short term justice. My patience was rewarded, when a pair of black Converse high tops came into the stall which the suit had vacated. I was in luck tonight. The high tops were full, filled by big muscular feet and thick, meaty ankles. At first I figured I might have some high school kid looking for a blow job, but if it was some college kid needing to drop a load so he could concentrate on his studies, I would have hit the jackpot.
Within seconds, I heard the 501 jeans buttons pop, and saw them and some "Joe" boxers pile at the feet of the high tops. Then almost as soon as that happened, a face appeared at the hole. My cock was now covered with lube, sticky and clear. One of my nipples was jutting out from my hairy pec, peeking from under my slightly parted shirt, and it was hard, rubbery and stiff. I had caught another fly. The dumb college kid on the other side thumped his big feet while still looking through the hole, and made my cock lurch by sticking his long, wet tongue through the hole and wagging it at me. I looked at him without expression, and then spoke..."You a cocksucker?" He whispered back hoarsely, in a deep voice..."put it through dude, and I'll suck it for you."
I repeated myself..."I asked you a question punk...are you a cocksucker?" He paused for a moment, and then responded: "Sure dude, that's me...I'm a fucking cocksucker...and I wanna swing on your fat pecker...so put it through." I spoke in measured, but firm tones: "Stand up, put your hands behind your head, and stick your dick through the hole...I want to see if you're worth my time." Again another pause, and an almost shocked but blank stare from the eyes peering through the hole at me, sizing me up, deciding whether this was something he wanted to do. Punk kids, they own the world, and this one wanted to see what the world was like. Still staring at my glasses, he just stood up so I could see just the top of his head, short dark brown hair. Then after another pause, I watched two big, muscular hands clasping behind the scalp. Then as his high tops moved toward the bottom of my the partition, through the hole came cock perfection...eight inches of boy meat, at least two inches wide, and with a fat spongy head that matched the stalk. No helmet that overwhelmed the body, but just a consistently thick piece of boy gristle with a bulging knob that was already dripping profusely from deep piss lips. Shit, the kid was a leaky faucet.
I gripped his dick and I could see him momentarily raise up on his toes to protect himself, but then he settled back, and allowed me to gently spiral my calloused fist up and down, barely grazing his flange. He grunted appreciatively, and moved forward, pressing his hips and t-shirt against the partition, giving me more room to work his drooling cock. I took a little fingernail brush out of my pocket, and as I spoke to him, I began a gentle, maddeningly light, scrub of his pecker tip.
"Where do you live kid?" He paused, groaning from the ticklish torture on his big knob, then almost squeaked as his deep voiced cracked, telling me he lived away from here. I asked him if he ever spent time in the city, and he said sure. That's where he went to school, and worked. I told him I was visiting, and wondered if he had the weekend free? Now there was a very long pause and constant movement of his hips caused by the bristles that danced around his fat dick head, and his scum dripped in greater quantities as the sensation made him flex his boner, he said: "Sure, dude...uuughhhh, I've got the weekend. Normally I'm working, but aaaahhhhh this weekend I have some time off....what're you're thinking...aaaghhhh "; a sweet little grunt coming after his question as I worked his cock head lightly but mercilessly.
"I'm suggesting that you keep your hands behind your head when you speak to me, and do everything I tell you for the next three days...that's what I'm saying....What do you think about that punk? It comes with meals, a place to sleep, and more ways for you to stay hard than you've ever dreamed of...you game, or just lame?" He grunted in that deep voice again, as I intensified the scrub just under his scar, making his dick quake in my hands.
"OOOooohhhhhh shit, OK, dude...I can dig this scene... uuuuggghhhhh, I mean
"Sir." I'll do whatever you say... aaaahhhhh I'll do whatever you want, Sir." I smiled, at the thought of working this teenage jerk artist to his limit.
"When I let your prick go, pull back, open your door, and walk with your hands behind your head, pants at your shoes, into my stall. That way you can see me, and I'll have a chance to see whether you know how to follow instructions."
I wondered if he'd whine like the suit had about being caught, and whether he had the balls to make this work? Suddenly, his door creaked open and his raging boner backed out of the glory hole. As he moved, I unlatched my stall door. He shuffled out of his stall and into mine, and I closed the door and directed him to the corner of the oversized space, built for wheelchairs. He just stared at me, and my big cock, not changing expressions, not frightened, but not quite sure what he had gotten himself into. His dick hadn't flagged, though, so I knew he knew what he wanted...he wanted me to take charge, and I intended to do just that.
