GayBondageFiction

Captured hero “The Defender” is chained to a wall and slowly stripped (including his masking) revealing his buff naked body and true identity to the entire city watching on broadcast television.
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The End of the Defender – Chapter 2
by Todd Fleming
Series: The End of the Defender

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Welcome to the event of the season! Tonight we will see the defeat of your hero and champion, The Defender!”

The spotlight turned on and illuminated The Defender who was chained to the wall. Perspiration poured down his face from the heat of the lights and his normally pristine red, white, and blue costume showed patches of sweat. The white shield emblem on his chest was partially obscured by a red rock that was chained to the hero’s chest.

“You host of the evening is the loveable criminal mastermind that we all wish we could be, Mayhem!”

Smoke filled the room as the floor opened up right in front of the helpless hero. Mayhem slowly rose up through the floor on a platform with his arms held up in a victory position. As the smoke cleared, the camera panned in on the madman in his black suit. The villain twirled his cane like a majorette smiling as he danced around.

“Welcome to the best show of the year!” He laughed as he waved for the camera. “Don’t change your channel because this is the show of a lifetime!” The villain stopped and shrugged. “What the hell, go ahead and change your channel! This is the only show on right now! HA!”

Mayhem giggled as he walked over to the chained up hero. “Tonight our special guest is the mighty Defender. We’ve been asking for months for him to guest on the show and this time we wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

He reached out and patted his prisoner on the head like a good pet. “Now I know what you are saying! Is that the REAL Defender? You bet your sweet ass it is and tonight we are going to make history!”

The villain walked over to the left side of the stage as the camera followed his every movement. “Tonight we will be raising money for the most important charity that you will ever need to be a part of! All the money we raise tonight will go into the Mayhem Fund where I will spend it as I please!”

He snapped his fingers and a spotlight hit the wall behind him illuminating a counter board that read zero. “I know what you are asking!” He cackled. “What’s in it for me? Well for every hundred thousand dollars that we raise, we will be taking off a piece of The Defender’s costume! I know you all have lusted after this hunky hero for years now. This is your chance to see our little hero completely naked!”

Mayhem walked to the other side of the stage where the camera showed the three robbers sitting at the table with telephones in front of him. “Flashing on your screen is the phone number where you can make your pledges. My boys are standing by to take your calls!”

As the villain walked back to the center stage where The Defender was chained to the wall, he looked straight at the camera. “Now if you law types think you can crash my party, you better think again! I have planted bombs all over Pickett City. If I get a hint that you are coming to crash my telethon, I will detonate the bombs!”

Mayhem pushed on the handle of his cane revealing a blinking red button. “Don’t believe me? Here is a free sample to show how serious I am.” The villain pushed the button as the camera zoomed on a television on the stage where it showed an abandoned building on the screen. An explosion suddenly rocked the building as flames shot out the window.

The Defender cried out in shock through his gag. Mayhem skipped over to the helpless hero and removed the gag. “You monster!” The hero growled. “You will pay for that!”

The villain replaced the gag and patted the weak hero on his cheek. “Don’t get your panties all twisted up, there was no one in that building. However the next bomb could be at a hospital, or a church. It could City Hall, or even a subway station! Oh the possibilities are endless! If you don’t want Pickett City destroyed then just sit back and enjoy the show!”

Mayhem walked over to the counter board and whistled as it already showed over $50,000. “Look at all these pledges! It looks like people really want to see our hero out of his costume!”

The Defender struggled against his bonds, but the dastardly effects of the red rock continued to sap his strength. He glared at Mayhem as he walked back to the hero twirling his cane. “Just think of seeing this hunky hero in his birthday suit! All it takes is giving your hard earned money to me!” The villain laughed as he smacked the hero on his ass.

“Hey boss, we’ve reached over $100,000!” One of the robbers called out.

“Woo-hooo!” Mayhem cheered. He reached down and undid one of the chains around the ankle of The Defender’s red boot. The hero tried to fight as his boot was taken off his foot. The stocking end of his blue tights was shown to the camera as the boot was taken off and thrown aside and Mayhem chained the ankle back to the ground.

Mayhem walked away from the struggling hero. “Now this is just the beginning, boys and girls! The more money that is pledged, the more we will take off! Now for your viewing pleasure, we will show you the footage taken at the First National Bank!”

As the televised show switched to the footage, The Defender’s eyes widened at the thought of the entire country seeing his humiliating defeat. His ass seemed to become more painful as he watched Mayhem taking him over his knee and spanked him into submission. He never felt as low as he did now.

Mayhem laughed as he watched the amount on the counter rise with each pledge that was called in. His plan to defeat The Defender was going exactly as planned. This was just the tip of the iceberg for what he had in store for the weakened hero.

The cameraman gave the signal that the footage was almost at an end. Mayhem smiled as the camera went back on him. “I hope you all enjoyed seeing poor little Defender put in his place. For too long he has been out of control and tonight we will put an end to him once and for all.”

The villain walked back to the counter board and laughed. “It looks like we have enough pledged for not only one piece of costume but two!” He skipped back to the struggling hero and unchained his left boot and slowly took it off. The boot was thrown aside to join the other and his ankle was chained to the ground. Mayhem stood back to his feet and laughed. As he unchained his right wrist and slid off his red glove, the villain smirked at the helpless hero. “All this time you protected these people and now they are paying to see you stripped of your costume!”

The Defender blushed as he hung his head in shame. This was worse than any nightmare he ever dreamed of. There had to be a way to escape this horrible fate that his nemesis had in store for him. As long as this red rock was close to him, he was helpless to escape. He had hoped the police would come to rescue him, but with the bombs planted around the city, he was on his own.

Mayem chained the hero’s bare right wrist and did a little dance of delight. “Oh what the hell!” He said laughing. “Let’s take the other glove off for free!” The villain whistled a happy tune as he unchained the left wrist and took off the glove. It was added to the pile and his wrist was chained up once again.

“Now I know what you all thinking! What is going to happen to The Defender once he is stripped naked? Well that’s for me to know and you to find out! Needless to say, you will never see Pickett City’s Champion on the streets ever again! Now let’s go back to see where we are at with the pledges.”

Mayhem pretended to be shocked as he saw the amount of money people have phoned in. “Woozie! We are at over a million dollars! It looks like we can take the rest of his costume off!”

He skipped back to the helpless hero and unbuckled his belt. The Defender renewed his struggles as he tried to summon his powers. The red rock did it’s job and kept him as weak as a kitten. The belt was thrown aside and the villain unchained both of the hero’s ankles.

“Shall we hear what our poor hero has to say, boys and girls?” Mayhem asked as he ripped off the gag from The Defender’s mouth.
“I demand that you stop this right now!” The Defender said with as much authority as he could muster. The hero squirmed as his white briefs were slowly slid down his thick legs. The briefs were soon off and the camera zoomed in on the bulge between the hero’s legs.

Mayhem laughed as he patted the helpless hero’s cheek. “Now behave or I will take you over my knee again.” He chided with a giggle. The villain motioned for some of his henchmen to come on the stage.

Two hulking men wearing tight black t-shirts and jeans smirked as they came on the stage. Mayhem undid the chains holding the hero up. The Defender would have fallen to the ground if the henchmen did not did not hold him up by his muscled arms. Mayhem grabbed the hero’s shirt and slowly pulled it off of his torso.

The Defender’s eight pack was revealed with a small trail of hair leading down to his tights. As his chest was slowly revealed, it was clear that the hero had a very hair chest with dark blond hair. His nipples were the size of quarters and got hard when they got exposed to the cool air. The shirt was thrown aside as the hero struggled to escape the firm grasp of his captors.

The camera panned on the hero’s exposed torso. The Defender was left only with his mask and tights keeping him from becoming totally naked. As Mayhem took hold of the waistband of his tights, the bravado of the hero was suddenly deflated. “Please don’t take of my tights,” He begged as they were slowly pulled down his legs.

The hero covered his modesty with his huge hands as the last of his costume was stripped off of him. The tights were thrown aside and Mayhem threw his hands up in triumph. “Now it’s time for the big reveal!”

The henchmen forced The Defender’s hands away from his cock and balls exposing his complete naked body to the entire country. “Behold your hero and champion in all his naked splendor!”

The henchmen paraded the hero before the camera turning him so the camera could catch every part of his muscled naked body. The red rock hung between his well developed pecs keeping The Defender helpless to resist his humiliation.

“Is he everything you wanted, boys and girls?” Mayhem laughed. “This is what you paid for and I delivered!”

The Defender wanted to die as his naked body as exposed before everyone watching the television. His struggles stopped as he resigned himself to this ultimate defeat. Hanging his head in shame, he felt like the millions of people watching were in the room feasting on his naked body.

Mayhem snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot!” He exclaimed with pretend shock. “There is one more thing to take from our hero. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is time to expose our hero to see who he really is!”

The Defender’s head snapped up as he looked at his nemesis in shock. “NO!” He cried out. “Don’t do this to me Mayhem! I’ll be ruined! Please don’t do this!”

The villain ignored the hero’s pleas of mercy as he slowly took the one thing that kept The Defender’s identity a secret. Mayhem laughed as the mask was ripped off exposing the hero’s handsome face before the world.

Tears ran down his cheeks as his head was forced up to be seen before the camera. The Defender was completely defeated. His life as a hero was over and his friends and family were now in danger. He had put away many criminals in jail over the years and now that his identity was exposed everyone he ever associated with would be a target.

“You’ve seen it here!” Mayhem shouted in triumph. “The Defender has been captured, stripped, and exposed! Thanks for tuning in to The End of The Defender! This is your favorite villain, Mayhem signing out!”

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Todd Fleming

Superhero ‘The Defender” gets caught in his arch-enemy’s trap and begins his humiliating downfall.
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The End of the Defender – Chapter 1
by Todd Fleming
Series: The End of the Defender

The sun hung high in the center of the sky in Pickett City. The light reflected off the many tall buildings that marked this city as the technological jewel of the world. In the very center of the city, life was fast and furious. People walked down the wide sidewalks intent on their destination. Traffic was at a standstill with the sound of dozens of car horns echoing off the buildings. The scream of an alarm joined the cacophonous music of a city that was the center of civilization. The people ignored the call of the alarm and went on with their business. In a city this size, crime was as regular as the nightly news program.

One man did take notice of the alarm and like a shot, he flew through the sky towards the scream of the alarm. Known as Pickett City’s superhero champion, The Defender, there were none who could compare to his power. Dressed in his widely recognized red, white, and blue skin tight uniform, The Defender sped towards the source of the alarm.

