My Birthday Present

I really don't know how to begin this, or even why I'm writing it. If something irreversible really does happen to me, it's going to be just as much my fault as anyone else's, so I'm beyond asking for advice. I guess I'll begin by telling you something about my background. If you see yourself in my story, then it could serve as a warning to you. If not, then maybe it'll be just another excuse for a turn-on and jack off session. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.

My wife and I had been married for slightly more than 15 years when our relationship began to change. She had entered menopause in her late thirties, which is younger than normal. Along with all the hot flashes and mood swings, her interest in sex seemed to hit rock bottom. She seemed to become more and more reluctant to have intercourse, and so I increasingly turned to fantasies and my dependable right hand. It wasn't long before she had moved to another bedroom in the house, saying that we'd both "sleep better" in our own rooms, and to tell the truth, I wasn't all that upset, since it gave me more time alone with myself.

At first, my fantasies were concerned with "normal" sex with my wife, and then, as time went on, with other women. I don't know just when thoughts of sex with other men began to enter my daydreams, but by the time this story begins, they had become the dominant part of my nightly jack-off sessions. Increasingly, the fantasies became centered on me being the submissive partner in a relationship wherein the other man would "do things" to me. As is probably true of all fantasies of that type, the things that were done to me became increasingly painful as time went on.

I had been surfing the Internet for several months by that time, and my focus was nearly always on finding stories, photographs, and drawings related to my fantasy. I joined several groups that were dedicated to that single topic, and soon began downloading stories and pictures that were especially arousing to me. When the hard drive on my computer began to overflow, I bought one that was much larger and installed it in the machine. You can see that my dedication to my fantasy was becoming the central focus of my life.

I was convinced that my wife was completely unaware of my fascination with an alternate lifestyle, since she had never given any indication of having that sort of knowledge. If ignorance is bliss, then I was certainly blissful then. That state of mind was soon to be changed radically.

When my fortieth birthday was about a week away, Sharon said that she thought we should do "something special" to celebrate such a milestone in my life. That sounded good to me, since in the past that had always meant we'd have extra intercourse. I was hoping that was the case then, although our meetings in my bed had become a once-a-month thing, at the most. I guess my fantasy of having sex with my wife hadn't been completely pushed out of my mind, and I looked forward to the fateful day to see just what the "something special" would be.

My birthday was on a Friday, and when I arrived home after work, my favorite meal was being prepared. She had taken off work early in order to have the dinner ready to serve when I got home, and met me at the door with a mixed drink. That was something we used to do quite often, and it was nearly always a prelude to sex. I was hoping that this evening would be no different.

About an hour later, we had finished eating. I had helped with clearing the table and putting the dinnerware in the dishwasher. It was probably close to 7:00 by then, and the sky was beginning to darken. Sharon asked if I were ready for my birthday present, and thinking that it was going to be a hot session in the bedroom, I eagerly said that I was.

She then led me to the bedroom, which really had my arousal going strong. As we stood beside the bed she began to slowly undress me, and soon I was completely nude. When I started to return the favor, she said, "No, don't do that. This night is my present to you, and all you need to do is just do what I say." Given the nature of my sexual fantasies over the past several months, being told what to do caused me to get even more turned on. My cock, which was already stiff, must have hardened even more.

Sharon then opened the drawer in the nightstand and took our two things that fueled my fantasy even more. The first was a pair of handcuffs, and the second was a pair of her panties, solid black in color, and having the look of being worn. She smiled at me as she held the handcuffs, and asked, "How about it? Do you want to let me be in charge tonight?"

I had been reduced to nothing more than a walking cock by that time, and nodded my head vigorously. She smiled again and told me to turn around. I was not surprised when she pulled my hands behind my back and fastened the cuffs around my wrists. I was by that time more turned on than I'd been in a long time, and my cock was bobbing up and down, and there was a drop of pre-cum on its tip.

As soon as the handcuffs were in place, she picked up the panties and held them to my face. The aroma of her pussy was all that I needed to know they had been placed in the drawer unwashed. I was momentarily surprised when she began to place the panties over my head, then arrange them with the crotch over my nose and mouth. As I breathed in the heady scent, I was sure my cock was growing even more, but I couldn't see it since the black underwear also served as a blindfold.

She said, "Now I need to make sure they don't fall off and spoil my surprise." I could feel her placing something like string or cord across my eyes, and then tying it behind my head. The blindfold was even more effective then, since I could no longer catch even a glimpse of my surroundings.

Her next words caused me to become almost as confused as aroused. She said, "Let me get this bathrobe over you, and then we'll be all ready to go." I could feel her draping something over my shoulders, and then buttoning it down the front. It felt like my robe, and I simply couldn't understand what was going on. I had been expecting to be guided to a position on the bed, where we would have fantastic sex. Instead, she seemed to be putting the robe on me preparatory to us going somewhere. This night was certainly taking an unexpected turn.

She then told me to stand right there and don't move. I could tell that she was walking toward the attached bathroom, and soon heard the sound of running water. When she returned, she pulled the panties aside and said, "Open your mouth. I want you to swallow a vitamin pill so you'll have lots of strength for later." I was again surprised by what was going on, but was quick to obey. When she placed something in my mouth, then held a glass of water against my lips, I took a drink and swallowed the tablet.