He stood there with his hands behind his head, legs spread as wide as his hobbled feet would allow, jeans pooled at his worn black hightops, and his t- shirt pulled up with his arms, revealing a sweet inny navel and firm, flat stomach. His boner was waving in front of him, wet and sticky. He was about 6'2" tall, and maybe 180-185lbs. with a dusting of dark brown hair over his forearms and legs, a thin line of it up his butt crack, and he looked to have size 11 or 12 feet. Eyes of blue and dark brown hair under his arm pits, in a little bush above his stalk, and on the top of his crew cut head. I discovered later he was nineteen, going to college and just at the age when his dick was constantly exploding along with his fantasies. I explained that I was staying downtown in an expensive hotel in a suite, and that we'd be there through Monday morning, and then I wanted him to take a trip with me and whether he was game. He gulped, but after hearing the name of the hotel, he said "yes...Sir." I made him face the wall of the john, and squeeze his body against it. I pulled his boner down towards the ground, and make it stick under his balls, between his legs. Then I told him to lean forward on the balls of his feet.
Shit, you should have seen him. His knees slightly spread, his jeans around his shoe tops, his boner dripping constantly into his boxers, and his butt slightly punched out towards me. I ran a finger along his crack, then slipped into the hot hairy crevice, tickling his anal knot as I used the wicked little fingernail brush on the circumcision scar from behind. He sucked in his breath, and grunted appreciatively, and then thought he'd persuade me to make him shoot his big boy wad: "Ooooohhhhh shit, Sir....that's it, fuck me....that's so bitchen...yeah man...I mean Sir...please... just keep working me till I get my nut...aaaaahhhhhhhhh fffffuuuuuuckkkkk yyyyeeeeaaahhhhh."
I sped up just for a moment, giving him the hope that he would scum...and then just as suddenly, I stopped. His dick flexed, swelling once or twice, his dick knob going taut...but his only reward was another couple of burps of his boy slime...and with a sudden gasp, he realized that he wasn't going to be allowed to ejaculate.
I allowed him to pull himself together, making his stuff his uncooperative pecker down the leg of his jeans. Then he got into his car, and followed me. I told him that all the way to the city, I wanted him to keep his dick out of the pants, and I wanted him to stay hard. I watched through his window as he unbuttoned, pulled his still randy prick out, and let it thump against the steering wheel. I walked back to my car, got in, and led the way. Within thirty minutes, we were at my hotel, his car parked in the garage under my bill. I took his keys, his wallet (his name was Tom), and made him pull off his pants in his car, remove his boxers and socks, and give them to me, then put back on his shoes and jeans. His dick had remained hard, and when he stood up I grazed my hand over the denim and made sure the rough material rubbed his sensitive cock head. He groaned and his eyes, closed, and he leaned toward me. But I made his stand up, and continued to just scratch my nail over the denim and his aching knob. When the wet spot emerged where his knob was against the material, I stopped, smiled, and told him to follow me.
When we got into the elevator, I stood behind him, my 6' frame almost blocked by his big, well muscled body. Others jammed in, and the car was filled with burbling conventioneers as we moved slowly up to each floor. I slipped my hand around Tom's right side which was against the sidewall of the elevator. My fingers roamed up his ribcage under his loose t-shirt, and found one of his nipples jutting against the cloth. He looked down, almost startled to see my fingers. Others in the car were faced forward, gabbing and yaking, hardly noticing us. Then I again I traced my fingers slowly up his sides, feeling a drip of perspiration as his fear of being exposed took hold. While some fool in the front of the elevator cab talked loudly about "old Bill" who was missing the conference, and guffawed about going down to the nude theaters, I used my jagged index nail to gently scratch the pebbled nipple on Tom's right side, causing him to suck in his breath and force the nub out towards my finger even more, anxious to get plucked, pinched, and tugged into submission. But I just scratched lazily, making him pant with lust, his eyes closing, and his breath becoming ragged, horny beyond belief, and desperate to be managed by me.
