The Experiment

The nipple clamps buzzed again. I whimpered as my body tensed, and then the monstrous, twisting, turning shaft in my ass began to recede, still spinning, still working my interior flesh. It pulled back until there was only an inch or so left in me, and then it paused and pushed its way back in again until it rammed my interior wall. I felt something spurt from it into my bowels, and another wave of euphoria cascaded through me. It must have been more of the drugged lubricant. Again my own penis stiffened involuntarily and mashed itself against the cage's spikes. I groaned in pain and frustration.

The monster dildo started to fuck me in earnest then. Still twisting, still rotating, nubs and bumps and studs still grinding themselves against my inner lining, the heavy-duty steel rod began thrusting forcefully, punching the invader into me, battering me. The clamps on my nipples were firing at irregular intervals, sometimes both together, sometimes one at a time, impossible to predict and so I was never ready when the surges came.

"Mmmm ... cocks taste so gooood ... cum tastes soooo gooood ... I love yummy cum in my belly ... my holes want to be filled with delicious cock ... Mmmmm coat my throat coat my throat coat my throat ..." The flashes of obscenity filling my field of view became faster, darker, more urgent.

The black monster fucked me relentlessly. Twisted and punched and turned and surged into me, tireless, inexorable, merciless. The bench shook and rocked with every thrust, faster and faster. More lubricant sprayed inside me. Another rush of ecstasy. My abused cock expanded and contracted, pain and pleasure at war with one another.

Time lost all meaning. All of my senses were overloaded, and still it went on. Seductive whispers repeated themselves until my brain began to accept them as part of its own architecture. At some point I realized I was grunting rhythmically with each thrust, except I couldn't hear myself.

Suddenly the phallus buried itself deep inside my rectum and stopped there. I tried to pull away from it but I had no leverage, my legs were still secure in the stirrups, and I had no strength. My whole body was wrung out. And then the huge artificial cock, still mired in my depths, began to vibrate. It wasn't the delicate buzz of a ladies' sex wand. It was an industrial-grade, deep, high-intensity power-tool sort of grinding that shook my entire body, rattled the apparatus, and directly stimulated my prostate.

For the tenth or the twentieth or the hundredth time — I had no idea — my cock hardened inside its prison, and this time not even the pain of metal spikes could make it subside. Despite the sharp points digging into my shaft, my erection grew until it pressed against the contours of the cage. There wasn't enough room to accommodate a full-size erection, but the intensity of the vibration ensured that blood continued to try to pump its way in as my member struggled against the cold metal. My balls throbbed with need.

"There are sooo many cocks out there ... I want to taste them all ... I love cum so much ... it feels so warm and slippery inside my ass ... I'm such a slut for cock ... I need cock in me all the time ... Mmmmm I swallow cum and it makes me so happy ... the taste of cum means I did a good job ... when I make the cock happy it rewards me with yummy yummy cummm ..."

After an interminable length of time — it might have been a minute, it might have been ten or twenty — the core-rattling vibration stopped. I breathed harshly through my gag, willing my erection to subside. Without any break whatsoever the machine started to to fuck me again. It sprayed more lubricant inside me, and I sighed with pleasure as all of my nerve endings sizzled with delight.

I was utterly disoriented. I felt absolutely pushed past the limits of what my senses could tolerate. It seemed hours had gone by, but I had lost all sense of time. The fucking alternated with the harsh vibrating. The time intervals varied unpredictably.

I wondered if I would just break down, physically, mentally, emotionally. The visual images still teased me, enticed me, excited me. The whispers continued to seduce me. My lust continued to simmer. The piston continued to batter my insides. My cock cage was slick with precum. I had never been so desperate for release. Drool poured out of my mouth around the gag.

And all at once it stopped. The screen went black. The headphones went silent. The monster cock withdrew from my ass, which was left feeling hollow and forever changed. After so much stimulation for so long, the sudden absence of input was like a different kind of shock to my system. I breathed raggedly, hopeful that at last my ordeal was coming to an end. I felt hands on the goggles, lifting them away, letting me see the real word for the first time in what must have been hours.

It took me a few seconds to adjust to the dim light, and then I saw Denise standing there, looking down at me with an awed expression. My eyes widened. I looked around and nobody else was there. There was no music; the room was completely silent but for my labored breathing.

"My God," she said, almost under her breath. I whimpered into my gag. Denise reached down and unfastened it, gently coaxing the rubber obstruction out of my mouth. I took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched my jaw. I tried to thank her, but my throat was raw, and no sound came out.

"Shhhh," Denise said softly. "You've had quite a night. I want to hear all about it, but not right now." She looked me up and down, appraisingly. "I like this version of you," she cooed. I felt pathetic. She reached down as if to stroke my hair but then appeared to notice that it was matted with dried cum and thought better of it. Instead, she lifted one leg and stepped over my prone body so that she was straddled directly above my head. She tugged at the hem of her tight skirt — had she been wearing that earlier? — and shimmied it up to her waist, revealing her bare sex. I flinched. I don't know if it was because I'd just spent hours fixated on cocks, but it was a jarring sight.

