Prod – Part 03: Fortnight – Another of Black Knight’s Adventures

By Bikermike

It had been several weeks since James had visited his erstwhile master Malcolm and had had fun in an outbuilding at his house near Bourne, Lincolnshire. They had exchanged e-mails regarding James re-visiting where this was to take place later on during the summer when he would be able to cross the Fens on his motorbike, dressed sexily in his black leather bike suit.

‘I will send you something in the post, boy.’ Was the simple message James received one day.

‘May I ask what it is Master?’ He replied.

‘Don’t be impertinent boy. There will be instructions contained therein.’

Two days later, the package arrived, having been left with one of James’ neighbours, while he was at work. Once indoors he ripped off the wrapping in his eagerness to find a steel chastity device, complete with two small padlocks, and with a typed note, which said

‘Fit this to your genitals boy and return the keys to me by return. I need to be satisfied that you have obeyed these instructions so I will require you to take a photograph of the device in place, which you will then e-mail to me.’

He wondered how long he would be expected to wear the chastity device before he could visit Malcolm again, when hopefully he would be released and be satisfied. However, the very thought of him as Malcolm’s prisoner, only being allowed to enjoy sexual satisfaction at his master’s whim caused him to have an erection. Obviously there was no way that he could fit the device to his genitals while his penis was in that state so he stripped off his clothes, lay on the bed and masturbated, thinking all the time of what BDSM delights awaited him on his re-visit to Malcolm’s house.

Once he had wiped himself clean he took a shower then examined the device, which consisted of a stainless steel cock ring, a stout but short wire cage with spikes welded on the inside at the end and a smaller ring that would fit round the neck of his scrotum. Both rings would then be secured in place by the two small padlocks. He thought about the possibilities of Malcolm refusing to release him and of his imprisoned genitals being noticed in the gym changing room. ‘What the hell?’ He thought as he clicked the padlocks in place, while standing naked in front of his mirror. There he was, fit and muscled, wearing a metal device that opitomised his role as a slave, subject to the whims and desires of a strict master who lived some sixty miles distant.

He tried tugging the metal device, but the padlocked rings were tight around his flesh and were not under any circumstances going to budge. he started to get hard once again. This time his erection was restricted by the internal metal spikes digging into the head of his cock. His hands then wandered up to his nipples, massaging and tweaking them harder and harder. He groaned as the spikes mercilessly pricked his glans. He worked his nipples harder and harder as he began panting, his breath coming in short bursts. looking round he found his Levis, still fitted with a stout leather belt. Pulling it through the loops he used the belt to slap his buttocks, then his broad back. He felt delirious with lust. Harder and harder he flogged his own buttocks, glancing in the mirror as best he could to see his reddening backside. His cock was in agony, pressing hard against the unyielding metal spikes welded inside the penis cage, designed to cause the maximum discomfort.

‘Aw, fuck!’ James said to himself as he collapsed onto the floor after some twenty minutes of self abuse. He had to admit that this was one of the best sexual adventures he had ever experienced, totally uninterrupted by an orgasm, which would of course have deflated his libido taking the immediate enjoyment out of the situation. Had he the stamina he could have kept the self-edgeplay going all night. He thought about the keys: was it wise to surrender total control of his sex life to someone he had only met and had had fun with once before? However, his desire to be a total “sub” and slave overcame any doubt he had about his situation so he took a photograph of his imprisoned cock and balls with his mobile and promptly e-mailed the picture to his Master in Bourne.

The reply was immediate:

‘Good boy! Return the keys tomorrow first thing. After that, you will e-mail me a photograph of your genitals every other day until I decide when you can visit me again. Do not contact me; I will contact you as and when I see fit.’

He thought of the possible new situation: He would be at his Master’s total mercy, who would decide when and where he would be able to enjoy an orgasm, would be punished or humiliated as and when master saw fit. With his head full of those thoughts he placed the padlock keys into a stout envelope and walked to the nearby post office, sending the keys to Malcolm by recorded delivery.

A week passed with no messagre from Malcolm. James was already getting used to his forced abstention from sex, not giving it much thought at all. He was able to keep himself clean – there being enough gaps in the bars of the cage to enable him to shower his genital area effectively. Peeing did not present much of a problem either – there being an aperture in the end of the chastity cage. However, by the Thursday of the following week he started to worry: had Malcolm forgotten about him? Is he going to keep locked in chastity for the forseeable future? In that event would he need some sort of power tool to remove the cage from his cock and balls?

