My wife had given me another check from Linda and, almost in passing, told me that I had another shoot in a couple of weeks. She also told me to really watch what I ate and work out since I was going to be the entertainment for a party for some ladies. That had sounded very promising at the time.
So there I was kneeling in a closet listening to the occasional murmur of voices and sounds of movement outside the door. My wife had had me wash thoroughly and shave all my body hair before we had left home. Once we arrived at Linda’s house my wrists were bound in front of me by the two women and I was taken to the closet. There was a large very ordinary looking family room (at least from what I saw when I went through it on my way through) just the other side of the door. At one point, Linda and Jean opened the door and added a black leather hood with an attached ball gag to my outfit. Shoving the ball gag into my mouth they had giggled and left me again.
Finally the door opened and my wife grabbed my bound wrists and pulled me out to join the party. At first glance it looked like a rather run-of-the-mill looking party. There were wine bottles and plates of snacks on a table and the six women now staring at me all looked like folks you’d see in your neighborhood, dressed casually with wine glasses in their hands. There were some odd notes. For one thing all of the women were wearing decorative masks. Then there was the guy, also masked, pointing a video camera at me and the other video cameras scattered around the room. After a few moments, I realized that the guy’s video camera was sending its pictures to the large flatscreen on the wall. That meant that I could watch myself on TV or in the mirrors along one wall as I was led through them.
Then there was the bar hanging from a cable that went through a pulley on the ceiling and was attached to a small hand-operated winch on the wall. The bar was hung in the center of the room and had leather cuffs on each end. That was where my wife took me.
Linda used the winch to lower the bar in front of me. Jean fastened one cuff to my right wrist before untying me. Then she put the other cuff on my left wrist and gave a thumbs up. The winch cranked again and the bar slowly rose toward the ceiling, taking my wrists with it, stopping once my hands were just above my head. The bar was long enough that my hands were about a foot outside my shoulders. Jean reached up and guided the bar between four posts extending from the ceiling. A few more turns of the winch and my shoulders and arms were fixed in place.
The other four women stood watching me with expectant looks on their faces, occasionally whispering something to each other and giggling. Embarrassed I looked around the room some more, noticing for the first time a table with a black cloth over it and a black sheet draped over something oddly shaped next to that table. Linda lifted the cloth from the table, revealing a neat row of boxes of various sizes. From one she removed a two foot long bar with cuffs on either end. She and my wife knelt down, cuffed that to my legs and slid two bolts into unobtrusive holes in the floor.
“OK ladies,” she said, returning to the table. “Let’s have some fun. Who wants to cut off his shirt?”
All four of the others raised their hands enthusiastically, clamoring for the chance. Linda picked a petite brunette and handed her a large pair of scissors. Giggling nervously, she used the scissors to cut my t-shirt into small pieces, while I shivered at the touch of the cold steel. Then she grabbed the shredded garment and ripped it the rest of the way off while her associates voiced their approval.
Linda selected a well-rounded blonde and pointed at my shorts. This one carefully cut the shorts up both legs to the waistband, then cut that material away from the waistband before cutting that and letting it fall off. The giggles grew as Linda handed the scissors to a tall girl with long reddish hair.
I really shivered this time as she slid the steel under my briefs and slowly started cutting them away. When she cut enough material away, my semi erect cock pushed through a gap, much to the amusement of the ladies. Then she cut the waistband and I was naked except for my hood. The women giggled and walked around me, commenting on my physique, while the hooded cameraman hovered around recording it all. The lingering closeups of my ass and cock that appeared on the TV in front of me made me even more uncomfortable. I learned later that all the women knew each other in some fashion but no one other than Linda knew I was Jean’s husband.
“You do the honors,” Linda said, handing my wife a thin leather strap with silver snaps.
I groaned aloud for the first time as she wrapped the strap tightly around my cock and balls and snapped it closed. While this was going on, Linda had collected some items from the table and put them on a TV tray, which she then placed next to me. I looked down and saw a large bowl of clothespins along with six Sharpie pens.
“OK ladies,” Linda said, picking up a pen and a clothespin. “Time to decorate our toy.”
With that she bent down and wrote, in surprisingly good penmanship, ‘SLAVE’ across my lower belly just above my cock. I squirmed involuntarily at the ticklish sensation and the ladies all rushed over to grab a pen and some clothespins.
I don’t know if it was the wine or the anonymity of the masks but they did not act very lady-like for the next several minutes, not that I minded. Each lady took a turn writing something on me as the others watched and made obscene comments and suggestions. ‘SLUT’, ‘WHORE’, ‘BITCH’ joined ‘SLAVE’ on my stomach, while word balloons on my chest had my nipples appear to be saying ‘BITE ME’, SUCK ME’ AND ‘CLAMP ME. On my back I acquired a tramp stamp with an arrow pointing down that said ‘COCK GOES HERE’ as well as ‘WHIP’, ‘SPANK’ and ‘FUCK’ on my left buttock and ‘ME’ on my right. They were having a grand old time and so was I. It got a bit more serious when the started decorating my front with the clothespins. A forest of clothespins soon surrounded my nipples (‘Leave the nipples for last, my wife had said’). Then my cock and balls disappeared under a cluster of clothespins. Always a sucker for this kind of treatment, I moaned with pleasure when they put a line of pins on the underside of my cock and then circled the tip with more.