Tommy Gets Worked
When we got to our floor, the cab had emptied. The one couple in front of us, walked out and headed in the other direction. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to face me. I motioned to his feet. He looked puzzled, and then when I frowned and snapped my finger towards his feet, he suddenly got the message. He sat down and lifted each big foot, unloosened his dirty Chuck Taylor classics, and then pulled them off. Then he flexed his muscled, damp feet. Then following my instructions, began to walk down the hall behind me, barefoot, his strong toes gripping the carpet. That was his role, to be bare and exposed...to be publicly naked, so that he could demonstrate obedience, that's how boys like him need to be trained. I smiled again, knowing that I had a boy who knew how to behave.
After we entered the apartment, I told him to stand in the middle of the room:
"Put your hands behind your head Tommy, spread your legs about a foot and half apart, and stick out your chest. Jesus he looked like a wet dream...that close cropped brown hair, those dreamy eyes, and oval face, his thick legs encased in those jeans, and his pale, muscular feet gripping the carpet. I was going to work this boy...make him yield everything to me before we went back out on the road with Velasquez. I went to the bathroom and pissed, leaving the door open so he could hear the stream hit the water in the bowl. Then I came out and stretched out on the bed. The time had come to put Tommy through his paces.
With him still standing with his hands behind his head, I asked him some questions. "Tommy, when did you first start playing with your dick?" I asked in an even, unemotional tone. He looked at me...and cleared his throat, speaking in a deep, masculine voice.
"I was twelve...seemed like my dick was always kinda hard. Guys talked about beating off, and like other guys, I learned to play with my dick...felt fucking good, Sir, rubbing my prick and making it squirt." He looked at me as he spoke, and I could see his dick was hard, filling out the worn part of his crutch, and poking down his leg...the fat knob outlined against the taut material and his wet spot growing again from his horny pre-sap.
I told him to unbutton his jeans, and haul his dick out...not the balls, just the dick. When he did, a long drip of clear scum drooled from the piss lips and angled towards the ground. "Use your finger and wipe up the pre-cum hanging from your pecker, then lick it off with your tongue." He looked at me, took a deep breath, and used his long, thick digit that had probed many a pussy, to tickle the end of his dick and wipe up the drool there. Then he with a salacious, coy look, he stuck the finger in his mouth, used his tongue to swab it, and sucked it hard. Yeah, a cum eater, this was going to be a great evening.
"When was the first time you let a guy work that big boy boner of yours?" I asked. He blushed a bit, but answered in an even tone...that deep voice resonating in me. "Aw, that was when I was a freshman in high school. I was dating a girl, but we hadn't had sex yet. I was so horny all the time, I couldn't get enough of my fist on my dick. My first hand job and blow job happened simultaneously. I used to travel down to the Bronx by regular train (as opposed to subway) from our house which is a Northern suburb. I'll never forget it... I had gotten a copy of "Lady Chatterly's Lover,"...I was reading it, and my dick was hard as steel and oozing cum soaking my briefs and right through my jeans. I really wanted to cum bad so when the train finally got to my station, I went right for the men's room. It was empty and dingy. I made my way down past the urinals and went into the last stall, shoved my pants and briefs down, sat and started reading some more, slowly rubbing my dick. I heard the outside door to the john open several times and feet shuffle, then the sounds of piss in the urinals. I kept reading and getting into some hot scenes in the book. At some point someone must have come in and I lost track of him thinking he'd left. But suddenly all at once I saw sneakers outside my stall under the door, there was a brief bang as the guy pushed against the stall door. I knew nothing about guy stuff then but this dude apparently hung out at this train station with his eye out for someone to hook up with. He also must've known that all it took was a little shove against the door and the flimsy latch would give out and the door open. Next thing I knew, the guy just stepped into the fairly large stall with me, grinned down saying something like..."what are you doing?" he was a black guy, probably in his late 20's, maybe 30, and I was 15 at the time. I was scared shitless when he walked in on me...I froze and didn't say a word, while he reached down and took my still stiff bone in his hand and stroked it several times. I was big already, and my dick looked so big and hard in his hand, aching and drippin'. Then he suddenly told me in this low emotionless voice "stand up"...I stood up as he demanded, my pants and briefs down around my ankles. He raised my shirt up around my neck and told me to hold it there. I did as he told me, and he got down on his knees and simply put his mouth over my dick, while his finger reached up for my tits. I thought I'd fuckin' die, thought I'd pass out, it felt sooo damn wild. It didn't take him too long, my ass started to move on its own, shoving my dick into his wet, slurping mouth. I closed my eyes (and in fact he did it again as he spoke), and I came and came and came, my legs buckling, my entire body shaking and trembling. Shit, dude...I mean Sir, it felt like my entire insides were blasting out of my cock...it was fuckin' wild!" He smiled shyly as he got to this part of the story, realizing how caught up he had got in telling the story, his own dick throbbing and waving in front of him as if he was about to cum. He closed his eyes again, and his dick seemed to expand, and his chest started to heave.