Landing in the middle of the street, the hero pinpointed that the source of the alarm as the First National Bank. Cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting the hero that landed in the middle of traffic. Ignoring the cars, The Defender walked purposely towards the bank ready to teach criminals that crime does not pay.

Entering the bank, The Defender quickly noted that there were three armed men yelling at the bank teller to hurry up. The bystanders were on their knees with their hands on their heads. The hero took note of their position as he stood heroically in the entrance of the bank with his hands on his white belt. “Didn’t your mothers tell you that you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours?” He said in his deep baritone.

The robbers whirled around and pointed their guns at the blond masked hero cursing. One of them grabbed the teller and held his gun to her head. “Stay back!” He yelled. “I swear to god, I’ll shoot her if you try to move!”

The Defender smiled and shook his head. You would think by now they would have learned, he thought to himself as he sprang into action. Using his super speed, he rushed the robbers and in less than a second he had taken their weapons and destroyed them.

To the robbers, it was like a gust of wind hit them and their eyes widened as they realized that they were unarmed. The Defender winked at them as he flashed the robbers his famous dimpled smile. “Are you going to come quietly or do you want a fight?”

The criminals looked at each other and slowly sank to their knees placing their hands on their heads as the hero watched with satisfaction. Another crime stopped without a single casualty.

The Defender’s smile grew bigger as someone behind him started to clap. One of the many perks of being a hero was the admiration of the people he saved. Turning around his smile melted as he saw the man who was clapping.

Dressing in an all black suit, the man who was clapping was just as famous as The Defender. The difference is that unlike the hero, this man was a criminal genius. Known only as Mayhem, the villain had fought many times against The Defender. Although he had no superpowers of his own, Mayhem was a foe that The Defender never took lightly.

“That was glorious, Defender!” Mayhem said laughing. “I never get tired of watching you in action.”

“What are you doing here?” The hero demanded. “Are you behind this robbery?”

“Oh silly boy, I don’t need to stoop to robbing a bank to get money. You should know me better than that. I did set this up so that we can talk. You never leave me any way to contact you.”

The Defender cautiously watched his nemesis walk towards him. He learned very early that one should never underestimate Mayhem. The villain was impossible to predict and his traps were never easy to dismantle. “Well I’m here,” He said hotly. “What do you want?”

“WHAT DO I WANT?” Mayhem screamed. “What do I want?” Laughing he twirled his cane that he always carried. The Defender braced himself for an attack. Mayhem’s canes always had some kind of nasty surprise hidden inside of it. “What I want, my friend, is you!”

“Sorry, Mayhem.” The Defender said heroically. “I can’t help you there. I don’t know how you escaped from jail, but I’m going to put you back right now.”

Mayhem laughed as he pointed his cane at the hero. “Not this time, old boy. I have an appointment tonight that I can’t miss. Lucky for me, I have a small gift just for you!” He reached in his pocket as The Defender was ready to tackle the villain. Mayhem pulled out a small red rock and showed it to the hero.

The Defender looked at the rock curiously. What kind of weapon was this, he thought to himself. “If that’s the best you can do, you are definitely slipping, Mayhem.” As he took as step to apprehend his nemesis, The Defender started to feel a little light headed. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on taking down his enemy.

Mayhem smirked as he slammed his cane into the hero’s head. The Defender snapped back from the blow and landed on his ass. His ears rang like fireworks had exploded right beside his head and he stared up in shock at his nemesis. That actually hurt him!

The villain danced around laughing. “I knocked the mighty Defender on his ass!” He bent down and ruffled the blond hero’s hair. “Not so tough now are you?”

The Defender growled as he tried to get back up on his feet pushing back the pain from the blow. He had no idea why the blow caused him pain, but he wasn’t going to let Mayhem win. The lightheadedness increased and his muscles started to feel like jelly. The hero fell back on his spandex covered butt breathing heavily. “What did you do to me?” He asked breathlessly.

Mayhem laughed as used his cane to lift the hero’s chin. “Oh just a special treat just for you, Defender.” He shoved the glowing red rock into Defender’s face. The hero gasped and tried to pull away to avoid the pain. It was the rock that made him feel this way. The hero stared at it like a venomous snake. How could a small rock give him such pain? “I could explain the process to you, Defender, but you know me. I haaaaatttte boring details.”

Sighing with relief when Mayhem danced away with the red rock in hand, The Defender tried to pick himself back up. He needed to get away somehow. Struggling to regain his balance, the hero found himself surrounded by the three robbers that he almost apprehended. The circled him like prey looking for a meal. In his weakened condition, The Defender knew that he did not stand a chance going toe to toe with three muscled criminals. Still dizzy and weak from the effects of the red rock, the hero leaped up in the air to try and escape.

Mayhem’s laughter increased when the hero fell flat on his face. “Trying to run away, Defender?” He screamed through his laughter. “I planned this party just for you!” He danced around the hero and slammed his cane across his bubble butt. “You’re the guest of honor, and I have big plans for you!”

As pain that he never felt before coursed through his body, The Defender managed to get on his hands and knees. Thinking of nothing but escaping from the effects of the strange red rock, he slowly started to crawl towards the exit.

The criminals all laughed and pointed at the mighty hero crawling as slow as a snail to escape capture. Mayhem grabbed the red boots of the hero and dragged him back to the center of the bank. “Bring me a chair!” He barked to his men. “I think our hero needs a lesson in manners.”

One of the robbers ran and brought back a chair. The evil genius grabbed the hero by the back of his belt and hair and sat on the chair dragging The Defender across his lap. “It’s rude to leave a party dedicated to you!” he snapped. He brought up his hand and slammed it down on the hero’s muscled ass. “Tell me that you are sorry, and we can go back to the festivities!” Mayhem ordered.

The Defender had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. A villain that he could have normally taken down with one finger had him over his knee and was treating him like a child throwing a tantrum. Worse was the fact that the people in the bank were watching, making his shame public knowledge. Word of this would spread and the humiliation would be too much to bear. The hero turned his head and looked up at the villain who held him down so easily. “I’ll never submit!” he swore as he braced himself for more pain.

“WRONG ANSWER!” Mayhem screamed as he slammed his hand against the hero’s ass. The villain spanked the helpless hero without pause as the anger he felt from The Defender’s resistance was taken out on his ass cheeks.

The Defender tried to steel himself for the pain, but years of invulnerability had made him forget what pain was like. The hero told himself that he would not give his nemesis the satisfaction of crying out, but that promise did not last long. In his weakened state, every blow to his behind ignited a fire that was too terrible to ignore. The people watching gasped when their champion began to cry.

The spanking suddenly stopped and it took The Defender a few minutes to realize this. “Will you apologize for your rudeness?” Mayhem asked the sobbing hero.

The Defender never felt so emasculated in his entire life. Part of him wanted to just say he was sorry to avoid being spanked some more. Tears ran down his face making the fabric of his red mask wet. He was a hero and he would never submit no matter how much pain he must endure. “Never!” He said with as much authority that he could muster when in fact it was a hoarse whisper.

“I was hoping you would say that!” Mayhem said gleefully. “I think our hero needs to really feel his punishment. Chaos, take down the hero’s tights! Let’s see how he likes his spanking on his bare ass!”

The Defender tried to kick away the robber who gripped his trunks and tights, but his feet were easily held down as he felt his ass being exposed. Kicking and screaming like a child, the hero looked pathetic with his tights pulled down around his knees and his bare ass exposed for the world to see.

Mayhem smirked as he patted that bubble of muscle that he had already beaten to a bright red. “Last chance, hero!” He said waiting for his prey to meet his demands. The Defender shook his head defiantly and braced himself for his punishment. The villain started to spank him again this time directly on the hero’s ass with no fabric to absorb the blows.

Screaming in agony, The Defender started to cry again painfully aware that people were watching him. People outside the bank were looking inside, shocked that their hero was being spanked like a little boy. Some even had their cell phones out to take pictures and video of the ordeal. The Defender barely noticed them as his spanking continued. He tried with all his strength to break free but the robbers held down his hands and feet to keep him from struggling. Pain coursed from his body not only from being exposed to that damned red rock, but it radiated from the blows to his ass. Soon the pain overcame all his senses and it was all he could do to keep from passing out. His throat hurt from screaming so loudly and his tears stopped flowing from crying too much. His pride diminished to the point that he no longer cared about resisting. He just wanted the punishment to stop. “I’m sorry!” He cried out.

Mayhem stopped his hand in the air and cocked his head. “What did you say?” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry!” The Defender said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sobbed no longer producing tears and his whole body heaved from his cries.

The villain laughed as he pushed the hero onto the floor. Bending down, he patted the hero on the head. “See that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He looked around at the shock people and started to laugh again. “Look at the time, we have a party to go to. Boys help our hero to the car. We have a busy night for him and I’d hate to be late!”

The Defender didn’t even struggle as two of the robbers helped him to his feet. With his tights still around his knees, his cock and balls were exposed for everyone to see. The bystanders took more pictures of his humiliated state concentrating on his genitals and his glowing red ass that even now was starting to form black and blue bruises. The hero was taken out of the bank and shoved into a van that sped off down the street.

———————————————————————————-

The Defender could not believe the situation that he was in. Hours ago he was the strongest hero in the universe. His invulnerable, muscled body could withstand any weapon thrown at him without a scratch. Now he was lying on the floor of a van surrounded by a crew criminals led by his nemesis, Mayhem, who had taken away all of his powers with a small red rock. His face was red and wet from crying when Mayhem spanked his ass like one would a small child. He was still half naked as his tights were wrapped around his ankles stopped only by his red boots.

The hero tried to think of a way to escape, but the effects of the strange red rock sapped any strength that he might have left. All he could do was lie on the floor moaning in pain each time the van hit a bump on the street, causing his body to bounce and igniting the pain radiating from his ass.

Mayhem hummed a happy tune as he drummed his fingers on his cane. His black suit looked pristine and freshly pressed as the villain watched the buildings fly by as the van drove towards his base of operations. The Defender wanted to wipe that smile from his face, but in his weakened condition it was impossible.

The hero turned his head and saw that one of the robbers was looking right at him. The criminal in question was the tallest of the three, easily standing six and a half feet tall. Suddenly aware that his cock and balls was out for anyone to see, The Defender tried to cover his modesty with his hands. He wanted to pull his tights back up but even that simple task was too much for him to handle in his weakened condition.

