Two straight Middle Eastern men are arrested, stripped and sexually interrogated using tight bondage, cum control and orgasm denial in this very hot gay bondage story from Glaucon55.
[ratings]
Teased and Tormented
by Glaucon55
Habib Mansour 26 yrs and Melik Oman 25 yrs were in the U.S. illegally and suspected of being involved in criminal activity, it was my job to make them talk and I have my methods especially with two tall, dark and handsome Middle Eastern guys like them and work alone and always get results! Middle Eastern men are so fucking repressed or naïve, but with some of the most beautiful bodies and dicks in the world. They are also constitutionally precluded from masturbation to ejaculation which is significant! I explained to both of them that this was a discreet investigation, and that my hope was that they could clear up some issues that our investigation had discovered in an informal dialog, avoiding a trip to our downtown offices in a squad car with handcuffs. They looked like deer in the headlights, their eyes wide with fear. They readily agreed that an informal discussion of whatever was troubling us would be better, and they were sure there was a mistake. I thanked them for their cooperation and gave them each a soda and began to review the two Libyan's files and within seconds both were knocked out and twenty minutes later woke each blindfold, stripped to briefs and socks and secured to the custom made chairs, each one had an attached “T-Bar” to which their arms were now tied with soft, but strong rope. At the foot of the reclining chairs, I had installed sets of stirrups which allowed me to secure their feet apart by approximately three feet in width, just cupping the heels, and exposing the socked soles of each of their strong feet and wriggling toes. The angle of the inclination exposed their firm, muscled stomachs and molded pectorals… but even more nicely splayed were their always slightly tumescent cocks, respective nut sacks, and hidden, hairy anal portals.
I pulled up a stool next to Habib's chair as he tugged and pulled at the ropes and belts that bound him mumbling incoherently behind the ball gag that was fixed in place with straps around his head. I rolled my instrument table next to me as I sat, and began to speak to the Lebanese hunk.
“You did not think we would be fooled by your lame attempts to blend into the community with these low key jobs as security officers. We’re on to you Habib, and for the next few hours you will be interrogated as if you were in Guantanamo. So your best play is to reveal the operatives in your group-cell, and the names of others who are working with you.” Habib flicked his toes and seemed to protest as his fingers scrabbled in the air, helplessly, over his head. His firm muscles rippled as his struggled to speak and insist on his innocence, and the sweat of fear began to appear at his temple, mixing with his deodorant under his arms, adding to the pungent ball sweat on his heavy, hanging nut sack.
“Now nod your head if you are prepared to answer my questions truthfully.” Habib nodded his head frantically, and I smiled a cold, appreciative acknowledgement. “Good, that’s very good. Now nod in a similar manner if you are prepared to admit your participation in a local terrorist cell, and will provide me with names. If I could have seen behind his blindfold,
Habib rolled his eyes, and then he tilted his head back in frustration tinged with desperation. How could he admit to something he knew nothing about… they would not believe him, and he would be in the same situation again. He hyper-ventilated and shook his head in a pathetic, pleading attempt to protest his innocence, still gurgling behind his gag.
“I’m sorry, that answer will not suffice; we’re going to have to take this to the next level.” My hands were trembling with anticipation, as I reached down to the edge of Habib’s firm six-pack, and my fingers slid across his panting stomach. The sudden sensation made him lurch, as much as his bonds would allow, and his stomach went concave as if by hollowing his stomach he could somehow avoid my fingers. He could not. I crooked my index finger, and began to gently scratch the firm, rippled stomach muscles. Habib now bellowed into his gag, and his head shook back and forth as if to say “no” as emphatically as he could… but my fingernail was relentless, gently scratching across his abdominals and reaching his helplessly exposed navel cavity, where the profusion of soft black hair filled the cavern, and overflowed both towards his pecs and down to his briefs. For whatever reason, fear of his situation, or because he was spread out and physically vulnerable, Habib had gone half hard under his briefs. Now, as he reacted to my finger probing his unprotected navel, tickling the sensitive inny nub in the well, and the remainder of my fingers spreading across the plain of his stomach, his cock lurched into an unconscious stiffy. My burrowing finger only made that curved snake throb more, and soon a wet spot expanded from where the soft white cotton clung to his pulsing cock knob. I then reached with my other index finger, as I rooted in his flexing navel, to scratch my nail on my other index finger across the fat expanse of his leaking glans penis. I found the wide, sensitive flange and begin a gentle but determined scratch of the nerve-studded corona, avoiding the glans itself for the moment. Ah fuck what a site, as Habib drove his ass into the chair, pulling frantically at his bonds, babbling incoherently behind his gag in hopes of escaping this unexpected form of interrogation technique. Under his briefs his glans expanded from the irritating tickle, and his wide piss lips burbled out clear, sticky pre-fuck as his hips bucked to escape my unerring fingernail.
