The Experiment

"Hmmm," she mused thoughtfully. "It probably isn't healthy to have this thing on all day *and* all night." Oh for the love of all that is holy, my ears had never heard sweeter words. I was literally trembling as she produced the tiny key and inserted it into the lock at the base of my scrotum. She turned it with an audible click, and at last I had my freedom. My cock sprang free and I took a deep, relieved breath.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you thank you thank you." She smiled at me, knowingly.

"Let's make sure we don't have any damage," she said with a wink and shuffled down to kneel between my outstretched legs. My anticipation was off the charts. She bent over my manhood, which was throbbing with need, and inspected it closely. "Ooh," she said in a sympathetic tone. "These look they must have hurt." She reached down with a single finger and gently caressed the indentations where the cage's bristles had dug into my flesh. That simple touch was pure electricity. I moaned. I needed this. I needed more. "Oh, does that make it feel better," she asked softly, her words blowing her breath across my sensitive glans.

"Yes," I barked hoarsely, urgently. "Yes, please. Please." I didn't even know what to ask her for. "Please more. Please do more," I mumbled stupidly.

"Mmm," she cooed, smiling seductively up at me. "You mean like this?" One finger became two, then her whole hand as she gently — so so gently — caressed the side of my shaft. It was pure bliss. I'd been on the cusp of orgasm repeatedly the night before, and now I was so close. So close. I just needed a little bit more stimulation. Delicately, she encircled me with her fingers and slowly — so so slowly — with the barest touch, moved them up and down. Up slowly. Down slowly. I was going mad. "You like that," she purred.

"Yes," I hissed. "Please. More. Please."

Her other hand gently cupped my balls and I was in total ecstasy. I moaned shamelessly. She continued to gently stroke the shaft — still infuriatingly slowly — and I felt my hips buck involuntarily to try and generate more friction. She pulled away immediately.

"Oh Kevin," she fretted in mock disappointment. "You were doing so well." She affected a disappointed pout.

"Please. Please let me finish," I begged urgently.

"I told you not to move," she chided. "And, wow, I bet you're really really close to the edge there."

"Yes," I insisted between ragged breaths. "Please finish. Please let me finish." She ignored my plea. She ignored my cock as it twitched helplessly, searching for human contact, for friction, for release.

"We can't reward disobedient behavior, though. Maybe we'll try again tomorrow," she said with a sigh as she stood up and straightened out her dress. "Maybe."

"No no no please," I stammered. "Please don't leave me like this!" She turned and gave me a sharp glare.

"If you keep carrying on like that you're going to guarantee that I *don't* let you cum," she warned. "Or maybe our experiment ends right here in failure?" No level of physical arousal could make me forget the consequences of failure. I fell silent.

"Good. Now enjoy tonight's movie, and I'll see you in the morning." With that, she turned on the TV and started a DVD, then switched off the lights and left me there. Another movie. Unbelievable. That night's feature took place in some sort of club where men were tied up and used by other men. Given my painful erection and inability to do anything about it, I decided to close my eyes and try to ignore the film, to let my imagination wander to more innocent things. But it was impossible. Denise had turned the volume way up, and even though I could reach my ears with my hands to cover them, I couldn't hope to drown out the incessant slapping and slurping and moaning.

"Yeah, you like that giant cock all up inside you," a gruff voice was saying over the grunting of his helpless fucktoy. "I'm gonna fill you up with cum, and then everyone else gets a turn on that ass, you fucking bitch." More moaning. There was nothing I could do. It was so fucking hot. I was totally, desperately helpless. The movie turned out to be quite a bit longer than the previous one. And so was that night.

Thursday morning went largely the same as Wednesday had. Denise said nothing about the previous evening, and I didn't dare. The only change was that she swapped my butt plug for an even much larger version. My asshole was stretched beyond anything it had ever experienced, and it was already incredibly sore from the nonstop invasion. As painful and difficult as that insertion was, however, nothing was more demoralizing than having my cage reattached.