"I didn't tell you to cum!" I barked. He opened his eyes, and looked at me surprised. "You better not let that unruly boy prick shoot scum without my permission...of I'll use a cock whip on it... you hear me?" He gulped, his grin gone, and nodded slowly, his dick while sopping in juices had lost some of its steel. "Now continue...I ordered, him. What did the black guy do next?"
Tommy's big dick flexed again, but more out of the realization that he did not have any control over what was happening. He flexed his dick muscle as he started again. "Well, after he made me shoot my jizz, he just swallowed it all, stood up smiled and then turned around and walked out, not saying a word. I was scared as shit...and horny as fuck. I'd never felt something so good on my dick...all wet and slippery, tingly and hot. My cock boned again, and I plopped down onto the toilet seat, took a few minutes to calm down and catch my thoughts, then I pulled my pants up, shoved my dick down in them, and got out of there. I looked around when I came out of the stall, and the john, but didn't see the dude anywhere. I didn't tell anybody. I was too fucking scared someone would think I was a fag, and I was dating this girl, and I didn't want to screw that up. That was my first sexual experience of any kind and so I masturbated nightly after that for a long time thinking about his mouth, lips and tongue working me over, my tits getting hard when he pinched 'em. Shit it was the best." Once again, his dick throbbed, expanding and flexing as if it was about to pop. He seemed to grit his teeth, and slightly hunch his shoulders, before he finally stopped the spasms and regained control of his ejaculation, another long drop of lube falling to the carpet at his feet. "Good boy, Tommy, I said flatly. Good boy."
"Now I want you slip you pants down to your ankles, take off the t-shirt, then climb onto that coffee table, pull your legs up to your chest and put your hands back behind your head again. Yeah, that's it, keep those legs up to your chest, and your hands behind your head...spread out, showing me just how much of a boy slut you are, and how much you want me to use you....yeah...that's it, I want to see that dirty little hair fringed asshole." As I spoke I took out a slender vibrator, and switched it on, then I walked up to Tommy and inserted it into his mouth and told him to hold it there. He looked so fucking sexy with that pebbled vibrator buzzing in between his pouting lips. Then I pulled his dick down, and hooked it under his underwear and jeans which were near his groin when he pulled his legs up to his chest. I left it out, exposed and available to me, wet and sticky. I sat next to him, stroking my fingers up and down the souls of his feet, watching them curl from the ticklish scratching of my nails and his body flinch from the thought of being tickled in this position. Then drew my finger up and down his raging boner...drooling incessantly and held in place by his boxers and pants. When I started to tickle his ass lips, between the two muscular cheeks, his dick just began to vibrate again and his eyes closed. I knew I would have to stop, or he'd cum and I wasn't about to allow that yet. I rolled his fat dick knob between my fingers, and told him how he was going to spend the next two hours. "Tommy, a boy like you needs to be trained, worked, and kept from shooting his cream before he's given permission. I can tell you like to shoot cum. Every time I touch your body your dick is throbbing, ready to scum, just like when that black man took charge of you in the john when you were a kid. For the rest of the time you are with me, you will be kept hard and horny, but you will be denied ejaculation until I grant it. Cocks like yours need supervision, or they get into trouble, and the boys who play with them lose focus and discipline. For starters, for the next two hours, you are going to be on the verge of ejaculation, but your aimless dick is going to be managed and you're not going to do anything but drool." His eyes gave me a silent plea, hoping that I would relieve his already swollen nuts. But I intended to keep him full of starchy gism until I was ready to have him fountain it out of his big boy balls.
