Twelve Maxbridge Street by AG31

They resumed wrapping, and as they worked their way higher up, Faranger became even more aroused. He didn’t understand this, but the mere act of wrapping his legs was pushing his arousal to the edge of pain.

When they reached the top, they tied the bands together on the outside of his leg and wrapped them securely around his thigh as high as possible. They had to take turns to have room between his legs as they positioned the second knots inside his groin. They gently pushed his legs back together. The leather combined with the strap already there pushed his testicles forward.

Next the man produce a stainless steel object which he held it up for Faranger’s inspection. It was a thin rod, two or three feet long, with a rectangular base about the size of playing card, and, attached at an angle at the top, a thin piece about 3 inches long and a half inch wide, rounded long the top and curved in a way that Faranger instinctively knew would match the curve of his body between his buttocks. He was proved right when the man slipped the base into a slot on the floor and pressed the top against his anus. The man adjusted it until there was a delicious pressure and locked it. Faranger writhed and came tantalizingly close to orgasm as it pressed the plug inside and the thongs outside. But in the end he stopped. It was tantalizingly close, but only close, and he was just providing a show for the onlookers.

As they left each squeezed a buttock in a farewell gesture. It was as if they were squeezing more engorgement into his penis. He was obsessed with the prospect of relief.

“Excellent, Jensens! Who would have thought that would work so beautifully!”

Nothing happened for a few more moments… minutes?? Faranger’s consciousness of his wrapped legs, erection, naked torso and bound neck and arms, all exposed to the spectators around the table, caused him to writhe as his body was taken over by a sensual wave.

“Ok, now Maria!” A lovely woman with shoulder length blond hair and long diamond earrings approached. Faranger had shifted his gaze up to his crossed hands, but the moderator said, “Ah, Mr. Faranger, you must look each of your tormenters in the eye. Directly, not just a glance.”

Faranger did as he was told and she gave him a smile. The forced personal encounter heightened his sense of humiliation and subjugation, and arousal. The arousal was becoming intolerable. But there was nothing to do but tolerate it.

Faranger’s chest was feeling neglected and so he felt some relief to see her produce two nipple clamps. The pain was pronounced when she pulled out each nipple and let them clamps close, but he felt the erotic impact when he became more engorged and involuntarily clenched around the plug and visibly spasmed in his lower abdomen. He focused on the excruciating pain and response was repeated several times, accompanied by almost inaudible groans, until the pain settled into numbness. She smiled in acknowledgement. Next she leaned down and dragged an earring across his testicles and then across the head of his penis. Faranger bucked, trying to press himself against the stones enough to trigger a climax, but fruitlessly. Then the woman licked his penis from bottom to top. Faranger writhed again, vainly trying to achieve release. She buried her fingers in his pubic hair to hold him still and closed her mouth around his penis. She sucked and he felt a climax building.

“Yes!” he cried out.

“Oops!” she cried out, as she quickly drew back. She immediately drove her thumbs into the leather cradling his testicles between his legs. She couldn’t reach the pressure point used by the moderator, but that was all right. She didn’t want him to lose his erection. She just wanted to interfere with the climax. They’re playing me like a bass fiddle, Faranger thought ruefully.

“Drat,” she said. “That didn’t last very long.”

As she left Faranger the moderator called out, “Eugenia!”

This woman was another young beautiful one, dressed in black, no jewelry, severe page boy hair. She carried three leather thongs. Their gazes met and held, as required.

First she stroked Faranger’s stiff penis and smiled appreciatively. “Let’s see what we can do about this.” She ran one of the thongs across Faranger’s penis near the base and attached both ends to the post behind him. She efficiently attached the other two above that one so that his penis was pressed against his belly. Each beat of his heart could be felt clearly under the straps. Maybe this would work all by itself, he thought. She smiled at him again and stepped aside so that her colleagues could get a clear, appreciative look at her handiwork. Then she wrapped her arm around the post behind him and gripped his right flank. She lay her cheek against his belly.

A layer of simple desire was added to his hot, impersonal arousal at the feel of her cheek and hair on his skin. She gently licked the tip of his penis. Faranger writhed. Then she worked her tongue into the split at the end. She grasped his testicles and began to massage expertly. Finally his orgasm was allowed to proceed and she pulled her face away. The motion of his hips pressed his penis against the bands painfully, so that each of his cries was a mix of torment and sexual release. He was close to passing out, but the pressure of the edge of the collar against his jaw kept him conscious. In a haze he heard the group at the station applauding.

As soon as his breathing returned to some normalcy, the handlers approached and first removed the collar around his neck and the bindings on his legs. Faranger flinched as scissors were worked underneath the bands of leather tied at the tops of his thighs, but no need. They didn’t pierce his skin. After the leg wrappings were efficiently unwound, each man firmly encased a thigh in his palms and drew them down to his ankles, soothing them impersonally. When they removed the nipple clamps, the return of blood caused new pain, but it was a welcome pain. Next they released the bands across his now flaccid penis. The belt was unbuckled, hands brushing his softening genitals, and the three straps slipped off. Then the dark handler grasped his buttocks and pulled them apart and away from the post so that the blond could work out the plug. Faranger was so spent that all of this manipulation produced only a slight contraction of his pelvic muscles.

Before they released his wrists, the attendant came up, again to his side and just a little behind him, so he could only see the top of her head and her arm as she washed and dried his genitals and belly. With the help of the handlers again, she slipped her hand between the post and his buttocks and applied more of the wonderful salve to his rectum, working her finger in oh so gently.

Lastly they released his wrists and then took him down from the podium and left him to stand before the gathered members of the station. The light and changed so that he was in a spotlight and the people were standing in shadow. With all adornments removed he felt more naked than he had at any time since the evening began. His penis was flaccid, no erection to excite their attention, but the group stood quietly around watching him. His legs felt naked. His bare feet were there for inspection. His back and torso felt thrills of exposure. Still no one moved or spoke. Faranger closed his eyes and gave himself up to vulnerability.

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