"I want you to eat my pussy, Baby," she purred, lowering herself until her slit touched my lips. She leaned forward and braced her hands against the bench. I was in no position to argue. I opened my mouth and began to run my tongue along her labia, then pulled her clit gently into my mouth and suckled it.

Denise growled with pleasure and began to rub herself against my face. She must have forgotten about the mess in my hair or just stopped caring because she grabbed a handful of it to give herself leverage as she used my mouth.

I penetrated her with my tongue, tasting her, and a thick, wet mess drizzled out of her and into my mouth. I knew immediately that it was semen. I'd swallowed enough of it already that night to recognize the taste and the texture. I was shocked. My stomach lurched a little, probably from the feeling of betrayal rather than any particular aversion to its physical properties. In fact, I felt my cock twitch with improbable arousal — not, it occurred to me, from the pussy but from the dollop of cum. Denise didn't stop grinding. She looked down on me with a grin on her face as she panted.

"Don't stop," she barked. "Don't fucking stop. I'm getting close." I didn't have any resistance in me. I was stunned and exhausted and so frustrated from not being able to cum. Maybe this was the night she would let me. So I forged on and worked her with my mouth and tongue until, finally, she shuddered and moaned and then sat heavily on my chest, satisfied, her legs still splayed lewdly apart. We both took a moment to catch our breath. She gave me a long, even look.

"First of all," she began, "yes, that was a man's cum that you ate out of me." She paused as though waiting for a reaction, I stayed silent; she clearly had more to say. "Actually it was two men's cum, but whatever." Again she waited for a reaction; I didn't give her one.

"So here's where we are. I'm very happy to say that you successfully completed the experiment. And I'm as good as my word. The divorce complaint goes in the shredder tomorrow." I let out a relieved sigh. "But that brings us to another decision," she continued, now idly tracing patterns on my bare chest with her fingernails. It felt amazing, particularly with residual amounts of ecstasy in my system.

"I told you that this experiment was helping me to learn things about myself, even though you were its subject," she said. "And I like the things I've discovered — about me *and* about you. You know, I never really thought you were gay. Bicurious, maybe. More importantly, what I thought — and what I now absolutely know for certain — is that you're hopelessly submissive. And it turns out I'm dominant. That can be a great combination. Yin and yang. If we stay together, I think we could have fucking amazing experiences together." At this, she reached back and lightly stroked my abdomen, just above my caged cock. I stiffened.

"You haven't cum in almost a week," she said. I breathed raggedly and nodded. "Well that can change right now," she said. My heart leapt. "You have another choice to make," she continued. "Option One is I remove this cage, lube you up, and give you the greatest hand job you've ever had — though probably the shortest, given how desperate you are to cum." I may have whimpered in anticipation.

"But," she cautioned, "if you choose Option One, that's the end of our marriage." I was stunned.

"Wait," I managed to rasp. "Why? I thought you said we could decide to stay together."

"Mmm," she nodded gravely. "Yes, but if we stay married, it's going to be on my terms. Option Two is that we stay together, but on the understanding that I am your dominant and you are my submissive. And that I will continue to control whether and when you get to orgasm." I couldn't even formulate a response. She paused before continuing.

"I talked to Bruce. You didn't just endure this experiment. You loved it. You loved being controlled and manipulated and manhandled. You loved being fucked. You loved being on your knees and servicing other men. Shit, you loved it when the cum came out of my pussy and landed in your mouth." I flushed with humiliation, but my stomach also fluttered with a little thrill at recalling that moment.

"And *I* love it, Kevin. I love devising ways to expand your boundaries and test your limits. I love pushing your buttons. I love this power. And I love the freedom that comes with being in charge. After I dropped you off here last night, I had a little adventure of my own. When I was setting up your hookup profile I decided to make one for myself too — different website of course. Do you have any idea how easy it is for a reasonably attractive woman to get fucked on demand these days? I got fucked so goddamn good, Kevin, and I'm not going to give that up now." I was struck dumb, humiliated.

"So that's your choice. Option One, you get to cum right now and then we go home and hammer out a mutually acceptable divorce settlement. Option Two, the cage stays on, and we go home and continue on this adventure we've started. Maybe I let you cum anyway as soon as we get home. Maybe I make you wait until tomorrow. Or longer. You won't know. That's the choice. And I think if you're really honest with yourself you'll decide that Option Two is what you really want. What you really *need*."

I was both relieved and terrified. What she was saying rang true. I didn't want to admit it, but it was impossible to deny. It was also impossible to deny that needed to cum so badly that it literally hurt. My balls were engorged. My battered cock ached with need. Release was so close at hand, and all I had to do to get it was to end my marriage.