“I am going to continue manipulating your body until you agree to give me the information I want… do you understand?” I intoned in a flat, almost bored voice which barely betrayed the pounding of my heart as I had this Lebanese slab of beef under my total control. His head continued to move back and forth as if to say “NO”, but in his panic, he did not realize that what he should be saying (if only to get me to stop), was “yes.” I moved my finger that was tickling deep in his navel, up until I reached his near nipple. Ah, the rigid cone had already spiked when my nail scratched across its turgid erectile tissue, Habib thrust his chest up and to the side to avoid the unexpected sensation. I would learn later that Habib could not stand even sucking on his nipples, much less pinching, tweaking, and twisting. Before today was over, they would get that treatment, and much more. I sucked my index finger and then, in conjunction with my thumb, I returned to the slightly bruised flesh where my nail had gently scratched. Now, my wet fingers twirled around the stub, pulling and tweaking as the lubrication sent new shooting sensations from Habib’s chest to his unruly boner. The boy was a pre-cum factory, and he was juicing like a cunt, his big boy clit still getting a good flange scratch from my determined index finger on my other hand, making the stiff prick flex from the deep tickle. This was the kind of teasing masturbation these boys needed—all highly sexual young men needed and Habib was going to be begging and babbling for me to help him ejaculate if I knew anything about milking helpless men.
Hours later, when I had Habib on his hands and knees with his arms bound behind his back and his legs attached to a spreader bar, with a small anal prod with course, lubricated horse hair covering its knob gently sliding up and down his rectal passage, I was able to learn some vital information that had nothing to do with national security. It seems that Habib had been sent by his parents out of Beirut when he was a lad to stay with his Christian Uncle and his family in the Northern countryside. Unlike Habib’s family, his Uncle’s were not raised in the conservative, repressed culture of devout Muslims. Instead, both his cousins had gone to school with other Christian children, some of them European and American, living in Lebanon. Habib had been put in the room with his two older cousins, Aziz and Terik. Aziz was his age twenty and Terik a year older. Habib was assigned to sleep in bed with Aziz in the small house with only two bedrooms, one for the them and one for their parents. The first night Habib, had awoken to feel his nicely sized boner being gently stroked in Aziz’s fist. His fingers lubricated with a combination of Habib’s lube and Aziz’ spit, were twirling softly over and over the bloated glans. Habib's prick was lewdly sticking out of the fly of his pajama bottoms, thrust up caught by the roiling fist of his cousin who focused his fingers on the tender ticklish cock head. Involuntarily, Habib groaned from the delicious sensation as he emerged from his sleep, his prick straining towards the tickling fingers that were making him squirm against his cousin’s body. Aziz whispered into his ear in a firm, threatening tone, to be quiet. Habib was not accustomed to anyone’s touch on his erection and was not able to contain himself.
Aziz pulled Habib's body over and on top of his own, using his legs to trap Habib’s legs. He quickly took a sock on the floor next to the low bed and thrust it in Habib’s mouth to muffle the grunting boy. Then the other hand to hold Habib's hands over his head and away from stopping the methodical masturbation of his helpless dick. Aziz continued his merciless milking. With a look of determination and lust, Aziz’ fingers continued to dance around the fevered prick tip of his cousin making him buck and stretch to escape the persistent, delicious frigging. Beneath Habib’s taut buttocks, clenching and grinding down from the overwhelming sensations on his cock knob, Aziz’s own 7” erection was sliding between the damp pajamas clinging to his cheeks, pushing the sweat moistened material of his pant bottoms up and against his anal slit, rubbing and prodding that sensitive portal, sending another tingling sensation through the shivering boy. The more Aziz masturbated his cousin, the more Habib’s grinding ass was masturbating his cousin's own dick, making it leak its own sticky lube, shooting sensations through him.