I was numbly going through the motions of my morning office routine like a robot when I suddenly felt a jolt inside my core. It literally made me jump out of my chair, and I was lucky nobody else was in my office. It didn't take me long to figure out that my new butt plug had some sort of vibrating feature. While shocking (literally) at first when I hadn't expected it, the sensation actually could be quite pleasant — unnervingly so. The first zap only lasted a couple of seconds. I waited for it to hit again, but nothing happened. Then maybe a half hour later it went off again, a longer pulse, and this time my cock responded by swelling inside its cage — only to run into the rows of bristles that punished me for my would-be erection.

I spent the rest of the day hiding in my office with the door closed, afraid someone would hear the device come on or notice my reaction when it did. There was no discernible pattern to the vibrator's activation. Sometimes only five minutes passed between jolts, and sometimes up to an hour. The vibrations sometimes lasted mere seconds. Other times they pulsed relentlessly for for several minutes. And the intensity varied randomly from a mild buzz to a teeth-clenching onslaught.

I considered removing it and then replacing it shortly before leaving for the day, but I didn't have any lube and, anyway, some part of me feared that Denise would know I had disobeyed her. And I wasn't willing to risk the consequences. By the time I got home that evening, I had folded emotionally into a toxic mixture of both dread and anticipation of the next wave of vibration. The pleasure was undeniable, and so were the excruciating results etched into the side of my repeatedly impaled penis.

Denise had a mischievous smile on her face when I walked into the house that night.

"Did my new toy work," she asked. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Yes," I replied matter-of-factly.

"I'm so glad." She was obviously delighted. "Really cool technology. I can control it from an app on my phone." So that explained the random activation.

Dinner that night was a more perfunctory affair, and immediately afterward Denise stood and told me it was time to go upstairs. I plodded up to our bedroom. Again she instructed me to strip and get on the bed. Again I complied, dully suspicious of what she had in mind next. When I was fully secured in my wrist and ankle cuffs, Denise removed my cock cage. It was, again, a relief to be free of it.

Denise leaned down, her face close to mine, and said in a breathy tone, "today was so much fun for me, Kevin." I tried not to roll my eyes. "No, really," she went on, "every time I pressed that button ... even though I couldn't see you — maybe especially *because* I couldn't see you — it was such a turn-on thinking about the effect it must have been having on you." I grunted noncommittally.

"You know, this little experiment of ours is causing me to learn some things about myself as well as about you," she said, her voice scarcely more than a whisper next to my ear. I was learning a few things about her too, like that she was a sadistic cunt. I didn't say that out loud.

"I really hope you make it to the end, Kevin," she sighed. "Even if you do turn out to be gay, I feel like there are things we could explore together." I said nothing. "That's why," she continued, "tonight I'm going to give you a little treat." I suspected that whatever "treat" she had in mind would be less fun for me than for her. But it took me by surprise when she stood, unzipped up her skirt, and slid it — along with her panties — to the floor.

"I'm fucking soaked, Kevin," she moaned. "I'm so hot, and my clit needs attention. I really, *really* need to cum." And she looked sexy as hell standing there, biting her lip, still in her heels and half-unbuttoned, cream-colored silk blouse, but with her cleanly waxed pussy exposed. My cock responded in kind, swelling and causing all of the little cage-bristle indentations to sting as the blood rushed in to fill them. I didn't care; I couldn't take my eyes off of her slit.

She climbed onto the bed then and stuffed an extra pillow behind my head, lifting it to a 45 degree angle. She straddled my face with her knees on either side of the pillows, grabbed me roughly by my hair with both hands, and pressed her glistening cunt against my mouth.

"Eat my pussy," she growled. And I did. I sucked her clit into my mouth and flicked it back and forth with my tongue; I could hear her sharp intake of breath as I did so. Hungrily, I buried my tongue inside her, tasted her, sucked on her labia. My hands had enough freedom to grab her bare ass, and she gasped in approval. But knowing her intimately as I did, I focused most of my attention on her sweet spot. I was determined to make her cum, still hopeful that she would reward me.

Her passion mounted as I swirled my tongue around her button, and as she neared her climax she ground herself up and down like an animal against my nose, mouth and chin, panting and grunting. Then she screamed, clenched her legs around my head, smothered my face, and her entire body racked with a powerful orgasm. Her juices squirted into my mouth and poured over my face. I couldn't breathe, the lower half of my face stifled by hot, wet, shuddering flesh. And then the shuddering slowed, and so did her breathing. She must have only suddenly realized she was suffocating me because she pulled away quickly.