The tall man licked his lips as he watched the helpless hero. His hand almost absently touched his crotch and rubbed it slowly. “Hey boss, can I have some fun with Defender?”

Mayhem looked at his henchman and the way he was looking at his captive. An evil smile cross his face as he tapped his lips in thought. “Why the hell not?” He said shrugging. “Just don’t damage our little boy. I have big plans for him.”

The Defender felt a chill run down his spine. What kind of plans does the madman have in store for him? The was no time to think as the tall robber grabbed him by his hair and pulled him toward the back of the van. Crying out in pain, the hero tried to move fast enough to avoid his short blond hair from being pulled out by the roots.

His face was roughly pressed against the man’s crotch and he closed his eyes as the horror of being so close to another man’s cock was too much for him to bear. He could smell the musky scent and feel the hardness of the robbers cock pressing against his cheek.

The robber moaned as he held the weakened hero’s head down on his lap. The other two criminals snickered as the mighty Defender was too weak to break free from his human bondage. Mayhem ignored the whole scene as he looked out the window whistling a happy tune.

The Defender sighed with relief when the iron grip on his head was released. He quickly brought up his head and saw the robbers all smirking at him. A few hours ago, he would have taken all three down with little to no effort, but now he was too weak to put up a fight. The tall criminal in front of him unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. His hard erect cock sprang free and pointed right at the weakened hero’s pretty face.

Recoiling in horror, The Defender stared at the cock like it was a venomous snake. Did this scum really want him to suck on his cock? He thought wildly. He struggled as his hair was grabbed once more and his head forced down towards the robber’s lap. The hero tried to break free but in his weakened condition, his struggles were useless.

Groaning with frustration, The Defender felt his face being pressed against the hardness of the robber’s cock. The musky smell was overpowering now and he pressed eyes tightly shut to keep from seeing the cock invading his face.

The robber, using The Defender’s blond hair to control the humiliated and weakened hero, rubbed his victim’s pretty face all over his cock. The Defender flinched as the precum from the cock was spread all over his face. He could not believe that he was helpless to stop this from happening to him. The cock settled on his lips and pressed against them looking for a way inside.

The Defender pressed his lips tightly shut. He would not be forced to suck a cock! He promised to himself. He might have been defeated, weakened, and humiliated but he would not be a service station to lowly criminals.

“Open up that pretty mouth of yours and take my cock!” The robber demanded as he tried to force his cock in the hero’s mouth.

One of the other robbers shook his head and laughed. “It looks like Defender needs a little encouragement.” he sneered. He got up from his seat and went to the helpless hero. The Defender cried out in pain as his already sore ass was spanked by the other robber.

The tall robber took advantage of the hero’s cry of pain and slammed his cock inside The Defender’s mouth. “If I feel any teeth, I will spank that ass until there is no more ass to spank!” The robber growled as he pistoned his cock in and out of the hero’s mouth.

The Defender never felt so low in his life as his mouth was used for fucking. His jaw felt like it was going to be unhinged as he gagged on the criminal’s erect cock. The two other robbers laughed and sneered as the taunted the hero by calling him a cock sucker and faggot. He had to close his eyes so he could not see their laughing faces.

The salty precum leaked down his throat and into his body as his head was grabbed by the robber and it was forced up and down on the man’s cock. Tears welled up in his eyes as much from the relentless assault on his throat as from the humiliation of the act.

Mayhem paid no attention to what was going on behind him. He just whistled a happy tune as he watched through the window at the city buildings flying by as the van drove to it’s destination.

It did not take long for the robber to cry out as he shot his seed into The Defender’s mouth. The hero wanted to gag and throw up as the hot sperm hit his taste buds and slammed into the back of his throat. Despair filled his entire being as his eyes started to tear up again. He was always considered to be the most manliest of men and that image was shattered as his mouth filled with sperm.

The robber grabbed the hero by his chin and wagged his finger at him. “Swallow every drop, you fucking faggot!” He ordered.

The Defender looked at the petty criminal in fear and grimaced as he did as he was told. The sperm slid down his throat and he wanted to just die. A single tear fell down his face as he wished he could get the taste of sperm out of his mouth.

There was hardly any time for the hero to breathe as the next robber proclaimed that it was his turn. He dragged The Defender by his hair and shoved his hard cock down the hero’s throat. Moaning with pleasure, he fucked the defeated hero’s face with enthusiasm. This robber was slightly scrawnier than the rest, but his cock was disproportionately larger than the taller criminal’s.

Despite being forced to suck the taller man’s cock, his jaw could not get used to having something that large pistoning in and out of his mouth and throat. The first robber who gotten his release already smirked as he watched. Every once a while he would smack The Defender’s already sore ass just to see him cry out while sucking cock.

Even in his worst of nightmares, The Defender never thought this would happen to him. How a little red rock could reduce him to suck cock was a complete mystery to him. He should be focusing on trying to escape from his enemies, but his entire focus was the cock that was raping his mouth.

It didn’t take long for the second robber to shoot his wad down The Defender’s throat. Again, the hero felt queasy as another load of hot sperm was filling his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but the threat of punishment hung over him and he swallowed every drop without being told to. He shuddered as the cum slid down his throat adding to the first load that he swallowed.

The scrawny robber looked at the last petty criminal in the back of the van. “Do you want a piece of the action?” He asked causing, The Defender to shudder in anticipation of being face fucked again.

“I’m afraid play time is over, boys!” Mayhem said laughing. The van had slowed and pulled besides an abandoned factory. “We have arrived! Bring our guest inside so we can prepare him for tonight’s party!”

The Defender felt a lump of icy fear growing inside him. What other indignities were in store for him now?

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Todd Fleming

A strict Marine father punishes his 18 yo son with a bastinado session to teach him a lesson and toughen him up.
[ratings]

Josh’s Foot Punishment
by Ragnar1963

Eighteen-year-old Josh lives alone with his father Mack, an ex-Marine and professional weight trainer/bodybuilder. Josh is 5’10”, 140, with short brown hair. His workouts with his father are intense, and already Josh has a beautiful muscular and athletic body. Mack is a very strict but loving parent. Under no circumstances are shoes, socks, or shirts allowed in the house. The two men are always barefoot and shirtless; around the house they wear only athletic shorts, cutoff jeans, or even speedos. Mack feels that he and Josh should show off their hard work and built bodies at all times. Josh is allowed to wear a grey t-shirt and sneakers or flip-flops outside the house, but he must strip them off on the porch before he enters the house.

Josh’s training is brutal. Mack wants Josh to be the strongest, toughest young man in the city. Weight training, running, fight training, wrestling, all kinds of martial arts–Josh works out with his father for hours a day, and loves it. He loves sweating in their basement, showing off his muscles, making his father proud of his body. Of course, with the brutal training goes brutal punishment for failing to meet a goal or for breaking the rules. Mack tolerates no weakness or failing to follow orders. “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Excuses!” is their motto. Josh is very disciplined and rarely breaks the rules, but when it happens he endures these punishments like a man, knowing that his father’s training is turning him into a superman of strength and endurance.

Most nights Josh stays home with his father working out, but he goes out with his jock friends on weekends. The rule is strict–Josh must be home by midnight. He knows the punishment will be severe if he breaks the rule. Mack’s preferred punishment is bastinado–beating the soles of Josh’s bare feet. It is very painful–Josh limps around the house for a few days after a bastinado session, each painful step a reminder of the rule he broke–but it leaves no red welts to be seen by others, like, for example, a whipping strap on the bare back would.

One Saturday night, the unthinkable happens–Josh comes home after curfew. He and his buddies had been drinking beer, and Josh lost track of time. He rushes home, pulling off his tank top and sneaks as he runs up the porch stairs. He bursts into the house to see Mack standing before him. Josh is about to speak, but Mack cuts him off. “No excuses,” he says firmly. “It’s 1:10 a.m. You know the rule.”

“Yes, sir,” says Josh. “One stroke for each minute past midnight.”

“Which makes–?”

“70 strokes, 35 on each foot, Sir,” Josh says humbly.

Mack puts his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “I’m very disappointed, Josh,” he says. “Rules are rules. There’s no room for slacking or second-best. Discipline at all times.”

“No excuses, sir.”

“What did we say in the Marines?”

“A man learns through pain, sir. ‘That which does not kill me makes me stronger.'”

Mack was angry with his son, but also very proud of his bravery in the face of punishment. “Go downstairs and assume the position. I’ll be down in a while.”

Josh went down to the basement workout room. In a corner opposite the weight machines, wrestling mats, and boxing ring stood a short padded platform next to an open pair of stocks the same height. Hanging by a chain from the ceiling directly overhead, connected to a pulley, was an iron ring. Josh assumed the punishment position. He knelt on the platform facing the wall. He placed his feet behind him into the stocks, bare soles facing up, and closed them. Then he lifted his arms and crossed his wrists overhead.

Josh knelt in this position for 15 minutes. Mack kept his son waiting so that he would have time to think about the rule he’d broken and the punishment to come. But soon Josh heard his father’s steps on the stairs. Mack walked over to the corner. He took a padlock and locked the stocks closed–Josh’s bare feet were trapped. Mack buckled a leather cuff on his son’s left wrist, passed the chain connecting the cuffs through the iron ring, and cuffed his right wrist. Josh’s arms were already aching from being held in the air for so long, and it actually felt good when Mack pulled on the other end of the chain and Josh’s wrists rose into the air, supported by the chain. The handsome muscled teenager knelt waiting for his punishment, bare feet locked in stocks, arms dangling from chains overhead.

Mack felt prouder than even of his son, kneeling in chains for his punishment. He admired the boy’s built body, his strength, discipline, and bravery, and knew that the torture he was about to inflict would make Josh even stronger and more disciplined. Mack went to a cabinet in the wall and selected a leather paddle–a thick but slender slab of leather, about a foot long and an inch wide, slightly flexible, mounted on a handle. He walked over to Josh and showed the boy the tool that would be used for his beating.

“Thank you, Sir,” whispered Josh, beginning the ritual dialogue he and his father spoke before every punishment session.

“Why are we here, son?” As they spoke, Mack slowly and gently stroked his son’s bare chest with the paddle, causing Josh’s nipples to become erect. Josh threw back his shoulders and thrust out his hard pecs.

“I must be punished, Sir.”

“Why?”

“I broke curfew, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I was undisciplined, Sir. I failed to obey the rule you set up for my own good.”

“What punishment do you deserve?”

“Bastinado, Sir. You must beat the soles of my bare feet.”

“How long?”

“70 strokes, Sir. 35 on each foot.”

