Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 8

By boyinacage

Part 8 – Back at the Station

We all do it, don’t we? Edging ourselves in situations where we just aren’t able to cum. One of my favourites is when I go to the gym at lunch time. The first half hour I spend power walking on the tread mill. I wear an old t-shirt and a pair of lycra shorts without a jock. As I walk towards the machine looking at the bods I get that tremulous feeling in my cock – not enough to be noticeable, but enough to make sure I position my cock correctly in my shorts.

Then I start walking on the tread mill. The steady pace and the horny thoughts mean that my cockhead is being rubbed by the lycra and I start to go stiff. You know that you have to control your thoughts because if you let this sensation go to its natural conclusion it will be the ultimate humiliation (not to mention never being able to return to that gym).

Why do I mention this ultimate edging now, as I hang from the ceiling of the barn? Because, even in this completely painful position, I started doing a similar thing. My cock, as you recall, is encased in stainless steel, my balls are stretched towards a pole by a rope that ultimately (via a head harness) end in a hook in my arse. The hook has a ball on the end that fills my arse which means that it is rubbing against my prostate.

My legs are suspended by chains but if I bend one of them at the knee my whole body would swing about five degrees in the same direction of the bent leg. This in turn allowed the ball to rub gently against my prostate. So here I was completely suspended, unable to get a hard on, bending each leg in turn to get a rhythm that under normal circumstances would have me shooting my load everywhere.

So, imagine my surprise, as I fruitlessly teased myself, to hear a voice by my ear ask whether I was having fun. I froze. Another voice came across in a hoarse whisper, “upstairs”. Listening carefully I heard the sounds that I hadn’t heard in my own little world of ecstasy. The gentle sounds of snoring and the sounds of somebody else struggling floated through the air. How odd!

The next thing I heard was “fuck, hey you can’t mmpf mmpf”. I learnt later that the two guys who had put me in this predicament had flipped a coin and the winner got to tie up the other. They had been up most of the night and in exhaustion the other had fallen asleep in the afternoon warmth. The new comers had managed to get the one asleep bound and now they had the two completely in their control.

Once they had done this they came down and looked over their prize – me. Between them they removed the anal hook, realised the position they had me in, discussed the possibility of giving me a good fuck, but decided to get me down instead. I was propped up in the corner where I could see everything. The new guys were wearing the red cycle suits, and balaclavas, and they now made use of the pulley system to bring down my two captors. They were both naked with the exception of full rubber hoods – the only hole being where a nice large gag seemed to be inserted.

When the first guy was brought down he was tightly bound in a rope harness. His arms and hands bound to the harness in about four locations. The anal hook was then inserted, with I should say, a fair bit of resistance, the attached rope was then slung over a rafter and made taut. Then out came a roll of pallet wrap which was used to completely mummify the guy, with the rope running up the inside from the anal hook being used to help the guy keep his balance.

The whole process was then repeated for the other guy. I have no idea where the second anal hook materialised from but it was attached to the end of the same rope that the first guy’s hook was attached to. The only difference was that the second guy was standing on a fruit box whilst they wrapped him. The reason became apparent when they finished. They lifted him off the box, swung him back two feet so that he was back to back with the first guy. It appeared the rope was a little short (I suspect intentionally) because they were both standing on their toes.

Once in position another layer of pallet wrap was wound around both of them. A knife was produced and their cocks and balls were freed.  Duct tape was brought out and they were completely taped up. All that remained was a silver package with two ropes coming out of the middle and a set of cock and balls extruding from the middle of each side. Then the true level of deviousness became apparent. Parachutes were placed on both sets of balls and those stretchy hockey strap things were attached to the base of each parachute. Our old friend the pulley was then utilised, together with the eye holes in the pillar.

From the hockey strap a rope stretched through the eye hole in the pillar in front of the first captor, rose up to the pulley and the across and down to another eye hole in the wall opposite the second captor and then to the second hockey strap attached to the other parachute. The whole system was very taut and they struggled a bit to get the last hockey strap into place.

It was not a situation I would care for. If one of the guys got tired of standing on his toes and came down the other was lifted about an inch in the air – obviously suspended on the anal hook. The movement then made the guy lifted off his feet to be forced to swing slightly backward thus placing pressure on both their balls. The guys who had captured me laughed and explained that the hooks would make their way further inside of them after a while and that they wouldn’t have to stand on their toes for more than a couple of hours. I can’t say that I was convinced.