As soon as I had done that, she replaced the panties and again told me to open my mouth. I could feel her place another cord over my mouth, draw it tight, and tie it behind my head. Not only could I not see, now I couldn't talk either. Stranger and stranger, but at the same time, more arousing.

She then placed a hand on my elbow and ordered me to walk beside her. I could tell that we were leaving the bedroom and walking down the hall, and wondered if we were going to her bedroom for the rest of our sex session. It soon became apparent that we were well beyond that room, and when she opened the door into the attached garage, I momentarily tried to stop walking. Noticing my hesitation, she said, "I'm in charge, remember? Don't give me any trouble."

Giving her trouble was the farthest thing from my mind right then. In fact, many of my fantasies had been set right there in the garage, and the fact that she was taking me there brought them out of my memory. I was hoping that she planned to tie my wrists to the ceiling, and then do fun things to me. You can imagine my disappointment, and astonishment, when she escorted me to the rear door of her minivan, then helped me get inside. As soon as she had fastened the seat belt around me, she got in the front and started the engine. If I had been able to talk then, I would have tried to question her about what was going on, but was simply unable to do anything other than hold my silence.

We had been driving about ten minutes when I began to have an odd burning sensation in my crotch, accompanied by the definite knowledge that my penis was struggling to become even more erect than before. I actually had the fear that the thing would split wide open as more and more blood rushed into it. I'd never in my life experienced anything like that, and knew it was more than just extra arousal. My cock actually ached from its extreme hardness, and I wanted nothing more than to grab it and jack off to relieve some of the pressure. If my hands had not been secured behind my back, I'd have done just that.

It must have been another five minutes after that when the car slowed, and then turned. Sharon was driving slowly then, and I had the definite feeling that we were proceeding up a graveled driveway. Since our driveway at home was paved, I knew that we were not returning there, as I had expected.

After several seconds, the car stopped. My wife got out, opened the door, unfastened my seat belt, and then helped me get to my feet outside the car. Again she took my elbow and guided me. My bare feet told me that we were indeed walking on gravel, and I again was overwhelmed by my racing mind. Even my raging hard-on, which was surely tenting the robe in front of me, was not foremost in my thoughts.

It was just a few steps to where Sharon stopped, then I could hear her opening a door. She guided me through, and again I tried to use my ears and limited sense of smell to gain clues to our location. The panties were not so heavy that they blocked out all light, and I could tell that we were in a lighted room. Other than that, I had no idea of where we were, or what was going to happen to me. Given all the preparations that my wife had made, I was sure that whatever was to come would be sexual in nature, and my throbbing cock was in favor of that.

We had walked only a few steps when she brought me to a halt. She whispered in my ear, "Now the fun begins. This will be something you've wanted to do for a long time, and now it's going to happen. Enjoy your present." She then unbuttoned the robe and pulled it off my shoulders. She stood behind me, reaching around to fondle my painfully-stiff cock. It wouldn't have taken but a few strokes to make the thing spurt, but she wouldn't give me that release. Instead, she removed her hand from my penis, and froze me in place by asking, "Well, what do you think, guys? Is he worth $500.00?"

I had no idea there were other people in the room with us, and when I heard several male voices answering in the affirmative, I was almost overcome with shock. I have no recollection now of what I was thinking at that time, other than a general confusion, as you can probably understand. Questions raced through my mind over and over. Why had my wife brought me to this place? Who were the other men? What was going to happen to me? What did she mean by the reference to my being worth $500.00?

She began to laugh at my obvious confusion, and was soon joined by the men. I felt her hands untying the knots behind my head, and soon the cords fell away. She then removed the panties from my face, and I had my first look at my surroundings.

Standing in front of me, in a half-circle, were six men. Their ages probably ranged from ten years younger to ten years older than my forty. I knew immediately they were all strangers. My confusion and shock were immediately replaced by a feeling of extreme embarrassment, as anyone reading this will understand. Here I was, not only buck naked in front of a bunch of strange men, but with a raging hard-on that showed no signs of shrinking. My dream night had become a nightmare!

I turned to my wife, torn between feelings of confusion, shock, embarrassment, and even anger. Before I could utter a single word, she said, "I use the computer too, you know. I found your secret stash on the new hard drive you installed, so don't try to pretend to be angry with me. I'm just trying to give you the best birthday present you've ever had. I know it's what you want." She then opened the purse that was draped over her shoulder, and took out some sheets of folded paper. Even before she opened them, my heart sank, knowing what was on them.

When she showed the first printout to me, then handed it to the closest man, my fears were confirmed. She had indeed found my "stash", as she called it, and then printed some of its contents. The first sheet of paper had a drawing of a naked man who was held in horizontal suspension by several ropes. The ropes had been tied to his ankles and his wrists, but most prominently, and the part that I found so arousing, also to his cock and balls. His crotch was drawn up much higher than the other parts of his body by the extreme stretching his genitals were subjected to. I had used that photo for jack off material many times, and it was one of my favorites. However, never during my fantasies had I pictured myself standing in front of strangers while they were shown the photo by my wife.

