Part 2: The Tormentrix Returns
The cuffs about my wrists and ankles are all lovingly padded to prevent me getting hurt in any way, but all the muscles in my arms and legs are screaming at me. You see, she has strung me up tight between two columns of concrete with tight chains and leather cuffs.
I didn’t like to ask why the columns has useful little eyebolts cemented into them but she has made full use of them. I am spread-eagled as tight as my body will permit between those two columns, my arms and legs dragged out to full stretch. The balls of my feet are perched precariously on the floor, but if I did lose my footing I don’t think I could fall. I am stretched out that tight.
She chained me up here some time ago and now I would rather like her to come back. I have no idea what she has in mind for me, but there is something under a sheet in the corner that must have something to do with it.
“Still here then?”
I hauled my head up to look at her and I felt my manhood spring to attention at the sight of her. Her lovely figure was sheathed in a painfully tight leather basque and shorts that looked as if they had been applied with a spray. There are fishnets sheathing those magnificent legs of hers and her spindly heeled boots clasp her legs tightly all the way up to her knees. And in her right hand is that wicked riding whip I both love and hate in equal measures.
She swayed her body over to me and looked deep into my eyes as a gloved hand slowly grasped my raging manhood and gave it a squeeze. I whimpered as she slowly worked my foreskin back and forth before snatching her hand away and laughing at the look on my face.
“Now, now” she said softly “You wouldn’t want to spoil the fun, would you?”
Frankly, I could have loved to spoil the fun and take my pleasure of that soft leather glove, but I knew it was not to be.
“Have you met my friend?” she asked, gesturing towards the doorway.
My head snapped up and I flushed a deep embarrassing red as another girl came into the room. Despite myself my manhood bobbed up and down at her appearance.
She was shorter than my beloved tormentrix and altogether curvier. Her skin was a pale milky white and magnificent breasts swelled over the top of her basque and threatened to overspill. Her costume was the same as my own tormentrix but she filled it in a very different way. Where my lover’s figure was moulded by her costume, the newcomer’s was restrained by hers. Her voluptuous curves made it strain at every seam and join in a most exciting and diverting way.
“She has come to help me out today” my tormentrix said to me, “But don’t worry, she is sworn to secrecy”
I looked helplessly back and forth between them and blushed even deeper when the newcomer walked over and gave my erection a gentle stroke and smiled appreciatively.
The next thing I knew they were placing a stand in front of me and slowly moving it towards my straining body. It looked heavy as it took both of them to move it.
“Allow me to introduce you to the cock board” she said, indicating a hole in the stand worrying level with my raging manhood.
She bent until her mouth was level with my manhood and for a fleeting moment the warmth of her mouth enveloped me and I felt every fibre of my being leap. I felt my myself start to bob as that wonderful mouth was swiftly withdrawn and the cock board slipped quickly forwards.
While I was at my trembling peak my manhood was swiftly threaded through the hole and a deep rubber lining quickly grabbed me in a firm embrace and held me prisoner.
I looked down and could just see my now disembodied manhood protruding beyond the board on top of the heavy stand. The girls were laughing at my obvious confusion, as they vanished behind me and started moving whatever had been over in the corner up behind me.
I heard the heavy thing being moved and they sounded as if they were being very careful in their positioning of it. Then they were in front of me again with wide smiles on their faces.
“Welcome to the wanking rack” my tormentrix said to me “I hope you like it”
I looked askance at them, not quite understanding what they were talking about. Then I found out exactly what they were talking about. One moment I was looking bemusedly at them, and the next I let out a howl as a line of red-hot fire slashed across my tightly stretched buttocks. I lurched forwards as far as my bondage would allow before the tension in my limbs hauled me back. And as I surged forwards and back my manhood was dragged forwards and back through that terrible, ridged rubber ring, and I found out why she had called it a wanking rack.
The exquisite feeling of my manhood running back and forth through that tightness was both terrible and wonderful at the same time. And before I could recover myself whatever mechanical device that lay behind me struck another whip blow across my defenceless arse and I lunged forwards again before pulling back through the rubber sheathed hole again.
Both of the girls were laughing as realisation dawned on my face of my fate. Then the mechanised whip struck again, and again I was hurled swiftly forwards and slowly back. As I looked up the two girls lent back against the wall, pouring themselves a glass of wine and preparing to watch my torment.
That was nearly an hour ago, and I can’t last much longer. My arse in burning, and every blow hauls my poor tender manhood back and forth through that tight rubber orifice. I am soaked in sweat and I both look forwards to and dread the application of that mechanised whip.
The blows have varied in rhythm, but now they are coming thick and fast. As one slashes across me I lurch forwards again and I know my end has come. My utter torment is about to end as I feel the fire in my belly surge relentlessly upward and I feel myself come long and hard. I cry out in a tone that is only just human as I spray my seed out across the floor and both the girls cheer. I feel my manhood wants to shrink, but the embrace of the rubber keeps it erect and firmly in place. I look pleadingly up at the girls as they open another bottle of wine but they just smile at me.
As another blow lands of my arse I realise they have no intention of letting me off the wanking rack just yet. They intend me to have at least one more orgasm, and the sweet torment of that rubber hole on my manhood is both wonderful and terrible again as I lurch forwards and back.
Please Lord, just let them stop at two orgasms, please Lord, don’t let them try for three. I don’t have three in me. But the tightness of the cuffs and chains and the bite of that evil mechanised whip tell me I have little choice in the matter.
09.01.11