Ben is Kept Under Control Ch. 03

I stammered a quick "Yes, Sir" and he began pulling and pinching my nipples, then biting them. Once he'd got them throbbing, he reached over and pulled out a packed of clothes pins. He started by squeezing two onto each nipple and then he placed the rest of them all over my body. By the time he finished, there were some pinching the tender skin in my armpits, two lines of them were running down each side of my chest, more running down my dick and one pinching my foreskin closed.

The quick jolt of pain when each pin was applied gradually turned into a mass of dull aches all over my body as I stood naked and cuffed, hanging from the ceiling hook by my stretched arms. He snapped a Polaroid, then paced silently around my little apartment, before settling down in the armchair with a Coke from the fridge to stare directly at me.

I respectfully dropped my eyes downwards, where I could see that my dick, which had gone limp while he was sticking the clothes pins all over my body, now stood up hard and straight. I looked up and stared longingly at him, but he just returned my stare, and kept me waiting for what felt like hours (but was really only a few minutes) before getting up and walking over to me with the poppers bottle in his hand.

He gave me a long snort to get me riding high, then began rubbing his hands up and down the lines of pins on my chest. Held by the rope to the ceiling, I couldn't back away from the exquisite pain he was causing me, even it I'd wanted to. After a couple more sniffs and a lot of rubbing he went back to his armchair to stare at me and finish off his Coke.

Eventually he got back up and grinned wickedly at me as one hand grabbed my balls and kept squeezing hard, sending shooting pains up through my groin, while the other began pulling the pins off by one, starting with the armpits and going down my chest. If he'd pulled them all off quickly it would have been shocking, but it would have been over with. Instead he took his time, being deliberately slow, to drag the whole scene out and make me feel the pain all the more.

Each time he pulled a pin off, the resulting rush of blood was far more painful than when he'd first placed it on me. The long drawn out process and the excruciating pain combined with the excitement of being back under his control and sent me over the edge into a state close to hysteria.

It was more than I could take, the same helpless feeling you get when you're being tickled and that was how I reacted. I could hear myself squealing like a little girl and I couldn't stop my body jerking uncontrollably each time a pin came off. It seemed to amuse him until the moment when, to my horror, my leg jerked upwards of its own accord and my knee caught him squarely in the groin!

He almost doubled over with the pain and shock and he backed away from me gulping in deep breaths and holding his tender balls. I couldn't believe what had happened and I stood fearfully staring open-mouthed at him as the look on his face changed from shock to anger.

The exact moment I opened my mouth to say how sorry I was, his hand came up and slapped me hard on the right side of my face. I was startled and hurt, and even more so when I got hit even harder on the other cheek and he brought a knee up into my balls and lifting me off the ground. The blows to my face brought tears to my eyes and made me dizzy, while the shot to the balls almost made me throw up.

As I stood dry-heaving in shock he reached up to unlock the cuffs on my wrists and watched me fall to the floor on my sore backside.

"You fucking arsehole, what the bloody hell do you think you were doing? You couldn't even take a few clothes pins without screaming your head off like some hysterical faggot and then you kick me in the fucking balls. That's it kid, I'm out of here, I thought you were better than that."

What he'd done wasn't right; surely he could see I'd hurt him by accident, but he'd hit me deliberately in anger and he didn't seem to recognize that fact. But in that moment I was desperate for him to stay and I didn't want my moment of panicky weakness to ruin the rest of our day. As he turned away to leave I stayed on the floor, crawling after him, while trying to explain about the helpless ticklish feeling that had come over me and begging him for another chance.

I put my head down on the floor and kept silent while he stood looking back at me for what felt like an age, with his hand on the door knob. I was ecstatic when I heard him eventually growling an apology back at me.

"Sorry Ben. I lost my temper back there and that was wrong. I should never hit out in anger. That's not what our kind of sex is about."

I looked up at him for a second, repeated my own apology and put my head back down on the floor. Without another word, he strode into the bedroom while I scuffled along on my knees behind him. He took his clothes off and lay down, with his hands folded behind his head on the pillow.

He looked sternly down at me and spoke softly,

"OK, we'll start again and we'll get it right this time. Give me a tongue bath, starting with my feet."

Over the course of the previous night and morning he had used me sexually in all the ways I craved, had dominated and punished me, even showing off the power he had over me to my friends. I shouldn't have forgiven him so easily for striking me in anger, but I'd accepted his apology; I was his and we both knew it.

It had been a hot spring day and walking back from the restaurant had taken a good half hour, so there was a cloak of sweat covering his body. He let his feet hang over the edge of the bed and I instantly began licking and kissing his feet, revelling in the taste and his scent. I took a ridiculously long time on the task I'd been given until he eventually allowed me to climb up on the bed and start work on his calves and thighs.