Sharon then opened the next sheet of paper and showed it to me. One glance was all it took to recognize one of the drawings I had saved, and loved to stare at while pumping my cock. It showed a naked man, suspended by his wrists from an overhead beam, and with his crotch held widespread by a spreader bar fastened to his ankles. His cock was drawn in monstrous proportions, and was stiffly erect. There were two other naked men standing beside him, each with erections of their own. Each man was holding a large whip, and one was whipping the "victim's" ass while the other whipped his cock and balls.

I wanted to cry out to my wife to please not show the drawing to the other men, but my throat was unable to form the words. I could only hang my head in shame as the paper was passed around, and they snickered and pointedly looked at my cock.

The final piece of paper was then unfolded, and I dreaded to think what it might contain. Again, as it was held before my eyes, a single quick glance was all I needed to know that it was indeed one of my favorites. It showed a naked man tied spreadeagle to a tabletop. His cock was also drawn in larger-than-life size, as were his balls. The part that had originally drawn me to the artwork was what had been done to his sex organs. The caption on the drawing was, "The Porcupine", and what it depicted certainly reminded me of that animal, because the man's cock and balls had been pierced repeatedly by dozens of needles. Their appearance really did resemble the tail of a porcupine, with dozens of quills standing up from it.

When the men saw that drawing, they laughed openly among themselves. My shame and embarrassment knew no bounds then, and I wanted nothing more than to turn and run from the building. My legs, and indeed my entire body, were simply frozen in place, and wouldn't obey the commands that my brain was frantically sending. Even my cock had a mind of its own. It remained horribly distended, bobbing up and down in time to the beating of my heart, seeming to signal its wanton desire to anyone who cared to look.

One of the men then said, "Yes. It looks like we may get $500.00 worth of entertainment out of him." He pointed at my distended penis and said, "It's looks like you gave him the tablet. That should keep it up for at least two hours, no matter what we do to it." The other men smiled and nodded their heads knowingly.

When Sharon extended her hand, he took some money out of his pocket, then carefully counted out the agreed-upon sum and gave it to her. She said, "Thanks, guys. Well, I'll leave him to you. The mall is open late tonight, and I've been planning what to buy with this." They all chuckled again, several of them assuring her that it looked like good times ahead.

She then whispered in my ear, "Remember, it's you who has been fantasizing about this. Now it's going to happen for real. I hope it's half as much fun as you've been thinking it would be. Don't you dare shame me by trying to get out of it, because we've put in lots of effort to give you the best birthday present ever." With that, she put the money in her purse, took out a key and handed it to the man, then walked out the door. As I heard the car start and then drive away, my heart sank, knowing that I had been abandoned to the tender mercies of these men.

_______________________

Perhaps I should take time now to explain how such a state of affairs had come to be. No one could blame my readers for not believing such a thing could happen in real life. After I've given you some background, maybe you'll understand just what led up to that one-of-a-kind night.

Sharon told me the whole story the following day, and it went something like this: She had been buying our groceries at the same store for years, and was used to the way things were arranged there. We had always eaten lots of vegetables, and for that reason she quickly noticed that the layout of the produce bins had changed for the better, seemingly overnight. She saw a young man, obviously a store employee, arranging vegetables in attractive displays, and began talking to him. She complimented him on the improved appearance of the produce section, and he was very pleased, telling my wife that he had been hired as the produce manager just two days before.

After that, she made it a point to chat with the man, whose name was Jason, and they soon became comfortable talking to each other. After a few months of friendly talk, Sharon entered the produce area one evening to see Jason obviously upset and close to tears. She immediately asked what was wrong, and he finally confessed that he was having problems with his "roommate". My wife assumed that he was referring to his girlfriend, and was almost speechless when he said that his roommate was another man. He stated quite openly that he was living in a homosexual relationship, and his easy acceptance of that lifestyle soon caused her to also accept it.

They talked for quite some time, and my wife was able to offer some advice that seemed to comfort the young fellow. After that, there were no more barriers between them, and on her weekly visits to the store, they would discuss even the most intimate details of their lives.

It was at about that time that Sharon had discovered the files I'd been saving on the computer, and she didn't hesitate to discuss them with her friend. He said that sort of thing was very common in the gay community, where it was usually referred to as a "leather" lifestyle. Although he and his companion weren't involved in that particular lifestyle, he knew several who were.

Since my wife was somewhat titillated by the thought of men torturing each other, she asked the young man if they could continue their talk over lunch the next day, which was a Sunday. He readily agreed, and they did indeed meet. She told me that they spent almost two hours talking about the various types of sexual tortures that men performed on their "victims", and that she was familiar with many of them after seeing the pictures and reading the stories on our computer.

At one point in their conversation, he mentioned that he knew of a group of men who actually paid volunteers to be tortured by them. When he said that the going price was $500.00, he had her full attention. Her mind began to formulate the idea of "selling" me to the group. Not only would she be richer, but I could learn the consequences of my sick fantasies. The next time she saw Jason at the grocery store, she approached him with the idea. He said he'd talk to a man who was in the group, and get back to her. As you know by now, the arrangements were made, and my "birthday present" was determined.

___________________

As soon as Sharon left, the men began to undress. Soon they were standing in a circle around me, their own cocks in various states of erection. Even given the state of my mind at that time, I noticed that none of them had the monster dicks usually referred to in the stories I'd been reading. A couple of them weren't fully erect yet, but I was sure that my own 7 1/2" penis was the largest there. Of course, given the extra stimulus of the tablet I'd swallowed, my cock was probably closer to 8". I know it certainly felt longer and bigger around than ever before in my life.