The noise of the two of them grappling in the one bed, woke Terik in the other and he crawled out of his bedding to come over to assist his brother with whom this game that had been going on for over two years. He took control of Habib’s arms, pulling them over Habib’s and Aziz’s heads from behind both boys. Terik’s own thin, sticky dick was thrust out of his baggy boxer shorts, rubbing over the face of his cousin as he sat behind them at the head of the bed. Now Aziz’s hands were free to roam uninhibited over Habib’s torso, one hand scratching over the boy’s already excited nipples creating feelings he had never experienced. The other hand now sped up its sticky assault on his fat, wet glans, his thumb scrubbing back and forth, driving Habib into gasping and grunting.
“Aaaaawwwwww, no Aziz, please… stop… don’t rub me… what are you doing… aaahhh, noooooooo! he protested into the dirty sock gag. Aziz, fearful that his parents might hear his cousin’s entreaties, slapped his cousin hard enough to get his attention, quelling the loud groaning and pleading. Soon, the straining lad's prick begins to throb and pulse, as Habib thrust his hips up in the air uncontrollably and his cum burst upon him. For ten seconds, he felt he was going wild, his toes curling tight and his hips bouncing, while Aziz’s ruthless fingers twirled round and round his bloated boner, tantalizing the innocent lad “Aaaaaeeeeeiiiiiiii… aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh… aaaaaaaggghhhhhhhh!” Habib had yelled into
the sock that effectively gagged him, and still his cousin thumbed the aching prick head, enjoying the instinctual response of the inexperienced lad, his cock flexing to accept more of the masturbating caress.
After that night, for the next two weeks, Habib was the toy of his cousins, learning how sexual an animal he was, cowed by the older more worldly boys and their friends. His prick enjoyed constant cums, as his cousins and the other boys, took advantage of their younger visitor. For his part, in spite of his protests, Habib loved the sweet masturbation of his prick, amazed by the sensation created by the dancing fingers, and suddenly aware that sex was pleasurable. He knew it was wrong and even though he did not play with himself when he returned to Beirut, he knew that sex would make his penis throb with pleasure. He waited patiently for the next six years, hoping the time for him to marry would come sooner than later, and end his furtive frottage at night that had to stop just before his cock exploded in need and desperation. There were occasional wet dreams, and while wrestling with another lad he had ejaculated reflexively from the contact and rubbing of the bodies against one another. Still until he went to the United States and was freed from the constraints of his family’s strict observance, Habib had ached for sexual release like that he had experienced with his cousin years earlier. In America he no longer needed to masturbate because girls were more than willing to make love to his turgid cock. Now, he was about to return the days of his cousins’ humiliation of his handsome manhood, and the incredible sensations of his bulging prick head being masturbated ruthlessly into submission.
I slipped on a glove that I had developed for myself, but could not stand to use when I masturbated. The index finger, fuck finger, and thumb were all covered in the same horse-hair bristles that were now driving the bound and gagged man nearly insane on the small anal prod secured in a sliding sleeve up his bung. The ticklish bristles now sliding back
and forth in Habib’s rectum, gently scrubbing his walnut sized prostate, were wrenching the same groans and shouts into his gag that his cousins’ masturbation had evoked years before. Once my glove was on my hand, I dipped the fingers into a bowl of lubricant, and reaching up under the bound man, I grasped his involuntary erection. I started by just
grazing the shaft, sliding the firm bristles, softened by the lubricant, up and down the thick pole. With my other hand, I reached under and scratched his stiff teats, adding to the delicious sexual arousal experienced by the confused captive. What had this to do with terrorism… was this what was happening at Guantanamo in Cuba to the Muslim detainees?
