The New Slave Ch. 20

“Ross is here to entertain us, not Morgan. Morgan, you did very well my dear. You can go back to your seat. Ross is to finish himself. He knows his body better than anyone else,” she said, her eyes glued to the twitching cock in Morgan’s hand. She slowly let go of him, her fingers actually dripping with his pre-cum. Some of the audience could see this and were just more entranced, wanting to see her finish him. Slowly, Morgan got up and moved back to her dark corner, her head down, disappointed and still embarrassed.

“Finish yourself Ross, we’re all waiting to see it,” the Mistress said, a slight arrogance to her voice. She was having fun, just controlling him. It wasn’t as much a sexual delight as it was a matter of the control over him. The Mistress was abundantly wet. She was anticipating what she would be doing to him later in the evening.

By now the audience of women were in a sexual frenzy. They were demanding sex, having just watched Morgan successfully bring him to the point of throbbing and dripping large amounts of pre-cum. His cock was huge, bobbing and twitching, the dorsal vein sticking out prominently. That alone signaled an excess blood flow to his genitals. He was on the verge of cumming and they wanted to see the sperm flowing.

He knew this. If they wanted a show, he was going to give it to them. And it would help him in the upcoming event.

Ross was so close to cumming that he had to hold onto his outstretched thighs, grasping them tight to control the spasms in his groin. By flexing and holding his PC muscle, he could somewhat control his cock, to a point. He was very aware of that point.

As he felt the spasms die down, he waited a moment, and then looked into the crowd, watching the women as they watched him and cheered him on. He could see Morgan in the shadows, alone, her gown flowing down between her shapely thighs. One of her hands was hidden under the gown, no one paying any attention to her now. She too was aroused and close to orgasm. Like the other women in the audience, she was waiting to see him finish himself.

As his arousal level went down, he reached down between his thighs and softly grasped the thick organ. He began to slowly rub it, pulling the foreskin all the way over the head tightly, and then pulling it back tight to his pubic bone. He could control his orgasm in this manner, with slow stroking. His other hand reached down between his thighs and grasped his left ball. Slowly pulling the stretchy sack downward, he extended it to the point that it looked painful. Even though already a huge sack, the act of stretching it out from his body gave it the appearance of being unbelievably huge. He could hear women in the audience gasp.

What he was doing was a process known to veterinarians as ‘milting’. It was an old procedure in which a vet would take sperm samples from a horse or bull. There was no orgasm to it, but his balls would expel small amounts of sperm. It was pleasurable, but nowhere near as pleasurable as a full-blown orgasm. It was what the doctor had done to him on the first day he was at the facility. She had referred to it as testicular stimulation, or testicular orgasm. But it wasn’t orgasm. If he did it right, he would expel sperm, but not orgasm. He could fake the orgasm part, making the audience think he had cum. By doing this, he could keep his arousal level high enough to keep him hard, but low enough to keep him from cumming too quickly. He had a feeling that he would need to orgasm as the night wore on.

He continued rubbing himself, the audience chanting “cum, cum, cum.” As the audience watched, he continued to slowly rub himself. His left hand grasped the oversized left ball. So that they could see him, he placed his hand back, closer to his body, and allowed his fingers to probe deep into his sack. There, his thumb and middle finger pushed deep and hard into the mushy sack. Near the top of the huge testicle, he could feel the thick chords and tubes that stored and carried the sperm to his cock. He began to prod and manipulate the huge tube. He squeezed it, moving his fingers slightly until he felt that small spot that would produce a favorable result. The Mistress was right, that only he knew his body, better than anyone else. Once he felt that spot, he manipulated it till he felt that funny little twinge, then an immediate popping sensation in his ball. It was a feeling that spread outward from his sack, up into his stomach and down into his thighs.

“Ahhhhhhh,” he cried out loud, knowing that all of the audience could hear him. He jerked his head back, moaning. He was already in a pant, his other hand still rubbing the rock hard cock. Almost immediately, and on cue, a large amount of sperm shot from the tip of his cock. He immediately let go of the spasming cock, allowing the sperm to spurt out of him. By knowing when to let go of his cock and when to reapply pressure to the large tube, he could continue to mimic an orgasm. His cock was twitching, cum still dripping in long creamy rivulets from his cock head. He moaned, he panted, he writhed. On the floor in front of him was an obvious puddle of his creamy ball milk. The amount was small for him, but more than an average male’s orgasm.

“Ahhhhhhh,” another long moan came from him. This time he looked into the audience, finding Morgan. He could see her hand frantically moving between her thighs. He smiled at her, knowing that she could see him. His hand grasped his cock again and began to rub hard. Having expelled such an amount of sperm, he was almost immediately less aroused. He was hard, but not wanting to cum like he was a minute before. Faking it again, he waited to the right moment and allowed his thumb and middle finger to begin stimulating the huge tube. Within seconds he felt that same feeling as a large amount of sperm pumped out his twitching cock. The crowd was going crazy, some of them yelling, others staring in silence as he faked multi orgasmic talents. His cock was still rock hard.

“Unnnggghhh, Unnnggghhh,” was the only sounds coming from him as he bent over, as if exhausted. Still in a pant, he had relaxed the grip on the tube in his ball sack, his cock sticking out with globs of sperm dripping from the head. The puddle in front of him had grown larger, a huge amount of sperm for any man. He immediately threw back his head and began to pant harder, his right hand furiously pumping the still hard cock. At the correct moment, he began the stimulation to the sensitive tube, causing him to again pump out a large amount of the creamy thick male goo. The audience couldn’t believe it. To them, they thought that he had cum three times. Half of them were silent, staring at him, wondering. The other half was yelling for him to cum more. Morgan rested in a tired heap, in her chair in the dark.

After the 3rd orgasm simulation, he dropped his head and slumped forward, as if totally exhausted. His entire body shook as he sat there, his head down, sperm dripping from the now softening cock. It was a trick that he had used when he was an entertainment slave. On nights that he knew he was to perform, he would extract large amounts of sperm from himself, dropping his arousal level so low that he would get hard, but lost most of his desire to cum. He could normally go all night in this manner. The audience had believe it, amazed at him cumming so much and so often. They were all cheering at ‘his performance’. Even the female slaves were standing and staring, their mouths agape as they watched him shoot.

Ross finally slumped forward enough that he tilted over and lay on the floor. He lay there, breathing hard, heaving and shaking, allowing his cock to soften for the full act.

“Now that was a performance,” the Mistress said as she stood up. She walked out into the arena and next to Ross, still lying on the floor. She was clapping as she walked up to him. She knelt down and took a close look at the large puddle of sperm on the carpet. She motioned for a female slave to come over, no doubt as to her cleaning up the mess on the floor.

“We’ll let him rest and then he will begin his first appearance in the arena, with Darcy,” the Mistress said, her eyes on the softening cock still sticking out thickly from him. It was thick and coated in white goo. There was no doubt in her mind that she had just witnessed a male have three orgasms. She was amazed. Ross just lay there moaning.

The mistress motioned for two of the female slaves to come over and help Ross. They quickly moved into the arena and helped him up, holding him while they put fluids to his lips for him to drink. By then his cock was flopping around between his legs, fully soft. Even the servant girls were mesmerized by the thickness, their eyes glued to it as it flopped from thigh to thigh. There was pre-cum and sperm all over his thighs and hands. The Mistress made sure that the slaves cleaned him up, getting him ready for the main event.

Darcy stood in the shadows, watching. She couldn’t wait for her chance to fight the new slave. She knew that she would hurt those huge balls. She wanted it.