Husband/Boyfriend Punishment Night

I'm set on the pole's plate and they go to work, first clipping my ankles in place. I'd be a fool to struggle now - if they let go I'd fall flat on my nose. But I won't struggle, and they won't let go until I'm safe.

This is a magical moment. Some of us really want to struggle, to try to resist (you and your partner had best discuss this with either Maurice or Treyvon ahead of time, so they know it's what you want, and not a panic attack) but I find the best way to enjoy it is just to relax and go with the flow. I offer my body to be bound (granted, I am already!), allowing my arms to fall limp as they unlock my wrists and move them around to the back of the pole to be relocked for my chastisement. I shudder as I hear the padlock click - I pull on my wrists and yes, they're definitely fastened together, and to the pole. I'm not going anywhere!

I sink into subspace as my arms are strapped back, the bands across my shoulders and upper chest are threaded into my armpits and fastened behind me. They'll tighten it all up once everything's in place.

The shoulder bands are a little tricky. They shouldn't be too low or they'll obstruct my chest, but if they're too high they might choke me. To ensure they don't, my handlers fasten them together with a stud just below my neck; as they're tightened they'll press across my upper chest, but not on my neck. Still, the real safety lies in the skill of my binders. They know just how tight everything needs to be to ensure I'm properly and safely punished.

My thigh straps go on next. I sigh as they tighten them in stages, my crotch becoming more and more immobile, the pole pressing deeper into my butt-crack. Treyvon pinches both my nipples hard to make me squirm, facilitating their final all-around tightening. Samantha wanders over, her languid stroll as erotic as the hell I'm about to enter.

Arrgg... that cage again.

"Patience honey - it'll be off soon."

She's holding yet another pair of leather straps, one wider than the other.

"I think he needs a bit more restraining. I don't want his legs to wriggle," she declares, handing the narrow strap temporarily to Maurice. She bends down to loop the wide strap around my legs just below my knees, then cinches it in the space between my legs with the narrow one which she ties off to the pole - Samantha's pretty skilled at bondage too. I really can't move now, but just to check, she gives my nipples another hard pinch. Owwww...

"Looks good. Let's let that big guy loose!"

It's about time - but who am I to complain!

She pulls out her key and kneels in front of me. Oh the sweet relief as the cage opens and I spring forward. She takes me in her mouth, sliding her lips over my turgid member, tonguing me with terrifying skill as I struggle in the ties that bind me.

Oh God, Samantha, please, please don't make me come, not now - I dare not beg out loud or she will, and I'll have to endure what's coming next without the powerful anaesthetic balm of pent-up sexual arousal - that would be real punishment!

I have to trust her.

She's merciful. Once I'm hard as a rock she snaps a ring around the base of my satisfactorily-stiffened shaft and stands. She looks me over and shakes her head with a mock-serious frown.

"Well, we can't have the whole club watching that go round and round, can we?"

She has another trick up her sleeve, that is, in a box Vanya just handed her, a box holding a supple rubber sleeve with a thin tygon tube about five feet long extending from the end. Samantha lifts the apparatus from its container and rolls up the sleeve, then unrolls it over my hapless erection - it's sticky inside and since I'm not lubricated - Samantha took care to squeegee me with her lips as she released me - it won't slide off. She waves the free end of the tube menacingly before my eyes.

It takes a little prodding on account of its flexibility but she gets the tube snaked between my legs and past the pole, then unbuckles the ball gag which has been hanging around my neck for the last hour or so. It has a small plug, removable from the outside, and after popping it loose she slides the tube through the ball - a couple of barbs near the exit will prevent it from slipping back out.

"Just in case you come while you're being whipped, sweetie. I don't want any of your precious bodily fluids out here on the floor where just anyone could get them."

With that she stuffs the gag into my mouth and buckles it tightly around my neck. Vanya dresses the tube neatly over my shoulder and tapes it to the pole behind me - it wouldn't do for it to get in the path of the whips.

If this all seems a bit humiliating, it is. Should I come during my punishment, which I don't think is likely - I'm not that much of a pain slut - I won't enjoy having a hefty bolus of my gizm squirting down my throat. I'm amazed that Samantha does seem to enjoy that - I've always found it hard to understand. I suppose it's an acquired taste - and under the present circumstances who am I to question why she wants me to to acquire it.