“You see Habib, we must be sure, we know what you are hiding… and as long as you continue to dissemble, I’m going to have to find ways to get you to confess.” These words slipped from mouth with easy detachment, while my fingers were busy doing their magic on the hunky body trussed next to me. My teasing fingers finger reached the corona and glans of Habib’s fat cock head and that’s when the squealing really began. I did not want to make his cock sore, so I dipped the finger-tips in more lubricant, and then just barely grazed the circumcision scar, the flange, and the glans of the helpless security guard. I watched as his toes alternated from clenching tight and flicking from the intense tickling, and his fingers scrabbled furtively but there was nothing he could do and nowhere to move his thrusting hips but into my merciless fingers. The slow pistoning of the small buzzing anal prod, coupled with the edging of his flexing glans by my slowing moving bristle covered finger-tips, made Habib a drooling madman. For one hour, I brought him desperately close, his wide piss lips opening to burp sap as if precursor to an imminent ejaculation. But I would stop, and whisper earnest comments about his need to cooperate, giving him enough respite to allow me to start again, thumbing his fat prick tip and gently scratching, pinching and tugging his sensitive nips.
I would have loved to slip my tongue into his ears and lick them out, giving him one more sensation to deal with but I contented myself with an occasional scrabble of my fingernails across his gasping abdominals, or by reaching down to his feet hanging over the edge of the chair, my bristle covered finger scraping up and down his flexing, crinkling soles. By simply using these gentle, almost purely ticklish types of touches, I could make Habib’s prong, so unused to tactile manipulation, pulse and throb from the unusual but stimulating handling. After an hour, with his prick desperate to squirt, I pulled the erection back between his legs and attached an automated, vibrating pussy that I had purchased and modified. Once a cock was inserted into the soft plastic sleeve, with its interior backed with an emulsion that allowed the plastic to move and mould to the cock that was intended to fuck it, the nozzle was tightened around the shaft at the preferred distance between root and corona. In this case, I latched it just behind the flange so that the overwrought cock knob was basted by the lubrication and soft plastic, but the vibrating and squeezing from the auto-suction, was constrained to the cock knob. As much as Habib wanted to cum, his shaft would not be stimulated, and at the angle his cock was being pulled back between his legs, he would remain hard but unable to spunk. Time for me to leave him with words of encouragement.
“Habib… I truly regret that you have chosen to be so uncooperative. I had hoped that we could make this an easy conversation but unfortunately, you have not made that conversation possible. I am going to have to speak with your friend, Melik. I hope he is not as stubborn as you.” Habib did not turn his head toward me, he was too exhausted from his thrashing and efforts to avoid the milking he had been enduring, but he barely shook his head back and forth, his eyes closed and perspiration falling from his face, implying “no….no….” I switched on the cock pump as I walked out of the room, and smiled as I saw Habib’s toes curl one more time from the sweet sucking that was now pulling on his fat cock knob.
Melik was in another room, unable to hear anything that had transpired. He had been awake for almost an hour, naked, and stretched out on his reclining chair. His smaller frame was tautly bound, with legs already spread and attached to the stirrups and his arms connected over his head. He had no blindfold, nor gag. I came in wearing wraparound dark glasses that obscured my face and a cold expression that would leave him nervous and wondering. I pulled up another chair, and another rolling table with my instruments and tools. Melik turned his head, and his eyes widened when he saw the table and its bizarre assortment of implements. “Your friend has failed to cooperate with us, and I must tell you that was a mistake. By implication, you are now associated with him as a suspect. If I do not get answers from you that make sense, I will be turning both of you over to federal authorities for detainment.”
“What do you want… we are innocent. We are here lawfully, we immigrated, check our papers. What have we done?” His accent thickened with fear, and his eyes and expression told me I had him without even trying.
“Papers are easily forged, but more importantly, we know that legal immigrants have joined in other countries like Britain, to form cells for terrorist activities. Just because you and Habib immigrated legally does not mean you are not conspiring to engage in actions detrimental to the government of the United States. Look at these pictures of you and Habib with white women in your apartment. It’s clear that you are interested in engaging in promiscuous sexual activity, what other lawless behavior are you both involved in?”
