Private Collection Pt. 03

This story contains bondage, anal toys, spanking, ball beating, pain play and some generally kinky stuff. The story is entirely fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

*****

I suppose it's pretty obvious by now that I like having cock stuffed in my ass. But in all honesty, I'm not that discerning--I'll take pretty much anything up my ass. And sometimes, when I'm in the mood, I actually prefer some sort of toy to cock. There's something about the foreignness, the coldness of a toy that makes my skin tingle all over.

This next fantasy isn't that far from reality... well, let's just say that it started out as a fantasy, but quickly became reality... more than once.

Enjoy!

Hudson Bartholomew

*****

I had been staring at my cock for the past five minutes, which doesn't seem so unusual if it hadn't for the position I was in. Lying on my shoulder blades, my legs were hoisted up and over my head, lengths of rope snaked around my ankles like cuffs, securing them to the headboard.

Meanwhile, my arms were stretched straight down my sides with more rope around my wrists to tie them to the foot of the bed. My cock was inches from my face and my asshole was pointed straight up toward the ceiling. If I was any more flexible, I could give myself a blowjob. As it was, I was thanking my yoga gods for getting me into this position.

I could feel my heartbeat racing, but couldn't do much about it. Taking deep breaths were out of the question in my position and the shallow breathing was only served to speed up my heart.

Staring at my cock didn't help either. It was already hard and swollen--Clinton made sure of that before he tied me up. He's also responsible for the steel cock ring glinting at me, snug against my flesh, separating my cock and balls away from my body. I swear I could see my pulse in the vein that ran along the underside of my dick.

The close proximity of my cock to my face was distracting me from Clinton. He had been moving around the room, collecting his supplies at the foot of bed, outside my line of sight. My asshole clenched in anticipation of what Clinton had in store for me. My ass was hungry, I had been telling Clinton for weeks, and now he was about to feed it.

My breath hitched as Clinton ran a hand gently across my ass cheeks, rubbing and squeezing, getting me accustomed to his touch. He knew I needed that--a gentle, safe moment before things got kinky, a reminder that my pleasure and well being was at the forefront of his mind. It actually helped to calm my racing heart in a way that no deep breathing could.

Then that same caressing hand lifted and came swinging down against my skin in a stinging slap. My cock jerked in response, straining against the steel ring. There goes my calming heartbeat.

"Ready, Jasper?"

"Yes, sir," my answer came out breathy, the anticipation of what was to come making me a little light headed.

"Good, let's get started."

Clinton's hand swung in another firm slap against my other ass cheek, my skin now tingling in a familiar burn.

Clinton disappeared to the foot of the bed and when he returned into my line of sight, he held a bottle high above my ass. He squeezed and a thin stream of clear oil flowed out, landing directly on my perineum, then on my balls, flowing down onto my aching cock, and finally back onto my ass hole. Clinton massaged the oil into my skin, and I couldn't hold back a moan as he caressed my balls, gave my cock a couple of strokes and rubbed a single finger round and round my rosebud.

"What a beautiful little hole you have here," Clinton said, his voice deep and strong, sending shivers up my spine.

"Thank you, sir," I said unsteadily, distracted by his twirling finger.

"What would you like me to do with it?"

"Please, sir. Feed it, sir."

"Feed it with what?"

"Anything you'd like, sir. Everything."

Clinton growled low in his chest. I loved that sound, it made my stomach clench in anticipation.

Without warning he pressed his oil slickened finger into my hole. I gasped slightly at the intrusion, but my muscles quickly relaxed to give him access. His finger sank all the way in and I wiggled my ass to savor that familiar feeling of having a foreign object in my body.

"Mm... Your assishungry," Clinton's voice seemed to drop even lower. "It's trying to suck my hand in."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's give it what it wants, then." A second finger joined the first, and Clinton fucked me with them, twisting them in a circular motion then scissoring them back and forth inside my ass to open me up.

Then a third finger as my muscles relaxed even more. I sighed and let myself melt into the soft bed underneath me. This was perfect, I was built for this--to have my ass stretched open and stuffed. My already hard cock was throbbing and I could see a small drop of precum forming right at the tip.

