The Gala Ch. 05

I need to interrupt the story of my night of orgasm torture to interject a brief aside. Hopefully, you'll forgive the digression because I believe this explanation is important. To do it properly I need to get both scientific and personal.

As my dominant, Claire has generously indulged me and devoted significant time for us to explore my edging fetish. Claire has used this process to teach me a great deal about how I experience an orgasm. Most male orgasms conform to a predictable pattern, and I'm no exception. It all begins with the initial period of arousal. My nervous system wakes up and gets the rest of my body going. I feel my cock come alive. My skin sensitivity increases, and my breathing becomes more rapid. I personally relish the feel of blood rushing to my dick as the tissue transforms into a raging hard-on. There is something special about the sensation of a swelling dick as the heart pumps it full of blood.

Initial arousal morphs into the build-up phase. This is when I really get into the moment. I focus on the parts of my anatomy being stimulated, and I start to ride the physiological wave that my brain is hoping will eventually lead me to a satisfying orgasm. Depending upon the body parts involved, the duration of the build-up can be greatly accelerated, or it can be extended to create an excruciating level of frustration.

If I'm lucky, my nipples get invited to the party, and that makes things even more interesting. My nipples are especially sensitive and seem to have a direct neural connection to my dick. I've had fantasies of cumming just from nipple stimulation, but Claire and I haven't managed to succeed at that yet. Regardless of how long it lasts, the build-up phase is where the real action happens, and it's the part I try to enjoy and hope to prolong the most. Claire has forced me to work diligently, over and over, resisting the urge to cum. Through practice, Claire has made me realize the longer I'm able to delay, the better things are set up for a fantastic orgasm finale.

Eventually, I can't hold back any longer, and my body gets pushed to the brink. I'm on the edge, and I reach the point of no return. It becomes obvious that, resist as I might, there will be no stopping the orgasm from taking over. Despite the inevitable, I've been known to work extra hard to hold back. I tense up and try my damnedest to stop the orgasm's big surge. The effort really is pointless, but I embrace the fiction that I can stop my body from doing what it is destined to do. It would be easy to think this final moment -- the moment where I hang right on the edge, just like a roller coaster about to plunge -- must be my favorite part of cumming, but that would be wrong.

Instead, the part of orgasm that I relish the most is the part that comes a few seconds later - where my body passes the point of release and falls into the throes of convulsion. At that moment, my brain screams for the orgasm to last as long as possible. I savor the pulsing of my cock, the squirts of cum, the contractions of my anal muscles. I want all those sensations to be sustained endlessly, to maintain the proverbial 'stomach-drop' of my orgasmic roller coaster ride. This is the stuff that feeds my best sex fantasies, where I manage to prolong the physical part of the orgasm as much as I'm physically able.

Unfortunately, my sex fantasies do not match human biology. The male body largely prevents my favorite moment from lasting more than a handful of seconds. While I certainly don't understand all the physical causes, I like to believe the body has a built-in safety valve specifically designed to prevent overload of the nervous system. Like most men, when I cum hard my body wants to be D--O--N--E,... DONE. When the orgasm is over, my mind and body collectively cry out for recovery time. My brain and nervous system both expect and need the stimulation to stop. I have learned first-hand that, if my cock receives continuous physical stimulation past the conclusion of orgasm, the sensations can be quite agonizing. It's a situation where all the right pleasure buttons are being pushed to the maximum at the absolute worst time. As Claire and I have experimented, we've come to jokingly refer to this phenomenon as my "off-switch." This off-switch is a powerful opponent. Any time I've tried to pick a fight with it, I have always lost. My off-switch is my orgasmic nemesis.

With that brief explanation out of the way, I'll pick up the story where I left off: my first night at the Gala immediately after the Serious Kit milker sucked me to my first, spectacular, life-altering orgasm.

As my mega-orgasm died away, my brain quickly ran through the entire thought process I've just outlined. What immediately followed was sheer, overwhelming panic. I was strapped to a table and attached to a Serious Kit machine. I could not move. I was going to be forced into one of these losing battles with my off-switch, whether I wanted it or not. After just experiencing a massive orgasm, probably the most outrageously pleasurable orgasm I'd ever experienced, my brain was urgently telling my body: 'Hey! You need a break!' My off-switch had been activated.