That night James lay in bed and began to fondle and tweak his nipples. His penis hardened in response but of course was restricted by the sharp spikes fixed at the inner end of its cage. he winced in pain but continued his ministrations with his nipples. He squirmed and bucked, by this time also breaking out in a sweat. He ran his hands up and down his muscular chest, spending time feeling his gym hardened abdominal muscles with the delightful line of soft fur running up and down the cleft. His thoughts then turned to his new position as nothing more than his Master’s slave: just his plaything to be fucked, beaten, humiliated and abused. This sent him wild with lust; he could feel pre-ejaculate dribbling from the end of his cock, wetting the bedsheets. Fortunately, after a hour or so he fell into a troubled sleep.

Just before he set off for work on the Friday morning he looked at his e-mails, normally various notifications of promotions of which he had little interest. This time there was a message from Malcolm. It read

Be here 1300 on Saturday. Your friends Mike and Slaveboy from Kings Lynn will be here and they will expect to have fun with you. Lateness will not be tolerated. No need to reply.

James felt a tingle of excitement, mixed with apprehension as he wheeled his Fireblade out of the garage, ready to set off for work.

***

Malcolm’s house, situated in an isolated spot some three miles from Bourne, Lincolnshire was about an hour and a half’s steady ride from James’ terraced house in the small Norfolk town. As he rode along through the still warm late summer weather, he thought just how convenient his destination was and how suitable the place was for the sort of BDSM fun that its occupant practised and enjoyed. It was set along a lonely, narrow country road, so typical of the roads in the western Fens. Malcolm had no immediate neighbours – the nearest house being about a half a mile away. Again, this was typical of the area; such houses being old farmworkers’ or smallholders’ cottages, which could be purchased for not a great deal of money. Very often the properties contained old brick outhouses that once contained things such as rotavators, wooden trays for the produce, garden implements and such like. These outbuildings made excellent playrooms, dungeons or prisons where participants could be beaten and tortured without fear of their yells being overheard.

Oh Hell! The A151 had been closed. That would mean that the journey along this stretch between Spalding and Bourne, normally taking some fifteen minutes would now take anything up to thirty minutes, following the diversion signs through the Fens’ back roads. James’ heart quickened as he contemplated what punishment lay in wait for him as ominously hinted at in Malcolm’s e-mail. A whipping maybe with Mike and Slaveboy watching or participating? His cock started to harden.

He looked at the clock on the bike’s instrument panel: he was twenty minutes late! He parked the bike up and as he made his way to the outhouse to the rear of the main house he was greeted by the lean and well defined black Slaveboy, standing there shirtless, wearing a pair of tight Levi cut-downs, a pair of Doc Marten boots with a heavy looking metal collar fixed round his neck.

‘We’re not very pleased with you, boy,’ said Slaveboy, ‘The Masters will need to severely punish you. They have told me to tell you to strip naked outside the door then I will fit a dog training electric collar round your neck. However, that won’t be your main punishment. You will be flogged; three lashes for every minute you were late, so sixty in all!’

Panting with excitement, James stripped off his boots, socks and bike leathers (wearing nothing underneath) and presented himself, head bowed, while Slaveboy fitted him with the electric collar.

‘Enter, boy!’ Boomed Malcolm from within the outhouse. There, both he and Mike stood, both shirtless in leather jeans and black boots, wearing tight fitting body harnesses that accentuated their rugger players’ torsos. Lying at thrir feet was a heavy steel solid wrist and ankle spreader, already open.

James knew what to do: he sat on the concrete floor with arms outstretched, then Malcolm fitted the bar to his wrists and ankles, forcing him to sit bending forwards with his bare back exposed and vulnerable. Turning to Mike Malcolm said ‘You first. Give him twenty! You choose a whip!’

Mike selected a cavalry whip from the selection of leather implements of punishment from the hooks on the wall. He dragged it playfully over James’ broad back a few times then cracked it in the air in front of his victim’s face. he stood back, took aim….Crack! James let out a grunt as the whip tore into the substantial muscles of his shoulderblades. another…Crack! ‘Two!’ shouted Malcolm as James let out another half grunt, half yell. An angry red welt appeared an inch or so below the mark already cut across James’ broad shoulders.

Meanwhile, both Malcolm and Slaveboy had already pulled their erect penises out from their jeans, stroking them while watching the punishment beating. ‘Harder, Sir!’ gasped James through gritted teeth. Needing no encouragement, Mike delivered the remaining lashes hard enough to break the skin on the prisoner’s back then stopped, out of breath, dropping the bloodied whip to the floor. James sat in his heavy shackles, gasping.