I gasped for breath, coughed a few times, cleared my throat. She sat on her haunches beside me, trying to catch her breath too, and looked down at me, glowing with the most loving expression on her face that I could recall ever having seen. We both gradually recovered our breath and stared at each other. My cock was still rock hard, still throbbing, still in need of attention. I silently prayed that we had reached some sort of breakthrough.

"I almost forgot how good you are at that," she said between breaths. I allowed myself a modest smile. "Thanks, Kevin," she added. "I *really* needed that." She reached over, grasped my cock in a tight grip and gave it a quick tug. The feeling was heavenly. "That's why I'm going to make sure the next time you cum it's really something special." Then she let go of me, and my heart sank as my cock head drooled precum and the shaft twitched helplessly in the air.

Denise climbed up off the bed, bent over at the waist (giving me a spectacular rear view of her glimmering pussy and ass), and picked up her discarded clothes. Then she walked over to the TV and turned it on. I just lay there, slack-jawed, swollen balls throbbing painfully, almost unable or unwilling to believe how selfishly she had just used me — the condition in which she was going to leave me. The frustration was maddening. It felt like a total betrayal. I actually wanted to throw up.

"I hope you like tonight's movies, Hon," she said. "I set you up with a double feature." She smiled sweetly. "And, really," she added as she headed for the door, "thank you again. I've had all that tension building up inside of me for DAYS." She balled up her little fists and shook them mockingly at the sky. "So frustrating! I don't know what I would have done without that release." She sighed dramatically, hit play on the DVD, blew me a kiss, and walked out into the hall, closing the door behind her. In the brief moment of darkness before the opening credits started, I heard myself whimper.

The first film was about a down-on-his-luck young man on an unsuccessful business trip who is befriended by foreign travelers at the hotel bar and finds himself invited up to their suite for drinks. They soon make him an offer he can't refuse, and he eventually agrees to one debasement after another in exchange for insultingly small amounts of cash. The depravity of it was jarring. The ruthlessness with which the older men pushed him far beyond his boundaries captivated me and kept my lust stoked to peak level. The shame in his eyes as he accepted cock after cock and load after load ... well. It made me shudder in anticipation of a release I could not have.

The second film was darker. It was about two young, white, rich college kids who get sent to prison. There was nothing subtle about the plot. They were quickly set upon by their cell mates, and then later by groups of heavily muscled black gangbangers in the shower, in the prison library, the cafeteria, you name it. The guards even got in on the act, savagely raping them not only with their huge cocks but with their nightsticks, too. By the end of the film, the kids were just hollow shells of themselves, just mindlessly accepting every cock offered to them. It was the most brutal thing I'd ever seen, and it had me grinding my ass against the bed, pushing the butt plug deeper inside me. But there was no way to touch myself. No relief to be had. I humped the air, pulled at my ropes, screamed in frustration, but I was completely helpless.

Friday morning was different. For starters, Denise slipped quietly into the room sometime before dawn; I had been dozing only lightly and fitfully, and I awakened when I heard the door. She softly shushed me then reached underneath my crotch and tugged at the flange of the butt plug. It didn't budge.

"Try to relax," she whispered. I did, and she firmly but gently twisted and pulled at it until it popped free from my hole with a sickening sploosh. She wrapped it up in a towel and then slipped my cage back onto my cock and balls, locking it in place. I groaned. But then she unfastened all of my cuffs and whispered to me that I should get comfortable and try to get some real sleep. She pulled the comforter up over me and slipped out of the room. It was like magic. Once I was able to stretch my limbs and roll over to curl up on my side, I fell into a deathlike slumber.

I was awakened sometime after noon by an urgent sensation in my bowels and bladder. Grateful that I was free of my cuffs (and my plug), I trudged into the bathroom and relieved myself at great length — despite the inconvenient presence of the cage. As I flushed, it struck me that I was very late for work. I bolted out of the bathroom, still naked, to find Denise waiting for me.

"Good morning," she said with a smile. "Or, more accurately, good afternoon."