I left him in that state on the coffee table for about fifteen minutes while I prepared a place next to mine on the king size bed. Every time his legs started to tire and lower, I barked at him, and told him to keep them up by his chest. He obediently followed my instructions, spread out like a nasty whore on the table, cock hard and horny. Once I took him from the table, I made him hobble over to the bed. Shit what a sight, those tight butt cheeks with their hint of dark hair up the crack, the pants at his feet, his hands behind his neck, and that eight inch gristle bobbing in front of him wet and sassy and drooling...yeah this is how some boys are made and how they should be managed. I put him on his back on the bed, then brought a spreader bar over to him. A chain from the bar was attached to the bed frame over his head, and the bar itself was placed under his knees, and his legs were tethered wide. The way the chain was lowered from the bed frame, his legs away were kept away from his torso. I took his hands and tied them over his head to the frame as well. I left the dildo in his mouth, but attached it to a gag which strapped around his head. Then I pulled a little machine up between his legs. He could just barely see what I was doing, so I propped his head up with a couple of pillows. This boy was going to learn what it meant to be cock hard and horny, but be unable to touch or relieve his aching dick.
"This is a little toy I've brought with me to try on some of the boys we'll be meeting in the next week. But I thought I'd give you a spin on it. The metal contraption rested like a scaffolding between his big thighs, aimed up towards his hanging musky balls and dripping cock. I bent his ramrod stiffy down towards the thing, and two wide metal bands clasped together to cage his prick at an angle aimed straight out from his thighs at almost 180 degrees but attached to the metal structure. One band was at the base of his dick where it joined his body and was loose enough for movement, and the other, less wide, was clasped under his flange so that he could move up and down, but not slip out of its containment. In this way, he was allowed to have circulation to his dick which kept its hardness, but it was bent at enough of an angle to prevent him from ejaculating easily. The bands, as I indicated, were loose enough to allow his dick room to move when his hips would move, but tight enough to prevent him from slipping from the cage in which he was now harnessed.
At the bottom of the scaffolding was a cord attached to a slender vibrating dildoe, covered with short, smooth spikes. Inserted into a waist harness, I slipped it around him and attached the buckles under his thighs so that the harness would keep the dildo in any place it was lodged. Using some of the sweet gel I had brought with me from the Island, I basted the little vibrator, then as Tommy's eyes widened, I gradually, gently corkscrewed it up his tight, hungry anus. He immediately began to feel the effects of the gel, and his toes curled tightly as his eyes widened from the incessant itching that began to afflict his fundament. But while he gurgled helplessly with the small, buzzing vibrator strapped into his mouth, I then added the piece which made his device so wonderful.
With his erect eight inch cock, caged in the contraption, I slipped over its entire body a sleeve of ingenious cloth with the consistency of denim dusted and saturated with ground nettle leaf powder. At the base of the cloth, which acted like a loose cloth condom, were claps which snapped onto the metal band near Tommy's cock base. As you know, nettle leaves work like the wonderful itching gel, but the irritation they cause is a dry set of red dots that cover the affected area and cause an intense itching akin to poison ivy. Of course, like any such rash, you cannot allow the person suffering from it to scratch the area, for fear of breaking the skin. But, in the case of Tommy, his helpless boner was exposed to the scratchy material that was inflicting the rash, but only enough to continue to irritate the cock and occasionally give him the hope of enough friction to soothe it momentarily. The erratic movements of his hips caused by the itching in his bowels and on his dick, made him thrust his pelvis back and forth, and the casement that held his dick provided him brief contact with the scratching cloth to both soothe and itch the little red dots covering his caged erection and bulbous cock head. No blood, no pain, just an excruciating itch which could not be relieved. Moreover, because of the angle of his cock imprisonment, and the occasional nature of his contact with the nettles, Tommy could not get masturbatory relief he craved, in the form of an ejaculation. His blubbering from behind the dildo gag was sweet music to my ears. And it was also the moment that I switched on the vibrator in his ass to a low setting, causing the little nodules on it to pulse and buzz, and his fucking movements to grind the unyielding head of the little soft plastic prick against his young and tender prostate. The harness which held the anal stimulator also had a sleeve, and Tommy's movements would cause it to slip both directions, but not long enough in any one to give his fuck nut the kind of massage that would cause him to spurt spontaneously. Jesus, what a wonderful device.
I left Tommy, gyrating and gurgling, his long, sexy toes curling and turning white, his hands scrabbling and clawing, as I walked toward the shower, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. All this excitement had caused me to work up a sweat and a raging erection, and I needed to clean the grime off my body before I lay down next to my charge for a good night's sleep. I turned to see Tommy's big boy boner, working up and down the sleeve, as the truly maddening sensations from the nettle dust on his dick made him wild to ejaculate, but absolutely unable to stimulate his fuck muscle to that satisfying moment. Here was masturbation at its best and worst, working the tender erection of a horny young man to maddening rigidity, but denying him the cum crazy relief he sought outside of discipline and cock control.