Melik looked at the photos of himself and Habib, their thick prongs wet and glistening in the photos, lodged into the tight pussies of various snatch they had brought to their apartment to fuck. “How did they get these pictures…” Melik’s confused brain pondered, embarrassed and humiliated by the exposure of his private life before strangers---how many people had seen his prick reaming out pussy with wild abandon. As he stared mesmerized at the blown up pictures I had placed on a music stand, I switched on a television with a DVD player and he suddenly saw edited clips of he and Habib, performing in the same scenes on video that were captured in the still photos. As he watched, dumbfounded, I pulled out a head harness with a mouthpiece. I pinched his nostrils, and as he opened his mouth to object, I slipped the mouthpiece in and quickly buckled the harness. Melik’s eyes opened wide and he bellowed into the effective gag, fearful of what was to come, especially when I screwed into the female opening of the mouthpiece a male nozzle attached to a quarter-inch length of tubing. The tubing was connected to a water bottle hanging from a rolling stand, like ones you would see in the hospital providing liquids to patients in their rooms. Once I finished my preparations, I opened the flow of liquid from the bottle by loosening a clamp on the tubing, allowing a stream of tasteless clear liquid to flood the tubing and enter Melik’s mouth in a modulated drip that he could not stop but was slow enough to allow him to swallow without gagging. Then I spoke.
“This liquid will help you do the right thing, if you are indeed innocent, Melik. The drug will encourage you to speak to truth.” As he listened, thinking I had given him some type of truth serum, I smiled inwardly because what I had given him was a kind of roofie combined with a drug that would make him completely susceptible to suggestion. In addition, I had spiced it with enough Viagra to ensure the unflagging cooperation of his thick, fat knobbed cock. I walked out of the room, looking at my watch, figuring it would take about fifteen minutes to take full effect. When I returned, I could smile openly since Melik’s eyes were shut, and he seemed to be panting softly. His six inch cudgel, almost too thick for my hand to fit around, curved wickedly up to his firm abdominals, and its wide, deep pisswell was overflowing with sticky, clear sap that left a pool on his stomach in and around his navel. Jesus, what a huge cock knob… a glans for the ages. No wonder the girls in Melik’s bedroom always purred and squealed when he fucked them, that knob could batter a clit into submission and would fill any womb and cervix snugly, touching every joy spot. oh it made sense why he would hiss and grunt when girls gave him head, slurping their small, tight mouths around his leaky glans, letting their tongues dance around his nerve studded corona and lashing his circumcision scar until he spat wads of thick spooge over their tongues and deep into their throats. Fuck, I wish I had been on the receiving end of each ejaculation I had caught on film over the past three months… but I would make up for lost time--that was for sure.
“Tell me Melik, are you ready to provide me with the information I seek?”
I almost could not understand his response, his accent was not only thick now, it was slurred by the action of the drugs. “What is it that you waaaannt… I don’t know anything… pleeeaase… pleaaassseee…” I let one hand rest on his chest, and my index finger began a gently scratch just beneath his mounded pec… and as I spoke, his nipple thrust its angry head out of the black halo of hair that circled the erectile nub as if to try and protect it.
“I will need to ask you questions about your youth Melik, will you agree to answer me truthfully? Tell me that you will answer me truthfully.”
The dazed man nodded his head, and said through his slurred voice, that he would answer me truthfully. Now we were cooking. He was surrendering to the power of suggestion, and whatever I wanted to know, and whatever I wanted to do, the weaker of the two young men would let me do. My creeping finger pushed through the protective forest of hair around his nipple, and with unerring precision, my nail reached the nubbin and began a to gently scratch the ticklish tit tip.
“AAaahhhhhhh… nnnnnooooooo… whaaat are you doooing… ooohhh…” Melik crooned as his chest thrust up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious attention for his whorish tit. The hard nubbin fairly throbbed from the sensations caused by my experienced fingernail, bringing a blush to the dark face, embarrassed by the reaction I had drawn from him. No masculine or upstanding Muslim man would admit to enjoying worldly pleasures of his body outside the secret confines of his wife’s bedroom. No matter the sins committed, there could be no public admission, and certainly no surrender to another man… an abomination.