Malcolm bent and picked the whip up then disappeared for a minute, running it under the outside tap to remove blood and grit from the floor. He took up position on the other side of James’ back and said ‘Do you like the lash, slave?’

‘Yes Sir!’ replied James.

‘Well, you’re not meant to, boy. I need to beat you harder in that case!’ With that Malcolm delivered his first lash, the end of the whip curling round James’ flank, cutting into the sensitive flesh under his armpit. Again and again Malcolm lashed his prisoner, sometimes taking deliberate aim on stripes of already angry and smitten flesh. James howled in agony.

By the twentieth lash James was silent; having passed out. Slaveboy fetched a bucket of water and revived him, splashing water into his face. ‘It’s Slaveboy’s turn now, boy,’ said Malcolm. Both he and Mike then turned James onto his front, his wrists and ankles fixed still in the shackles, so that his face rested on the floor with his buttocks raised. ‘This time you will feel the strap on your arse, boy! We will take turns in fucking you after your beating so we don’t want your arsecheeks to be bloody, do we? Eh?’

‘N-no Sir!’ stammered James as his forehead rested on the concrete.

Slaveboy had selected a heavy looking strap with a handle and flicked it a few times in the air, showing off his chocolate coloured muscled biceps. …Slap! He delivered his first whack acrodd James’ upturned buttocks. ‘Count, boy!’ he said, readying himself for the second blow.

‘One Sir!’ Gasped James.

Slaveboy delivered twenty slaps across James’ upturned buttocks and sweating profusely, leaving his cocoa coloured skin glistening, dropped the leather strap. James lay forehead down on the rough concrete floor gasping, his bruised and reddened buttocks remaining the highest point on his body.

‘C’mon, let’s leave him there and have a coffee,’ said Malcolm, ‘He’ll be okay and let’s face it, he won’t be going anywhere!’ He added with a laugh.

The three shirtless men then left the outhouse, closing the door behind them, leaving James shackled face down on the building’s concrete floor. Some insect or other crawled onto and tickled James’ beard but of course, there was nothing he could do about that save trying to rub his face against the rough concrete surface. It seemed as though more insects joined their companion, tickling and biting, with James unable to rid himself of these pests.

However, he fell into a sort of reverie: somehow he was able to do this quite easily, especially when he had been left in either total immobility or in some sort of painful predicament bondage. His mind wandered, contemplating how he had become a pain and torture addict:

As an eighteen year old he had had “extra training” from his rampant and sadistic Games and PE schoolteacher, who was some thirty years his senior. This used to take place at the teacher’s house, situated in an isolated country spot quite a few miles out of town. A room in his large house had been equipped as a sort of gymnasium, which had also contained, along with resistance weights, free weights, climbing frames and such like, instruments of restraint, a pillory, hanging shackles and similar.

James had always to exercise completely naked, with his teacher standing over him, encouraging him doing his vigorous exercises with liberal use of a cane. Failure to complete a set of exercises would always lead to James being shackled and whipped or caned. In addition, after such a training session the teacher would always shaft him brutally, with James secured in the pillory. He had grown to love the strict training regime and the abuse; looking forward to each and every session.

By the age of nineteen there wasn’t much regarding man-man BDSM sex that he hasn’t experienced. The teacher had friends with similar interests who sometimes paid him visits, who also enjoyed his pupil’s young body.

One of teacher’s friends lived in London who offered James lodgings rent free when he became a law student at University. This guy turned out to be even more brutal than James’ teacher, making him worship his highly polished leather boots daily when he returned home from lectures. Failure to show them sufficient respect always earned him a savage beating, so much so that on occasions he was forced to standin the lecture theatre, so sore were his buttocks.

Upon graduating from Law School he had taken a position with a law firm in Norwich and purchased a small house in a market town a few miles distant. He had not forgotten his BDSM “friends” who he invited to his house from time to time until his erstwhile PE teacher had decided to emigrate to Australia. However, he had maintained contact with his old London landlord, either visiting him in London or hosting BDSM parties at his Norfolk house where the friend would be the guest of honour. (and his chief abuser).

He also wondered what was the point of the dog training collar? What additional torment had his abusers had in mind?

He was shaken out of his reverie by the three men returning to the outhouse and closing the door. Turning his head as best he could and as far as his position on the floor allowed him, he could see each of them removing what few garments they were wearing, each standing behind him completely naked and fully erect.

‘Guests first,’ said Malcolm, handing Mike a condom, ‘Fuck that boy hard!’ James’ cock hardened but of course was painfully restrained by the sharp spikes digging into his glans. Mike fitted the condom over his not insubstantial penis, then applied lubricant to James’ anus, brutally forcing his moist fingers up and down his tight sphincter. He mounted his prisoner, slapping his already bruised buttocks as he forced his cock right up to the base, eliciting a grunt from the hapless James.

