So here is my second entry. But before I dive into my past, here’s something about me in the present.

Right now, I’m typing this on my laptop. I’m looking down at my penis, and it is, of course, erect. My penis is pretty average in size, about six inches. It’s got a nice, thick vein on it that you can see pulse as the blood courses through it when I have an erection. In some instances in my post-S&M days, I’ve had a few men who have gone nuts when they’ve seen it.

I love penis. There’s something that draws me into it. When I masturbate, I love how my hand feels on it . When I’m sucking a guy’s penis, I love how it throbs in my mouth when I hold it there for a few seconds. Just thinking about a dick in my mouth makes me want to cum right now. Fuck, if I really did have a penis in my mouth right now, I’d cum all over the place without needing to rub my penis.

I digress. I’ve got a fucking hard penis right now. And all I’m wearing is this blue striped button down shirt. It’s not buttoned up at all. Wearing a shirt like this turns me on. It used to never be a thought. But that was before where the story of my past picks up.

A button down shirt fetish wasn’t something I ever heard of before I moved in with the person I mentioned in my first entry. His name is Scynthan. He’s 6 foot 5 and has a decently slender body. He has a 7 inch penis too. Just perfect for me.

When I first walked into his place, he placed a blindfold on me, unbuttoned my shirt, dropped my shorts and told me to step out of my shoes. I obeyed him. He then tied my arms behind my back, and placed a bar between my legs. He tied the bar to my ankles and then pushed me forward with one hand.

I felt him raise my arms up into the air, where he chained my arm tie to something in the ceiling. Feeling the cool breeze run through my open shirt, my penis started to get hard. Then, I felt the cool breeze of the room run from the bottom of my scrotum to the tip of my erect penis. My penis twitched ever so slightly, but Scynthan noticed. I felt him running his cold hand on my legs, up to my chest, and down to my penis. As I felt his cold, damp hand on my throbbing penis he asked me a question.

“Do you want to cum already, boy?”

For a second, I hesitated. I felt his hand shift from my penis to my scrotum. The dampness of his palm felt uncomfortable against my unshaven scrotum.

“Do you have an answer, boy?” He lightly squeezed my balls and tugged on them.

I gasped, “Yes, sir!” He squeezed harder. “Yes, sir!” I said louder. He squeezed them very hard. My legs buckled from the pain. I shouted, “Yes, sir!” again.

He replied, “You have no right to want to cum in my residence, boy. The answer is no.” He tightened his grip even more. In my bondage, I went slightly limp. Scynthan released my arms from the chains, and I collapsed onto the floor. “You’re pathetic,” he said. “Let me make this clear. By agreeing to live here, you belong to me. More specifically, the only thing you have of consequential value is your penis. Which means your penis belongs to me. And I shall do what I please with it. And, first and foremost, I will decide when you will or will not orgasm.”

I weakly said, “Yes, sir.”

His reply: “Good. Keep this in mind as a ground rule. The last person who lived here gave me full consent to his body, much like you agreed to. He angered me quite often. That has left me quite vengeful and though it’s not fault to you, I will be taking out his failings on you. And why is that, you ask? Because you’re absolutely worthless. You have put yourself in this situation for your own satisfaction you seek.”

He added, “I, at this point, am tired. You got here late like you said you would, and that’s fine. But as I am tired, I will be leaving you in this room, chained to the ceiling. You need to adjust to that, because that is how you will be sleeping for the short term. In the long term, it could be in my bed with me, at the foot of the bed like a dog, in a cage like a dog, or just like you are tonight.”

He then picked me up off the ground, my penis now semi-erect. He chained my arms to the ceiling again, and shoved something in my mouth to prevent me from talking. He said, “During the night hours, your mouth will be covered, your eyes will be blindfolded, your ears will be blocked. You are essentially deaf, dumb and blind during those hours. And keep this in mind: there will be times when I will have people here at night. They can do what they want with you, if I give permission. But keep this in mind: when you are deaf, dumb and blind, you are absolutely not permitted to have orgasm. The minimal punishment is 25 lashings of my cane to the underside of your penis – and that’s also dependent on how much pre-cum shows as well.”

And then he covered over my ears and I couldn’t hear anything any more.

After some time, my arms started to ache. But that didn’t compare to the remainder of my first night, one of great hell. Being that I was sensory deprived, I could feel everything more. The dampness of the room against my penis was slightly pleasing. I realized how much I wanted to cum as I spent more time in this position.

At some point, that wish came desperately true. Some time had passed when I felt something come over my penis. It felt so good, I hadn’t felt any way remotely like it before. Then I felt what was like many hands washing over my penis repeatedly. I initially fought the orgasm, but I quickly gave in. The high of the orgasm was so overwhelming, I didn’t care about the consequence of it. I felt cum shooting through the tip of my penis like it was gushing from a fire hydrant. Over some amount of time, I kept repeatedly cumming and cumming.

It was the best sexual night of my life. That’s when the hell descended on me. My comeuppance for reaching orgasm was coming upon me.

To this day, when I look at my penis, I still see the scars from his torture. And when I look at it a second time, I still get an erection. It may be my days of past, but it’s such a turn on. And that’s where I’ll leave it for now.

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