After my shower, and my return from downstairs to the bar at the hotel for a nightcap, I came back two hours later to find Tommy. His firm body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his nipples firm and erect on his chest. His movements had slowed, and their was no longer a desperate squealing coming from behind the dildo gag. Still, he was in a steady rhythm, fucking his ass on the silently whirring vibrator up his ass, gently massaging his fuck nut when he could and at the same time his cock was still hopelessly erect within the nettle dust sheath. He had found a way to sway just so to constantly massage his cock even if he could not cum. Here was a boy that craved the torture of cock control and the joys of being kept horny and erect without reaching a spurting climax. A little gasp and grunt was all that emanated from behind the gag once in a while, representing the still lovely sensation of the nettle dust catching him off guard and tickling his aching, drooling pecker in the cock restraint. When I lazily scratched my nail across one of his pebbled tits, his eyes opened with a start, and pleaded with me for release, a high pleading gurgle coming from behind the gag.
I smiled, and switched off both the little dildo in his mouth, and the one in his ass. I spoke to Tommy as I loosened his restraints, and set them in a different positions. "Tommy, that cock of yours is still way out of control...look at it, red, hard, wet and sticky." I'm going to give you a massage, and then put you to bed for the night. Maybe tomorrow, if you're good, and don't shoot your cum without permission, I'll give you relief like you've wanted, but in a way which ensures that your use of your cock is carefully supervised. What do you think?" I had removed the gag from his mouth, after I had lowered his legs, still attached to the spreader bar. He groaned, and almost croaked in that deep voice. "Oh Sir, shit, I gotta cum...please man...I'm so fuckin' horny from that rig...shit where the fuck did you get that thing...it's fuckin' torture...ah jeez Sir, I'll be good, just please let me shoot my jizz...please, let me jerk my aching dick? I'll even do it for you, put on a show...whatever you want...but please let me cum, Sir."
"Tommy, Tommy...that's what you've been accustomed to. Always getting guys to relieve you and play with that big dick. Well, I'm gonna make your life more simple. You want to be supervised, you need to be supervised, and when you are finally allowed to cum, that big boy dick will shoot like a cannon. But in the meantime, it's all on my timetable, and under my control. That big boy boner is going to ache all night...it needs to wait for relief." I strapped him down spread-eagled next to me on the bed. I put a short curved bar that attached to a harness around his hips, and kept the sheets just off his body at the waist. Then he watched as I produced yet another sinister device, that was aimed for his randy prick. This time, the cock cage attached around his waist and encased his throbbing erection within its light metal frame. At the top of the cage, was helmet which allowed the head of the prisoners dick to slip into it. Within that "hat" were two separate sets of very short, soft and yet firm bristles, fixed around separate rotating rings. The lower one could be adjusted to fit just under the flange of whatever cock was lodged in the cage, while the upper one made complete contact with the tender, sensitive surface of the dick head. "Now Tommy, when I switch this little device on, you're gonna feel like screaming with joy, whining for relief and to begging to cum. But if you do, I will switch on the little dildo in your ass again, and leave you like that all night. So your job is to grit you teeth, and when the little bristles in your cock hat spin, you must control yourself. Don't wake me tonight, or you'll regret it, and your ejaculation will be postponed even longer."
I showed him how the little cock cage worked, and his eyes widened and he grunted, groaned, and asked permission to speak. I switched it off, and granted him permission to make the plea I knew he would. "Oh fuck, Sir...please...please...don't leave that think on me all night...I'm already too fucking horny and my cock's still itches like crazy from that other thing you had on me...jesus...this is unreal...this is fuckin' unreal...please man, I mean Sir, please...lemme cum once, then I'll try this thing...how about it Sir, how about it, huh, please this thing is gonna be torture if I can't cum...jesus...I'll be good, I'll suck your dick, lick your asshole, suck your toes...anything. But don't leave that gadget on me all night...please!"