In and out, in and out Mike pumped his hips, holding on to James by way of his nipples, twisting and pinching them painfully. James grunted in time with Mike’s thrustings, which became harder and faster, as did his ministrations on his tortured nipples. harder and harder… Mike came with a roar, practically ripping James’ nipples from his body as he orgasmed. He withdrew immediately, pulled the condom off and emptying its contacts into the palm of his hand. ‘Here! Eat this slave!’ He said, offering his hand up to James’ mouth. He started to lick the hand clean then Mike suddenly rubbed what was left of his ejaculate over James’ face, beard and hair. ‘What do you say boy?’ He asked menacingly.

‘Th -thank you Sir!’ James gasped a reply.

It was the black Slaveboy’s turn. He too greased James’ anus and lunged without preamble or warning. James shouted not so much in pain, more by way of surprise, the black man’s cock being by far the largest of the three. In and out, Slaveboy raped James, gasping and snorting like a crazed bull.

‘Ha! He’s been in chastity for the past month,’ joked Mike to his host, Malcolm, ‘See? He’s going mad!’

Slaveboy fucked as hard as he could, running his fingernails down james’ flanks, leaving deep scratches. Both men yelled as Slaveboy orgasmed after only sixty seconds or so. he too emptied the contents of his condom into his hand and smeared his sperm over James’ face.

Malcolm fitted a condom over his india-rubber hard penis and straddled James’ upturned body. he fucked slowly and deeply, thoroughly enjoying the sensation. James loved being penetrated slowly, the slower the better, so he loosened his sphincter as Malcolm thrusted into him then tightened on the outward stroke, his anus acting as a sort of velvet suction pump. Ten minutes elapsed, then twenty, neither men seeming to tire.

Mike was getting bored so said to his Slaveboy ‘Suck my cock, boy!’. Slaveboy immediately sank to his knees, taking his Master’s cock down his throat, hishead being held firmly in place by Mike having a firm hold onto his fellator’s metal collar.

After another ten or so minutes had elasped, Malcolm’s breathing became more laboured as he quickened the pace of his thrusting. faster and faster…he too orgasmed with a roar, with James feeling his throbbing cock against his prostate. Again, James’ face was anointed with more semen.

‘Thank you Masters!’ said James.

‘We had planned a bit of fun with the electric dog collar,’ began Malcolm, ‘But you were disgracefully late so you had to be quite properly punished. Anyway, here’s what we’re going to do: we’ll remove the cock cage then you will have five minutes to shoot your load. During that time you will be shocked at random intervals as you wank, which will put you off. It’ll be a sort of self edgeplay you see? Of course, your right wrist will be shackled well above your head while your left wrist will be shackled to your right ankle, the chain giving you just enough length to reach your cock but you will be forced into a crouching position. It’ll be fun, eh? Once you have shot your load (or not), we, at our discretion or pleasure, will continue shocking your neck until we get fed up. you will then be re-fitted with the cock cage then you’ll fuck off home until we send for you again. Understand boy?’

‘Yes Master!’

‘Before we release you from your rigid irons we need to spray your wounds with alcohol. It just might sting a bit!’ He chuckled.

James knew full well from experience that the spray would be agonising, worse than the original whipping. He merely replied ‘Yes Master! Spray my worthless and insubordinate body! I deserve more severe punishment for my lateness!’

Meanwhile Mike had ejaculated down Slaveboy’s throat and after he had licked his master’s glans clean he fetched the plastic alcohol spray bottle placed nearby on a shelf. ‘Spray him!’ Malcolm commanded.

James screamed as the alcohol seeped into the fresh whip wounds across his broad back. ‘Please, Masters, no more!’ He shouted.

‘Since you begged, which you could have guessed was against the rules, boy, I will rub Deep Heat into your reddened buttocks then up your arse!’ Said malcolm, walking over to the shelf and picked up the red plastic tube. he applied a liberal amount of the ointment to his fingers then rubbed it vigorously into James’ blazing buttocks, working his index finger up into his anus. James howled in pain then fell silent, having fainted once again.