"I'm super late for work," I replied urgently. She held up a hand.

"Don't worry. I called this morning and told them you're sick. We have other plans."

Unlike the previous few days, Denise didn't have me put in a butt plug, which was a pleasant surprise, since the last several hours of freedom had let my ass start to feel somewhat normal again — still aching but not painfully stretched or full. She also didn't make me put the cock cage back on after my shower, which was even more welcome. She simply handed me some casual clothes to wear and walked down to the kitchen with me, where she had a fresh pot of coffee waiting. She poured a cup for each of us and gestured for me to sit at the table in front of a plate of eggs and toast. She remained standing.

"It's time for the next phase of the experiment," she said. It was already pretty clear to me that something different was going on. I waited for her to elaborate, my relief at being free from my physical encumbrances giving way to trepidation over what was coming. I sipped my coffee.

"While you've been laying around in bed watching movies—" she paused, giving me a hammy grin (ha ha), "—I've been busy making plans. Now I did say that this experiment of ours was going to help us discover whether you're gay. But tying you to the bed and making you watch gay porn isn't going to answer that question. We need some real world data." I had a bad feeling I knew what general direction this was heading. My stomach churned. I set my coffee down and ignored my food.

"The first thing I did," she continued, "was sign you up for one of those gay hookup sites." She casually strolled over to the kitchen island, where her laptop was sitting. She picked it up and bought it over to the table, placing it in front of me. I froze. Stared. On the screen was a user profile with the name "BottomBitch34" and a gallery of pictures of me. I mean, my eyes were strategically obscured by black rectangles, so I probably wouldn't be recognized by someone who knew me, but they undeniably were me. Tied to the bed. Cuffed. My cock fully erect. Oh shit, pulling my nipples? How the fuck . . .

"I've had a camera in the room all week," Denise answered my unasked question. "Sitting right above the TV. Funny, you've practically been looking right at it for hours at a time, but I guess you were too engrossed on what was on the screen just below it to notice." She scoffed in amusement.

"Anyway," she continued, "once I got the initial photos uploaded it didn't take long at all for you to become a very popular account. I could hardly keep up with all the incoming messages." Holy shit. This was getting bad. She went still for a moment and paused. "I mean, it's actually kind of scary some of the things people were willing to admit they wanted to do to you." Then she shook her head quickly. "But don't worry — I'm pretty sure I was able to weed out the psychos." Pretty sure? What?

"So, long story short," she sipped her coffee, "you have plans tonight. At the home of a man who convinced me — well, convinced *me* pretending to be *you* — that he can provide exactly the right conditions for this phase of our experiment." She paused there. I felt shaky. I picked up my mug with both hands and gulped coffee compulsively. Denise just sat there looking at me, expectantly.

"What ... what did you tell him," I asked nervously.

"The truth," she responded. "Or, at least close enough to the truth. Pretending to be you, I told him that I was straight but that my wife caught me watching gay porn and that she was basically blackmailing me into experimenting with a real-life gay experience." I let that sink in. I had to hand it to her. It didn't matter whether she'd created the account herself or forced me to do it. The result was the same.

"Well," she went on, "this gentleman was only too glad to help me out. To help you out. And after we established what your wife's ground rules are for this little event, he was eager to make the arrangements. So in a little while I'm going to drive you to his place and drop you off. And I also have plans tonight, so we need to get going." Wait, drop me off? Ground rules? And what plans did she have? I opened my mouth as if to voice any of the growing number of questions gathering in my mind. But nothing came out.

"Don't strain yourself, Hon," she said. "And I really think you should eat something. You haven't eaten since dinner last night, and you're going to need your strength." I glanced down at the food on my plate and knew that it would be futile to attempt to swallow a single bite. I had no appetite. I had only fear.

A short time later I sat in the passenger seat of her car and watched the trees go by, my mind wandering uncomfortably through the possibilities of what I was about to walk into. What I was probably about to do. Denise broke the silence.

"We're almost there," she said, slowing to turn off the main road onto a much more rural lane. "So, a few things you need to know before we get there." My attention returned to the interior of the car and settled on my clammy hands, uneasily clasped in my lap, as I listened.