Clinton suddenly pulled his fingers out and I whimpered involuntarily at the loss. He gave me a couple of hard slaps across my ass in response and I could feel the skin start to color in a burn.

He disappeared and when he came back this time, his hands were full of something shiny, something that made a clanging sound as he juggled them back and forth. I could hear my blood rushing past my ears and I tried unsuccessfully to swallow around the lump that had formed in my throat.

Clinton held up one hand and dangling in the air were four silver balls, each two inches in diameter, attached in a row along a piece of string that ended in a silver ring. My cock jerked at the sight and another dollop of precum dripped from my piss slit on to my chest. I could feel my asshole clenching, hungry for the glistening anal beads.

Clinton lowered his hand and dragged the lowest bead along my ass crack. I flinched at the coldness of the metal--he must have just pulled it from the fridge. I tilted my ass upwards, wanting him to shove the cold metal ball into my ass and instead received a hard slap across my cheeks.

"Patience, Jasper," he said.

"Yes, sir," I whimpered.

Clinton balanced that lowest ball across my perineum, dragging it around in circles, then over my balls and along my rock hard cock. As he continued to draw patterns with the metal ball, I realized it wasn't just a simple metal ball, it was weighted--and it felt heavy. Yet another dollop of precum landed on my chest at the realization.

"Do you want these in your ass, Jasper?" Clinton asked, his voice rumbling from his chest. "In your current position, gravity should pull these balls down into your gut. They'll go so deep, you should be able to feel them in your throat. Would you like that, Jasper?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir."

"Please what?"

"Please stick the balls into my ass, sir. I want to feel them in my throat, sir."

The smile that grew across Clinton's face made my chest constrict. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together in anticipation of what he was about to do to my body. It wasn't a pleasant smile, and if I didn't know him so well, it would have made me panic. Instead, my heartbeat ratcheted up a notch, desiring whatever it was he had in store for me.

Clinton dangled the sting of beads above my ass and with his other hand pressed the first shiny ball against the opening of my body. My hole clenched involuntarily against the coldness of the ball but I forced myself to relax, to open my body to the foreign object.

Clinton pressed harder and I felt myself yielding, slowly opening and stretching until with a final pop, my sphincter snapped shut, trapping the cold steel ball inside my body. It felt like there was a giant ice cube up my ass and my stomach muscles clenched at the feeling, causing the ball to press firmly against my prostate. A small pool of precum had formed in the hollow of my chest and was growing at a rapid pace.

Clinton was right--gravity did do wonders on the ball. I could feel it sink into my body, stretching out my channel and sucking the string in until the next ball was pulled snug against my hole, requesting entrance.

"How does that feel, Jasper?" Clinton asked.

"Good, sir. Great, sir. Thank you, sir." I gasped.

"Want another?"

"Yes, please, sir."

Clinton pushed against the second ball, this one just as cold, and slowly my ass opened to it. And just like before, right when I felt like it wasn't going to go in, my sphincter expanded another millimeter and the second ball fell in. As it sank into my channel, it pushed the first ball even deeper. I could feel the coldness traveling into my body, stretching out my rectum and pressing against my organs.

God, these balls were giant. I only had two in and already felt overly full. I had no idea how I was going to fit two more. My cock was steadily weeping now, the flesh turgid with blood, purple and aching with the need to come. But I wouldn't come--I'm never allowed to come until Clinton said so. And Clinton looked like he had much more in store for me.

Clinton waited until my breathing calmed before pressing the third ball against my twitching hole.

"Number three."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

This one met with more resistance as the first two balls sought passage deeper into my body.

"Relax, Jasper. Let it in."

My entire focus was on my ass, willing it loosen and open to the invading ball, to no avail. So Clinton let go of the remaining balls, letting them drape down my ass crack toward my back. The change in position pulled on the balls inside my ass, and I gasped at the feeling of the cold hard metal pushing against the ring of muscle from the inside.

Clinton reorganized himself so that one hand pressed the third ball against my asshole, while other hand began massaging my lower abdomen, shifting the balls around inside my body, making me cry out at the sensation of foreign objects rolling around inside my gut. But as he massaged, I could feel myself relaxing and opening, and suddenly the third ball popped in.

