Bondage, Balls, Pain and Pleasure

By: David Andrew
(© 2008 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 2

As you may imagine I called Tom, the man in black, the very next time I was in NYC, and on each subsequent trip too. Unfortunately he spent a lot of time in Washington, and each time I'd call I'd get an answering machine. However, I knew he was still interested because on my next trip to the city he'd have left a message for me at the hotel. I'd liked him, especially his irreverent sense of humor, so I persevered. One day I called and was a little surprised to hear his voice, live, not recorded. My stomach tightened up immediately, but he sounded very pleased that I'd called and invited me to come over to his place as soon as I was ready.

Tom lived in a brown-stone building, three stories, with a broad flight of steps leading up to the front door. (For those who are not familiar with the term "brown-stone building" I should say that these are actually made of brown sandstone, were built in the late 19th or early 20th century as family homes. With few exceptions they have been turned into apartments, but still retain an elegance of earlier times.) There were three bell-presses, his name was at the top. I pressed the button, he answered almost immediately and the electric door strike buzzed. Inside I could see that this had once been a private home. There was an immense lobby, marble floors, and a wide, curving staircase going up to the upper floors. In an alcove at the base of the stairs was a bronze statue of a naked Greek or Roman athlete, maybe three feet high. Where the stairs curved around was another alcove with another bronze naked man, this one life size, and I passed two more further up. This clearly was not an average apartment building! (Much later I discovered that he owned the building.)  When I reached the third floor I saw Tom standing at an open doorway. I'd like to say that he was wearing nothing but his sardonic smile, but that wouldn't be quite true. He was wearing black leather chaps, not pants, just chaps, no crotch, no back. Other than that he was naked. When he saw my surprise his grin broadened.

"Come on in. It's great to see you again." It was a real warm welcome. "Go on in...strip off...make yourself comfortable," he said indicating the door to the lounge. "I'll fix drinks...wine OK

"Oh yes, that would be fine," I said as I went on through to the lounge. What I saw as I entered the room stopped me dead in my tracks. There was a long, low coffee table, maybe six feet long, covered from end to end with whips laid across it. There could have been a hundred of them, paddles, straps, cats with plain thongs, cats with plaited thongs, short whips, great, long bull whips lying in coils. I'd never seen so many menacing looking things all in one place, not even in the s&m shops on Washington Street. Suddenly I realized that I was in deep, way too deep. I was still standing looking at them in shock when he came in with two glasses of wine.

"Look," I said, "I'm not into whipping...I mean there's no way that I could take..."

"Oh it's not what it looks like, I was cleaning them up. Don't worry, I won't use a whip until you're ready for it."

'Until you're ready for it!' I thought. 'I'll never be ready for that sort of pain.' "Well, I must tell you," I said, "I'll never be ready for it. Believe me I know, I used to be caned at school, bare-assed, so I do know what I'm talking about. I would never want that again."

"No...it's not like that," he tried to reassure me. "Believe me, one day you will want it, and when you're ready it'll be the hottest turn on you ever had. Anyway, forget about them, get your things off, let's have some fun."

As I started to strip he asked me about the caning, where, when and how it was done. I told him all about it, the ritual that we were put through, from the age of ten and up, and just how bad it had been. He was fascinated, wanted to know all the details, his cock hanging down between his legs started to stiffen as we talked. (I can tell you about it too if you'd be interested, let me know.) Finally, as we finished our wine he stood up.

"Come, time to play," he said. He led me through to a bedroom. It was impressive, a black and white room. The walls were white, ceiling black, the carpet white, the king-sized bed black. It was covered with what felt like very thin, soft, black leather, but was in fact some sort of artificial fabric. "Lie down, I'll make you comfortable!"

"Not too comfortable," I said hoping to sound more confident than I felt.

"Oh, you won't be dozing off any time soon," he said with a laugh. Although the room was warm I began to shiver.

