Lending Pt. 01

Duncan was careful to be sure he had a wide berth from the sofa's edge, and the coffee table, leading Sam to its edge. There he stopped him with a firm touch on his chest and then turned him to face the sofa; he then tapped the inside of his foot, suggesting to him to widen his stance, which he did. This displayed his cage more prominently, creating an image that Duncan was very pleased with.

He admired Sam as he walked over to the sofa. He liked how Sam's parted lips looked, the way he seemed unable to close them as he stood there panting softly.

He wondered what was doing it for him the most; whether it was the pain of those small spikes tormenting a cock that he needed permission to use, and had been denied release for a month?

Or the humiliation of being stripped and decorated at the whims of people he'd met before in civil society as equals for lunches, meetings, and other functions?

Or the fact his wife had dropped him off at said people's house to be their entertainment for an entire month, while she was undoubtedly going to be entertaining herself on the other side of the world?

Duncan knew it was all those things, he just wondered which one was the strongest in this moment.

He had him stand there while he cleared the coffee table a bit. He folded the fabric, taking his time, and rearranged some of the other tool's he'd gathered for the evening at the far edge so that Sam would have the least chance of knocking them off. Afterwards he walked over to the minibar, pulling out two martini glasses and a third, much wider glass from the freezer, filling them up with ice as he did. He topped off the two martini glasses with a flask from the fridge, a clear beverage pouring into them, and left the wide glass with just ice.

Sam listened attentively, trying to piece together the things around him. He heard more leather, more metal and some plastic, and now the sound of glasses and liquid being poured. He was certain the last was a drink being poured, but the rest he could barely tell. He heard footsteps approaching. Then he moaned sharply as he felt a hand close around his testes, squeezing and tugging them in a direction.

"Follow," Duncan said firmly. Sam obeyed.

Duncan led Sam over to the Sofa. He positioned him between the Sofa and the coffee table, carefully sliding him into the gap and making him face the table.

"I'll guide your knees, lift them up one by one," Duncan said again.

Sam felt a hand around his knee as it applied pressure gently; he let it rise and then felt wood underneath them, a bit of pressure on his shoulder suggesting he should rest his weight on them. Once positioned another hand helped his other knee, taking most of his weight as he lifted it onto the coffee table so that he was now kneeling on the table. Sam then felt a hand on his chest and another on his back. The one on his back started to apply gentle pressure, pushing him forward onto the table, while the one in front supported him and slowed his descent. As his head reached the table Sam felt a soft fabric across his face, padded so that it was almost like a pillow and cushioning his head from the table. He was now lying face down on the coffee table, his back arched with his hands tied behind his back and his rear in the air. His cage swung gently, throbbing occasionally and dripping precum.

Duncan admired the view once again, pleased at how constantly excited his new plaything was. He leaned a knee on the table and reached over him, running first his hands over Sam's shapely ass and lower back, feeling Sam squirm slowly. He changed to his nails and chuckled as he felt Sam tense up, pleased with how his cute butt tightened from the sudden sensation, how his toes curled.

"I hope you're comfortable," He said rather gently.

He traced his fingers over Sam's lower back, spiraling them towards his entrance. When he approached, Sam moaned audibly, to which Duncan responded by trailing his finger away. He did this multiple times, every time noticing the squirming before moving away.

"Someone's excited for something, isn't he?" He added coyly.

"Sir," Sam replied promptly.

"I hope you didn't neglect your cleaning just because you've been rehomed, submissive," Duncan said, rather threateningly.

"No Sir," Sam replied promptly again, rather defensively. "I cleaned down there as well, thoroughly, Sir."

"That's good to hear," Duncan replied. "Even though the diet Hayley has had you on the last few months should be taking care of most of the work, that mustn't mean you should be lax in discipline."

He probed further this time, his fingers sliding over his puckered entrance. Sam let out a pure, shameless moan, his face sinking into the pillow. Duncan chuckled.

"No wonder Hayley described this as your 'bitch switch'," Duncan said mockingly. "Look at you."

He shifted onto the coffee table; one knee folded on top while the other stayed on the floor. He pressed his palm into the side of Sam's head, pushing it into the fabric. The other hand now firmly massaged the edge of his asshole, circling, forcing moan's from Sam that were muffled by the fabric and came out low and primal.