“What else do you have to say?”

At this point Josh had been instructed to plead for his punishment. “Please, Sir, I must be punished hard for breaking your rule. Please whip my soles very hard, so I can learn to be a stronger man. A man learns through pain, Sir, and I beg you to make each stroke hurt bad. If you torture my bare feet, Sir, the pain will make me strong and I will learn to be disciplined and obedient. Please, Sir. Please give me bastinado so I can become a better son.” Josh’s eyes began to water with emotion as he pleaded with his father to help him.

Mack smiled at his well-trained son’s pleading, and felt a rush of love. “Yes, son, I will help you become a better man. I will do this by punishing your feet severely so you will learn a hard lesson.”

Mack took his position behind Josh. He gently stroked his son’s bare, trapped, vulnerable left sole with the paddle. Josh’s toes curled in anticipation. Then Mack raised his arm.

WHACK! He brought the paddle down hard on Josh’s sole.

“Aaaah. . . ” Josh, kneeling and hanging from chains, gasped at the sudden hot sting on his bare foot.

WHACK! A stroke on the right sole.

WHACK! Another on the left. The pain of each blow spread through his size 12s and up into his muscular legs.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh winced at each blow of the leather on his naked feet. The pain of the bastinado was intense, but Josh knew each stroke was teaching him a good lesson.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Sometimes Mack would alternate feet, but not always, so Josh was never sure on which trapped sole the next blow would land. Mack would also vary the rate of his strokes–sometimes fast, sometimes with a long pause between each blow. Being unable to anticipate the pain and prepare for it made each lash more painful for the very brave 18-year-old. His wrists chained overhead, head bowed, feet locked tight, Josh gritted his teeth and endured each blow of the leather paddle on his unprotected size 12 soles.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh had lost count, though he knew Mack was keeping careful count of each stroke. 35 painful lashes on each sole. Josh knew only the agony of his bare feet–knew he would be limping barefoot around the house for at least the rest of the weekend. He remembered he was scheduled to mow the lawn and do yard work the next day–Mack would never let him out of his commitment, and Josh would be limping and suffering on whipped bare feet as he labored in the yard.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh began to tremble; his breathing became harder as each blow landed on his soles. The first time he had suffered this punishment, he had cried at the pain, but since then he had learned to endure several dozen strokes of the bastinado without breaking.

WHACK!!! A very hard blow landed on Josh’s left bare sole. “35.” WHACK!!! Another brutal stroke on his right. “And 35.” Mack stepped back. Josh had no idea how much time had passed, how long his punishment torture had lasted.

Mack set down the paddle, walked around to Josh’s front, placed his hands on Josh’s shoulders, and kissed his son on the cheek. “Brave man,” he whispered. Then he loosened the chains pulling Josh’s wrists in the air, and uncuffed his son. The two men hugged closely, Mack gently stroking his punished son’s hair. Then he moved to the stocks, unlocked and opened them, and helped Josh ease his ankles out and stand on the floor.

Josh winced as his red-hot whipped soles touched the cold cement floor. But he stood at attention, stoic, his face and attitude betraying nothing of the pain of standing on his lashed feet.

“Punishment concluded,” said Mack.

“Thank you, Sir,” answered Josh. “Thank you for administering the punishment I deserve. Thank you for helping me to become a better man.”

Then Josh and Mack put their arms around each other’s shoulders, and Mack helped his limping son walk up the stairs on his punished feet.

Ragnar1963

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An extremely ticklish student reluctantly agrees to take part in a tickling experiment to earn some needed cash.
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Test Subject
by Ratty

Working at the Institute did have its advantages. That was hard for me to appreciate at the time, though. The pay was lousy, job security was non-existent, being as it was, entirely grant-dependant, and the people I worked with were, quite frankly, weird. But the Kinsey Institute of Behavioral Sciences, located smack dab in the heart of the UC Berkeley campus, was a dream come true for me in one respect.

You see, I’m into tickling. A strange subject to devote oneself to you might think. Yet I received nearly 75 thousand dollars a year to conduct my research. Most of it came from the National Science Foundation, but a goodly portion was funded by the Department of Defense, The Pentagon, a fact which had sorely puzzled me at the time. From this amount came lab equipment, computer time, my salary (a painfully small percentage), subscriptions to relevant scholarly journals and such, but a large part went to pay the test subjects I used. Let me tell you right now, they earned every penny!

Tickling and ticklishness has fascinated me all my life (just ask my poor kid brother). I mean, why should a person be ticklish at all? What purpose does it serve in our physiological make-up, and in the grand evolutionary scheme of things? Why does tickling elicit laughter, even when exceedingly unpleasant? Why not screaming or crying (though these last two certainly can accompany prolonged tickling)? These are questions I often asked myself, even as a child.

At the Institute I got paid to tickle people. My budget, as I have said, included a substantial sum used to pay the numerous test subjects I used. The student body at Berkeley supplied by far the great majority of them. I ran an ad in the campus newspaper every day:

Wanted: Test subjects for
experiment in behavioral
psychology. $75 per session.
Apply Kinsey Institute.
Now seventy five bucks is a fortune to a poor, starving student. I got several applicants each day and so I could afford to be choosy. Typically an applicant would call and I’d tell him to come to the Institute to fill out a questionnaire. If the application looked good (or the applicant!) I’d bring him into my lab to take a picture. He’d take his shirt off and I’d take a picture of him with his arms raised, hands resting on top of his head. Then I attached the picture to the application and filed it. Only after I called someone back for a session was he paid the seventy five dollars.

I shall tell you about one test subject in particular. His name was Michael and he seemed particularly hard-up for cash. He was 19, a sophomore in political science, and BEAUTIFUL! I struggled valiantly to retain my veneer of clinical detachment as he shyly pulled of his shirt in in the privacy of my office. I tried to devote all of my attention to his application while he sat on the edge of my examination table, waiting. I didn’t want to seem too eager.

He was obviously nervous as he sat there bare-chested. He had auburn hair and tan skin. His application was even more promising. In answer to the question regarding degree of ticklishness, he marked the highest level: EXTREMELY ticklish. He numbered the degree of ticklishness of the various parts of his body like so: Armpits 10, Ribs 9, Feet 8, Knees 7, and on down.

I set the clipboard down. “Why don’t you step over there so I can take a picture of you.” I flashed my friendliest smile and motioned to one wall of the office where I had set up a camera and a couple of lights. He stood in front of the wall, arms crossed in front of him, while I turned on the lights and loaded film into the camera.

“Now raise your arms and put your hands on your head, that’s right, good.” His level-10 ticklish armpits were a tickler’s dream come true. They were hairy. Very, very hairy. His armpit hair choked his deep, muscled pits like a forest, it was almost jet black, much darker than the auburn hair on his head. I had seen it poking out from his short sleeves every time he raised his arms, even before he bagan unbuttoning his shirt. And beneath all of that marvellous hair his underarm skin was white, contrasting sharply with the overall tan of the rest of his body. I had images of him laying out on some sunny beach, relaxed, yet with arms clamped at his side instead of stretched out over his head, ever fearful that his exposed underarms would prove too irresistable a target to some wicked passerby who just might reach down and tickle them! The skin looked very sensitive, probably not used to being touched. I fully intended to touch them a great deal!

“Okay, thanks. Now if you could take off your shoes and socks and get one more picture we’ll be all through here for today.” My voice broke on the last word. I couldn’t seem to swallow. He sat down on a chair and began untying his shoes.

“I don’t understand,” he said, puzzled. “Why do you need pictures of my *feet*?” He started pulling off his socks.

“I need to map precise areas of ticklishness.”

“H-how…how do you d-do that?” He was stuttering all of the sudden. Interesting.

“Well, I computerize the image, superimpose a grid onto that image and record electrical brain activity in response to specific stimulus applied to each region on the grid.” I set a chair in front of him and lifted his legs onto it so that the soles of his feet faced directly into the camera. “Then I take the rather complex waveform, have the computer do a fourier analysis on it to isolate the separate elements, then compare those elements to those of all of my other test subjects.”

“You’re going to tickle my feet?”

“Well, in a word… er, yes. Smile!” I took the picture.

“Uh… I-I’m su-sorry. I don’t think I can g-go thu-through with this.” He got off the chair and grabbed his shirt. “I just can’t deal with that.”

“What? What do you mean?” I almost dropped my clipboard.

He was hurriedly pulling on his shoes. “I’m s-sorry to wuh-waste your t-time. I can’t s-stand being tickled. I’m sorry. Keep your s-seventy five dollars.”

“Seventy five dollars? Did the ad say seventy five dollars? You get a HUNDRED and seventy five dollars for this.” I silently thanked my quick mind. “There must have been a mistake in the paper. I’ll have to phone them tomorrow.”

“A hundred and seventy five? I’ll have to think about it.” He grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. “T-tickle my f-feet… I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can.” I opened the door for him. “I’ll call you Thursday after the computer simulations are done and set up an appointment. Bye!”

I closed the door behind him. Leaning back against it I let out a heavy sigh. My knees were weak but I stood up again and went to develop the film.

I waited till Friday to call. I really wanted to seem nonchalant about this. For my research strictly half of my test subjects were male. Of the women, most weren’t even the least bit ticklish. But the screams that came from my lab when I “tested” the men … aaah.

The aim of my research was, partly, to discover the origins of ticklishness and, specifically, to discover what differentiates a ticklish person from one who is not.

There are many popular theories to explain the first question. One says it’s an evolutionary reflex to protect humans from dangerous insects and arachnids which flourished in the prehistoric jungles, much the same as the reflex in horses that makes their haunches twitch and tails slap at flies. This might be a contributing factor but is wholly inadequate to explain why we’re most ticklish under the arms or on the soles of the feet, places where insects are *least* likely to land.

The theory I favor is that ticklishness evolved as a *play* reflex, like that in kittens or puppies. An essential reflex, it teaches an animal, while young, to defend itself and to fight competitors, defending vulnerable spots such as sides and ribs where a slashing claw might damage vital organs.

Any theory such as this is impossible to prove. One can only gather evidence to support it. As a preliminary to my research I recorded literally days of EEG’s from kittens while playing. Not an easy task, I assure you. It’s quite difficult to induce kittens to play with one another while connected to hundreds of feet of wires all attached to a myriad of electrodes implanted directly into the brain. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to glean two or three hours of usable data.

