Swing Slave

A swing-chair, clearly meant to be hung on a front porch or a condo balcony was dangling at one end of the living room. Alone, facing away from a bank of windows that overlooked a busy city intersection, it looked a little odd, out of place, like a hooker at a church social. Yet it was clearly the center of attraction at that end of the apartment against the backdrop of the city. The uncluttered space around it left nothing else to focus on.

I had been invited to a party by a couple of lesbian friends from the same building. Jane told me to drop by early, before the crowd got there so I'd feel more comfortable. I was straight and almost all of their friends were lesbian or gay. I told them that someone's sexual orientation made no difference to me, but I was impressed that they were so considerate of my comfort level. I thought of myself as enlightened, able to fit in with any social group. I just didn't understand how instrumental to the success of the party I was going to be.

As we stood around chatting in the living room, I had the unnerving sense that my friends were appraising me. Maybe it was the weed-laced cookies they fed me the moment I walked through the door, but I felt like they were looking at me more like desert, rather than their token straight friend.

"It's really warm in here," Jane said. "The landlord insists on jacking the heat up so the top apartment is comfortable. We think he has a mistress up there and wants to keep her comfortable," she laughed. "Hence the cottage/beach party theme." Jane spun in a theatrical circle to show off her beach attire, a skimpy bikini that did a great job of displaying her size 36 breasts and matching hips. She and her partner Lauren were famous for throwing raunchy parties and this one was shaping up to be no exception.

"Alan, why don't you lose the clothes and pretend you're at the beach?" Jane said. At first I thought she was joking. But from her expression, and the poker-face look on her partner, who was also wearing a string bikini that barely concealed her size D tits, I realized it was more of a rhetorical question. Neither of the women offered me a swimsuit, so following a few stoned minutes and two expectant stares, I figured out that they wanted me to strip. Somehow in my cannabis-addled brain the idea of getting naked on a beach with friends made sense. They didn't even look away while I was undressing. They watched me take my clothes off and smiled, but said nothing. When I was naked Jane pointed to the suspended chair and said, "sit in the chair and slide your legs up through those loops on either side, would you? Oh, and just let your arms relax behind your head. You know, rest the back of your head in your hands. Be comfortable Alan."

Her voice was so matter-of-fact, that I did what I was told without thinking too much about it. To be fair, I did what I was told without thinking at all. I perched tentatively in the chair, one of those complex canvas and wood pole contraptions. This one hung suspended from a metal hook embedded in the ceiling. There was no little side table to put a drink on, no footrest, just the hanging chair framed by a good view of the city from four floors up. My feet swung about a foot and a half off the floor once I settled into the thing.

Now I was sitting completely naked, with my hands behind my head and my legs held wide apart in loops on either side. Again, I should have reacted faster, but before I knew what was happening, one of the women walked quickly to my head and fastened my wrists together with handcuffs.

"It's ok honey," Lauren cooed, "this will just make what's about to happen not your fault," she winked. She tied the cuffs to someplace behind my head on the swing chair. My elbows were bent at thirty-degree angles to my shoulders and my hands were trapped behind my head, but I wasn't uncomfortable. I was just very exposed and unable to do anything about it.

Maybe my vulnerable position finally registered with my cannabis-influenced brain, or maybe my conscious awareness finally caught up with where I was, but as I gained some sense of what might be happening, I noticed my cock start to swell. The women stepped back to admire their handiwork and together we watched my cock grow.

Why was I horny? Women who clearly had plans for me that I had no say in were holding me naked in handcuffs. I watched my boner get stiffer and longer as though it belonged to someone else. We stared fascinated, as it grew bigger.

"It's big isn't it?" Jane said to Lauren. "I guessed it would be. That's why I knew he'd be perfect for this evening." Jane leaned forward impetuously and smiled while she touched my stiff shaft mischievously, tracing lines up and down it with her fingernails, making sure it was as stiff as possible. "Can I measure it?" Jane asked me. By now I was as oblivious to the question as she was to the answer. Jane produced a measuring tape and recorded the length of my straining cock.