James was awakened by Mike pissing over his scalp and face, then Malcolm unshackled his ankles and wrists and helped him to his feet. He then unlocked the cock cage and to James’ obvious relief his cock sprang free, fully erect, with a drop of precum oozing from its tip. His face and beard dripped urine and semen as he was dragged by his cock over to another area of the building, underneath low hanging hanging wrist shackles. ‘Right arm up, boy!’ Barked Malcolm as he fixed James’ wrist into the hanging shackle. He then fixed James’ left wrist to his right ankle by means of handcuffs, leaving him just anough slack on the connecting chain for him to reach his penis. Malcolm removed the cage enclosing his prisoner’s cock, allowing it to spring free, now fully erect and dripping precum. He stood back, admiring the extremely uncomfortable position he had left the hapless James. ‘start wanking boy!’ He commanded.

James grunted as his left hand circled his rock hard penis (he was right handed; a fact known to his tormentor). It was the first time he had touched it for a fortnight. He wanked himself slowly at first, maybe for twenty seconds then….he yelled as the collar on his neck gave him a painful jolt. This caused him to temporarily lose balance, letting go of his erection. The three others laughed.

‘Again!’ barked Malcolm. James grabbed his penis and masturbated a bit harder, not far from orgasm. Once more, his efforts were frustrated by another shock from the neck collar.

‘Four minutes left, boy!’ James was reminded by his tormentor. James wanked harder and faster. He was nearly there when he was again interrupted by another shock, this time lasting for several seconds. He shouted both in pain and in frustration.

His torment continued with random shocks disturbing the pleasure he was giving himself and was reminded that he only had thirty seconds left. He made one last effort, wanking himself as hard and as fast as he could, making his penis sore. He screamed as he discharged two weeks’ worth of semen high into the air, simultaneously receiving another electric shock from the dog collar. He lost his balance again and fell gasping, hanging from his right wrist.

‘What do you say boy?’ asked Malcolm.

‘Thank you Master!’ He replied.

Malcolm continued, ‘I see that you are still hard. I won’t be able to fix the chastity cage onto you in that state. This time, one of us will give your cock release. Since you have given us entertainment I’ll reward you by releasing you from this particular bondage. See that wooden roof support over there?’ He pointed to the corner of the building ‘Well, you’ll also see the rigid steel scrotum shackle fixed to the wood. It’s connected to the wooden support by about six incheds of steel. Therefore, you’ll be secured by your balls, unable to move. We’ll also fix you into a rigid wrist and neck shackle and clamp your tits, hanging a weight from each clamp. you’ll love that, I’m sure. Eh?’

‘I will Sir!’ James readily agreed.

Malcolm released him from his uncomfortable bondage, removed the dog training collar and led him over to the wooden roof support, dragging him along by his erection. Manoeuvering James into position he pulled down hard on his scrotum and pushed him so that the shackle was between his legs, fixing it round the neck of his balls. ‘Stay there, boy!’ He mocked as he selected the heavy neck and wrist shackle from the rack in the corner. After fitting him into the shackle he asked Mike to select a “suitable” pair of nipple clamps. Mike obliged, picking a toothed pair connected to one another by a heavy chain. James grunted in agony/ecstasy as the sharp teeth clamped around his already sore nipples.

‘You Slaveboy! Wank him!’ Malcolm commanded Mike’s black slave. ‘Suck him first!’

Slaveboy immediately sank to his knees in front of James and licked his glans, keeping a firm hold of the base of the shackled testicles. Slaveboy fellated James almost to the point of another orgasm when Malcolm said ‘Now wank him hard!’ He did as he was told, gently at first then harder and faster, harder and faster… James orgasmed again with a yell, splashing his semen over Slaveboy’s body. He cupped the ejaculate into his right hand then rubbed it into James’ face, hair and beard, already wet with the three men’s semen and urine. he licked Slaveboy’s fingers, removing every trace of his own semen.

Malcolm released James, telling him to take a cold shower outside under the eaves of the outhouse. ‘I’ll pat your striped back dry boy.’ he said, not unkindly. He followed him out, waited for him to remove traces of drying semen and urine from his hair then gently patted his wounds dry, careful not to allow them to bleed again.

‘Thank you Master!’ said James. ‘May I have a drink of water?’

Malcolm fetched a plastic pint pot of water, which James drank almost all in one go, while Malcolm fitted the chastity cage once again. ‘I’ll send for you in a fortnight, boy. Next time there will be some mates over from Manchester. I’ve told them about you and what a pain slut you are. Fuck! they’ve got some interesting ideas lined up for you!’

James very carefully pulled on his bike leathers, bade farewell to his three tormentors (Mike said he could visit him for some more fun soon) and set off home. He could feel his cock hardening in anticipation of what would happen next time at the hands of Malcolm and his mates, but unfortunately he would be unable to relieve himself once indoors. The spikes dug into his glans…

The End

Metal would like to thank the author, Bikermike, for this story!

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