Much easier to answer is the second question: Why are some of us ticklish and others not? Is it merely a matter of temperment or is there some measurable physiological difference? Children who stutter are 20 times more likely to be ticklish than those who do not. My evidence at that time seemed to indicate that there is a particular region of the brain (adjacent to the region suspected to be responsible for stuttering!) which inhibits ticklishness as a person grows older, or, as the case may be, fails to do so. If this proves to be the case it would be a natural step to develop a method by which micro currents could be introduced into the brain in such a way as to neutralize this “tickle-inhibitor” effectively rendering anyone not only ticklish, but EXTREMELY ticklish.

Anyway, as I was saying, I tried to seem casual as I spoke to him over the telephone. It wasn’t easy. I’ve rarely had somebody who was as ticklish as he claimed to be for a test subject. It would be fantastic for my research (I fully expected to find that characteristic 14.7 KHz ripple put out by the “inhibitor” almost entirely missing from the fourier analysis of his EEG) but even more, it was going to be HOT!

He said she had thought it over and had finally decided to go through with it. I could almost *hear* the landlord banging on his door demanding the rent. So I set up an appointment for Monday afternoon and then proceeded to have a very long weekend.

“Hello, Michael, come in.” I beamed my brightest smile (being careful to first remove all lecherous elements from it) and shook his hand vigorously. “Let me take your jacket.” He didn’t look at me but rather continued to stare at the floor. “I really want to thank you for agreeing to help me out like this. This research requires a LOT of test subjects … you should relax. This won’t take long.”

He looked up from the floor and forced a smile, following me to the door of my lab. I unlocked it and led him into the sound-proof room, a veritable christmas tree of flashing lights and clicking, beeping sounds. Along one wall was the mainframe computer (shared by everyone at the institute) along another, medical monitoring equipment: EEG’s, EKG’s, machines for analysing blood chemistry, galvanic monitors to record electrical conductivity of the skin. Equipment choked the periphery of the lab.

But in the center of the room was the tickle-table. It was this table onto which Michael locked his gaze, eyes slowly growing wide. Shiny, stainless steel and black leather padding, sturdy leather straps for the wrists, elbows, ankles, knees and upper thighs, it positively dazzled in the bright lights of the lab. He stopped, frozen at the door.

Suddenly fearful he would bolt after all, I walked quickly to the desk drawer, unlocked it and pulled an envelope out. “I hope you don’t mind if I pay you in cash,” I said as I wielded the wad of twenties. “One hundred and seventy five dollars. Here you go.” I counted it into his hand.

He took another step forward into the lab and stopped again. “Come on, come on,” I thought to myself.

“What do you want me to do?” he said, finally. I smiled. The battle was won.

“Oh, if you could just sit there on the table. I need to calibrate the instruments.” The instruments were already calibrated. What I needed was to relax him some more. I turned to the EEG machine and began recalibrating it, all the while chattering lightly about sports, politics, school, anything. I actually got him to talk about himself, his school work, and once he even laughed. THAT was the moment.

“Okay, all ready. Now could you take of your shoes, socks and shirt?” His smiled faded. I grinned, went to another machine and pretended to do something. When I turned around again, he was ready.

“If you could just lie back on the table… I’m sorry about the restraints, but a lot of movement could interfere with the data.”

He didn’t move for about half a minute, then, slowly, he complied, lying back onto the black leather padding. I walked around to the head of the table, gently took a hold of one wrist and pulled it above his head, then tied it securly to the stainless steel extension with the leather strap. I did the same with the other arm, then next secured his hairy ankles. Only after he was completely helpless did I attach the other straps to knees, upper thighs just below the crotch, and the elbows. They were to minimize excessive struggling and make him easier to tickle. I also had a metal frame which fit into a notch in the table over his feet. It clamped around the heel and each toe, keeping his feet almost completely motionless.

His head was raised, watching everything I did to his feet. He had a grimmacing, helpless sort of smile while I worked with his toes, but I don’t think it was because he was happy.

“I don’t think I can go through with this,” he said with a voice suddenly high-pitched and cracking.

“Of course you can. It’ll be over before you know it.”

He was spead-eagled and helpless. I turned a small adjustment wheel at the extensions for his arms, lengthening them. This stretched his body, as if on a rack, making his skin taut, the hollows of his armpits deepen.

“Comfy?” I asked.

“Uh, no,” he answered. I laughed as if at a joke and began attaching wires to his head and slipped an EKG patch below his left nipple. I turned on the various video equipment which would record the whole session, and then I got out my case.

To me, the case was the most valuable piece of equipment in the lab. I set it on a small metal table which I wheeled down into position at the foot of the table right next to his immobilized feet, then I sat down on a chair facing his exposed soles. I opened the case and looked lovingly at my assortment, all neatly laid out on black velvet, of feathers, vibrators, and assorted brushes. All of my tickling accessories accumulated over the years. Then I pulled out my pride and joy, my finest feather. It was long and white, just stiff enough, with a thin, pin-point tip with just enough flexibility.

Michael’s eyes widened with horror as I held it up in the air. His feet began wiggling, an almost imperceptible movement, so tightly were his toes bound, stretched back. “We’ll start with the soles of your feet.” I smiled and brought the feather slowly into contact with his soft, sensitve sole.

“No, NO! Don’t do it… PLEASE!!” he screamed. He started pulling at the straps about his wrists and squirming as much as he could under his bonds. It didn’t do him the least bit of good. He was totally helpless. Then I began moving the feather, slowly, very slowly down the sole of his foot, then up again, dragging the soft tip over the white, sensitive skin.

“NOOOOO!! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA ha ha hahaha…..” he started laughing, high-pitched and hysterical, a strained, grimacing smile on his previously quiet, shy face. The EEG strip-chart recorder continued spitting out its white tongue of paper, a meaningless scribble of myriad black lines oozing out with it.

I took another feather, twin of the first, and pulled it up and down along his other sole. “OH NOOO! AAAAAH HA HA HAHAHA …” he screamed anew as he realized I was now tickling both bare soles at once, dragging my evil feathers slowly back and forth across the underside of his immobilized toes, in opposite directions, then down to his arches, brushing the feather tips there, first back and forth, then up and down, then swirling around in slow, lazy circles inside of the arches of his soles, the skin stretched tight as a drum.

When I pulled out still more feathers and began inserting them then pulling them out from between his splayed out toes, over and over and over again, sometimes spinning them between my two fingers, his horror at what was being done to his bare feet grew still more “OOOOOH, NOT THAT!!!! AHHHHH HA HA HA HA…NOT BETWEEN THE TOES!!! AAAAH NOT THAT!!! AH HA HA HA HAHAHA …” He was shaking his head back and forth violently. His mouth stretched open in a hysterical rictus of mad laughter.

“Just hold on!” I almost had to shout over the screaming laughter. “I only need 15 or 20 minutes more of this for the computer.” I laughed and continued tickling his feet.

Twenty Minutes??!!! “NOOOOOOOOO…HA HA HA HA HAhahaha… gasp… HA HA HA HA!!!” He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t catch his breath. I discarded the feathers and brought my fingertips to bear against his arches, skitcha skitcha skitcha, like a spider, up and down the bare flesh of his soles, again and again, tickling his feet while he screamed helpless, hysterical laughter for twenty, long, horrible minutes.

When I finally stopped, his head sagged to one side and the short bangs of his auburn hair was plastered to his forehead, sweaty. His chest heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath. I hadn’t allowed him to catch one for over ten minutes.

“No more… please.. I..I can’t take it… let me loose… I beg you, pleeeease… ” he gasped, exhausted.

“What?” I laughed. “That was just the preliminary. This session is supposed to be for an hour and a half. It’s all in the release you signed.”

“Don’t care… let me loose… I changed my mind.”

“It’s a little late for that now… Let’s see, I think the underarms are next on my list.” I smiled, this time letting all the wickedness I could muster shine through. I advanced on his stretched out armpits, my index fingers extended and wriggling menacingly.

He suddenly didn’t seem to be out of breath any more. His eyes and mouth opened wide and he pulled at his restraints again, desperately.

“Not my armpits! Not my armpits! Please! Not my armpits!” He began to giggle helplessly as I brought my fingers closer, very, very slowly, without actually touching him. This part was important. Some people can be tickled without any physical contact. Just the threat of tickling can send them into hysterics. I needed to see if his brainwave pattern showed any appreciable difference.

“Aaah, is poor baby’s underarms sensitive?” I asked, pouting. My wriggling index fingers drew closer, almost touching the dark hairy forest inside. I wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

He stared at an approaching finger, moving his head, almost as if trying to nudge the hand away with his chin, or, if possible, to bite it.

“No, ha ha ha ha ha, don’t… ha ha… please don’t… not under my arms… ha ha ha… not there … ha ha ha.” He had a big smile on his face and was giggling continuously. I started moving my fingers in big circles over his hairy pits and this started him laughing harder. He couldn’t stop. I hadn’t even touched him, yet he couldn’t stop laughing.

By the time I started worming in the hollows under his arms with my fingers, he was fully hysterical. No longer in control he let out a big, long scream before laughter took him over completely. A deeper, constant laughter, one quick gasp for air, then another prolonged fit of laughter. I hit a switch on the motorized tickle table which stretched his arms even more tightly over his head. I pulled out a stiffer pair of feathers, the ones I use to “deal” with an exceptionally hairy pair of pits, and inserted them into his hairy tickle pockets, penetrating down into the soft, white flesh, and stroking vigorously.

I chose to use his open armpits for a long, drawn-out, merciless game of cootchy coo. With index fingers pointed and ready, a big grin on my face, I called out “Cootchy cootchy coo!!” and poked my fingers into his soft armpit flesh, wiggled three times, withdrew my fingers, shouted “Cootchy cootchy coo!” again, and bored my fingers into his pits, over and over and over, for nearly an hour. Each time I did this, he’d scream. Sometimes I’d shout cootchy coo! and lunge at his pits without actually touching him, and he’d still scream and begin laughing helplessly. To bring my game to a close I cried cootchy coo one more time, drilled my fingers into his armpits and began wiggling and wiggling them, non-stop. “AAAAH HA HA HA HA HAAAAA …” he screamed, her eyes squeezed shut as he realized the game had taken a horrible turn. Up and down his armpits my poking, drilling fingers roamed. Up to just below his straining arm muscles, then wiggling on down to the smooth, tender hollow just above his ribcage, I poked and wormed, finally bringing all of my torturous fingers into play. His laughter increased in intensity, changed it’s timber from a lower, throatier sound to a high-pitched, insane shriek. I had to stop, finally, when my instruments indicated it was too dangerous to continue.