Duncan chuckled once again. He lifted his hand from Sam's hole, raising it up high before bringing it down hard on his left cheek. Sam groaned.

"Thank you Sir," he said, dreamily.

Duncan raised it up again, bringing it down hard once again. He repeated this, focusing on just the left cheek. He counted in his head each blow, admiring the reddening. Sam continued thanking him between his groans for the first ten or so hits before he became unable to form words. Afterwards he simply groaned and moaned into the fabric. By the thirtieth spank he was purring, a helpless subconscious sound that got Duncan hard. He stopped at forty. Sam continued making noise, letting out a long, defeated groan into the pillow.

Duncan flexed his palm. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key. He then went and collapsed into the sofa behind Sam. He admired his handiwork, one of Sam's butt cheeks reddened and bruised while the other left completely untouched. A simple technique that promoted a pure, thorough breakdown into pain for the submissive, without stressing the Dominant out by having to distribute the work over two targets. The reddened cheek complimented the already wonderful view thoroughly, with Sam's well-toned ass, his throbbing cock in its cage and his juicy thick thighs on display for Duncan to admire. Various scenarios flitted through his head, as he made little mental notes of them for later.

He leaned in, reaching over to the cage and taking it in his hand. He felt Sam's torso spasm as he did, which pleased him. This was where he wanted him, shaking and vulnerable with any remaining defenses broken down. He saw Sam arch his hips as his hand closed around his cage, lowering his back and raising his ass, presenting himself to Duncan in a subtle gesture of submission.

"Who's is this?" Duncan said, softly.

"Not mine Sir," Sam said immediately, his voice dazed and gruff.

"So, whether you get to cum or even receive any pleasure at all.." Duncan added, trailing off intentionally.

"It's up to you Sir, it's all up to you," Sam continued, his voice the same.

Duncan chuckled. He reached over with his other hand, cupping Sam's balls and squeezing them gently. He saw drops dribble out as he did, Sam moaning into the pillow distantly as his cage twitched. The other hand he around the cage tightly, tight enough that he knew Sam would feel some of the pressure. Then he pulled his hand along the cage, as if giving him a handjob over the cage, slowly. He reached the tip and then returned to the base before repeating.

The effects on Sam were subtle at first. It was a low groaning, slowly giving way to a whimper. A whimper that didn't leave and instead grew louder, as Sam tried to bury it in the fabric. Duncan saw him turn his head, lying face down now rather than sideways, as if he was in immense effort not to say something.

"Something the matter Sam?" Duncan said, his voice sarcastic.

"Mmmmm," was all Sam was saying. Duncan saw his hands coil into fists and then release, again and again, as if he was fighting something inside.

"That must be quite some pressure in that cage," Duncan continued, his voice still coy. "Forty days without an orgasm must be rough."

"Yssir," Sam tried to speak, his words coming out slurred. Duncan's hands continued their slow torture, moving slightly faster before slowing down, in cycles.

"I'm going to be honest with you, it's unlikely that we're going to let you cum," Duncan said sadistically, to Sam's despair. "Your Mistress had some very specific requests and one of them was to be very frugal with this little guy here."

"Her little 'canned salami'" Duncan said, chuckling. Sam hid his head in embarrassment, his moans pausing as he filled with shame. He couldn't believe she'd told them that.

"This means that me and Mistress P have come up with quite a few ways to take advantage of that, should there come a need to discipline you," He continued. "Mistress P in particular has quite the sadistic streak, so I do recommend not disappointing her."

Duncan stopped his mock handjob. He pressed his thumb against the base of his cock, along the perineum, and massaged it. Sam rocked back and forth against the pressure. Duncan admired the steady stream of cum leaking out of him. He paused and reached over to the lock, moving the key over. He promptly unlocked it, much to Sam's surprise.

"Flex your muscles, I'll need you to be a little flaccid for this part," Duncan told him firmly.

Sam did so. Duncan wiggled the cage tip, making Sam moan desperately as the spikes prodded his immensely sensitive shaft. Ironically the pain only aroused him more, making it even harder to remove. After a few moments however Duncan managed to wiggle it out. He rested the cage at the side, by Sam's foot. His toes curled and relaxed in succession.

"I'll save this cage for later as a punishment, if needed," Duncan added as he inspected Sam's cock.

