By hard slave
“Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!” the whole room chanted. I was so mesmerized by the sounds of the masculine voices shouting as one, that when the two brutish bouncers grabbed each of my arms I cried out in surprise. They frog-marched me up to the stage and quickly locked restraints on my wrists, which in turn were attached to the arms of a large cross, forcing my arms as far apart as they could go. The lights were bright, but I could make out the crowd of men, dressed in tight jeans or leather, many shirtless or in harness, hooting and whistling while looking at ME. Holy shit.
My two escorts took off my belt and undid my jeans, pulling them down to my ankles sharply. Down came my white briefs, allowing my semi-hard cock to bounce upward. Of course this led to louder, more urgent cheers of “Lock him up!” A third man joined us on stage, and with a wicked, sadistic smile, he applied an ice pack to my erection. It took about a minute, but once my boner subsided he grabbed me by the balls and slipped on the ring of a Holy Trainer chastity device. The crowd collectively crowed as they observed me being locked into the device before their eyes.