He was drenched in sweat. It formed a glossy sheen on his bare skin. Little rivlets leaked from his armpits.

“Enough… ” He still could not catch his breath. Not surprising. An hour of non-stop hysterical screaming laughter left his blood oxygen level low and would be several minutes returning to normal. “Please… no more. Oh God, I’m BEGGING you… please…” It was barely a whisper.

“I can’t stop now,” I said, rolling up my shirt sleeves. “You take a few minutes to rest. Here’s some water.” I offered him the straw to a water bottle. He refused.

“No… let me up NOW… I’m through.” Anger crept into his voice now that he had regained some strength.

I sat down in my chair. “That was only superficial stimulation. We still have to conduct tests in deep-muscle stimulation.” I reached down and began turning a lever set into the base of the tickle-table. This caused it to bend up in the middle, the ends dropping slightly. This in turn forced Michael’s chest cavity to extend upward, causing every rib to protrude in exquisite detail. I stood up, hitched up a leg and sat on the table, straddling Michael about his waist. I layed my hands on his hyper-extended rib cage, palms flat, fingers extended. He took short, panicky breaths and his eyes widened once again as he understood just what I meant to do to him.

“Now I’m going to tickle your ribs for the rest of the session. I’m afraid I’m going to have to dig in quite a bit, it might be a bit more uncomfortable, but just hang in there. It’ll all be over in another hour.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” he screamed again and shook his head, then began laughing, shaking his head and begging me not to all at the same time. I hadn’t even started.

“Cootchy cootchy coo,” my smile swelled into a wicked grin as I dug into his ribs and his screaming laughter began again.

I was called onto the carpet and given the boot for that one. The poor kid had to drop out of school and was being treated for nervous exhaustion. His stutter, which years of speech therapy had cured long before, had returned with a vengeance, making him almost unintelligible. Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard. But the experience provided me with the last data I needed to confirm my hypothesis and allowed me to get where I am today.

Yes, at the Pentagon.

At this very moment, in the room next door, are twenty state of the art tickle tables, and strapped into those tables are twenty, shirtless, barefoot privates fresh out of the corps. Tickling is the new interrogation technique of the nineties. Our country must be ready to employ it, develop it and defend against it. The group of young men next door were culled as the twenty LEAST ticklish men in the nation’s armed forces. And this group… Ah, this group of beautiful male soldiers has been wired with my new tickle-inducer. When those fingernails begin raking across their bared soles, and fingertips begin to pinch like claws into the flesh of their tender sides they are in for a new, terrifying, horrible experience and I can’t wait to see their twenty horrified, laughing young faces. Now if you will excuse me … duty calls.

Ratty

Ratty

Cowboys & Western lawmen find themselves stripped down in bondage in seven hot male bondage scenes from movies and television.
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Black bodybuilder Kaig Reene is hired as an escort by a client who wants to fulfill a torture & interrogation fantasy in this wickedly hot new story from Mark Wisdesad!
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Kaig’s Fit to be Tied Up!
by Mark Wisdesad

Kaig Reene weighed 298 lbs. An impressive weight on on any bodybuilder. But on Kaig, who stood 5 ft 7 in in his socks, it was way beyond awesome! Huge muscles bulged all over him making him resemble a pocket size Black Hercules! He had always been a gym rat but had never given a second thought to turning into a professional bodybuilder. Not for him the bother of being ‘in season’ and ‘off season’. So, Kaig was always off season! His arms were thicker than an average man’s thigh. His legs were packed with humongous muscles. Kaig’s ass was a huge mass of gluteal muscle. A bull neck on barn door shoulders. However, what made gawkers walk into each other or into onrushing traffic was his enormous chest! It was nearly 60 inches! And Kaig was just 5 ft 8 in, remember?! Between his legs was a long thick one eyed monster!

He earned quite a bit of money as a male stripper. For a dude of colossal proportion, Kaig was a very sensual, agile dancer. His thick body was very supple. But what really got him the megabucks was his ‘worship sessions’. They were held in discreet hotel rooms or at the residences of the rich guys who hired him. The rates depended on what they wanted of him. The dudes with kinky tastes naturally had to fork out a larger wad of dollars. Tying him up was top of the list. Many a times Kaig was amused by the clumsy way he was bound. But what the hell, he was paid handsomely, wasn’t he? Of course, all this was discussed on the phone before Kaig met these well heeled desperate dudes. Kaig always carried his ’emergency kit bag’ that contained spare clothes, handcuffs, rope and a small knife.

One Saturday evening, he was hired by a man who made it plain that he had erotic bondage torture in mind. The rates were settled and Kaig drove to the address. He wore an impossibly tight white T shirt and a tight pair of faded jeans. The apartment was in a high rise in the swanky part of the city. “Nice…” Kaig muttered as he carried his bag and walked up the stone steps. Riding up the elevator, he reached the floor and walking the length of the corridor, he reached the apartment and rang the doorbell. The door opened and he was asked to enter.

The man was a tall and tanned sturdy man with graying hair. “Fucks! I’ve never seen such muscles, Kaig!” He said by way of introduction. He pulled Kaig into his arms and gave him a long passionate kiss. “I’d love to see more of you, my sexy Kaig!” He said and grinned mischievously. The emphasis on the word ‘more’ was not lost on Kaig. The man’s hands ambled slowly all over Kaig’s torso. They stopped at Kaig’s humongous pecs that threatened to rip open his T shirt. They kneaded Kaig’s pec beef and pinched his large taut nipples.

The man sat on a tall bar stool and let his hands explore the young Black muscle giant’s body. Kaig groaned. And it wasn’t an act. Despite thousands of hands fondling his muscles as he stripped, every inch of flesh had turned out to be extremely sensitive to the touch! And now, his monstrous cock tented the front of his tight jeans! The man gently squeezed the bulge. He asked Kaig, “You know I love to tie up massive guys like you?” Kaig smiled and nodded his head. “And”, he added, “I tie them up real tight.” Kaig smiled at him. How many times, he wondered, had he heard this sentence! Many a times, it had turned out to be a joke for him! He had been bound clumsily enough for a five year old to free himself. “I plan to tie you up and do some wickedly erotic things with you. Ready?” he asked. Kaig nodded.

The man produced a shiny pair of steel handcuffs. “New ones. Let’s see how good they are, shall we, Kaig?” The muscle mammoth winced as the cuffs went on his wrists behind him. They were snug round his thick wrists. He twisted his wrists. Kaig saw that he was enjoying the sight of his captive’s huge shoulder muscles bunch up with the effort. He had learnt early on that some of the kinky guys got off on watching their captive’s helplessness, so he used to put on an act. Kaig used to tense and bunch his muscles in a show of struggling to free himself.

But here he didn’t have to act. The cuffs were quite tight. He grunted as his wide shoulders and his huge brawny arms bulged with his muscles. His captor smiled and ran his hands over Kaig’s enormous torso. Kaig groaned with lust. His cock ached as it was imprisoned in his jeans. “You’ve brought some spare clothes, right?” the man asked. Kaig replied that he had. “Good.” the man grinned and knelt in front of the cuffed Kaig. He unzipped Kaig’s impossibly tight jeans. “Fucks! How do you even put them on, Kaig?!” the man asked as he struggled to pull the tight jeans down to Kaig’s ankles. The boots and socks came off and so did the jeans. “Whoa! What do we have here?!”

Kaig had worn the tiniest, tightest pair of shiny red G string briefs. A hand explored his massive legs. From his cannonball calves to his colossal thighs. And then Kaig felt a hand on his crotch! A fingertip sprinted up and down the huge bulge. Kaig moaned with pleasure as two hands fondled and caressed his huge muscle ass. The man stood up and said, “Let’s start the evening’s entertainment,eh?” Grasping Kaig’s massive arm, he led him into the bathroom. “Why don’t you pee, Kaig? It’s gonna be a very very long evening!” He pulled Kaig’s brief’s off his legs and tossed it in a corner. The cuffed muscle stud’s large cock sprang out like a diamondback about to strike a prey! The man stood behind his captive and bringing his arms around, held Kaig’s cock as it let out a stream of piss. The other hand fondled his colossal pecs. He felt the man’s erection wedged against his ass. “Let’s go back!” the man said and picked Kaig’s briefs.

Kaig was led back. The man pulled another tall stool and placed it in front of a floor to ceiling mirror. Kaig noticed that the seat was nothing more a ring of upholstered leather! “Sit!”, he ordered his captive. Kaig struggled to sit on the stool as it was quite tall and his cuffed hands were of no help. His balls hung free in the open space in the ring. He saw his image and that of his captor behind him. The man spoke in a voice dripping with lust, “You look so fuckin’ huge and sexxxxxy, Kaig!” The seat of the stool was small and Kaig’s huge muscle ass bulged out.

“Let’s tie you up real good…” the man uttered and getting a roll of thin white rope, he cut it into various lengths using a small sharp knife. Kaid eyed the knife and the glint in the man’s eyes and said, “No cutting me up, no whipping that may leave marks on my body! I’m a stripper too, remember?” The smile on the man’s face was chilly as he replied, “Kaig, I don’t plan to draw even a drop of your blood. And I’m not gonna leave even the tiniest bruise on your huge sexy body.” The man gazed unblinkingly at his captive and spoke in a soft seductive whisper, “But after what I plan to do to you, you’ll wish I had whipped you and maybe cut you up a little, Kaig!” Kaig sighed as his captor’s hand lazily traveled all over his gigantic chest. His large nipples poked through the tight T shirt and he winced as the man pinched them. Very hard.

The muscle mammoth looked in the mirror as his captor almost loving first pulled his left leg and then the right one and tied his ankles tight to the back legs of the stool. Kaig discovered that the manner in which he was bound, he had no option but to sit ramrod straight! He groaned as the man fondled his balls dangling below! He had just watched ‘Casino Royale’ a week ago and had been terribly aroused at the sight of a naked Daniel Craig tied up in a chair and totally at the mercy of his sadistic captor. He now remembered that scene and his cock couldn’t have got any bigger and harder! As if reading his mind, his captor asked him in a soft voice, “Kaig, have you seen ‘Casino Royale’?” He added, “Remember the scene where a naked Bond is tied up immobile in a chair and totally at the mercy of Le Chiffre, a diabolic sadist?”