He reached over, taking it in his hand and rubbing his thumb over the head, just above the ring piercing at his tip. Sam lost his breath at the sensation, yet even as he did he moved in practiced motions. He arched his back, so his chest was now almost level with his head; hips which were thrust upward, presenting them as close to Duncan's eye level as possible.

Duncan was pleased with the gesture. He continued stroking Sam's cock with one hand while he reached for his drink with the other. He continued like this for a few minutes, sipping with one hand while the other made small playful strokes across Sam's dick, teasing poor Sam with minimum effort.

Yet nothing was enough to bring him to orgasm, though in his denied state he still grew close several times. Yet Duncan's touch subsided just at the right time, every time. Sam could only moan, in complete darkness, with his hands firmly restrained. He tried to remain some level of composure but there wasn't much he could do.

Then, as abruptly as Duncan's touch came, it left, leaving Sam to whimper quietly for a moment. He heard shuffling, the opening of a bottle cap. Then he felt something wet, cool and sticky pouring over his entrance.

His asshole quivered; some of it ran down his perineum and down his shaft. Yet his cock remained ignored; instead he felt something cold pressing against his anus, gently trying to push its way in. Sam let it, relaxing his sphincter. He felt his face relax, his mouth opening; he drooled a little as he felt whatever it was easing his well-trained hole open. He was quite sure it was glass, yet he couldn't tell at all how big it was going to be. It pushed and pulled, forwards and backwards, coaxing Sam to give ground, helplessly. Then it slipped in, a sensation that forced a moan from Sam's lips as it slid in further until a flanged edge stopped it. He felt the pressure subside, yet the glass held ground, holding his stretched hole open.

There were footsteps, as he felt Duncan get up from his seat, though Sam couldn't make out much; the floors were well padded, and undoubtedly sound-proofed. He felt him walk away, and he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. And then silence. It lingered, perhaps for five minutes, perhaps more; between the heady sensations, his decent into subspace and the firm dominating presence of the buttplug, Sam couldn't tell.

In fact, more than that he was starting to feel that he didn't need to know. That it was beyond his place to know these things, and that all he should really be doing was what he was told.

The door opened, and the footsteps returned. Sam heard someone stepping behind him, and a moment later felt a firm hand come smacking down on his reddened ass. He yelped, moderately loudly. Just as it landed, he felt the pressure in his asshole changing, as if the plug was being pulled out, and just a moment later it popped out with a plop and a sensation that practically broke him; he purred, a raw animalistic gurgling into the pillow. Then, if that wasn't enough for him, he felt something else pressing against his asshole, something softer yet still firm. He felt the pressure again. This time his defeated hole couldn't put up any form of resistance at all; weakened and stretched out from the glass plug it surrendered immediately, filling him with something else. Sam purred again, the fullness of his ass and the pressure against his prostate driving him into a mental corner. All he could do was purr.

A hand seemed to press against the side of his head, pushing his head into the pillow and using him as leverage as it began to thrust a rhythm of slow, steady strokes. Before he realized it he was rocking his hips with each thrust, the heat and arousal far too much to handle for him. All he could do was lean into it, let himself be violated deeper and deeper with each thrust, relishing in the sharp clap of his ass against the thighs of whoever was topping him.

That was all Sam felt for a span of time that he couldn't fully comprehend, a time that may have been 2 minutes or 10. He was blindfolded, being pounded into a pillow, helpless. Before long he settled into a place that he'd been trained and beaten into time and time again, so often that it was as familiar and comfortable to him as breathing, merely a toy among toys for his betters.

He was surprised he felt something brush against his face. He felt fingers moving away his blindfold, and as it slipped away his eyes adjusted to the rather moderate lighting in the room quickly. And there he saw Duncan, kneeling on one knee, smiling at him. Sam blinked a few times, confused. Yet he didn't stay confused for long as he felt someone, whoever it was who was pounding him, bite his ear gently, an action that made him squirm his face and moan gently.

"Hello Sam," a feminine voice rasped in his ear. "It's so good to see you again dear."

Sam connected the dots rather quickly.

"Hello-" he was interrupted by a particularly deep thrust, no doubt intentional. "Hello Mistress Pam."