He buckled broad leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. I looked at them, nicely padded, very comfortable, very strong. There'd be no way of wriggling out of them. He told me to lie back. Each of the cuffs had a steel ring built in to it, these he attached with dog clips to chains that were fitted to the four corners of the bed. In a minute or so I was spread-eagled. Now the shivering became almost uncontrollable, I had to clench my teeth to stop them chattering, and was afraid he'd see how scared I was. Looking down at my body I could see that my cock was still up and hard, but honestly I don't know why, it looked a lot better than I felt. I had to remind myself that this is what I'd wanted for so long. Paul had tied my hands and feet, he'd tortured my balls. But being spread-eagled was so much better, at last my body was totally exposed, my cock and balls at the mercy of another man and there was absolutely nothing I could do to save them. Tom went to a cupboard, brought out a what looked like a black leather bag. I didn't know what it was until he pulled it over my head.

"Open your mouth!"

"But I..." I got no further, a fat rubber gag attached to the inside of the hood was forced into my mouth. 'Well,' I thought, 'don't want him to think I'm a wimp, Paul used a gag, I can live with it.' But being in total darkness didn't help with the shivering.

I heard Tom moving around the room, some water running, then a whoosh and a chill feeling all around my cock and balls. Then there were tapping sounds of metal on thin metal. I was still trying to work out the significance of the noise when I felt the scraping at the side of my scrotum.

'SHIT! A razor!' I thought. I shook my head furiously objecting as clearly as I could. "Oooah Iiee oh ah." It was just noise, but Tom stopped.

"What's the matter?" he asked. I made more noises and continued to shake my head. Finally he leant over, loosened the cord securing the mask over my head and pulled the gag from my mouth. "What's the problem?" he asked again, clearly puzzled by my strong reaction.

"I'm married. I told you. I can't go home with no pubes."

"Ah crap." He wasn't impressed and went to put the gag back in. I managed to avoid it.

"No really...I can't. "

"But you've hardly got any hair on your balls. All I'm doing is removing what's left."

"No please!" I pleaded. "What would I tell her?"

"Tell her you did it yourself." It was obvious that this guy had never been married. He was right that I didn't have hair on my balls, but stripping them had been a very gradual process, it had taken years to get my them as bald as they were at this time. Besides, it was just the sac that was bald, the rest of my pubic hair looked normal. What would any wife think if her husband returned from a night in New York with no pubic hair at all? There would be hell to pay.

"No! Believe me, I'd end up in the divorce court!" I had to convince him.

"Oh well...if it means so much to you...But now this goes in again!" He thrust in the gag and tightened the cord even as I was trying to thank him for his indulgence. I gathered that he wasn't about to get into any further discussions. I felt Tom's fingers on my balls, he was handling them the way a butcher handles meat. He grabbed them, twisted them, pulled down hard, slapped them lightly left and right. With each wrench and slap I couldn't help but let out a gasp. "Your balls are good and tender," he said approvingly. "We're going to have a good time with these." I just hoped I'd be able to take the "good time" well enough to please him. I was left alone for a little while, not that I relaxed, then I felt a cool, smooth surface under my balls. A moment later another cool, smooth surface came down on top of them. It felt good, but I didn't need to see what was being done to know that this was a ball-press. I'd seen them in sex shops in the Village, I thought I knew what was coming. There were two screw threads, one at each end of the press. Tom tightened each one in turn. As the pressure increased my balls were flattened, squeezed, extruded. I moved my hips on the bed trying to adjust to the pressure: made no difference. Relentlessly the gap between the blocks narrowed. The pain was awful. In my mind I could visualize my balls spread as thin as potato chips. I shook my head vigorously, it seemed to help for a moment, but then Tom turned the screw again. Soon I was making roaring noises behind the gag.

"What's the problem?" Tom asked as though I might be able to tell him. "Just breathe deeply, don't struggle, let it happen. We've got a long way to go."

'Christ! A long way to go? I can't take any more.' But I didn't want to be a total failure, I knew I was going to have to take it.