“I remember the scene.” Kaig said and continued, “But I’m no James Bond or Daniel Craig.” “Maybe,” the man said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “but I’ve wanted to be Le Chiffre and do what he does to a humongous, sexy naked muscle stud. A giant who is bound and helpless……like you, Kaig..” The Black captive squirmed as a hand ran across his inner thighs. He told his captor, “I’m also a stripper, remember? No marks on my body, remember? So, no whipping!” “Oh yeah, I remember.” The man stooped and picked up a small black box and placed it on a table. He opened it and took out a longish shiny black object. Kaig knew what it was. His captor went behind him and caressed his butthole. Kaig moved his body with enjoyment. His sighs turned into a loud grunt as the butt plug vibrator entered him.

He saw his reflection arch his back as the vibrator began its job. The man slapped Kaig’s huge butt cheeks a few times and stepped up to his captive. He held a length of twine in his hands. The sadist lightly tapped the bound muscle giant’s battering ram that kept spitting strings of pre cum. “Can’t get any harder, can it?” the man asked Kaig. Not waiting for a reply, he knelt between his prisoner’s thick thighs and winding the twine around his cum crammed balls, tied them off. “Fucks!” Kaig muttered as he felt his balls being pilled back and the ends of the twine being attached to the handcuffs on his wrists. Kaig sighed as the man left him and walked to a table only to return with some more gizmos in his hands! Kaig identified them as a violet wand and a fleshlight.

The man stood behind his captive and they faced the mirror. “Watch!” the man commanded. The man’s two hands come over his shoulders. A knife glistened wickedly in one hand. It sliced open the front of Kaig’s impossibly tight T shirt from the neck up to his navel. The two men watched fascinated, as the two halves of the T shirt parted and his humongous pec slabs emerged in slow motion! Kaig groaned and tried to heave his huge body as the violet wand ran over his pecs and his nipples. The captor groaned in lust, watching his immense captive groan and squirm helplessly. The man knelt in front of Kaig’s spread thighs. Smiling at his captive, he ran the violet wand over Kaig’s cum crammed tied off balls and his twitching monstrous veined cock. “Aw fucks!” Kaig bellowed and struggled on his precarious perch.

“This won’t do! Can’t have you bellowing like a horny stud bull, Kaig!” He added with a sly grin, “What’ll my neighbors think for God’s sake!” The remedy was quick. And sadistic! The man produced a length of black cloth and gagged Kaig. He took the ends of the cloth and attached them tautly to his captive’s wrists behind him. “Nice! Very nice!” the man uttered. Kaig couldn’t move his wrists without straining the twine attached to his balls and the cloth attached to his gag! Le Chiffre, Kaig mused, could have learnt some lessons from this sadist.

The violet wand roamed lazily over Kaig’s massive thighs, his dense balls and his battering ram between his legs. Sweat poured down his body as he struggled in his bonds. He grunted as the wand generated a rather agonizing current that sparked across his colossal pecs and his large taut nipples. “Mmmm…nice to see a giant like you straining his awesome muscles..” the man said in a voice dripping with lust and sadism, as he applied the wand to Kaig’s tied off balls. Kaig’s grunts pleaded as his captor’s mouth engulfed his huge cock to its hilt. The man grinned like a schoolboy and mumbled, “Heard you’re a gusher, Kaig! Anyway, you won’t be ruining my Persian carpet as long as your balls are helpless. Hehehe!” The mouth worked slowly up and down the angry red piston.

Next came the fleshlight on Kaig’s twitching shaft. The bound behemoth was a whisker away from losing his sanity! The man used his free hand on Kaig’s awesome pecs, mashing the pec slabs and rolling his nipples. Kaig had lost count of the hours as he moaned, sighed and grunted into his gag. He realized that he was in the hands of a cold, lustful monster. His wrists burnt with agony at the tight cuffs round them. He flexed his fingers and was pleased that blood circulation hadn’t been totally cut off.

The man finally spoke to his captive, “I’m gonna free your balls. Let’s see you gush into my mouth, Kaig!” Kaig felt the twine around his balls being undone. The man had hardly held Kaig’s shaft in his mouth than it erupted like a volcano! Thick unending streams of hot cum filled the man’s mouth. He swallowed the lava to the last drop. Kaig let out a long drawn moan and sagged on the stool. His ankles were untied and his gag came off. Kaig could hardly utter a word as he let his captor lead him to the bathroom with his wrists still cuffed behind him.

The jets of warm water fell on their bodies and the man soaped his cuffed captive and later, toweled him dry. They entered his bedroom where the man pushed Kaig on to the huge bed. Kaig was too exhausted and let his captor kiss his massive body from his toes to his lips. He vaguely felt the man’s hot lips on his stiffening cock. He groaned s he drifted into a deep slumber……………..

THE END

The show continues and the brothers suffer brutal foot torture that even involves participation from the carefully selected audience members. WARNING: This one is definitely not for the squeamish.
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19 yo Jamal is lured to an apartment on the promise of earning quick cash but he soon finds himself in bondage watching his big black cock receive a long slow edging that leads to begging his captor for permission to cum.
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Edging Jamal
by Stud Stalker

This story is based on the video Jamal’s Massage & Milking.
MEMBERS: Watch the full video in our MEMBER VIDEOS section.
NON-MEMBERS: Download the full video from MaleBondageAndFeet.com

I chose my apartment for the view and it’s the best decision I ever made. It’s the corner unit on the top level of a 4 story building and offers me a wide view of all the comings and goings of the entire neighborhood. I love to sit looking out my window and watch them go by. Sometimes I feel like a spider sitting up in its web just waiting for the right moment to strike its next victim. Of course I’ve never really considered them victims. And they’ve never really resisted THAT much. They’re just hot straight men who need a little encouragement – a little push, some rope, a paddle if they deserve it – and I’m happy to be of service.

I’d seen Jamal around for a couple of months. Most mornings he’d be waiting for the downtown bus and upon his return in the afternoon he’d always stop by the local market for a Gatorade and a pack of smokes. It was summer and the days were long so he’d meet up with a groups of friends for basketball at the local court and they would play for hours even on the hottest of days. I’d often stop by the court to smoke a cigarette and watch them. Most of his friends would strip off their shirts but not Jamal so I’d never seen him shirtless but I could tell he had a nice body under those layers of baggy clothes. On one of these afternoons I was smoking a cigarette and enjoying the view when Jamal starting walking my way.

“Got an extra cig?” he asked flashing a white smile.

I reached down into my pocket and pulled the almost empty pack revealing the sole remaining smoke.

“Last one.”

“Damn. Sorry man. I don’t wanna take your last smoke.”

But of course I insisted and he quickly accepted with an even bigger smile as I offered him a light. I learned a lot about Jamal in the few minutes we spent together while he puffed away. He’s 19. Just moved in with his older brother who found him a position in the shipping department at his job. He was missing his girl back home and I swear if his complexion wasn’t so dark he’d have turned deep red when I mentioned that his cock must be missing her too. Like many young men just starting out in life, the money often runs out too quickly and Jamal was dead broke until his next paycheck in three days. So the promise of an easy $100 and some smokes just for moving a few boxes in my apartment was an easy sell and I quickly had plans for the next day.

—————————————————————————–

The next afternoon was another hot one. I was already exhausted from searching my apartment for anything heavy to pack into boxes for Jamal to move but I got a surge of energy as I watched Jamal get off the bus and head in the direction of my building. I quickly closed all of the windows and turned off the AC to keep the apartment extra hot.

It wasn’t long before Jamal was working up a heavy sweat and complaining about the heat. I apologized that the AC was on the fritz and recommended that perhaps he’d be more comfortable if he took off his shirt. He hesitated for moment looking at me suspiciously but relented slowly pulling off his shirt revealing his tight lean body and slightly hairy pits. My cock immediately sprang to life in my shorts!

I sat watching Jamal work for the next hour as the sweat ran down his his tired muscles. It wasn’t long before his jeans were off giving me the even more stimulating view of Jamal working in just his boxers. It was easy to see that the boy was exhausted and when he stated complaining about his sore muscles I knew that my opportunity had arrived.

“How about a massage, Jamal?” I asked. “I think you’ve earned it. I’m actually quite a talented masseuse.”

“A massage from a guy? Isn’t that kinda gay?” he asked with a suspicious look.

“Nonsense.” I replied “Nothing wrong with a guy helping out another guy. Sit here.” I pointed to a green armchair in the corner. Jamal nervously made his way over to the chair and took a seat. I sat down at his feet at began to massage them through his black socks. He sat there pensively watching me massage his feet but soon he began to relax a bit and I could see that he was beginning to enjoy the experience. I continued to work his feet and it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and the ooohs and ahhhs of total bliss started coming from his mouth and his big black cock sprung to life sticking out of the pee hole of his boxers.

I reached up grabbing the waist of his boxers and firmly pulled them down in one quick motion before Jamal even knew what was happening. His black cock flopped back & forth.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Jamal protested cupping in his big cock and balls with his hand.

“You were looking a bit constricted there. Besides it’s hot as fuck in here.” I laughed and continued the massage. He gave me a suspicious look but soon leaned back and went back to enjoying my masterful foot massage. His hand moved away revealing his full hard cock standing straight up. My own cock was as hard as a rock and leaking as I massaged Jamal’s feet and watching his cock dance as he moaned away.

I knew he was ready for the next step so led him to the massage table in the second bedroom and helped him up laying him on his back. I sprinkled oil all over his naked body and began massaging his pecs taking the liberty to pull and pinch his erect nipples. It was obvious that Jamal was in heaven by his still rock hard cock. He grabbed his cock and started to stroke it. Within a couple of minutes he announced that he was about to cum. But I wasn’t ready for the show to end. In his distracted state he didn’t even notice as I attached the restraints I’d prepared to his hands and feet. By the time he realized what I was doing, it was too late.

“What is this?” he asks nervously struggling against the bondage.

“Relax,” I said.

“What are you going to do to me?” he quizzed.

“Oh nothing you won’t enjoy, I’m sure. I’m going to edge your cock.” I replied.

“You’re going to what????”

“I’m going to edge your cock. I’m going to play with your body and tease your cock until it’s dripping wet. But I’m not gonna let you cum until I’m good and ready. I’m sure you’ll be ready much sooner than me but I’ve got you tied up here so there’s really not much you can do about it. You’re all mine until I’m ready to let you go.”

“Please let me go!” he begged “I don’t want to be edged.”

“Relax,” I said “And you might as well get comfortable. We’re gonna be here awhile.”

I grasped his big black cock with my left hand and began to lightly tease it’s swollen head with my fingers, “Oh and don’t even think about cumming until I give you permission. There will be a punishment if you don’t follow my instructions.”