The man who seemed to be the informal leader said that he wanted to show me around, so that I could see all the fun toys they had there. He took my elbow and guided me toward a nearby table. As we walked, I surveyed the room for the first time. It seemed to be in what was probably a barn at one time in the past, since the ceilings were at least 12' high. That the room had been remodeled was evident in the carpeted floors and finished walls and ceiling. There were no windows anywhere, which further increased my feeling of isolation and abandonment.

The table was metal, and about two feet wide and six feet long, with each leg ending in a large wheel. I was sure it was a hospital gurney. Hanging above each end was a heavy rope which ran through pulleys on the ceiling, and then down to cleats fastened to the wall. Each rope had a hangman's noose tied in the end that was suspended over the table. Hanging over the center of the table were three small-diameter cords, and they also were strung through ceiling-mounted pulleys, and tied to wall brackets. As with the ropes, each cord had a noose tied in the free end.

When the man saw that I had noticed everything there, he said, "I'm sure you've guessed that this is the suspension table. Your ankles and wrists will be placed in the ropes, and then the cords will go around your cock and your balls. What comes after that, I'll leave up to your imagination." It certainly didn't require much imagination on my part to visualize myself suspended there by those ropes and cords. I simply can't explain the mixture of fear and sexual arousal that was warring in my brain. On the one hand, I wanted to run. On the other, I wanted to climb on the table and beg to feel the cords stretching my cock and balls as I hung there.

Instead of telling me to get on the table, he led me to another part of the room. Again there was a hangman's noose dangling there, but this time it was a single rope that ran through a pulley and then to a wall cleat. He explained, "This is another suspension station. You'll be suspended by your wrists here, with a spreader bar in place to hold your legs open. We'll start you slowly spinning, and then see who can get the most strokes on your crotch before you come to a stop." At the shocked look that must have crossed my face, the men started laughing.

I was then guided to an odd-looking table. Its surface was rounded, somewhat like a barrel that had been cut in half from top to bottom, then laid on its side. There were leather cuffs at each of the four corners, and I understood that anyone lying across the thing, with his wrists and ankles secured in the cuffs, would have his widespread crotch at the top of the arc, ready for whatever the men chose to do to it.

After I had been allowed to look at the table for several seconds, I was told, "This is where we'll play 'porcupine' with you. Should be fun." Again I visualized myself tied across the thing, with dozens of needles piercing my cock and balls, and was torn between surges of fear and arousal. My traitorous cock seemed to be pulling me closer to the table, while my brain was screaming for me to run. The result was my being frozen in place, too indecisive to do anything.

The leader then said, "Well, that's what we have planned for you. Your wife specifically requested those three things, and she seemed to think they would be your favorites. There are some other really fun things we can add, in case you're feeling up to it later." Again the group broke into laughter as they saw the expression on my face.

I have no way to explain my docility in that situation. Looking back at it from the perspective I have now, I think over and over, "Why didn't I get out of there? Why would any sane person remain there, and not only that, but actively cooperate in his own torture, as I had done?" My only answer is that I was a prisoner of my lust. I suppose I could claim that the six men were holding me against my will, and would torture me by force if necessary, but I know deep in my heart it simply isn't true. The only excuse I have is that I had a bad case of "brain in balls", and I was unable to make rational decisions.

The man then used the key to unlock my handcuffs and removed them. The group separated to form an aisle leading to the suspension table, and the leader pointed to it, saying nothing. When I hesitated, he placed one hand against my back and very gently indicated what he wanted me to do. At no time was there any force used, any threats made, or any other type of intimidation implied. I simply can't explain it. It just happened, and it seemed right at the time.

I slowly walked to the table, surrounded by the men. The leader looked at me and patted the tabletop with one hand. That was all the instruction I required, and my body climbed onto the table, and lay on its back. I use that exact wording, because that's how it was. My body was in charge; my brain was shut down.

As soon as I was in place, my ankles and wrists were guided into the nooses at each end of the table, and they were drawn tight. One of the cords was then placed around my penis, right behind the head, and it too was tightened. Two of the men then began to massage and pull on my sac, and soon it was loose. They then separated my balls as much as they could, and as expected, placed the remaining cords around them.

I had watched the entire procedure with my head raised, at no time voicing any objection. If I had any emotions at all then, they were excitement, arousal, and pure lust. I was at last going to experience what I had read about, seen in photos and drawings, and fantasized for so long.

As the leader stood beside me, the other five men walked to the wall and untied the two ropes and three cords from the brackets. As soon as all were ready, the leader signaled by nodding his head. They began to pull in unison, and my legs and shoulders were immediately lifted about 6" off the table. I was watching my crotch at that moment, and was spellbound by the slow stretching of my cock and balls.

I began to feel sensations of pain in my cock as the cord tightened even more around its head. My balls weren't in much pain at that point, but the stretching of the cords was frightening to me. The sensation was as if my intestines were being pulled from my body, and to reduce the pain, I arched my midsection to relieve some of the stress. The men had been ready for that, and they quickly took up any slack that I had gained. Again, I could feel my cock and balls being pulled from my body.