When the pain got really, really bad, Tom backed of the pressure a bit. Oh God! The relief! But it was only for a few moments. Once again he crushed my nuts as he calmly told me to relax. Tighten, loosen, tighten loosen, Tom was trying to get me through the pain barrier. Each time the pressure was applied it was harder than the time before, each time it was eased the relief was greater, more delicious.

"Now I'm going to put some real pressure on...You've got to stay loose. It won't be for long so take it well."

'Jesus Christ!' I thought. 'What does he mean by real pressure...I can't...' I felt the blocks move, I had to show him I could take it. I took a deep breath and pushed my balls down has hard as I could. Internally I screamed for the whole thirty seconds, but I took it. What surprised me most was that the pain was even worse as Tom removed the press. It was one long, screaming agony as the blood rushed back into my crushed testicles.

"There now, it wasn't bad was it?" He was being facetious of course. It had been hell, but now that it was over I felt just wonderful. And now that I could think about something other than my balls being destroyed I realized I had a problem that was developing rapidly. The wine was having an effect, I needed a piss, needed to make Tom understand. I made oooing and aahhhing noises whilst pointing with my finger towards my mouth. Eventually he released the hood again to ease the gag from my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I need a piss."

"So? Go ahead! Piss, the cover's waterproof." I wasn't sure if I'd heard right.

"No, really, I'll have to go."

"Do it! Go on...piss!"

I tried, couldn't do it. I still don't know if it was because I was lying on my back and my cock was as stiff as a pole. It's not easy to piss with a hard on, but I think there was more to it than that, something to do with training. From the age of nothing we're trained not to piss in our pants, but now Tom was telling me to do it over my body, over the bed. I couldn't. Eventually I convinced him that I had to go to the bathroom, he released my arms and legs, but left the hood over my head. He guided me through a doorway, but instead of feeling the toilet bowl against my legs I felt the side of a bath.

"Climb in," he commanded. I thought that he was doing this because I could not see the bowl to piss in so I climbed over the edge. "Kneel down."

I knelt. It wasn't easy even then to get the piss flowing, but when it did come the relief was wonderful. Just as I was beginning to relax I felt the warm stream flowing over my shoulders, down my back, then my chest, my cock and balls. It was a moment before I realized what was happening.

"It's as good a time as any to get used to it. Start the way you mean to continue I always say," said Tom. I wasn't particularly thrilled to be pissed on, but what the hell, I was getting what I needed, Tom was entitled to his pleasure too. Back on the bed I could feel his piss drying on my body as he stretched my limbs even tighter than before. The gag went back in, the hood tightened.

I lay on the bed for a minute or two very conscious of the fact that I'd failed twice so far. Then I recognized the feel of a steel ring against my scrotum, much smaller than the cock-ring I'd used when I went to the baths. His fingers pushed at the back of my left testicle trying to force it through. I was sure it couldn't be done, the ring was too small. The pressure increased, so did the pain. I didn't utter a sound, I didn't want Tom to think I was a total wimp. Just when the agony was up to screaming pitch the testicle popped through with a sharp stab of pain into my guts. Then relief, but only for a moment, because his fingers were now pressing on my right nut. If the left one was difficult to get through the right one was terrible. I was breathing very hard, shaking my head from side to side to try to keep my mind off my testicle, just couldn't hold still. The left one had popped through suddenly, this one was extruded through the small remaining space, slowly at first, then shot through the tiny remaining gap like a melon pip from your fingers. When he finally got it in I was exhausted, and this was just the preliminaries. He fondled them for a while working the pain out, seemed well pleased with the way they felt in his hand.

"Yes...They'll do," he said quietly as though thinking aloud, then gave them a hard slap. I stifled a cry. "Good! Now we can enjoy them." And for the next hour or so that is exactly what he did, or more accurately what we did. As Tom tortured my balls I alternated between ecstasy, agony and terror..

