By Nitro
A reward? What did that mean? His hole was hungry? Was he going to finally be able to fuck his Sir for the first time in months? Sir was typically not up for being on the receiving end of anything but a tongue up his ass, but sometimes when the wind blew just right…
The very idea of this had his cock throbbing inside the spiked chastity cage, which made him groan into the gag. Now that he felt Sir was no longer watching he tried to stay very still. He didn’t think he could handle much more of the heavy electro that gets delivered when he moves. His entire body was aching, and the massive plug in his hole felt like it was the size of a Buick.
He was so tired from putting on such a show, and his muscles ached from being locked in here all day. He started picturing his Sir sitting back in that chair earlier while his dick was serviced, and he felt his own cock throbbing into the spikes. He pictured him leathered up and in tall boots, his thick cock pushing against his codpiece. He pictured him slowly sucking the phallic cigar as he exhaled a plume of smoke.
I entered the playroom wearing nothing but a tight skimpy Speedo – and an old sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was small and hung above my waist, so the bulge in the front of my speedo was plainly visible below it. I did this because – in my mind – feeling covered above concentrates the sense of vulnerability I feel onto my Speedo below, and on my bare legs…. it makes me feel naked vulnerable and HORNY. I felt the sensation of near nakedness below my covered torso, and this sense of vulnerability was intense because I knew what was in store for me, especially after seeing a spreader bar with clips on either end, hanging from a chain from the ceiling in the center of the darkish room. I had entered the lair of a leather uniform wearing man I know to be a sadist, to whom I had freely admitted I wanted to experience the sense of complete and utter helplessness with, while indulging in my fetish of wearing a skimpy Speedo. I was walking into a trap of my own making.