I realized then that my body was completely clear of the table, and my fear was almost great enough to conquer my lust. The leader was ready for that reaction also, and he started to caress my cock and balls. Soon my stifled cries and whimpers turned to moans as my arousal returned. I wanted to cum then, and indeed felt a need to cum that was stronger than at any other time in my life. It was apparent that the man knew what I was feeling, for he said, "Would you like for me to let you cum now?"

I nodded my head, and gasped out an excited, "Yes." Instead of continuing his caresses, he removed his hands, saying, "You'll have to earn it. You haven't done enough yet to deserve any kind of reward." He then pushed the gurney so that it was under my midsection and legs, but no longer under my upper body.

I felt my arms being lowered then, and quickly looked at the other five men. I saw that the three cords had been tied to their cleats, and that the rope around my wrists was being slowly released. The fear that I felt then was nearly overwhelming. Surely my cock and balls couldn't support the weight of my body, and would be torn free. Again I arched my back to reduce the strain, but it was hopeless.

I had been staring at my tortured manhood during that entire time, fascinated at what was being done to it. There is no way for me to guess how long my cock was, but it was surely 2" longer than before. The head was such a dark purple that it was almost black, and it throbbed in pain. My balls were almost as long as my cock, and they were also purpling with the constriction. I knew they couldn't take much more, and began to beg to be released.

The leader moved to stand at my head, and he slowly pushed it down as far as it would go. As my head moved lower, I could see his erection standing there, slowly bobbing, and with a drop of pre-cum on the tip. He moved closer to my face then, and said, "Open your mouth. If you do a good job, maybe we'll loosen the ropes before your little things are torn off."

As you can imagine, most of my fantasies involved my being "forced" to perform oral sex on another man. However, what was happening now was reality, not fantasy. The thought of actually taking this stranger's penis into my mouth was not nearly as arousing as it had been when lying in my bed alone, my hand furiously pumping my dick. The head of the thing was right over my eyes, and I could see it glistening with distension. The drop of pre-cum on the tip was so large that it was beginning to sag downward, and I knew there was much more where that came from. Always before, the idea of a man shooting his cum into my mouth had been exciting. Now it was anything but that.

When I didn't obey his order to open my mouth, he said, "It looks like he needs a little more incentive, doesn't it?" One of the other men then turned the gurney sideways, so that it was no longer beneath my legs, but was still under my butt. The man holding my leg rope then began to slowly lower it, and the stretching in my genitals became much more painful. Again I tried to relieve the strain by arching my back, but by that time the muscles there were protesting, and I knew they would soon fail. I could only imagine what would happen to my cock and balls then. I opened my mouth.

He said, "That's good. You're learning. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's up to you." He then moved forward slightly, his hand guiding his penis into my open mouth. I immediately tasted his pre-cum, and was glad that it was in no way disgusting. I had been eating my own semen for years, as I'm sure many men do, and his taste was almost identical to mine. It was probably not as salty as mine, but other than that, the taste was very familiar.

When the head was completely inside my mouth, he said quietly, "Now close your lips around my cock and lick the head. If I feel any hint of teeth, the ropes around your ankles and wrists will be released." The vision that flashed through my mind, of my body bent double and supported entirely by my genitals, was all it took to make me obey. I tightened my lips around his shaft and began to hesitantly lick the head of his cock.

He said, "That's right. You're a good little faggot, aren't you? We'll make a good cocksucker of you before much longer."

I can honestly say that never before in my life had a cock been in my mouth. I'm sure some boys have childhood experiences of sucking the penis of one of their friends, but that had never happened to me. I had longed for the ability to suck my own cock, but was never able to get it much closer than 6" to my eager lips. This experience, then, was unique.

Other than the taste, the thing that most held my attention was the silky smoothness and softness of the head of his cock. It was amazing how something so hard could at the same time be so soft and tender. Before I knew it was happening, my tongue was eagerly exploring its new toy, and my mouth was trying to suck it in even more. After a period of time, I could feel the thing growing even more, and realized that he was pushing it deeper inside me.

He groaned, then gasped out, "Oh, God! Eat it, you little queer. Swallow every drop." I felt his hands on either side of my head as he held it in place, and then with a final thrust his cum began to shoot into my mouth. The taste changed then, to slightly less salty, but again it was really no different than my own. What was different was the overwhelming amount of the stuff.

When I had jacked off at home, I sometimes shot my wad into the palm of my left hand. As soon as my spasms had stopped, I would bring that hand to my mouth and lick it clean. Almost every story I read about a man ejaculating had referred to "quarts of cum", but I never produced more than a couple of teaspoons of the stuff. What was then being pumped into my mouth brought back memories of the stories, and I was sure he was indeed feeding me at least a quart of his jism.

There is no way to explain my reaction to those of my readers who have never sucked off another man. They're probably slightly revulsed by what I'm describing here. Those of you who have had the experience will understand when I say that I began to eagerly swallow his load, and when it stopped, to try to suck more cum out of his dick.

When he finally pulled out of me, he said, "You liked it, didn't you, little faggot? Your wife said you were just a queer at heart, and it looks like she was right." He then stepped back and said, "Next!" One of the other men, who I guessed to be the youngest there, and with the biggest cock of the group, took his place.

As he guided his penis toward my mouth, I opened it without being instructed to do so. It simply never occurred to me to do any other thing, or to offer any resistance to this oral rape. My lust at that point was such that no thought processes were happening at all. I was just a sex machine, and that's all I wanted to be.