Eventually I was left in peace again. I could hear him fiddling with something beside the bed, then he took my cock in one hand and slipped a cool, smooth object into the piss slit. It didn't go far in, about an inch, nor was it uncomfortable. Now his attention switched to my hole. With one finger he found the opening, then another cool, smooth object was slipped in. This one was fatter and longer than the one in my cock, it went in about two or three inches, felt good too. Next Tom bound a bandage around my right thigh, up high, close to my scrotum. When he was through with the bandage I expected the pain, but to my surprise nothing happened. I must have lain there for two or three minutes in total peace and silence, except that my mind was hardly at peace. As I lay there in pitch darkness my mind was going at a hundred-thousand revs trying to work out what was coming.

I'm not sure that I noticed when it started, but I gradually became aware that my stiff  cock was nodding. You know the sort of movement when you finish pissing and you flex your dick to get the last of it out. It was like that, only I wasn't doing it. Little by little the movement increased. Now I could feel the muscles at the base of my dick flexing, about once a second, and the movement of my cock became much stronger. That's when I realized that I was attached to some sort of electrical device. The flexing varied from fast to slow, from slight to strong, Tom was obviously playing with the controls. He must have flicked a switch because suddenly I felt as though my penis was being torn out of my body. It was an incredibly strong wrench, like a man with a good grip on it trying to lift me off the bed by my cock. My back arched up off the bed as far as I could, which wasn't far, to try to relieve the pain. Suddenly it stopped, I slumped back. Start, stop, start, stop, that's the way it went for several minutes, then it didn't start again. I waited for the pain, it didn't come, but I couldn't relax. Maybe two minutes went by: I gradually allowed myself to sink back in relief still breathing hard.

The next thing I felt was my balls being pulled down towards my knees. The ring he'd forced them into at the start of the session was metal, and I hadn't felt Tom touch them so I knew that this too was electrical stimulation. Sure enough the wrenching on my nuts grew stronger and stronger until I wanted to scream. The power went off for a moment then both my cock and my balls were wrenched violently at the same time. Then nothing. He was playing with me, and thoroughly enjoying himself. I knew I was in real deep with Tom, this was all much more than I had expected. I had to keep reminding myself that this is what I had been looking for all the time I was in the wilderness of Europe and Africa. I was spread-eagled, my cock and balls were being tortured. It was exactly what I'd wanted, now I was getting it. That made me feel better, until my hole was brought into play. It was the strangest sensation, my sphincter tightening and opening in rapid succession. I was scared of shitting in the bed so I clamped as tight as I could, which meant that I was gripping hard on the electrode that was causing the problem. After a while Tom started to switch the power from cock to ball to hole to cock in rapid succession. The current produced the most pain in my penis, or maybe it just seemed that way because I loved the ball torture. Where my hole was concerned I just had to hang on tight to prevent anything escaping so I wasn't so aware of the pain. As the power was switched from pulses to continuous current, from electrode to electrode, my body twisted and twitched furiously. At times I felt as though I was being held up by my penis and shaken like a rag doll. A second later there was a vacuum cleaner tube stuck up my ass which was alternately sucking and blowing. In short it was a wild ride. My entire being was totally occupied with surviving, naturally I lost all concept of time. I had no way of asking Tom to ease up on the torture because the vigorous head shaking and gesticulating with my hands wouldn't work now, my whole body was twitching and twisting continuously in time with the pulsing and wrenching electric current. I suppose it was like being strapped by my genitals to a runaway trolley that was hurtling down a mountain, the best I could hope for was to make to the bottom without losing them. Even when the power went off and I felt Tom's fingers at the back of the hood I still couldn't relax. I knew it was going to come on again, just didn't know what form it would take.

"So did you like it?" Tom was trying to get the gag from between my tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh God!" I gasped when I got a breath. "That was terrible!"

"Oh?" He was genuinely surprised. "I thought it was real fun when it was done to me." What could I say, I wasn't in his league.

We parted on good terms. He made me promise to call next time I was in town, but I had been out of my depth, and just thinking about all those whips made me shudder. I didn't call.

To be continued...

Posted: 05/08/09