He tensed and tried to resist but his cock betrayed him remaining hard and responding to my every touch. I made a loose fist around Jamal’s engorged cock and softly began to stroke it’s full length from the thick base to the tip of his leaking cock. When my hand descended back to the base of his cock, it would brush up against his sac and he’d jerk and beg me not to touch his sensitive balls. I leisurely continued the tortuous teasing & stroking of Jamal’s cock and Jamal was in heaven.

Eventually, I began to speed up the motion. Jamal’s cock continued grow. His body tensed and he bit his lip.

“Oh god I’m gonna cum!!!” Jamal moaned.

I quickly stop stroking the boy began fucking the air in vain.

“What are you doing??” he asked in a distressed tone. “I was just about to cum!!”

I gently massaged his chest. “I told you. I’m going to edge your cock. I’m not going to let you cum just yet.”

I grasped his cock and began to play with his head again. Jamal gave me a very frustrated look. It wasn’t long though before Jamal was back with the angels as I tightened my grip and began slowly stroking his cock again. I would purposely brush my hand up against full ball sac again and he’d protest in between his moans. When I sensed he was getting closer to cumming I sped up the pace.

“Ready to cum, Jamal?” I teasingly asked.

“Oh yes sir. Thank you sir. Please let me cum!”

I was getting much closer. He was fucking my hand!

“Ohhh I gonna cum!” he screamed.

And of course, I immediately stopped.

“OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME????” he screamed.

“I told you what I’m doing Jamal. I’m edging your cock! You’re not going to CUM until I’m good and ready.”

“Well I don’t want to be edged! I need to cum!! My balls are aching!”

He began struggling in earnest trying to escape his bondage. I could tell he was getting angry now and I worried about exactly what might happen he did break free. But soon his struggling stopped and Jamal let out a defeated sign. I rubbed gently rubbed his chest then grasped his still rock hard cock and started the game all over.

I enjoyed the whole evening teasing and edging Jamal’s big cock. He spent the evening going in and out of a state that now seemed like somewhere between heaven and hell. When he’d drift back into the world of the living he only had the capacity to softly beg, “Please let me cum.”

Eventually, I did. I tightened my grip and began to work his cock like a machine. Jamal was breathing hard. His entire body tense. He bit his lip and lifted his hips.

“OHH FUCK!!!!!!!” he screamed as his big black cock throbbed in my hand and a huge white load came following out!!

Jamal was frozen in place for a moment while he recovered. Then he fell flat back onto the massage table. I continued to play with his now even more sensitive cock. He struggled and begged for me to stop which I did….eventually.

When I release Jamal he suddenly became very shy and embarrassed. I paid him the $100 (he definitely earned it!) and he made a quick exit. I didn’t expect to see him again but still I wasn’t really that surprised the next day as I watched him walk toward my building and heard his knock on the door…….

God I love my view!

This story is based on the video Jamal’s Massage & Milking.
MEMBERS: Watch the full video in our MEMBER VIDEOS section.
NON-MEMBERS: Download the full video from MaleBondageAndFeet.com

Stud Stalker

A Daddy trains his son in ass play & fisting in this older but hot art series by Josman.
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Daddy & Son Fisting Training – Art Series
by Josman

Josman

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Straight young Master Tyler humiliates his willing gay slave including foot worship, spitting and other training in this preview video clip from spanish porn site Hard Kinks.

Jamal agrees to a massage but gets a lot more than he expected when his huge raging hard-on can’t be ignored. The kinky therapist restrains his hands and feet and subjects the young chocolate stud to a long slow teasing handjob until he is literally begging to cum. Running Time: 25 Minutes

Samson does his best not to scream as he suffers an intense torture session with the king and the dungeon master that eventually breaks him. But his needy cock still seems to have a mind of its own.
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Samson Part 3: Samson Tortured by King Nabal
by SuperHuman
Series: Samson & Delilah

Samson was already in pain. The combination of the back-breaking barefoot trek across the desert and the discomfort of hanging naked in a cold dark room for what seemed like hours was taking a heavy toll on his body. Samson was startled as the door suddenly creaked open. A gleeful King Nabal entered the room followed by the dungeon master carrying a torch in one hand and the young king’s whips and club in the other. Samson struggled as the devilish-looking Nabal approached him but his body weight and the thick shackles and chains didn’t allow him much slack.

Nabal made a circle around Samson studying his nude physique down from his feet which were shackled in manner that forced his soles out flat with his toes barely touching the ground up his straining muscular thighs, his enormous cock and balls, his tightly flexed abs, his meaty pecs and erect nipples, his round aching shoulders and all the way up to his shackled wrists and glowing white knuckles. “So THIS is the mighty Samson?”

“Yes, my lord.” answered the dungeon master mistakenly thinking that the question was directed at him as he laid down the kings tools and prepared to mount the torch.

“He doesn’t seem so scary now.” said Nabal reaching out an open hand and gently running his fingers across Samson’s chest from one nipple to the other while looking Samson directly in the eyes.

“You are nothing but a BOY! Release me and we’ll fight this out like men!” Samson demanded jerking back as far as his bondage would allow.

Suddenly the dungeon master grabbed Samson’s clearly frightened face and held it close to the torch. “Better watch youz mouth, Manslave! This is the King of Philistine!”

Samson’s response was a quick gob of spit that hit the dungeon master directly below his right eye but the jaded man just let out a small chuckle and wiped away the spit with his thick dirty fingers then swiftly and ferociously brought down that same hand slapping the captured man so suddenly and with such force that for a few seconds Samson could here only ringing in his ears.

“Enough! He is mine!” shrieked Nabal but then softened his tone, “You will have your turn.”

Nabal continued his circular track around Samson. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, Samson.” he said as he reached out his hand touching Samson’s muscular shoulders and made his way down and around to to hero’s clearly defined abs and around again to his massive round ass. “My people live in fear of this legend of Samson! I imagine the picture in their simple minds resembles more a hairy fearsome warrior type than the shaven-baby-smooth chained-up helpless prisoner I see here before me! None the less, you’ve made things quite difficult for me. Embarrassed the throne. Made me look weak. But we are going to remedy that situation.”

Nabal picked up the smaller whip and approached Samson again. He looked him directly in the eyes and with the handle of the whip he made small light circles around Samson’s nipples. “You will be humiliated. I will put you on display for all of Philistine to see and they will know that I have delivered them from their greatest enemy whom even my father could not defeat and not for lack of trying before his…um, unfortunate demise. My reign will be legitimized. But these are just political issues. No longer your concern I’m afraid.”

Nabal reached down and lifted Samson’s plump cock and balls in his hand at gently fondling them with his thumb. Samson’s cock began to rise. “But tonight….like many nights to come…tonight is personal. I especially like to torture mature strong men such as yourself. I guess you could say I’ve got “daddy issues”. Of course, I would prefer said man to be displaying his natural fur instead of suffering the humiliation of being shaven like a BOY. Not unless it was by my hand of course. But we will make do.”

Nabal flicked his wrist and swiftly brought the small whip down striking directly on Samson’s exposed genitals. Samson breathed in hard using all of his strength not to scream out as the intense pain radiated through out his body.

Nabal laughed and looking at the dungeon master said, “I like the way he jiggles!” The dungeon master looked back with an approving smile.

“Tenderize him for me!” demanded Nabal.

“Wit pleasure, my lord.” The dungeon master picked up the club and happily approached Samson. He jammed the end of the wooden club roughly into Samson’s abs. Samson lost his breath but still made no scream. The dungeon master continued his assault over Samson’s entire body hitting his sore muscles and even paying some special attention to the captured stud’s cock and balls. Nabal paced around the room carefully watching the events and sometimes giving instructions on parts that looked sensitive. As the dungeon master continued, King Nabal removed his robe once again revealing his young slender body but massive hard cock. Samson couldn’t help but stare.

“Surprising isn’t it? It grows extra large for you. You will come to know my cock well and bring it great pleasure. And I will come to know every inch of your body. There will be no secrets between us. I will hurt every part of you.” he said while stroking his already dripping cock. “Poor Samson, you’ve had a long journey. Your feet must be very sore. I think they need some attention!”

“Yes, my lord!” The dungeon master knelt down and began to club Samson’s flattened soles for what felt like an eternity. The strong man held himself tight but could not help from moaning as the merciless man attacked his feet while King Nabal cheered him on. By the time the dungeon master was finished, Samson hung breathlessly in his chains. He felt a small relief when that damn club had ceased it’s duty but as he saw the naked king pick up the large whip and move behind him, he knew that this was merely a changing of the guard and the real pain was yet to come.

“He doesn’t scream??” questioned Nabal. “I shall fix that.”

Nabal firmly gripped the handle of the whip, pulled back his arm and unleashed a expertly heavy blow across Samson’s back. The weakening hero clenched his jaw and held his eyes tightly closed, struggling to hold onto his will not to scream and cry as another wicked lash stung his back.

WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!! WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!! WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!!

The blows stung his back and ass but still Samson made no scream.

WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!!! WAAAAPISHHHHHH!! WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!! WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!!

The whip wrapped around and stung his bare chest.

WAAAAPISHHHHHH!!!!!!

Nabal was dripping with sweat and precum. He pulled back his arm and swung. The unyielding whip wrapped around Samson’s thick thigh and it’s stinging tip found it’s way to the head of the captured stud’s cock.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! screamed Samson as he lost all restraint and let out an awful wail that echoed through the halls of the dungeon.

“NOW I’ve got you!” screamed Nabal as unleashed blow after blow to the broken man’s body while still stroking his own cock.

Samson screamed and at times even begged long into the night. Nabal and the dungeon master took turns torturing the defeated warrior making good use of each of their instruments. During the times the dungeon master enjoyed his active turn, the twisted young king would carefully watch and vigorously stroke his cock (a luxury not afforded to the frustrated dungeon master) until the young king spewed out one massive load after another.

By morning Samson hung almost lifelessly in his chains as the spent king ordered the dungeon master to take Samson to his cell where he was to held in tight chains and his wounds were to be healed using the High Priest’s special ointment. He approached Samson. “We shall meet again soon.” He lifted the hero’s tortured cock and balls which despite the wounds actually began to become hard in his hand. “In our next session I think will explore this part more.”

Nabal turned toward the door as he spoke to the dungeon master, “I shall make my morning visit and then the king’s bed.”

The dungeon master left Samson hanging alone in the cold dark chamber to go prepare the prisoner’s cell. Despite the pain, Samson’s cock began to stand at full attention. And it was no surprise to him. He had not cum all day…..

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

SuperHuman