As soon as his cock passed my lips, I closed them and began licking the wonderfully soft and smooth head. In contrast to the older man's pre-cum, his was different tasting than mine. If I had to identify the flavor, it would be somewhat that of a very mild onion. Since I like onions, that was in no way a turn off for me, and I licked and sucked eagerly, hoping for more.

He was quick to grant my wish, and soon was thrusting his cock in and out. The amount of pre-cum made me think that he was cumming for real, but that thought was soon brushed aside. When his cock began spurting his load, I was afraid that I'd be overwhelmed with the volume. Apparently a man in his late twenties produces lots more of the stuff than does a man of fifty, which I guessed to be the age of the leader. Again the thought of cum by the quart came to me.

There seemed to be no end of his semen, and I continued to swallow and suck. At last, though, his thrusts ceased and he stood still. As he pulled out of my mouth, I waited for him to say, "Next!", as his predecessor had, but was disappointed. Instead, he lifted my head and shoulders, holding them until the gurney was turned and again placed beneath me.

The ropes and cords were then untied and I was lowered to the tabletop. When they had been removed from my wrists, ankles, cock, and balls, the leader said, "We have a little more than an hour before the stuff wears off, so let's get him strung up. Not much fun to whip a limp noodle." I realized he was referring to the effects of the drug that my wife had given me, but I wasn't all that sure it was the sole cause of my throbbing erection. My whole mindset had changed by that time, and I was simply overwhelmed with lust. My single reason for existing was to cum, and it was such an overpowering need that I could think of little else. If I had been able to, I'd have begged to be allowed to jack off then.

The men helped me sit up, and then to swing my legs over the side of the gurney. When I tried to stand, my body wouldn't support itself, and they had to hold me upright. The agonizing ache in my crotch was horrible, and it seemed to be paralyzing my legs. If I had been capable of rational thought then, I would have feared permanent injury.

I was half-carried to the noose that was suspended from the ceiling, and held upright beneath it. The young man whose cum I was still swallowing untied the rope from the wall cleat and lowered the noose until it was at my chest level. The leader then said, "Put your hands through the loop, and we'll get you strung up. This next part is one of my favorites. Nothing compares to a good ball whipping. I'm sure you'll like it even better than I do." As the men laughed again, the rope was tightened and my arms were pulled above my head.

I was stretched until only the balls of my feet were still in contact with the floor, at which point the rope was held steady. One of the men had walked over to the nearby wall, to what seemed to be some sort of display case, and returned carrying what I recognized as a spreader bar. I hadn't realized until then that the things were so long. This one was at least 6' from end to end, and I remember thinking that surely my legs couldn't open that far.

The leader then ordered, "Spread your legs. I want to see them open as wide as you can get them. Hurry up!" I struggled to obey, but the ache in my crotch was almost more than I could bear. When I was unable to spread more than about three feet, two of the men knelt at my feet and began pulling them to the sides. I remember gasping with the suddenly increased pain, and thinking that I was about to pass out. However, that feeling passed, and I was soon standing there with only my toes on the floor and my ankles secured at the ends of the bar.

The man smiled at my obvious pain, then said, "That's better. Now stretch the little faggot." The rope quickly tightened, and I was lifted completely free of the floor. The pain in my shoulders fought with the ache in my crotch to see which would be worse. When the young man reappeared in front of me, I realized that the rope had been tied to the bracket, and I was there for as long as they chose. The feeling of having no control over what was to happen to me was almost identical to what I'd felt when suspended over the gurney shortly before, and it was almost erotic in nature.

I saw that the young man was holding several whips, and that he was handing one to each of the other men. They were black leather, with handles about one foot long, and having thongs about twice that. The men spent several seconds swishing them through the air and making comments about which part of my body was their favorite target.

When they tired of that part of the game, the leader said, "Spin him." I knew that I was moments away from living another of my cherished fantasies, and was sure the reality would be far more painful than the dream.

One of the men grabbed ahold of my penis, and then began to walk around my body. The effect was to cause me to turn in a circle, like a calf being led on a rope. He walked slowly enough that I didn't become dizzy, and after several revolutions, I realized that he was winding the rope that held me suspended.

I don't know how many circles were made, but finally the leader said that was enough. The man released my dick and stepped back.

Very slowly the rope started to unwind. At that point, the men arranged themselves in a circle around me and raised their whips. Before I'd made even half a turn, the whips descended. The thongs fell on my back, my ass, my legs, and my nipples. But most of all, as anyone could guess, they were targeted on my crotch. Every square inch of my cock was whipped. Every part of my sac received equal attentions. The thongs were brought down as hard as the whips could be swung, and up from the floor with equal force.

Probably the overwhelming feeling was that of being on fire. I couldn't believe that my body wasn't bathed in flames. Everywhere the thongs fell, blazing heat sprang up. As I gazed at my cock, I saw it being repeatedly struck by the leather strips. As soon as a thong struck, my penis would display a white stripe that would quickly turn to bright red. Almost before that process could happen, a new stroke would land, repeating the process.

It's strange to recall now, but the parts of my body that seemed to feel the most pain were those areas behind my knees and under my arms. I don't mean to say that my ass, my nipples, my cock, and my balls were not in pain. It's just that they were not suffering as much as those other two places. Indeed, my entire body was writhing in agony, and I felt I'd been dipped in liquid fire.