But, as Cynthia had warned me earlier that night, the Serious Kit milker did not care what my brain was telling my body. The machine was not going to stop.

Up,... down,... up,... down. The milker sucked voraciously at my cock without any pause whatsoever. "AUUUUGGGGGGH!" I cried out.

I squirmed in my restraints in an attempt to pull my hips away from the vacuum pressure of the cylinder. It was no use.

Up,... down,... up,... down. "Oh, god!" I moaned. The agony had to be obvious from the tone of my voice. The cylinder was unrelenting.

Up,... down,... up,... down. "GHHHHHHUUUH!" I grunted through my gritted teeth. My cock felt as if it was being rubbed with sandpaper, even though I knew better. "AAUGGHH!" I continued to yell with desperation.

"Just look at him. Did you see how he came into that thing?" Through my agony I heard a female voice speaking.

"Oh, yeah. Watching this is so fucking hot!" I heard a second woman responding to the first. "I wonder how long it'll take for him to cum again? You've heard about Amanda's drug injections, right? It's supposed to help them get off faster."

"Really? How cool is that?! Let's see if we can help him along a bit. Watch this and see what happens!" said the first voice again.

Suddenly, the speed of the Serious Kit Milker increased. Unfortunately for me, this was exactly the opposite of what my nervous system needed at that moment. My brain was screaming, 'Stop!' My libido felt like it had run into a brick wall. I so badly wanted the sucking of the machine to end. Instead, someone had dialed up the stroking speed of the milker to double-time.

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down.... The machine was on rapid fire. I felt the thud of each stroke as the cylinder smacked into my pubic bone.

The sustained milking of my cock was jangling my brain and overwhelming all my nerve sensors beyond belief. I strained again and again against the leather straps, trying to shift my hips in some way that would lessen the intensity. It was pointless. I was not in control of my body. The machine was the master, and the woman at the controls was determined to make me cum again.

"Oh my G-A-A-A-A-W-W-W-W-D-D-D-D! Aaauu-gh!" I screamed, as I continued to struggle. There was no chance of rescue.

"Hey, I think we've got his attention!" one of the women said.

In spite of the intensity of the first massive orgasm, my cock never stopped being hard. The suction from the milker, combined with the effect of Amanda's drugs, guaranteed my dick was rock-solid. My nervous system was on overload, and I felt my cock begin to burn with discomfort. I had to do something.

In desperation, I forced myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. My slow, deep breaths were in stark contrast to the rapid-fire, rhythmic pulsing of the cylinder.

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down. The thing was relentless.

As the cylinder swallowed the length of my dick over and over, I continued to gasp for breath. I struggled to concentrate, and with some effort, my breathing began to slow. The technique started to work. The intense burn of my dick began to subside and was gradually replaced with more familiar waves of pleasure. Although I still squirmed against my bondage, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I was able to get my brain back on track. The sensations shifted from discomfort back to arousal.

In a matter of moments, I realized I was heading rapidly toward another orgasm.

"Look! I think he's about to get off again! You can see it on the heart monitor." One of the voices was talking enthusiastically. "Hey. Scott! That's your name, right, babe?" I heard the voice say right next to my ear. "Come on now. Show me what you've got. That first cumshot was unbelievably sexy to watch. I want to see you cum again."

The woman was speaking softly and was very near me at the head of the table. I could feel the warmth and vibration of her voice on my cheek.

"How does it feel to have your cock sucked like that? Is that machine better than my mouth would be? Would you rather have my hands around your balls and feel my tongue licking your taint? Maybe I would grab those balls of yours and pull. I'll bet you'd like that wouldn't you? That machine can't possibly make you feel as good as I could. I would make you cum in no time. You're going to cum again, aren't you? Come on, baby... let yourself go. Don't fight it. Let me see you get off again. Fill that machine up with your thick cum."

The thought of this stranger eagerly watching me being milked and her sexy urgings in my ear amped up my arousal. She was right. I needed to just let go. Why was I fighting this? I felt my body relax and focused on the rapid stroking of the milker.