They glanced at each other and smiled like they shared a secret, then went about their business and ignored me. I waited for any clue about what was going to happen next. No explanation was offered and I quickly realized that none would be forthcoming. I was erect, on display and completely helpless.

They chatted and busied themselves with little tasks around the apartment, preparing for their party and walking past me as though I was furniture. Or, the thought occurred, as though I was an entertainment installation they were keeping primed for later. Because whenever I started to go soft, one of them would eventually notice and stop what she was doing long enough to harden my cock by pushing the swing slightly so that I had no choice but to fuck the hand that cradled my erection. They paid just enough attention to me to keep my cock hard; just enough to keep me edged all afternoon. Too late I realized that I was destined to be the main attraction at Jane's party.

By the time the sun was going down I had gone soft and been hardened so many times that my cock drooled enough pre-cum to take over from the silicone gel the women had lathered over my balls and erection. They preferred using natural lubricant. I had no idea I could produce that much lube, much less stay hard for almost the whole afternoon. Well, with short breaks, because no one wanted to have to take me to Emerg to explain why I had a hard-on for more than four hours when no prescription pharmaceuticals were involved.

As the sun set the women lit candles. Floor-model candles were placed on either side of the swing chair, like beacons or symbolic torches flanking a sacrificial offering. Jane stroked my boner soothingly and finally explained what was going to happen next.

"You're going to be the guest of honor this evening," she confided in a conspiratorial tone. She stopped playing with the erection they had been cultivating all afternoon and circled around to my head. "Can you open your mouth for me Alan? Stretch ... that's it, all the way open. Good for you!"

She snugged a red rubber ball into my mouth. My teeth automatically bit down on it and she tightened the strap that held the gag in place behind my head. Jane stepped back and smiled, satisfied with her work.

"There! That will save a lot of embarrassing conversation for you so you can focus on keeping your cock hard and enjoying yourself." Jane again used her fingernails on the shaft of my boner, just to be certain it attained it's full potential. Then she and Lauren used their phones to take pictures of their splayed, erect friend.

"Of course we'll be recording your participation this evening according to different requests," Jane explained. "No sense wasting the opportunity. Some of our friends will want souvenirs from the party and as the saying goes, 'one picture or video is worth a thousand words'. Nothing you need to be concerned about dear." She squeezed my erection and twirled the chair playfully.

The first guests arrived early, eager to see the evening's attraction. The woman who had coerced me into this situation, my friend, introduced me as her "find". I was apparently a rarity; a hetero male that could be displayed, played with for hours and still remain erect.

"Oh my, look at that cock! He's so hard," one of their friends gushed. A cute little blonde woman with a page-boy cut and bright red lipstick looked eager to start the evening. She bent over for a closer look, parking her tits in my line of vision and stretching the bikini bottom fabric that barely covered her little round ass. "Can I play with it," she asked Jane excitedly without ever taking her eyes off of my cock.

"Of course you can, he is here for your amusement," she replied. "You are all invited to sample him," she announced to everyone within earshot.

Sample me? What was I a sample of? Was I going to be the main course later?

Before the little blonde could sample me, a tall, dark haired woman with tattoos and piercings dressed in a G-string and a leather bra reached between my legs and gripped my cock with the authority of someone used to being in charge.

"Nice cock. Can he lick too?" she asked. She let go of my cock long enough to slap it, then gripped it in her fist again. She was making it clear that if she were in charge, I would not be so comfortable.

"Of course Gina, I can lower the chair if you like so he's at a more convenient height for you." For the first time I noticed that my chair was attached to a pulley that was hooked to a the steel ring embedded in the ceiling. A thin steel cable ran at an angle and was attached to a small electric winch mounted on the wall.

"Later maybe, I want to see him perform first." The woman stretched my balls away from my erection and slid her other hand along the shaft of my cock thoughtfully, proprietarily, then suddenly released me and walked away.