Finally my body came to a stop, and for the first time I realized that someone had been crying out during almost the entire time I was being whipped. It took several seconds for me to understand that the throat making those sounds was mine, and then to bring my cries to a halt. As I hung there in silence, I was sure that my limit of endurance had been reached, but I had no ability to beg for my release.

The rope was lowered then, until my feet were once again on the floor. The spreader bar was removed, and then the lowering continued until I was on my knees. My hands were still stretched above my head, and that was probably the only thing that kept me from collapsing entirely.

It took me awhile to regain my senses, but when I did another of the men was standing in front of me. He was holding his erection in his hand, and when he saw that I was again aware, he moved it slowly toward my face. With no urging or order, I opened my mouth.

His excitement was immediately evident by the large amount of pre-cum that was literally running from his cock. I began licking its head, and in just a few seconds heard him groan. He held my head with both hands and began thrusting in and out of my mouth, and after just a few strokes, his cum began to spray into my mouth and down my throat. I have no recollection now of the taste, but I do recall the way I began to swallow as if I were starving.

As soon as he had withdrawn his penis, it was replaced by another. Again I licked and sucked the thing with all my might, and again I was rewarded. All too soon, his spasms ended, and there was no more for me to swallow. I knelt there with my mouth open, waiting for the next cock, but it didn't approach. Instead, I was lifted to my feet by two of the men, and the rope was removed from my wrists.

Again I was unable to stand unsupported, and was thankful that the men were helping me. I stood there in silence, waiting for them to do what they would to me, almost unable to have a coherent thought. The painful throbbing was in my entire body, but mainly in my crotch. My abused cock and balls were telling me that they had reached the limit of their endurance, and could take no more. I was sure that if the next torture were done to me, I would not live through it.

I was almost unable to speak, due to the cum in my mouth and throat. Finally, after clearing my throat several times, I was able to plead in a hoarse whisper, "Please don't put the needles in me. I can't stand any more. Please don't do that to me."

The leader stood in front of me and smiled. My full attention was riveted on him as I prayed for him to grant my reprieve. At last he said, "Two of my friends haven't given you their loads yet. What do you intend to do to satisfy them?" He pointed to the two, and I could see them standing there, their penises at full staff, bobbing with excitement.

I said, "I'll suck them. Please let me do it. Don't put the needles in me. Please."

He looked at the two men, who shook their heads in the negative. My heart sank, as I was sure that I would then be taken to the rounded table and secured in place. My cock and balls were sending stabbing pain throughout my body, and I knew that any further abuse of them would cause me to pass out, if not die.

I begged, "Please, I'll do anything else. Don't use the needles."

The two men then said, almost in unison, "Let's fuck the little faggot instead. Ass is better than mouth any day." It took me several seconds to understand the alternative they were offering, and when I did, it was almost more than I could bear to whisper my consent. They smiled broadly, then began to stroke their cocks in anticipation. It was then that I noticed their cocks were the smallest of the group, and somehow that provided a small amount of relief.

To my surprise, one of the men knelt in front of me and began putting a condom on my cock. The stroking action of his hand as he unrolled the thing served to fuel my arousal, and I was once again in dire need of an orgasm.

I was then half carried to a type of bench they called a "horse". I hadn't seen such a thing before, but the shape and size of the thing, plus the cuffs fastened to the lower end of each leg told me how it would be used. It resembled most of all a padded sawhorse, except it was about three feet high. I was guided to stand facing the thing, and my legs were spread so my ankles could be secured in two of the cuffs. My upper body was then forced forward until my abdomen lay across the padded top. My arms were then drawn down so my wrists could be fastened to the remaining pair of cuffs. My asshole was then open to view, and I was once again helpless.

By looking behind me as well as I could, I could see the two men placing condoms on their penises, and was surprised at that. The leader saw my questioning look and said, "You'll see why they're doing that. It's for a little present to take home with you to remind you of all the fun you've had tonight." I knew that "fun" was a word I'd never use to describe this night, but by that time I was almost beyond caring what happened to me.

One of the men then walked up behind me, and I could feel something pressing against my asshole. I instinctively tried to resist the invasion, but it was simply beyond my body's ability to do so. Soon the invader had gained a beachhead, and then the thrusts began in earnest. I fought the warring emotions of shame and lust then. It doesn't matter to me what others say, being fucked in the ass is a turn on. I'm sure it helped that the man's penis was small, so there was no sense of being torn open. My mental state at that time probably also contributed, as my forebrain was completely shut down.

After only a few thrusts, his cock was buried as far as it would go in my ass. It must have been stimulating my prostate, because the excitement I was feeling seemed to double. I knew that my own orgasm would soon overcome me, and I lusted for it more than breath itself. The heat built and built in my cock, and I began to time my own thrusts to match those of my rapist. I heard him groan then, and with a final thrust he shot his load into the condom.

When he withdrew, my own thrusts continued. Almost before I knew it, I felt the second man begin to insert his cock in me. I don't believe that I ever stopped moving, and soon we were thrusting in unison, just as any two lovers of either sex. The movement is the same, whether one is the "fuckee" or the "fucked".