Once they had this under control I was also cocooned in pallet wrap but for once neither forced nor had forced on me sexual servitude. Additionally I was not blindfolded, even though I was gagged. The new guys had a quad bike with a trailer attached outside and after throwing the leathers from the two guys inside in the back laid me on top of them. Once in position we drove off across the paddock and up onto the track.

This was the first time I had to take stock of my situation and the time of day. The sun was low enough to indicate it was about 8pm, about an hour before sunset, and still quite warm. I still had the chains attached to my balls and to my boots and I was building up a bit of a sweat. Indeed I was just thinking about this as the quad’s breaks went on. There appeared to be a log over the track. The guys got off and went to look at the situation – a movement out of the corner of my eye was all the warning I got as a rope net went over my rescuers.  I was joined in the back by two empty red leather motorcycle suits and we were on the way again. I understand that my “rescuers” were left chained to a tree wearing nothing more than motorcycle helmets.

We arrived in the yard of the house about five minutes to sunset. Out of the front of the house came one of the hosts, boots shining and fully geared in leather. He came up to me, pulled a crop from his boot and started tapping my balls and nipples. He then turned to one of the guys who had brought me in and tossed the keys to him. “Take it to the sump room – it’s yours until sunrise”. Somebody threw a hessian sack over my head and I was lifted up and carried away.

When the sack was removed I saw I was in a large, underground room.  The most startling aspect of the room was the number of candles illuminating it. They were everywhere, including over a number of beer kegs set up in the far corner. In the other far corner of the room were four black metal posts. Behind the posts was a raised platform, set at about the same height as a black leather sling. A rail ran about three feet high above the platform. Attached to the rail were four very large funnels. The base of the funnels had tubing that converged into a long length of gas mask tubing. Great. What is it about German’s and piss scenes?

For the first time in 24 hours the chains were released from my boots and balls. The cock cage was removed. Then with a person on each limb my naked body was lifted onto the sling. My arms were extended and handcuffed to the chains to the back two posts. It was therefore a surprise when the same wasn’t done to my legs. Ropes were attached to my ankles and my legs were pulled wide. More ropes were tied securely around my thighs – pulling them back making me bow-legged.

Once in position I expected a blindfold or a hood but again was surprised. Chains were clipped to my nipple rings. These joined about three feet above me to a single chain that ran through a pulley in the top of the structure with the other end being attached to my PA. Six inches above the PA was a piece of string that was used to lift my balls up by looping it around an oxball ball stretcher. My cock pointed upwards and my balls straight out into the room.

“Now boy, before we hood you let me explain what’s going on here. Over here we have a sandbag on the end of a rope. It’ll be adjusted to the correct length so that if somebody over there swings it correctly it will hit your balls. To be allowed to fuck you they have to get three direct hits in a row.” I contemplated that for a moment before he continued. “Of course the red team won’t be able to fuck you because they’re now wearing chastity devices for the night – so the only pleasure they’re going to get is from you”. I wasn’t sure that this was a bad thing till he started laughing.

Shit. This wasn’t looking good. Contemplating my dilemma I laid my head back and looked up and really began to worry. I hadn’t noticed before but way above me was a wire mesh on which hundreds of unlit coloured candles were positioned. As I contemplated this a full hood was pushed over my head. This hood was different from others that I’d seen. From the outside it looked like a gas mask but on the inside it had a gag similar to a stuffer gag and there appeared to be a covering on the inside that blindfolded me with rubber firmly against my eyelids.

A few moments later I felt the gas mask tube being screwed on. The hood must have had something else in there as I could not hear any sound at all. Mind you, I wasn’t surprised to get my first taste of piss within moments. Then there was nothing for absolutely ages (later I learnt there was a bar-b-q out on the lawn) and I drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by an absolute pain in my balls. It was the bloody sandbag and whoever went first must have propelled it energetically judging by the force it hit me with. It was followed by two more – bulls-eye. The first fuck.

As the night progressed the intensity of the evening changed. After the first couple of fucks somebody must have lit the candles, writhing with each flick in the beginning turned out not to be an option as made the chains on my nipples pull. The upside was that I began to get fewer direct hits to my balls which were now getting very sore and tender. The amount of piss I consumed increased to the point where my own cock must have looked like fountain. I was completely lost in a world of erotic pain that was slowly turning into just pain.

 

To be continued …

 

 

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