Shallow breaths, that was all I could manage as Clinton rubbed my ass cheeks, giving me time to get used to being so filled. If I tried to breathe any deeper, it felt like my lungs met the cold steely resistance of the metal balls pushing back. I couldn't control the shivers that swept over my body. The balls were cold, but they were making me break out in sheens of sweat, every nerve was primed and on edge.

"Ready for the last one?"

I really wasn't sure that I was, but I was in no position to say no.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Clinton pressed the last ball, still steely cold against my asshole. He waited until I took one last breath, and as I breathed out, he pushed. The balls inside of me shifted and rearranged themselves until they made room for the last one to join them.

My cock was so hard, it hurt. The puddle of precum on my chest was growing and spilling down over my neck and soaking into the sheet underneath me. The purple angry cock head was staring me straight in the face and I could see the veins running down the length of my cock pulse in time with my heart.

The veins stood out in sharp relief, swollen and full, as if ready to burst at the slightest provocation. I wondered if someone could bleed to death from a ruptured cock vein; with the amount of blood in my cock at the moment, I wouldn't be surprised if it was possible.

Clinton rubbed his hands across my ass cheeks, squeezing them together and pulling them apart in turn. Then he reached one hand down and gave my aching cock a couple of strokes. I was certain the thing would explode, burst all the veins and I would die right there strapped to a bed with metal balls in my ass.

I could even feel the blood pulsing in my cock, as if ready to crest in a crashing wave. But it didn't crash. Instead, my cock got harder and I stayed right there on the precipice, unable to find release. As I cried out and bucked my hips, seeking something to ease the throbbing in my cock, somewhere in the back of my mind I was sending words of praise to that genius person who invented the cock ring. It glinted at me, taunting me, teasing me with a release that it knew I would not find anytime soon.

Then Clinton disappeared again and I involuntarily let out a whimper at the loss of his hand on my dick. I didn't have to wait long until he reappeared, though, this time slapping a wooden paddle against his palm. The paddle was about the size of Clinton's hand, oblong shaped and dotted with holes; the solidthwacksound it made against Clinton's palm made my heart skip a beat.

Anticipation mixed with a twinge of fear flooded my system as I realized what was next. I wasn't a huge fan of pain, but just the right amount brought me to that nirvana place where my mind emptied and my body was reduced to a mass of firing neurons. My asshole clenched around the metal balls—I knew that Clinton could and would masterfully bring me to that place. The coldness of the balls was fading, but I still shivered as my body readied itself for the pain.

Clinton had that smile on his face again, the predatory one that suggested that he had some devious plan in mind. My stomach churned and the balls moved in response to that smile. I tried to choke back the whimper that escaped my throat and pulled at my restraints, finding a sense of security in the ropes around my wrists and ankles.

Clinton placed the paddle gently against my flesh, rubbing it back and forth, introducing me to the texture of the instrument. I sighed at the feeling of the hard wood against my skin, closing my eyes and letting myself relax into the bed. Then without warning, he lifted the paddle and brought it down hard against my ass. I cried out as a fire ignited across my skin, raging against the coldness of the balls inside.

"One," Clinton counted.

He raised his hand again and brought down the paddle on the other cheek. I was ready for it this time, but still cried out at the sting of the hard wood. Shifting, I gasped again as the balls moved independently inside me, massaging my organs as the paddle massaged my flesh.

"Two."

Again and again, Clinton spanked me with the paddle, alternating first the one cheek and then the next until my entire ass burned. I couldn't help but wriggle under the attack, which only served to rearranging the balls inside my gut, pushing my organs into new positions within my body.

I don't know how long this went on for. A couple of minutes, most likely. Clinton was counting, but I quickly tuned him out as the sensations he wrought on my body took over my senses. My ass was on fire, the heat radiating from my reddened skin throughout the rest of my body until I was about to spontaneously combust. The heat even reached the balls in my ass, heating them until they felt like coals burning my gut--shifting, burning coals that seared my insides setting me on fire from the inside out.

I even forgot about my cock momentarily, still hard and leaking just inches from my face. My whole body was a tangle of nerves in danger of short-circuiting my brain.