All the time I was being raped, I half heard the comments the other men were making as they watched. The ones that I really recall now were, "Did she say we could cut him, too?" "Those balls are just begging to be cut off." "That little cock of his would look better in a jar, don't you think?" Oddly enough, thoughts of that being done to me seemed to increase my arousal even more.

I assume he reached his climax during the time he was fucking me, but have no way to know. My own orgasm blocked out everything in the room, and it's the last thing I remember until regaining consciousness in a strange car. I was again wearing my bathrobe, and it seemed to be fastened too tightly around my neck. At least, there was some sort of constriction there. However, it wasn't important enough for me to raise my hands to loosen the robe. I think it was then I realized my hands were free, and that was somehow reassuring to me. My only other recollection of that time is that there was one man driving and one passenger sitting in front. Since I seemed to have the back seat all to myself, I stretched out as well as I could and went back to sleep.

There are fuzzy memories that I recall every now and then, one when I was helped out of the car in front of our garage, and another of Sharon opening the front door. I have the impression that the two men were standing by my side, supporting me. I think they helped get me in bed, but I'm not sure. My wife said they did, so I'll take her word for it.

When I finally awakened, I lay there recalling what had been done to me the previous night. Given the treatment I'd received, it was amazing that my body wasn't a mass of agonizing pain. There were aches, of course, but nothing as strong as I had expected. Oddly enough, my shoulders were the most painful part of my whole body.

I threw back the covers and looked at myself, expecting to see whip marks everywhere. It was almost disappointing to see nothing other than a very few faintly-pink stripes. Apparently the thongs had been soft leather, and had not only not cut the skin, they hadn't even left much evidence of their use.

As I thought about the way I had been suspended, it occurred to me that at no time was I in real danger of suffering permanent damage. The gurney was always under my butt, so that at the very worst, my cock and balls would have had to endure very little additional stretching, even if the ankle and wrist ropes had broken. Since soft whips had been used on me, no scars would be left. When it was time for the needles, which would have inflicted damage on my cock and balls, I had been given an alternative. When all of these things were considered, I realized that there was probably no intention to really harm me, and most of the session had been for "show" only. At the time, though, my fear was at times overwhelming.

My greatest need right then was to take a piss, and then have a nice hot bath. It was painful to sit up, and then to walk to the bathroom, as could be expected, but it was nothing that I couldn't handle. Soon I was reclining in a tub full of steaming water, letting the heat soak away my aches and pains.

When I returned to the bed, I sat there for a while, trying to decide if my hunger for food was greater than my desire for more sleep. Something on the shade of the lamp setting on the nightstand caught my eye, and I looked directly at it. I was dumbfounded by what was draped across the shade, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the memories that came flooding back.

It was a string that had been tied in a necklace-size circle. Tied to the string were three condoms, and I could tell that each contained a load of cum. I knew then what had been meant by the condoms being a "present" for me that would remind me of the night before. Apparently the things had been tied around my neck after the session, when I was unconscious. That had been what I felt constricting my throat when riding home. Obviously Sharon had taken them off me last night, and draped them on the lamp shade for me to see.

She came in then, wearing all new clothes. She said, "I hope you're all recovered from your party. You looked like you were pretty drunk when you came home last night." She then stood in front of me, turning in a slow circle, and said, "Aren't my new things beautiful? Thank you very much for buying them for me. It was very sweet of you to earn that $500.00. Maybe you can do that again sometime." Her smile gave way to laughter then, and I tried to join in.

She dropped to her knees and used her hands to spread my legs. My cock was still aching, and my balls were throbbing, and I wasn't sure I wanted her to touch them. However, when she began to caress my penis, I could feel the damn thing stiffening, even though that made it hurt even more. She asked, "Does it hurt, sweetie?" I nodded my head.

As she fondled me, she asked me to tell her about the "party" that she had arranged for me. I reluctantly began to do so, and was surprised that it became more easy as I added detail after detail. By the time I was describing how I sucked the second cock, I was actually becoming aroused. It seemed that the pain was somehow adding a new element to my excitement, and I was soon fully erect.

Sharon then said that the two men had stayed for a drink after delivering me, and they had told her essentially the same story that I had. She said they had also discussed other things they like to do, and some of them sounded pretty exciting. As she described things that were more and more sadistic, my breathing quickened and I'm sure my cock became harder. As she finished her descriptions, she referred to what the men had called the "final" session. At my questioning look, she said it was probably way beyond what I would want, since it involved removing a man's equipment. She did mention that the men said they would pay $2000.00 for a volunteer to undergo such a thing.

She helped me lie down in the bed, and then tenderly covered me. After kissing my forehead, she squeezed my cock as it tented the sheets, then left saying, "Pleasant dreams, sweetie." She paused at the door, looked at me and said softly, "We could get a big-screen TV with $2000.00, couldn't we?"

I must have fallen asleep almost immediately then, and have only one memory of the time that elapsed before I awakened. That memory is the most intense I've ever had. I was tied across the rounded table, with my cock standing proudly erect. As in many of the drawings I had downloaded, the thing was simply monstrous. My balls were also very large, and I could see them mounded between my legs.

The six men were standing in a circle around the table, as was my wife. She was holding a large glass jar, filled with a clear liquid. As I watched in rapt fascination, the leader slowly lowered a knife toward my crotch.