“Yes, that’s it Melik, now you’re being more cooperative. Just keep cooperating and you will be able to go home. Do you understand?” My index finger was joined by my thumb, and I grasped the stiff teat and twirled my fingers around it… plucking and tweaking. Melik nodded his head, without even opening his eyes, deep within the stupor caused by the drugs and willingness to do anything to go home but his nipple stayed firm and his chest continued to slightly thrust upwards to enjoy the masturbation of his tit flesh.
The drugs were clearly doing their magic, and he was disoriented and confused at best, fully susceptible to whatever I would suggest. I leaned down and whispered into his ear: “Tell me Melik, when did you learn how to spit cum… to masturbate that big penis of yours, the one that got you into trouble with us….If you tell me how you got your lessons in ejaculation and masturbation, perhaps I can let you go.” My question would have been inane to a sensible man, but the drug cocktail, the bondage, the isolation and the sexual stimulation were all working to render Melik into my hands, and confuse him about what he needed to do to obtain his freedom.
“Ooooooowwwwww… I cannot say… I should not say….” I increased the speed of my tweaking his nipples, and added to that the unexpected use of the index finger and thumb of my other hand on his defenseless cock head beneath his damp briefs…. “Aaaaaiiiiiiieeee…. No, no, oooooooohhhhhhhh Nooo… help me….” My thumb grazed back and forth over the taut circumcision scar, flicking the fat lobes of his glans, making him flex and his ass reflexively grind to escape the artificial sensitivity induced by the drugs. What a gorgeous animal, helpless and responding by instinct, and now leaking his own sticky clear pre-snot.
“Tell me, Melik… answer my question, you want to go home, so answer my question.” My fingers continued their dual assault on his stiff teats and his drooling prick knob, teasing out the answer as his hips rose and fell on the chair, bouncing in response to the focused stimulation.
“Aaaaaggghhhhh, God….aaaawwwwww… I… I… I learned at the scout camp…aaaaahhhhhh… an older boy… aaaaaggggghhh.” Melik burbled out a story of his youth, one of the many stories males hold to themselves, especially straight Muslim men who cannot admit to themselves that their cocks are more important than gender or orientation, and that sexual relief and satisfaction know neither. At a scout camp in the Lebanese summer of Melik’ he met an older boy, Hassan, who was eighteen. Hassan had immigrated with his family from Turkey because of his father’s work for a Turkish company in Beirut. Often alone at home as Hassan was a tall and handsome, with a man’s body, and a brooding countenance. He had learned at an early age from other boys how to enjoy pleasures of the cock, and how easy it was to introduce other lads into secret games. The more Western life in Turkey had also given Hassan exposure to the internet and culture that was forbidden to most Muslim youth. The boys at the summer camp were easy targets for his handsome presence, and the two week time frame made it easy to have his pleasures without risking too much chance of exposure. He quickly picked up the admiration of the husky Melik at the camp. Once he noticed the hero-worship of the lad and his hot body, Hassan persuaded the scout master to allow the two to share a tent-cabin.
The second night, Melik awoke to sensations he had never experienced. His prong had been erect on more than one occasion in the morning, but he had learned to be patient and it would go down before he had to piss. On this occasion, he was weakened by a tickling sensation on the knob of his pricklet. Hassan’s big thumb, sticky from Melik’s own lubricant, was stroking back and forth over the boy’s bulbous prick tip. Melik instinctively closed his thighs on the hand that was inside his sleeping bag and between his legs… but the strong fingers persisted and the sensation overwhelmed him. He suddenly spread his legs wide, his toes pointing from the stunning sensation. He alternated opening and closing his thighs, but he could not stop the sensations or his surrender to them, and within minutes, he felt himself breathing faster, his ass grinding into the sleeping bag, and then his hips involuntarily thrusting up as his prong expanded and his glans went glass smooth. Hassan kept strumming his rod, thumbing the overwrought knob, and making him hunch and jerk. At one point, Hassan, had to put his hand over Melik’s mouth to prevent his loud hissing and groaning from waking others in nearby tents.