As I got close to his inner thighs, I was aware of his stiff cock waving at me, but before I could get on it, he pulled me up and pushed my face into his armpits instead. I'd loved the scent of his feet and his legs, but the taste of his pits felt like being dosed with human poppers. My head went forward like a pig snuffling out truffles. I worked on the left pit then moved over to the right; I couldn't stop myself licking the wonderful nectar emanating from his pores and I could have kept licking his body all afternoon.

But he had other plans for me. He told me to lie on my stomach on the bed and stretch out my limbs. He roped each of them to the corners of the bed then gagged me by shoving a dirty tube sock in my mouth that he'd picked out of my laundry basket and tying its mate around my head.

"That'll stop all that girly squealing" he said as he stood snapping another Polaroid. When he pulled the butt plug out of my ass I thought things were about to heat up again, but he disappointed me by walking out of the bedroom and even more so by turning on the TV in the living room.

He was doing the same as he'd done the night before, looking to find a sport he'd never seen being played before. This time he went around the TV dial until he found a baseball game and soon I found out what was his scheme for our afternoon together. His plan was to sit and watch an innings or so of the Yankees playing the Red Sox, and then saunter back to the bedroom when he felt like playing with me!

He'd start pulling on my nipples; or give my ass a few hard swats; or pull the gag out and shove his dick in my mouth: or shove his greasy fingers up my ass; or put his hand under me and slowly jerk my cock, getting my hopes up but always letting go before I got too excited.

I kept hoping that one of these times he'd stop teasing and put his dick up my arse where it belonged, and thought I was getting my wish at the end of the fourth innings when he worked three fingers up my hole and held the popper bottle under my nose. I swivelled my hips and humped up and down on the bed, trying to get a fuck out of him, but once again he just smirked and walked away.

Next time he came in he asked if my mouth was dry and when I nodded eagerly at him, he pulled the gag out, making me think he was going to give some water. But instead he climbed onto the bed, placed his semi-hard cock in my mouth and began filling my mouth and throat with his piss.

Once he'd finished, he pulled out, replaced the gag and went back to his ball game, while all that piss combined with what I'd drunk at brunch meant I desperately needed to pee too. The next time he walked into the room I jerked up and down and groaned as loudly as I could, trying to show him something was wrong. When he undid the gag, I blurted out my desperate need for a piss.

When he began untying my ankles, I thought he was going to allow me to go to the bathroom, but instead he went to fetch a bucket from the kitchen, told me to get up on my knees and placed it underneath me. I was embarrassed and humiliated, but with no alternative I let go and let all the coffee, mimosas, water and piss that I'd drunk so far that day squirt noisily into the bucket.

Once my stream dribbled to its finish, he whisked the bucket away and pushed me back down onto my stomach, tying my ankles to the corners of the bed again and leaving. He didn't return until the Seventh Inning Stretch, saying that when play by play announcer had said "stretch" it had reminded him of what he needed to do with me.

After saying he needed stretch my arse he picked up the butt plug and greased it up, pushed it in me before leaving me once more. This time he stayed till the end of the game, which I was happy to hear ended in a Red Sox triumph in the bottom of the ninth.

When he returned my own bottom couldn't wait and he didn't disappoint. He untied my ankles once more and pushed me back up onto my knees, replaced the butt plug with his own greased-up, rampant dick and began a long and vigorous fuck. He kept pulling out and slamming back in a continuous motion, while working on the rest of my body, either slapping my ass or tapping my balls, or shoving his fingers in my mouth or torturing my tits.

It was all too much for me, especially since I'd been eagerly waiting for this for more than three hours. Pushing me down onto the mattress so that his dick could attacked my hole from a different angle was enough to send me over the edge. The battering he gave my prostate, combined with everything else he did to my body, forced an overwhelming orgasm out of me and moments I heard him shouting in relief and triumph as a load of his cum filled my insides.

As he relaxed and let his body fall to one side of me, his dick flopped out of my hole. He'd done such a successful job of battering and loosening my sphincter muscles that when it did so, most of the cum he'd just pumped into me leaked back out and joined with mine on the soaking wet sheet under me.

After a while he pulled himself together and got up off the bed. Looking down at me, he could see my body spread out on the bed and the soggy wet mess seeping out from between my legs. After sticking his hand under me to feel the soaked sheets underneath me he chuckled and warned me that I'd have to be punished again for cumming without his permission!

Since I was gagged, I couldn't point out pointing out that there was just as much of his cum soaking the sheet as mine. But then, even if I could have said something, I'd still have stayed quiet; I'd only just cum but I was already looking forward to getting spanked again.

But instead of stroking or spanking or paddling my ass, he shocked me instead by picking up the phone on my bedside table and dialling what sounded like a long number. When the call was answered, Robert said hello, read out my number quickly and told the person on the other end of the line to call back.

What the fuck! I was shocked! Who the hell was he calling and why would he stop playing right in the middle of our afternoon of fun?

When I found out I was even more surprised.