"You'll get to see him cum later," Jane called after her. "But first, a party game! Who wants to guess how long he is?" Jane shouted over the music. Her eyes danced at the thought of what she was about to say. "Now, bear in mind that whoever can make him harder has a better chance at guessing and winning," Jane announced. About ten guests had arrived and I hoped there were not many more to come. A small group gathered around me to gawk, cop a feel and take pictures. Jane passed out small blank cards. "Take a guess and write it down along with your name. Half-way through the evening all guesses will be read and the winner will get a prize," Jane announced in an excited voice. The little blonde beside her squealed and grabbed my shaft with both hands. It turned out she was good at jerking, and I felt my cock strain and grow in her hands.

"What's the prize? Sex with the straight guy?" An overtly feminine guy asked Jane. "That's not exactly all it's cracked up to be you know," he teased.

"Actually, the prize for correctly guessing my friend's cock length is a night with Lauren and I," Jane said provocatively. She ran her hands suggestively over her breasts and gestured at me, sprawled naked, being edged by the petite blonde, and available to anyone interested in sampling a hetero male.

"What's left of him will be set free after the party," Jane giggled. "But for the rest of the night everybody can use him. The winner of the boner raffle however, will stay here with us for an unforgettable experience with two lesbian bombshells," Jane joked. "The winner will be entitled to do anything they can imagine with us, subject to reasonable limits of course." The little blonde sampling me was doing her best to demonstrate that those same limits did not extend to me.

The evening drifted along. The background murmur of amiable socializing dominated, somehow marginalizing the crude spectacle of the nude man with the erection bound to the sex swing. Beach attired guests chatted casually with one another, pausing to play with my balls or to polish the rigid boner that was never allowed to deflate for long. The cock was not allowed to cum either, except by accident. To my relief, a couple of guests deliberately edged me past the point of no return, just to satisfy their sense of mastery.

It was getting late. Most people had left. But a few party stragglers were still sampling. One of Jane's friends was stripped down to a T-shirt, naked from the waist down and preoccupied with trying to get her pussy licked. Jane worked the winch and the swing chair descended so that my face was at crotch height. She popped my ball-gag out so I could help stem the flow of natural lube escaping her friend's wet slit. The black woman nestled her ass into my face and forced her wet pussy onto my mouth. If I wanted to breathe I had to open my mouth and lick.

"Well, I suppose he could go home with you," Jane mused as she watched her pretty friend with the over-sized ass get eaten. Her tits swung rhythmically as she rode, her big nipples were hardened by the thin cotton fabric stimulating their tips. She had just asked Jane if she could bring me home, like I was some thing that could be borrowed.

Promise to not let him squeal on us?" Jane asked her friend. "I mean, instead of letting him go later, I guess I could just give him to you, as long as you take precautions. He's obviously capable of hard things," she laughed. "Ok you can have him, just make sure a kidnapping/rape charge doesn't come back to bite me in the ass." Jane looked sternly at her friend.

What? She was giving me to this stranger like she was lending a book? Was I supposed to just let this twenty-something black siren take me home with her once the rest of Jane's party friends were done with me? The black woman's stick-out ass was making it difficult for me to breathe again as she wriggled on my face. She leaned forward and pulled on my cock with both hands, temporarily freeing my face from her buttocks. I took a grateful lungful of air then resumed licking.

"What are you going to do with him anyway," Jane asked. "You're girlfriend might not like you coming home with a man. Well, ... a cock anyway," she said.

"What do you think we'll do with him? We'll use him as a live dildo of course, just like you're doing. I mean, we like stiff cocks, just not so much the men they're attached to," she laughed. "I'll keep him for a few days then let him go." She replied slyly, implying she may or may not let the white boy go so fast.

"Uhhh ... wait! The conversation stopped while the black girl grunted, flexed her cheeks and settled her ass onto my face again. "Oh my fucking god! This is so good! Have you noticed," she looked questioningly at Jane. "He seems to lick faster after his air gets cut off a little," she said. "Maybe he's grateful his face isn't all the way up my ass and wants to show me how much." She leaned forward and grabbed my erection again, taking her weight off my face. She hung onto my cock one-handed this time while she rode my face like a rodeo cowgirl. "Lick faster white boy! You can breathe after I cum."