“He is a little painslut,” one of the women laughed as fluid leaked from my abused cock.
Even the sharper pain when the last two clothespins were put on my sensitive nipples did not lessen my enjoyment of the whole thing.
“OK, ladies, time for the main event,” Linda, said from behind me.
The camera followed her as she walked to a door, opened it and beckoned for someone to come out. That someone proved to be a muscular man slightly taller than I wearing a pair of tight black jeans and an executioners hood. His bare chest shined in the light, obviously covered with oil, as he walked slowly into the room
The light-hearted mood disappeared with his entrance and the ladies stepped back, whispering to one another. He stopped in front of me and dispassionately looked me over from head to toe. Then he circled me, inspecting me like some animal at the fair or slave at the market. After two trips around he again stopped in front of me. Smiling, he reached out and began slapping the clothespins off of me.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had that done but it is exquisitely painful and I jerked and groaned as he knocked them off in rapid succession, one at a time. When all the clothespins were on the floor he kicked them away and took another trip around, still looking me up and down. He stopped in front of me and looked pointedly at my still erect and dripping cock. Then he looked me in the eyes, the visible part of his face was still impassive but his eyes were…hungry. I looked down submissively.
I started when he reached out and slowly trailed both hands from my shoulders to my thighs then back up again, ignoring my futile squirming attempt to avoid his touch. The only sound was the rather heavy breathing of the ladies as he did another slow turn around me, seeming to run his hands over every inch of me, like he was inspecting some kind of prized animal. When he got behind me again, he grabbed one butt cheek in each hand and spread them wide. Ignoring my helpless wriggling and muffled squeaks, he spent some time inspecting my asshole while the cameraman also took a good look. I was literally trembling with…something… as he returned to my front. Using both hands, he thoroughly explored my cock and balls. Patting my ass again, he walked over to the table.
Grabbing the cloth-covered thing next to the table, he dragged it toward me, a metallic scraping audible as he moved it over the tile. Then, with a flourish, he pulled the cloth away to reveal…whatever the hell it was. The first thing I noticed was the massive black lifelike dildo that stuck up from the heavy metal pipe that crossed the top. Its base was very thick, nearly as thick as the pipe that supported it. That massive girth gradually tapered to a relatively small head at least a foot away from the pipe. The top pipe was supported by a clever construction of identical pipes built on top on two parallel pipes that rested on the floor with the area in front of and behind the top pipe left open. The man walked away and the ladies took the opportunity to inspect the device.
“That is the biggest dildo I’ve ever seen,” the well-rounded blonde said in awe.
“Technically, it’s a dong, a dildo has balls.” the petite brunette observed.
The tall girl wrapped her hand on the shaft and mouthed ‘Oh my God’ when she discovered that her fingers did not reach all the way around the base. She looked at me sympathetically as there was no doubt who it was going to be used on.
The man returned carrying a large box that he placed on the floor next to me before liberally covering the dildo with a thick coating of lube. Then he dragged the contraption behind me, sliding one open end of the base toward me until the crosspiece was right behind me. The dildo was pressed against the crack of my ass; the cold metal of the pipe against my buttocks made me shiver. I was, however, puzzled on how this was going to work. Even though the dildo leaned slightly toward me, I didn’t see how he was going to get it in position to enter me.
While I pondered that, he stepped around and knelt to remove the bolts that fixed the spreader bar to the floor, then used the winch to lift me until I was standing on tiptoe. He pulled two large identical books from the box, each a half inch thick volume of an encyclopedia, and slid them under my feet. He added one more and I was now standing flat-footed on the books. Then he cranked the winch again until I was on tiptoe again.
“Oh, that’s clever,” my wife said with an admiration I did not share at the moment.
He methodically repeated the process until I was on flat-footed atop two identical stacks of books, the tip of the dildo now between my legs. Gripping my hips with both hands, he pulled them back and up to press that tip against to the entrance of my asshole. I tried to stay up on my very tiptoes but my efforts were futile as he firmly maneuvered my hips into the proper position and pulled them down.
When the tip just entered my well-lubed asshole, I gave an involuntary moan of pleasure and submission. Satisfied that it was properly aligned, he went to the winch and lowered the bar an inch or so. Now I had to stay on tiptoe and hold myself up by my arms or accept more of the dildo. Instinctively I tried to resist but gradually I weakened and the head of the dildo spread me open. The ladies watched my struggles intently as the cameramen closely documented everything.