I laughed as I responded to his humbling entreaties in that deep, masculine voice. "Tommy, your dick needs this kind of training, needs to be worked on a schedule. You love to have your cock erect, and have it played with. The only thing I'm doing is controlling when you ejaculate and when you play with it...you need this training and it will make your cock throb all night and your tits hard. Now close your eyes, it's time to sleep. When I switch this little baby on, it'll start a cycle randomly working your dick head. You'll fell those sweet little bristles at moments when you're not expecting them. And that's when you'll have to prove you can exercise self-control, and keep from squealing for relief, or worse yet, ejaculating without permission. Good night my little dick on the brain, and not another word." I already envisioned our tests with these devices on the boys we were going to meet this coming week, and then back at the Asylum on some of our more uncooperative clients.
I switched on the device, and he flinched, expecting it to come on and assault his tender, over stimulated prick head immediately. But instead, it lay dormant, waiting for a moment when he least expected it to whir on and drive him into grinding his ass on the bed to control his desire to grunt and whine, and the urge to shoot cum spontaneously. His dick stayed hard in anticipation which only made the bristles naughty work even more agonizing, knowing that humiliation, bondage, and cock control were the very things that made this handsome, horny college kid boner-up uncontrollably.
When I awoke at 7:30 a.m., the smell of ball juice was in the air. Tommy had leaked all night, helpless to stop the maddening torture of his cock head, causing his leaking knob to coat his dick and constantly wetting the interior of the helmet...but at least he had kept quiet. He was groaning softly as I turned to look at him. I could hear the bristles moving in one of their random spin cycles, scrubbing the tender head of his dick and the pebbled flange under his cock head including his circumcision scar. He wasn't injured, just ready for any prolonged touching of his dick that would allow him to cum hard. But he was a ways off from this hopeful scenario. This would be a good day, his boner scratching against the rough material of his jeans, making him desperate for the cum he had been denied, but keeping him stiff.
I let Tommy shower, after I made him stand up in front of me and urinate. He had to stand with his legs slightly spread, naked, one hand behind his head, the other holding his obdurate prick, willing it to go soft as he pee'd. His long toes gripped the carpet as he struggled to make his dick soft. Then he asked permission to shit, and so I made his sit on the can, with his legs apart and his feet raised up on his toes so I could watch him do it. Now I have no interest in a man's shit, but the act of making this big teenage boy do his bodily functions at my discretion was enough to give me a dripping morning erection. Then he had to stand up, bend over, and use moist towelettes to wipe himself before he climbed into the shower. I supervised his shower, telling him how to wash himself, including soaping his boner into erection, and using a wash cloth on the big knob. He had to soap a little finger and insert it deep into his hole, and finger fuck himself clean. He grunted and groaned has his big digit rubbed against his whorish fuck nut, and I had him roll his tits with the other hand while he did it. Nothing like a big boy abusing himself for your pleasure while he's performing his ablutions. When he was done, he was allowed to towel himself dry, opening each toe to my inspection to make sure he did not have athlete's foot. To his credit, he kept himself clean, because I warned him that if I had found evidence of fungus, I would have used my little cock whip on his boner. He rubbed his dick with the towel which only stimulated his erection, and then was forced to put it down and get dressed before he could get to the relief he'd hoped I would allow him.
During breakfast, while I massaged his cock under the table through his jeans, and eventually pulled it out to rub slowly and gently as we ate and talked, Tommy revealed that he had a friend whom he had lusted over for a year and by whom he wanted to be dominated, and yet watch him be tortured by another guy also. As a rule, I am opposed to putting men under restraint who have not committed a crime unless they crave mastery. But the man whom Tommy described was actually a possible candidate for our efforts. He was a drop dead gorgeous young man, who enjoyed fucking girls but rarely made a commitment to them. For him, a cunt was a sleeve into which to masturbate his giant dick, and when he was finished with one, he treated it like a condom he would dispose. I figured there was a way to give Tommy and his friend what the former wanted and the latter needed.
Tommy indicated that his friend Brandon always worked out on Saturdays. Since this was the day, I allowed him to force his erection back into his jeans, and I paid the bill so we could prepare to get Brandon into my hands for the rest of the day and night. We went back to the room, and hung around until 10 a.m. when the gym they both used, near the college, opened. That's when Brandon would be there, so I allowed Tommy to pack a bag as if he was going to work out. Fortunately, he had his gym bag in his car down in the garage. Before we left, I had him lower his jeans, put his hand behind his head, and kneel in front of me and masturbate himself to near ejaculation three times. That way, I knew he was primed, and fear of the little cock whip I held in my hands was enough to get him to comply with my orders. We were ready to widen my adventure, by bagging a big, straight guy whose asshole would be exposed to new experiences before the night was through.