......

In my drug-induced state I was literally led to believe they were going to let me go. After a lot of kissing one another goodbye and assurances that I would not become a liability, they ball-gagged me again, and covered my head with an old reusable shopping bag. Jane's black friend led me down a couple of flights to her apartment. She kept my wrists cuffed behind me so I wouldn't be tempted to run, but she hurried me along just the same with a few well-placed swats on the ass. It was early in the morning so no one was around, but I was naked, handcuffed and hooded ... an unusual and memorable sight in any apartment building. So speed and discretion were paramount.

"CRACK!" Her open hand cracked across my ass again, impatient with my stumbling. "Hurry up slut, I don't want the neighbours calling the cops on me. I have plans for you." I struggled along, still pretty wrecked from a night of being kept stoned and passed around like a pack of cigarettes in a prison.

"My ... my clothes!" I managed to mumble through the gag.

"What? Fuck your clothes bitch, you won't be needing them anymore," she replied, annoyed.

"SMACK! The sound echoed in the stairwell. "Hurry up! I'm sure your clothes will be the last thing on your mind before long." She pushed me along a hallway until we finally stopped at her door.

Once in her apartment, she yanked the grocery bag off my head. I was in the middle of a large apartment with a great third-floor view out of the only window at one end of the place. She unfastened the ball-gag and popped it out of my mouth.

"What are you doing?" I stuttered. "You can't just keep me here. That's kidnapping!" I was working up a more coherent outraged response when the ball-gag was shoved back into my open mouth and snugged tight behind my head again.

"I don't think we'll be needing your input on anything after all," she said. "Just your cock." She smiled and pushed me to my knees. "Maybe your tongue if you can shut up and be an obedient boy." I stayed on the floor, watching her look around the room for something.

"Aha! I knew I kept this for a reason." She pulled a hefty leather dog collar from a drawer and held it up triumphantly. Through my muffed objection, the collar was buckled around my neck and a short chain leash was attached to it. She tugged on the leash and I struggled to my feet to avoid toppling over. I was led to a heavy metal radiator where she forced me to my knees again and tethered me in place. Without further consideration for me, she strolled across the room and got comfortable on a sofa while she accessed her phone. I was dismayed to hear her inviting friends over for what she called an impromptu party.

......

A couple of hours later, after leaving me crouched naked on the floor tethered to her rad, the room filled up with four of her friends in various states of dress or, undress more accurately. They were all black women in her age group, maybe mid-twenties to early forties. They looked at me like I was a consumable product. My capturer read the panicked expression on my face. She walked casually to where I was chained, bent forward and with her tits hanging inches away from my mouth, took my face in her hands.

Yes, my poor little white piece of ass, I'm afraid you're going to have to fuck everyone," she observed dryly. "But first we need to position you so we can all have fun with that remarkable boner that grows so easily with the slightest touch." As if to emphasize her point she flicked her fingers along the length of my deflated cock and watched it stiffen, right on cue. She slapped my face playfully then straightened, satisfied that her captive was going to perform.

"Can I get some assistance girls? We're going to want complete access to him, so I think the doggie position is best for now, yes?" She opened the question up to the others who agreed.

"Yeah, and please, can we tie him in place?" one of the women requested. "I don't want to be suddenly interrupted by a boy that suddenly decides he doesn't want to play. I mean, how else is he going to stay in place? He'll need to last for a few hours of pretty much continuous use. I think we can all agree on that, right?"

Amid a chorus of approving murmurs the chain leash was unclipped from my collar and two strong black women lifted me to my feet. With more than a few slaps on the ass, I was hauled into a bedroom and dumped face down on a mattress.

"Should we uncuff him?" The woman who had kidnapped me wondered.

"For what? We don't really need his hands for anything," another woman grinned.

"Ass up slut!" Two other women pulled me into a doggie position. One of them pushed my face onto the bed and held it there.

"We can flip him over and tie him open later, for now just keep his face down and his ass up," Janice instructed. "This way he can lick and fuck at the same time."