Melik knew what he had allowed Hassan to do was wrong, but he was afraid of what the scout master might say if he told what happened and asked to move to another tent. Maybe the scout master would wonder why he spoke of such nasty things, and worse yet, what if Hassan denied it and claimed it was Melik who had initiated the actions and that he, Hassan, had been forced to stop him. No, it was best to keep quiet… and he did. So that was not the last night Melik learned the pleasures of masturbation. The bigger boy used him for pleasure, making him service his thick, curved prong. By the last two nights of the two-week camp, Melik was sleeping in the same bag as Hassan. After carefully masturbating the older boy’s 9 inch cock, bringing him to panting, shuddering, huge ejaculations, he would be required to lie on his back on top of Hassan’s long, lean torso. The older boy would use his long, strong limbs to hook around and stretch Melik’s legs, while his arms went under Melik's armpits to trap him on top of his bigger body. Then he would insert his thick digits into the younger lad's mouth, making him lick the fingers on one hand. Once Melik had humbled himself like a baby, sucking the thrusting fingers that explored his mouth, and tickled his platte, Hassan would grip Merik's thick 6” erection and begin a slow, languid process of milking his young tent-mate to two and sometimes three explosive, dry cums. Melik would buck as the overwhelming sensations drove him to involuntary gyrations, and played a brave game of resistance. Hassan was easily able to fend off the feeble attempts to pull the older boy’s fingers off of his pulsing penis. For his part, Hassan would distract him by pinching, plucking, gently twisting and scratching his strangely sensitive tits, occasionally tickling him under his arms, in his navel, and across his belly. When Hassan’s long, thin fingers would reach under the boy’s testicles and search out his private and sensitive anal slit, the sensation would make him lose control and leave his penis undefended for Hassan’s experienced fingers to roil and work, leading inevitably to the incredible, writhing cums. The constant distractions would also prevent Melik from having the strength to resist the older lad after the first cum, so his ticklish glans was often trapped in the rolling, sweat and pre-cum lubricated fist of the older boy. Melik and his penis secretly loved the amazing sensations which were produced by the full palm strokes up his shaft and over his aching knob. Over and over Hassan’s soft and yet calloused palm would slide up and down the shaft, and across the knob, driving his victi8m relentlessly up to the wrenching cums… where his prick would throb and pulse for up to fifteen seconds, especially if Hassan would circle his fingers and drag them against the corona as Merik thrashed his way through his cum.
As Melik slurred his way through this memory, my own hand stroked up and down his now mature, thick, fat knobbed shaft, mimicking the route taken by Hassan’s teenage assault. My other hand strayed from his nipples to his testicles, and tickled under the heavy nut sack, now so full and tight under his shaft. Finally, I breached his most sacred portal, a location forbidden except to idolaters. I slipped on a finger vibrator and slid it between his firm ass cheeks now struggling to keep me at bay. Finding his ragged anal slit and dancing up and down the lips as Hassan once had, I upped the ante by inserting my finger-tip just inside his sphincter after patiently outlasting his stubborn and determined resistance. Melik’s cock hardened reflexively after the buzzing intrusion just inside his nether hole made the sexy captive whine and plead for something, a hoped for reprieve but most likely it was release: “AAAaaaaaaagggghhhhh Gaaawwwwwddd…” he howled with his sexy accent. “What are you doing to me… ooooooooohhhhhh pleeeeaaassse… oh pleeeaassseee… aaaaaahhhhhh.” I paused only long enough to attach clips with electric wires on his protruding, rubbery nipples, his frenulum, underneath his balls, and to slide a small, short prod with a similar wire into his unprotected bung. When I turned the current on suddenly at these locations, the shock (no pun intended), was another distraction to this now big boy, and his penis was left once again open to my ruthless ministrations. As long as I was focusing attention on his bulging prick, Melik could hardly focus. Only when I slid the prod up two inches into his rectum and it begin delivering its wicked electrical buzz on his defenseless prostate, did Melik put up a fuss. To ‘calm’ him, or rather distract him, I fully activated the electrical charges that buzzed and zapped his ripe titties, pulsed through his cock knob and balls, and made his ass muscles squeeze tight from the affect on his prostate. His ass lifted off the table, and he helplessly tried to shut his legs as if to squeeze out the pulsing intruder as if it was a stubborn turd. But the bonds held him fast and the prod did its wicked magic, driving him helplessly to a gigantic ejaculation.