There's a simple enough explanation for Samantha's seeming cruelty, though. One of her secret lawyer phobias - it came out when we were 'negotiating' our marriage - is the threat of paternity suits. As long as everyone at the club sees me in chastity whenever I'm undressed she thinks that the probability of such a suit is substantially reduced. I have no doubt she's correct - I can't come in the chastity cage - we've tried!

But some people do come when they're whipped or spanked. I never have though I understand the sensations involved, and there's always a first time, so Samantha's not taking any chances.

And at this point I'm fully prepared, as ready as I'll ever be to face the machine - or so I think. I shudder with anticipation but at least I don't have to control my erection. I relax in my bonds - there's nothing else I can do!

"Suffer pretty, my darling. I'll come get you when you're done," Samantha calls out as she wanders off to spend more time with her friends.

****

Snap snap snap snap snap.

ARRRGG...AIEEEE...

I can't see the carousel any more - it's behind me, but I think I know who that is. He's a screamer. He held it in for the first few sets, but now he's losing control - if it's who I think it is he likes to challenge himself, see how long he can hold out. It won't take many more screams before the DM... Oh, here she comes now, to request his gag be inserted. I'd be a screamer too, but I don't have to worry about that.

Not being able to see their faces makes it harder to judge how long I'll be waiting. It could be the next revolution, it could be close to half an hour. It won't be longer than that - no one's allowed to endure more, and my extra preparations took an additional five minutes or so. I squirm a little, testing my bonds. Yes, they're secure.

I look down at my glistening chest and wriggle, sending waves up and down my abs and pecs. Not bad. I wonder if anyone will be watching - I can't see the chairs from here either. Might as well just try not to think about much of anything...

except my consummate stupidity. Have I set back our schedule a month? How could I be so thoughtless, so insensitive?

Appropriate thoughts to have, under the circumstances.

If I tip my head as far forward as I possibly can, I can just see past my swollen, sleeved, inconsiderate manhood, see the corner of my barcode dangling below.

What does it say? When I'm rotated into position for the first time and the laser shoots out to read it, what will the machine be instructed to do?

Most miscreant's barcodes indicate just two things: total number of strokes and stroke intensity. Their partners accept the defaults from there.

But there are more settings, such as the interval between each of the five strokes. Then there's progression - will the strokes march evenly up, down or sometimes up, sometimes down over my chest for each five, or will they fill in the raster at random? Extension - how far will the whips circle to my sides before the tips land - further tends to be more painful. There are several more. Even the count of five could once be modified, but the club decided that interrupting that cadence spoiled the music.

Curiosity got the better of me when we acquired the machine; Samantha and I came over one morning to experiment. As a result she knows a lot, way too much really, about how I react to each parameter. She may have set up something devastating; I understand now that she had every reason to do so.

Wait, is that the crane I hear?

No, it's just Vanya, over at the intake table, clipping her spray can to her belt. My anxiety must be getting the better of me.

But Vanya's up to something. As she approaches she's churning the beautiful bronze muscles surrounding her navel in a salaciously pornographic private belly dance.

"Samantha messaged us."

Vanya locks me in her gaze. I squirm in my restraints.

"She suggested I keep you company when I have a moment. The wall's full so I won't be needed there for a bit. Want some water?"

I nod and she holds a water bottle up to my face, easing its long, stiff nozzle past my gag. She squeezes gently; the cool stream is mighty welcome for sure, but my ball-gag-suppressed sigh is ominously amplified by her fingers caressing my sleeved, swollen cock.

Oh no, I shudder. Did Samantha send you over to make me come?

I trust Samantha, and I trust Vanya. They won't send me into hell without any defences.

That doesn't mean she'll make it easy for me.

Vanya strokes my manhood methodically as she rakes her fingernails across my sensitized chest, all the while gazing into my eyes with her Mona Lisa smile. I squirm helplessly in my bonds, rattling my locked wrists behind me in desperation.

"I'll bet Samantha just loves feeling that big, stiff penis plunging into her luscious sex!" Vanya purrs.

Oh God - it remains tacit how much I enjoyed plunging it into Vanya's. I struggle fiercely as waves of pleasure shoot through my immobilized body.

"I know she won't be watching you suffer but I will, when I have the chance. I love hearing the sound of those whips lacing your tender flesh. I'll watch your welts blossom deep red as the minutes tick by. Too bad you're gagged - I'd so like to hear you scream out loud when the rubber tails lash you without mercy."