"its," he tried to continue, yet Pam pounded harder every time he tried to speak. "It's great to see you- mmm, too, M-Mistress."

"When Duncan told me you were here, I called off the meeting I had this evening," she said between harsh animalistic grunts. "I texted him the details of what I wanted him to do to you until I got here, and I've been hard all the way here."

"Sam, I've been looking forward to this for quite some time you know," she accentuated her sentence with a hard slap across his unreddened cheek with more force than Duncan had used at any point throughout the night. "That wife of yours keeps us well updated with how much she documents her pet."

"Know this, you may be both of ours submissive," she groaned out. "But under this roof you're my bitch, is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Pam yes-" Sam said quickly.

"Fucking say it," Pam barked back, her tone assertive and tribal.

"I'm your bitch Mistress Pam I'm your bitch I'm your bitch I'm yourrr-" Sam muttered in response.

His voice faded off as his prostate gave away, as thick wads of cum gushed out of his dick and turned his thoughts to mush. His eye's went starry, and his cock stayed still; a sign that he'd achieved a prostate orgasm. So even as his balls unloaded all of the cum they'd stored up into the ice bowl underneath, it did nothing to relieve Sam's libido. Not even as his thighs shook, quivering from the sensation as his entire body tightened in surrender. His libido stayed completely intact, an arousal that had just peaked but was going to be there in full force afterwards nonetheless.

Pam leaned down as Sam was in the midst of it and kissed his back tenderly, starting at the back of his neck before working down towards the shoulders. Her hand stroked his thigh, while the other ruffled his head gently.

"That's it, that's my boy," she cooed softly. "Let it all out for your Mistress."

She kept caressing him and kissing him until his shaking subsided and he seemed to ease slightly. Then she straightened, starting to pull out of him slowly. Sam was too exhausted to react, even as the tip of her penis pulled on his asshole as it slipped out. She sported quite the sizeable member; every inch now wet with lube. She lowered to the sofa gently, and as she did she reached for one of Sam's cages, the one without the spikes that Duncan had brought out of Sam's luggage earlier.

She raised the ice bowl, first nudging the ice cubes against his cock so he knew what was there; she giggled as he shuddered but was pleased when he calmed himself and began to tighten his muscles quickly in response. He admired Sam's thick thighs, running the nails of her free hand against them, an action which made Sam's task of getting flaccid much, much harder. Coupled with the fact he'd received little proper release from the prostate orgasm he stayed semi-erect, for so long in fact that Pam gripped his cock at the base and pushed the ice bowl up. She maintained her grip, giggling as he squirmed and yelped helplessly, arms still bound behind his back. She swirled the ice cubes around, making sure every part of his dick felt it. Before long it was finally flaccid, and Pam lowered the bowl to the desk and slipped Sam's cage back on, securing the lock firmly. She leaned back, settling into the sofa, pleased with the view.

"Duncan be a dear and help my sweet Sam to his knees," Pam cooed gently.

Sam felt a tug on his neck, as his chain was pulled on slightly, as Duncan helped him first onto his knees, and then to stand next to the table. As he did, Sam was surprised and utterly embarrassed to see two other people sitting in the adjacent sofa, drinks in hand and smiling at him. He tried to form words, but all he could do was awkwardly smile, too ashamed to say anything.

"Don't mind them, bitch," Pam spoke with a wave of her hand. "You'll be expected to have even bigger audiences soon, so get used to it."

"Yes Mistress," Sam replied meekly as he shuffled into position in front of Pam, settling onto his knees.

Pam admired the creature in front of him. She'd always admired Sam and loved every time he came to visit. Everything from his athletic figure, his youthful charm to his thorough submissiveness. She couldn't believe he was here for her like this; not just for today, but for an entire month!

She smiled, deeply, her cock twitching eagerly.

Duncan passed her a glass, which she reached for and gripped. As she did she raised one of her legs, resting it on the other and holding her foot in front of Sam's mouth.

"Open wide," she said firmly. "Tongue and lips, no teeth."

Sam opened his mouth, taking one of her toes with his lips. He maintained eye contact with Pam as he did, as he started to twirl his tongue around it. He breathed her in, the musk from a long workday, heady and intoxicating. She was still in her garters, panties pushed to the side and with a dress shirt still on. He saw her suit and pants to her side, hanging across the top of the sofa.