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up. This god-damned machine was unstoppable. After just a few more strokes, the dam broke again.

"GAAAAAHHHHH!!!" I screamed, and immediately began to shoot cum into the cylinder. Just as before, the first, huge, slug of semen spurted from my cock and overwhelmed the suction of the milker. I heard the motor of the machine drag as it struggled to slurp up the volume of my ejaculation. My contractions intensified. I writhed with pleasure and arched my body against the pull of the straps. They held me firmly in their grasp. I pushed even harder, relishing the feeling of being trapped and cumming at the same time. I wanted to machine to suck me dry. I imagined I was spewing even more cum this time than I had before. My dick erupted, continuing to spew thick, white goo as I writhed and squirmed, enjoying successive waves of pleasure as they enveloped my body. I rode wave after wave and completely surrendered to the intense feelings of orgasm.

"Good god! Look at that! His cum is leaking out onto his body and the table! He's shooting so much that the machine can't even keep up!" One of the women was laughing in amazement. "Babe, this guy is a freaking cum factory. I have never seen so much jizz! This has to be why Claire wanted him in the competition. My money is on this guy to win the whole damn contest!"

I wasn't really hearing anything the woman was saying. My nervous system had reached the point of overload again. The orgasm was fading, and even though I'd stopped ejaculating, no one was adjusting the speed of the milker. It was still stroking me double-time. Here came that fucking "off-switch" again. Just like before, my libido hit a brick wall. The stimulation level was right back over the top, and I was overcome.

"NOOOOOOO!" I yelled out. "HOLY HELL!" I thrashed uselessly on the table. "Oh my GOD!" I gasped and panted in desperation for the machine to stop, but of course that was never going to happen.

"Let's just see how well this machine is built," said the woman. "Babe, you are two for two, so let's see if the old saying is true. The third time is a charm."

I heard the words being spoken, but they meant nothing to me. At that second, the milker changed speeds once again. As I think back, it's virtually impossible for me to describe with words what the Serious Kit did to my cock. I was stroked so fast, and my dick was sucked with such intensity, that it caused my brain to skip right over any kind of recovery period. There was no burning this time. The combination of the motion and suction was beyond anything I'd ever felt before. The cylinder was repeatedly ramming itself against my ball sack and pubic bone with a force and speed that mimicked the most powerful vibrator ever built. Even though I knew the vacuum suction had been limited, the machine's speed added a severe dimension to the way the cylinder was pulling on my cock. It was as if some invisible force was reaching right down my urethra and into my guts in order to wrench an orgasm from my core.

In just seconds, I came for a third time. There was no avoiding it. The machine's expert and merciless suction, combined with the effects of Amanda's drugs, worked together in perfect unison. It was the proverbial collision between an irresistible force and an immovable object. I could not comprehend what was happening to my body. How could I possibly have any more loads of cum to shoot into that cylinder?

But that's exactly what was happening. My cock expanded and contracted like a well-conditioned muscle spewing still more sticky goo into the milker for collection. There was so much white liquid it resumed oozing from the bottom of the cylinder and pooled on my belly. As the rapidly oscillating cylinder continued to hammer my crotch, the pooled cum began splattering both me and anyone else standing too close to my table.

I couldn't have cared less. My brain was in the throes of another spectacular orgasm. It was as near to an out-of-body experience as anyone could have. Seemingly, the synergy created by my drug infused balls and the mechanics of the Serious Kit, had shifted my orgasm cycle into one that was virtually automatic. My body rejected the need for a refractory period. I found myself trapped in a vicious circle of orgasmic agony.

Still, through my pleasure overload, I heard intense laughter from the women near my table.

"That's just incredible!" the woman's voice said. "I have never seen anything like that before in my life. Holy shit! Look at that dick spew."

And that's exactly what my cock did. I spewed and spewed, and my body writhed and writhed. I must have looked like an absolute idiot; like some kind of robotic orgasm machine. I wondered how I could go on.

"GaaaahHHHH! NoOOo! I heard myself wail. I feared I was going to pass out.

Then, mercifully, the speed of the milker dramatically slowed. Instead of several strokes per second, I was being granted a reprieve, and the sucking returned to a leisurely pace.