"Twenty-nine."

"Thirty."

When Clinton finally paused, my head was spinning, all rational thought had been driven from my mind. I gasped for air, trying to orient myself, pulling at my ropes to try to ground myself again. But I was given no real respite as I saw Clinton throw the paddle to the side and reach for the ring that kept the balls from getting lost inside my body.

"Oh god..." the words escaped my mouth before I realized I had uttered them. They earned me an evil grin from Clinton. My heart raced and I bit my lip, bracing myself for what was next.

With one hand pulling at the ring, Clinton's other hand wrapped itself around my achingly hard cock. I was certain I'd explode the minute he touched it, but the cock ring was doing its job and kept me right on the edge to suffer more of Clinton's ministrations. When I bucked my hips to get enough friction on my cock, Clinton's evil grin grew into a smile and he squeezed tightly and shook his head.

"Jasper," he warned.

I whimpered, not able to find a voice to respond.

"You know what the rules are, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." The words came out at barely a whisper, laced with desperation and need.

"What's the rule?"

"You control my pleasure," I sounded whiny, I knew, but I couldn't help it. All I could think of was the way Clinton's hand was slowly stroking and massaging my cock.

"So what does that mean?"

"No moving," I gasped as Clinton's hand twisted around the sensitive head. I fought to keep still, hands grasping at the rope and every inch of muscle strained with tension.

"Good boy."

Then he started pulling at the balls inside and I let out a strangled cry, convinced that my body would explode into a million pieces before he was done with me. I could feel the balls pressing against the ring of muscle from the inside, seeking exit. I couldn't help but clamp down around the ball, unconsciously wanting to keep the balls inside. This only made the sensation greater and when Clinton finally tugged hard enough pull the ball from my ass, my whole body convulsed as pleasure shot from my ass over my entire being.

I was grasping at my restraints, moaning and groaning incoherently, wanting to fuck Clinton's hand but trying my best not to. I was so close, right on that edge--I could almost taste that sweet pleasure of release. But Clinton was a master in the art of delayed gratification and squeezed my cockhead painfully whenever he sensed I got too close to cumming.

Then he started on the next ball and the same thing. I clamped down around the ball, my body's unconscious desire to keep it inside, but Clinton kept a steady pressure until my body released and spasmed with the sensation of having something pulled from my gut.

I was gasping for breath, all the blood in my body concentrated in that one organ Clinton held in his hand. My head was spinning, my body shot through with more sensations that my brain could process. There was no way I would survive the rest of this, I was sure I'd fall apart well before Clinton was finished with me.

The next two balls came out quickly, one right after the other, my body convulsing almost painfully as Clinton picked up the tempo on my cock. I was right there, a fraction away from falling over the edge, then at the very last second he let go and stepped back, leaving me on the precipice, every muscle primed for release with no way to find it.

"Ahh..." I screamed, the sound leaving my mouth without me realizing it. My asshole clenched furiously, seeking something to fill it, something to bring me that sweet release my body longed for. Instead, all I had was the rushing of my blood past my ears as the urgency to cum receded, leaving my cock no less hard and leaking.

I was soaked with a mix of sweat and precum, the smell of it strong and heady as it wafted off my body. Every gasping breath was filled with the smell of man and sex, and my head spun knowing that the smell was coming from me.

"Please. Please, sir," I begged, as Clinton stood there with the balls dangling from his hand and that evil, evil grin on his face. "Please." My voice broke as I came down from the high and the urgency to cum faded from a relentless need to a burning itch.

"No," Clinton's voice was thick and low, dominating but tainted with a layer of desire. My cock jumped at the knowledge that he was as affected as I was. "I don't think so, not yet."

I swallowed, bracing myself as Clinton dropped the balls at the foot of the bed, sending the mattress bouncing from their weight. He took his time down there, moving things around while I stared up at the ceiling, stomach churning in anticipation of what would come next.

After the heavy silver balls, my ass felt empty, like something was missing and I desperately wanted to be filled again. Clinton came to stand over me again, bending over to look me straight in the eye. I hoped he could see the need in my eyes, the desperation to find that completion that only he could offer.