I went back to masturbating his shaft, but this time with the same glove I used on Habib. After two minutes of agonizing resistance, the overwhelming tickle on his bloated fuck tip, coupled with the ruthless invasion of his rectum and zapping electrical flicks of his tit nubs, sent Melik over the edge. I of course reduced my efforts so that the tension grew and grew, making him climb up to his shattering cum with agonizing patience. With a mighty thrust, he lifted his mid-section and screwed his betraying cock one last time into my torquing fist. Squeeze and twist, squeeze and twist, I applied a gentle but determined corkscrew motion around the sticky glans, now smooth as glass. Melik yelled one last bellowing cry for help or fuck lust, and rope and after sticky rope of tangy Muslim pride shot high above his body and landed with a splat on his chest, face and stomach. Shit, it was almost volcanic!
“AAAGGGGHHHHH….AAAAHHHHHHH…. EEEEEEIIIIIIIOOOOOOO!!!” he screamed as his huge ejaculation ripped through his body, my fist kept spinning round and round his erupting knob… making him buck like a fish out of water. For five full minutes, I teased and rubbed and twisted his agonized prick tip… milking it ruthlessly, and teasing out every last drop of semen in Melik’s fat nuts. When I finally stopped, his chest was heaving and his head stopped snapping back and forth to finally collapse in semi-consciousness.
I left him just in time to enter the other room and see Habib, strained against his bonds and rocketing bolts of thick tangy spooge onto the table, his toes curled tightly as the wicked milker kept working his fat prick knob as incessantly as my fist had worked poor Melik. I sat and watched him buck into oblivion… helplessly seeking to dislodge his big boy knob from the uncompromising sucking that would make a grown man faint from the sensation.
The pictures I sent both young men, less than a week after they found themselves unbound, and naked in empty rooms of a downtown building, sent the fear of their God through them. The accompanying letter assured them that without their full cooperation, copies of these pictures would be posted on the internet in this city, and available back at home for their families to see. In addition, hard copies were ready to be sent to their parents who might not ever use the internet. Both young men were beaten, and when they realized that I only expected them to cooperate with me for six months… and then they would be freed from any obligations, they reluctantly assented to my demands.
Tonight, Habib is compromised to screw Melik until his younger friend cums without his prick being touched. It should not be too difficult, because I have a bristle condom for Habib to slide over his curved scimitar as it roots deeply up into Melik’s soft rectum. Instead, Habib will use his finger with little finger vibrators on Melik’s whorish tits, pinching and twisting them as his fingers buzz, making the rigid nubs into mini-pricks to be milked and masturbated in rhythm with the fucking. A week ago, it was Habib’s turn… but it was a different approach. I had Melik use a soft bristled brush on his friend’s turgid penis, (both are in cock restraints until they meet with me), while an automatic small fucking machine slid a ribbed and bump covered twisting four inch vibrating prod up his hole. The neat thing was that Habib’s legs were over his head, and his cock was aimed at a mouth funnel that would drain down his throat once his cock exploded a week’s worth of pent of gism into it. With the patience of a prophet, Melik gently tortured his friend’s throbbing, leaking, smooth glans over and over, and danced around the corona whenever he got too close to making Habib cum. Melik had learned that Habib would not spare him any agonizing indignity when I made him work his younger friend, so when it was his turn, he gladly returned the favor. I can still see the brush working relentlessly on Habib’s circumcision scar, finally driving him to a bucking, toe-curling, finger scrabbling cum, and lining his esophagus with a thick layer of his own tangy baby juice… helping him to develop a taste for something both men would learn to enjoy before their time was through. With almost clinical efficiency, Melik basted the glans with the bristles as cum ejected from the wide piss lips, making sure Habib would near faint from the tickling his knob received from the cruel, maddening bristles as they scrubbed over the bloated fuck tip. Now the fun would begin!
Glaucon55