Chapter Three-4
517 Words
Before long it did. But because of some fetish trick this Rod seemed to know, maybe just the back-bent way he was pulling my prick, I somehow ejaculated without achieving orgasm. I felt a draining, quivering sensation, and rather than pump up and out of me forcefully, I felt my semen drizzle slowly out of my p***s onto the floor. Apparently this was what Mistress Melinda meant by ‘milking’. Perhaps, in addition to never again allowing me to use my p***s on her, she also intended to forever deny me even the necessary release of orgasm.
Whatever the case, I soon had more immediate concerns. Once he’d seen to my milking, Rod could contain himself no more. He stepped into Mistress’ place between my legs and lubricated his own urgent prick. Soon he stuffed it in and began f*****g me, acting just like a horny lover: embarrassing me ill by squeezing my t**s and sticking his tongue in my mouth – not to mention humping against me hard and pumping his hot, throbbing c**k so far up my ass. My head was soon swimming with horribly conflicting sensations and emotions as I again hung helpless and brutally butt f****d in my implacable bonds. And yet that ordeal was still only the young night’s first harbinger.
For hours the two big studs rotated, one of them f*****g my mistress on my own bed while the other one raped and whipped and tortured me on my bondage cross. I watched Melinda swallow their c***s to the root, and even bare her own asshole, groaning with animal delight as Bull’s big organ squeezed its way inside. Indeed, I even watched them roughly double-team her, both bi studs humping away at either end while I, the poor deprived husband, hung crucified on my X and observed it all.
Eventually of course, and for the longest interval, all three of them came at me together: Mistress whipping me once again while both hung brutes most righteously double-f****d my sissy ass and mouth with their big hot throbbing salamis. At one point, I dimly overhead my mistress Melinda talking to Rod and Bull about the gay b**m club they ran, and inviting them all to come over and use us (particularly me) on at least a biweekly basis. Everyone (except me) had orgasms galore then, and that pretty much set the standard for the way my life’s been ever since.
I wear a chastity belt now of course, and never even get hard at all. But otherwise I’m still the same lingerie-wearing she-male sissy-slut my wife first chose for her birthday present. Almost the entire time I’m not doing housework, or waiting hand and foot on her, Mistress has me strapped to my big torture X, locked in my cage, bent over my whipping horse, secured in my stocks or otherwise restrained by one of my many new gifts for her: praying that she or one of her many proxies and lovers will come and brutally use my slutty-painted come-funnel face, or my faggot little sissy-p***y ass, until they grunt and slobber and get their groaning rocks off.
That’s about all a worthless slave like me is really good for, right? Right!
- Writer