*****

A month later I was laying in bed watching a movie (a regular movie — not porn, gay or otherwise) when I heard the garage door go up. Denise was home from her latest "date" then. I glanced at the clock — it was a little after ten p.m. She'd been gone a couple of hours. My new cock cage rested comfortably under my sweatpants. Denise had decided that the cage with the spikes in it was too cruel for everyday use — she put it away it for "special" occasions, and the one I wore now simply prevented me from achieving a full erection or masturbating without permission. I also didn't sleep in restraints anymore.

Denise had taken me home that fateful night from Bruce's house when I chose Option Two, and she hadn't let me cum after all. But the next morning she did. Maybe she was rewarding my show of faith. She woke me up, removed the cage, kissed me on the cheek and told me she loved me and that I'd earned it. She let me jerk off, and she recorded it on her phone. I think I lasted about ten seconds, and the ejaculation was practically a religious experience. The first spurt hit me in the face — that's how much pressure my balls were under. I coated my chest, stomach and hand. Denise told me to scoop it all up and swallow it, so I did. She recorded that too.

Denise went out almost every night now. She'd meet some random guy on her dating app, go fuck him, and then come home and tell me in painstaking detail what he'd done to her, what she'd done to him, and how amazing it was. This was humiliating, of course, and it absolutely turned me on.

She did sometimes insist that I eat the cum out of her while she told me about how it got there. Apart from that, she arranged more gay hookups for me, always making sure to cast me in the role of the submissive. Sometimes I was allowed to cum during these encounters, but usually not. It didn't matter. Something about the experience in Bruce's apparatus had changed me. It was like my brain had been rewired to make me worship cock and crave cum. I was actually very content in my new life.

So, hearing the garage door, I turned off the TV and prepared myself for Denise's latest accounting of her escapades. She entered the bedroom, and there was a noticeable spring in her step. She was in a buoyant mood. I started to ask her how her date went, but she shushed me.

She sashayed over to the bed and surprised me by pulling out the key to my cage. I looked at her quizzically. She ignored me and proceeded to unlock and remove the cage. I was shocked — this never happened. She stroked my cock, which almost immediately reached full hardness, and then she mounted me.

I was astonished; she simply climbed up on the bed, hiked her skirt, and plunged her shaved pussy down onto my shaft. It had been so long. The sensation was pure bliss. She was hot and slick and pleasure radiated through me as I sunk into her. My breath caught in my throat.

She leaned forward and rested her hands on my shoulders, then she guided herself up and down, riding my pole slowly, deeply. Her lips were next to my ear, and she whispered, "cum for me, Kevin. Cum inside me now." And that was all it took. I trembled and cried out and shot five days' worth of frustration deep inside her. Her muscles milked me, squeezed every drop out of me.

She stopped moving and just sat there on top of me, my now softening member still inside her. I didn't know why she'd done that, but it was absolutely magical. I allowed myself to enjoy the moment, the release, the scent and feel of her. Of my wife, my soulmate. Then she put her lips next to my ear and whispered, "I'm going to have a baby."

I was dumbfounded.

"But," I stammered, "but you know I'm infertile. We tried a thousand times. We tried everything. There's no way I just got you pregnant." I was in disbelief. She grinned at me.

"No, silly," she tapped my nose with her finger playfully. "It's not yours."

"Oh. Oh — yeah, right," was all I could think to say as I realized the obvious. She'd been having unprotected sex with strangers for a month. "Who's the father then?"

"Oh, who knows," she said with a sigh as she lifted herself off of me. "I might have a guess once I see what it looks like ... especially if it's a different color." She smirked at me. "But just because the sperm wasn't yours doesn't mean it won't be your baby too. You're going to raise it as your own. You're going to be a father."

In that moment I truly hoped that I would be able to see that child as my own, to look at him or her and not always feel shame that it was a product of one of my wife's countless flights of passion with random strangers because I was incapable or unworthy of doing the job myself. Or both.

After I ate my cum out of Denise's pussy and brought her to orgasm with my mouth, I lay with my head in her lap while she tapped away at her iPad, either catching up on work or picking out her next fuck, I figured.

"Honey, it looks like I have another surprise for you," she said in a mischievous, sing-songy voice.

"Oh?"

"I just heard from Bruce. He's come up with a new contraption, and he said he can't think of anyone better to be the first victim — I mean, test subject — than you." I closed my eyes and sighed. She wasn't offering me a choice.

"He sent me some pictures of it, and — my God — that man is diabolical." She giggled. "I can't quite figure out where all of those parts are even going to go! Anyway, you're going to find out. I'm dropping you off Friday evening, and you'll spend the weekend getting a trial run."

I felt a knot forming in the pit of my stomach, but it my dread was tempered by anticipation.

"The good news," she continued, "is that you'll have my permission to cum. In fact, if what Bruce told me about this fucked-up new machine of his is true, you're going to be cumming over and over and over and over, completely against your will, and long after you want it to stop." I shuddered. "So we'd better let you build up your reserves between now and then," she added.

I dutifully accepted my cage.

The End