Up,... down,... up,... down. The cylinder was so well lubed with excess cum, it slid easily up and down my shaft.

I found myself able to exhale deeply and repeatedly, and I began to relax. My heart was no longer beating out of my chest. This I could handle. My breathing slowed. I finally started to calm down.

"Thanks for the show, Scott." I heard the woman's voice say. "You've attracted quite a crowd around this table. It seems like there's no shortage of members here that want their turn at the controls to this little machine and for a chance to see how much cum they can force out of you. Enjoy yourself. Oh, that's right. You really don't have a choice, do you?" I felt a small caress of her hand on my left cheek, and she walked away.

Without warning, I was jolted back to reality by a renewed increase in the speed of the milker. I had survived one battle with my body's off-switch, but now it was going to start all over again. Quickly, I felt the tingles of yet another orgasm beginning in my groin. This drug of Amanda's was incredible! How was this even possible? What was happening to me? I was completely unable to focus. The experience was causing my thoughts to become an incoherent blur. I was utterly helpless to the sensations being caused by this endless cycle: forced orgasm -- mental overload -- and repeat.

To this day, I really have no idea how long things continued like that. I eventually lost count of my orgasms after being forced to cum ten, eleven, twelve times. I gained an immense level of respect for the efficiency of the Serious Kit machine. It is a miracle of design for the male orgasm. Nothing could be more relentless in performing its task. The machine did exactly what it had been built to do.

Many guests of the Gala put the Serious Kit to good use. Among the visitors to my table, some were interested only in speed. They wanted to see how quickly they could force me to get off. Because the milker was good at its job, it never took long. Others were more deliberate and focused upon teasing me. They would not allow me to cum without first forcing me to endure torment. They wanted to see me squirm and thereby enjoy some of my agony. The sensors Cynthia had placed on my body enabled any person operating the machine to see my level of arousal on a screen next to the machine's controls. They could use it to gauge my heart and respiration rates and adjust the milker's speed accordingly. I was forced to endure periods of slow stroking and prolonged stimulation for as long as they saw fit. Some were very talented in reading the machine and played with me like a yo-yo. Eventually, however, everyone would succumb to the desire to see me squirm in my bondage and spew my load into the machine.

As the evening went on, I felt myself beginning to tire. I was having serious doubts about how much additional stimulation I could take, and I feared I was near to passing out. I was convinced at this point that Amanda's drug injections were the only thing that kept me going. Then, in the midst of the convulsions of what was to be my final orgasm, I heard the familiar sound of Cynthia's voice speaking to those remaining around my table.

"Ladies, that's it. I'm sorry, but we have reached the end of the time period for the first event," Cynthia stated. "For those of you that did not have the chance to operate the machine, you will have to wait until later to spend some time with Scott. Don't worry, there will be other opportunities available."

The Serious Kit was switched off, and I thought I actually heard some grumbling among the crowd as it started to disperse. I was shocked by the level of desire among these women to see me repeatedly forced to cum. "The bar is still open," Cynthia announced, "and you are all encouraged to go now and enjoy yourselves. Relax or feel free to seek out small group play sessions with other subs if you wish. The next scheduled event is in about four hours."

Things became noticeably quiet, and Cynthia directed her attention to me. "Well, I've got to say, you performed amazingly well over the last two hours. I have no personal frame of reference for what it would be like to cum that many times, but, frankly, I'm not sure I could have made it through as well as you did." I felt Cynthia move to remove my cock from the cylinder. "I've released the vacuum, but there's still going to be some suction when I pull this off of you," she said. I heard a pronounced slurping sound followed by a soft plop as my fat, but now-soft, dick slid from the silicone tube prison of my ordeal and fell onto my belly. Cynthia next moved to start unfastening the leather straps that held me to the table. I felt odd as my arms and legs were freed from the bondage. It caused almost a floating sensation. "Now don't sit up quite yet. Let me help you," Cynthia said. Her hands slipped beneath my shoulders and lifted as I slowly sat upright, swinging my legs to dangle from the table's edge. "How do you feel?" Cynthia asked.