My tormentor lowered the bar further and returned to stand in front of me. Bending down, he picked up each foot with one hand and removed one book from the stack below it. I whined as I felt the pressure of the ever-widening dildo stretching me and once again tried to hold myself up. After watching me with clinical detachment for a few moments, he used both hands to pull and pinch at my nipples, the sharp pain making me gasp. He kept this up until my attempts to resist had failed and more of the dildo was buried in my ass. The winch turned again and he pulled another book from beneath either foot. I was once again on my tiptoes, shaking with the attempt to stay up, feeling the dildo go deeper as I weakened.
This time he decided to play with my cock, which had lost some of its rigidity. He tickled and stroked it until it was rock hard again and my feet were flat on the books. Methodically, he kept repeating the process as I whined and squealed, sweat now dripping off of me, a long string of precum starting to form a small puddle on the floor. Feeling like I was going to be split wide open, I looked at the TV and saw that half the dildo, the widest half, was still visible below my stretched-out asshole. The women watched, almost hypnotized by the spectacle, as I was impaled, my torment increased by the man’s teasing of my cock and balls.
I was a quivering, sweaty, whining, helpless mess as the final books were slowly removed, my asshole spread open more than I would have ever felt possible. Between that, the lingering pain of the whipping, and my throbbing tortured cock, I was completely lost in sensation and ready to pass out.
I could now feel the cold steel of the pipe across my ass. The TV showed, in closeup detail, that I had the entire foot of cock buried between my red-striped buttocks. The man stroked my cock almost to orgasm two more times and then turned to nod at Linda.
“OK, the master comes first,” she said, getting up and taking the camera from the camera man.
Without a word, he went to his knees in front of the other man, zipped open the tight pants and began sucking the massive cock that popped out. Despite my frazzled state I couldn’t help but be fascinated to watch a guy suck another guy in person. The ladies, equally enthralled, had slid their hands into their pants and were now masturbating shamelessly.
After several minutes of enthusiastic head by the cameraman, my tormentor grabbed his head in both hands and groaned loudly. The cameraman gagged as the cock in his mouth spurted against the back of his throat. Despite his obvious attempts to swallow, come was soon dripping from his lips as the dominant man roughly fucked his face, his groans now mixed with the quieter sounds of some of the women also orgasming. When the cock was finally removed from his mouth, the cameraman grinned and licked his lips with an audible smacking sound.
My tormentor zipped up his pants and, with a final smack on my ass, left the room while the cameraman took his camera back from Linda, who headed to the bar with the other ladies. I was wondering if they were just going to leave me like this and whined rather piteously. Linda seemed to find the sound amusing as she poured glasses of champagne for each of her guests. Sipping their champagne, they all strolled slowly back to me. With giggles and lewd comments, they inspected my abused, impaled body closely.
“His ass is so stretched out, look at that.”
“Can’t believe that all fit in there.”
“The tip has got be like right there,” my wife said, tapping my stomach above my belly button.
“And his cock is still so hard. I can’t believe he hasn’t come yet.
“What do you think would happen if we just left him like this?”
“Now you scared him. Look at his eyes.”
“He’s still hard though.”
Just when I began to believe that they really were going to just let me suffer, Linda took charge.
“Line up, ladies. We going to take turns. Each person gets three strokes of his cock, then the next person has to wait 30 seconds before taking their turn. Time yourself by the clock over there. Whoever makes him come wins tonight’s door prize. As the host, I’ll go last.”
The others jostled briefly for position with my wife in the front and the cameraman taking position to record. I groaned with gratitude when she wrapped her hand around my desperately throbbing member. She gave it three quick firm strokes and then removed her hand. While I moaned desperately, the petite brunette waited her turn, staring at the clock, which I couldn’t see. Then she gave me three slow gentle strokes. Then it was the redhead’s turn, followed by the busty blonde and then the skinny blonde.
I had thought my torment was finally at an end but I was wrong. Despite my now desperate need to come, three strokes just weren’t enough and, frankly, the ladies seemed to be enjoying the delay of my release. Three firm strokes would get me right to the edge but the delay before the next three, especially if those were slow and gentle, was too much. After several rounds, I was a gasping, trembling mess, only held up by my wrist cuffs and the dildo buried in my ass.
After giving me three very slow gentle strokes Linda finally said, “OK, now four strokes each.”
This increase only added to my agony, as the ladies continued to alternate firm and gentle jerks of my cock. When several rounds of four strokes failed to get me off, the count was increased to five, which got me repeatedly closer to the edge but failed to take me over.
“Now six,” Linda said as my wife took her turn.
Six proved to be the magic number as, on the sixth stroke, I shuddered and came. The instant I did my wife rather treacherously let go of my cock. Despite the lack of contact, however, long thick spurts of come shot across the floor as I rocked against the cock in my ass and the ladies cheered enthusiastically. As my orgasm subsided, I felt faint and hung limply in my bonds.
Since I was no longer entertaining, they wandered over to the bar and the cameraman left the room. They took their time finishing the champagne, talking and laughing as if there wasn’t a naked tied up guy and come on the hardwood floor. When the party ended, Linda and my wife actually walked them all out, leaving me alone.
Surely my wife won’t just leave me like this all night, will she?

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