By Pickle
I woke up stretched out in a narrow spread-eagle over a large arch of some kind. I had long fantasized about those medieval wheel-shaped racks, and wondered how long I could tough it out on one. There was some deep, twisted part of me that truly wanted to know how much I could take on one of them.
Now here I was, stretched out fully, arms above my head, torso stretched tight, bent far enough backward that when I lifted my head I wasn’t able to see my legs beyond my upper thighs. I was naked. During the period of blackness I’d experienced, these insect-like hombres stripped me and attached me to whatever I was on. The stretch wasn’t painful, but I was definitely stretched taut on this thing.
At first I thought they had tapped into my brain and found my kinky desire to be put to one of these racks. Any time I wanted to rub one out fast I’d put a couple pillows on top of each other and lie arched backward over them presenting my gut “front and centre,” stretching my abs out. If I poked or punched myself in the navel in that stretched-out position while masturbating, I’d usually shoot my load within a minute or two at most. Saves time when you’re a horny guy but have a million farm chores to get done.