It's almost more than I can bear, but Vanya knows me well. She stops just before I reach the point of no return, leaving me gasping through my gag.

"Like some more water?"

Yes, yes please, I nod.

The stream is heavenly - at least it's safe for me to enjoy that relief.

"I glanced at your sentence - Samantha must be really angry about something you did. I'd better fix my fingernail scratches before you're up. Can't have you getting infected!"

She takes the spray from her belt and replenishes my coating. I writhe as she makes her marks sting afresh, then the liquid dries smooth, erasing them as it goes. I hope my struggles give her pleasure - she deserves it.

She stands to one side as Maurice and Treyvon hurry over to check my bonds. They find a couple of issues and tighten me up a bit. I'm really ready now.

We all hear the crane this time.

"Have a nice ride, husband," Vanya taunts as she hurries back to her post.

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Mmmmphff...

I'll be preceding the gagged screamer. The carousel rotates. I rise into the air; I'm lowered into position. I feel a clunk as the spokes clamp around the top and bottom of my pole...

Snap snap snap...

I can almost feel the chastising tentacles swishing with wicked precision through the air to my left

snap snap.

Owwww...

The carousel moves again. This is it, I think, sinking further into subspace. I have just a moment to take in the full fearsomeness of the machine as the laser beam homes in on my barcode, before it springs into action.

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMMMPHFF...URK...

Like I said, the first five can be quite a shock! The carousel revolves again.

OH, MY, GOD (it comes out as MRF, MRF, GMRF). The hot pain wells up in my chest - Samantha's chosen an even spacing, so it got me top to bottom, though it may be bottom to top next time, and the intensity/extension she specified is just short of brutal.

MMRRRRRRRRRRRG... I struggle valiantly, but it's useless - I really can't move!

Kalisha comes over. She heard the elevated intensity - she'll check if my damage is within safe limits.

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Owwww...

She waits until I'm in third position before she makes her assessment. She examines my five reddening welts, then walks away.

She's satisfied, I suppose, that it really is within safe limits. I feel myself rotating into position for strokes six through ten, of how many? Oh Samantha...

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMPhff...urk...
It's funny. Sometimes the second set is easier than the first, and subsequent sets get easier yet, until they don't. Somewhere around thirty or forty strokes the pain settles to a dull roar, and then it starts to build, growing worse and worse as the strokes fill in. I'm guessing I'm going to get at least a hundred.

Around and around we go. At some point the gagged screamer gets lifted off, but I don't notice right away since I'm desperately anticipating my next set when it happens. It sinks in later when I realize I'm the only one gagged. His replacement starts crying after twenty or thirty strokes, but apparently he's experienced - he doesn't get rescued. My chest is getting redder and redder, the pain more and more throbbing.

At the same time there's a strange warmth welling up inside. Is this what it's like to approach climax during a whipping, just from the pain? Am I going to come; am I a pain slut after all?

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMPHFF... MMMMPHFF... MMMMMPHFF...

I didn't.

But Samantha is waiting for me as I rotate away from prime, with a bottle of lubricant and a sadistic grin. She grabs me by my sleeve and begins massaging.

NO, SAMANTHA, NO, NO I try to scream, but of course nothing intelligible comes out. It doesn't matter, she knows exactly what I'm trying to communicate.

I shudder and squirm, but my resistance is futile. I can't move my crotch, can't move my hands to defend myself, can't escape her exquisitely maleficent stimulation. I buck and twist. As the carousel rotates she follows me around without missing a stroke. I'm teetering on the edge, but not going over. We rotate again. Samantha does not follow me this time, of course!

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMMMPHFF... MMMMMPHFF...

I still didn't.

She's waiting as I emerge, and resumes her ministrations. I twist, squirm, buck, then begin undulating sinuously. The pain recedes dramatically as we move to position three, but I'm not quite over the edge. Samantha releases me as the carousel starts to rotate.

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP...

MMMMMMMMMPHFF...MMMMRRRGGGMMPH

I explode in orgasm.

SNAP... SNAP.

My body shudders violently as the last two strokes fall, reinforcing my orgasm fivefold. My bodily essence rushes into my mouth, splattering down my throat.

Ukkk, Ukkk... URK...

I swallow furiously, thrashing in my bonds, convulsing again and again, my fingers and toes clenching and unclenching behind and beneath me

MMMMPHFF... MMMRRRRRF...

I rotate away. Samantha's gone. The pain roars back threefold. How many strokes do I still have to go? How am I going to bear it? If only I'd come like that yesterday, or the day before, inside Samantha, I wouldn't be here now. How could I have been so thoughtless?

This reflection gives me the strength to continue, as if I had a choice. I'm doing this for Samantha, I'm learning my lesson, I'll be more attentive from now on.

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Owwww...

I wonder what the others thought of my eruption. Did the carousel move? I sag into my bonds, exhausted.

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Owwww... ohhhhh...

It's not over yet, is it?

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMMMPHFF... Tears pour down my face, dripping from my chin, oozing over the raging fire below. How long? Oh Lord, how long, Samantha?

The carousel goes round and round, painted ponies go up and down...what's happening in my feverish mind? Will I faint from the pain? There's a jiggle as someone new is locked in place, and I rotate to position three. Now I know I have at least five more strokes to go. How many after that?

Snap snap snap snap snap.

Owwww...

As I'm rotated to face the machine again, I see Samantha sauntering over, giving someone high five on the way. Could this be it? Oh God, please...

SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP... SNAP.

MMMMMMMMMPHFF... MMMMMMMMMPHFF... Tears well up again.

I'm sorry, Samantha - I'm really, really sorry.

The carousel rotates. I really am about to faint.

I barely hear my successor's five strokes as I feel myself lifted up, up and away, and set down again. Samantha wipes the anaesthetic lotion over my chest as quickly as she dares.

MMMPHHHHH... It hurts like the devil, but only for a moment. The pain dulls down remarkably fast. She reaches around my neck to release my gag. She rolls the sleeve from my still-erect penis, which flops flaccid the instant she removes the ring from its base. But some things never change - she snaps the chastity cage back on. Makes little difference now!

Maurice and Treyvon hold my arms firmly as they release me from my bonds - they know I can barely stand. Samantha takes my hand and the three of them guide me to one of the viewing chairs. I suppose in a moment the sight of me will strike fear into the heart of the one now being lifted into place, but I'm not paying it any mind.

"Oh you poor boy. Did I overdo the settings?"

She doesn't wait for an answer - I don't volunteer one.

"Let's get you rested up and get out of here." She gives me a sip of water.

"Think you can make it to the changing room?"

"Yes," I reply with a wan smile. I stand up, unsteadily but successfully. Samantha holds me for a moment and to my amazement I'm already starting to feel better. I've atoned for my thoughtlessness. It's time to get home.

She parks me at the door with a friend to support me as she fetches the car, and I'm helped in.

As we're driving away she reaches over, just for a moment, to squeeze my hand.

"You did SO well tonight. I'm proud of you. And now I know I married my dream pain slut after all."

"With a little help from you!" I reply, managing a chuckle.

"Well, don't forget you have that report due Friday. I think you'd better wear the cage until you get it finished. When you come to bed you can take it off, but if you wake me, or so much as touch me, it goes right back on!"

Huh?

"Friday night we'll have a nice dinner - I'll cook. We can watch TV for a while, then go to bed early. We both need some rest. You'll have to wear the cage that night too."

"Uh, why?"

"I should ovulate by Sunday. I'll bet those big balls can make a fresh load for me by Saturday night!"

"Oh."

This is going to take a minute to process. I feel a flash of anger, then I realize I can't be upset with Samantha - she never said anything about ovulating any sooner. The math works out; how could I have been off by so much? I start giggling uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?"

"Never mind. I'm just looking forward to Saturday night!"

I have plenty of other sins to atone for.

********

I slide into Samantha, feeling her lusciously slippery feminine juices surround me, welcoming me. She groans with pleasure as I press my turgid shaft all the way through the gates to her garden of delight, gently, firmly, until my balls squeeze tight against her supple flesh. In and out I go, slowly at first, swelling, growing rock-hard inside her as she rocks gently beneath me. We move together, a little faster, undulating in mutual pleasure. My chest is a bit pink, there are still a few visible welts down my sides, but it doesn't hurt, and I push the memory of last Tuesday night to the back of my mind, far enough not to distract, near enough to keep me deliciously firm.