The Milking Den Ch. 01: Dan

Once a month, or whenever the need for a taming hand arises, powerful men visit me in my apartment. I'm not like them at all; far from being a banker, lawyer, doctor or army officer, I'm a totally average guy who works a drone job and earns enough to rent a nice apartment by myself.

If that's the case, how do I draw in such influential men? Why do they leave my home with shaky knees, broken bodies and weights off their shoulders?

Here's the secret: I'm a healer, and milking is my medicine.

It isn't even really about the sex. Sex is just a metaphor. I enjoy their bodies, and they certainly enjoy the paces I put their bodies through, but what we're really in it for is release.

It's tiring to be strong. You have decisions to make, people to manage, corporations resting on your broad shoulders. Even worse - and you'd be surprised how often I see them - the dads. Crushed by their responsibilities, these men have no choice but to be okay. They have nowhere they can be vulnerable, even if just to be held and pampered.

That's what makes my den so appealing.

Here, my boys can let their burdens down. My fingers and lips appreciate the toil of their bodies. In a world powered by their fatigue, I offer a sanctuary that takes care of their needs.

As they loosen their ties, my ropes tighten against their wrists. That's why I have a lawyer tied to my bed in his underwear at 8 o' clock in the evening.

"Case going badly?" I quip.

Dan tilts his head to the side. Even if he doesn't speak, his body answers on his behalf. His shoulders are tight and his flanks are tense with worry. Slipping my hands beneath his head, Dan's hair still nicely coiffed into a tight side sweep, I calm the knots in his neck with a gentle rub.

I've been taking care of Dan even before he landed this job. He's an all-round likeable guy who's trustworthy and dependable, the kind who has buddies far and wide. Also, he has a body that still bears the glory of his college wrestling days. Firm pecs, strong arms and thick powerful thighs. But most of all - he has these warm honest eyes. Any woman who ends up with him would be a lucky winner indeed.

Yes, woman. Dan's as straight as an arrow. In fact, most of my boys aren't into dudes at all. What they want is escape. No need to go through the song and dance of straight seduction before ending up in bed, and for what? Thrusting up into their girlfriends in an empty performance of bravado.

It's hard to exist in a world that just wants to drain you dry. That's how I make a difference. Here in my den, you don't have to do anything. You can just lie back and receive.

"It's fucked, man. Just had to get away for a bit - I hope I didn't interrupt your plans," he says earnestly, almost apologetically. His ropey neck muscles relax as I work them through.

Dan's a good guy. He's a new lawyer trying to get things going for himself, but things aren't looking too peachy for him. Earlier this evening, I'd changed out of my work clothes and settled into my microwave dinner when I received a text from Dan. We weren't due for another session until next month but the stress in his text was unmistakable. I was tired from work as well, but he sounded so upset that I just had to do something for him.

Also, imagining Dan naked energized me like a shot of coffee to the brain.

I stroke the back of Dan's neck reassuringly. "Just happy to help out." Now, my hands sneak outwards and trail lightly, like fine brushes on silk, up to the peaks of his pecs. Dan holds his breath. With his wholesome looks and nicely packed frame, Dan surely gets around with the ladies. Yet, how many of his girlfriends have ever seen him so vulnerably spread?

Something tells me Dan keeps our milking sessions to himself.

A bulge forms in Dan's navy blue briefs as my fingers circle around his pecs, their lightly oiled tips burning imprints into his skin. Dan's ankles test the restraints that bind them to my bedposts. Finally accepting that he has nowhere to go, Dan lets out a breathy sigh.

"Now, how long do we have?" I ask.

"I have to be back at nine thirty." The resentment in Dan's voice is obvious. I felt so bad for him - imagine having to clock back in at night!

My fingers rested on his chest as I thought to myself. It's eight o' clock; I live fifteen minutes by car from the business district. That gives us one hour of playtime and another fifteen minutes for Dan to stew in his own juices.

"That means there's no time to waste." I coat my hands slick with oil. I'm going to do right by my boy, and that means being a total bastard to him for the next one hour. Bringing my lips so close to Dan's ear that I lick him with my voice, I caress his neck with my breath; my fingers find his nipples.

Dan's sigh breaks into a moan.

"Welcome to my milking den."

***

What is milking?

Simply put, it's the domination of a man's sex drive through the torturous and often prolonged extraction of semen.

"Sir, I can't take it-" Dan gasps at the end of his breath - "Please let me cum."

Dan's body gleams with a mix of sweat and baby oil as his abs spasm helplessly. With a sharp grunt, he clenches in his orgasm as I continue my leisurely stroking. Flushed with shame and heat, his face twists into a knot so tight it looks like he'd pass out.

According to him, he's been raring to cum for the past ten minutes, but I find that hard to buy. If he's still capable of coherent speech, he doesn't need to shoot.

I laugh. "Tough luck, buddy. You've got another forty minutes to go."

Dan whimpers heavily as he sinks back into the bed.

Milking is best served with its evil twin: edging. While milking is about pumping out every last drop, edging is the journey there. When you're one to five strokes away from an orgasm so strong it would rip your loins apart, it takes so much willpower to hold yourself back from cumming. That's what I want to see - the mind pitted against the carnal forces of the male body.

Rubbing Dan's misery in further, my hands go back down to his lubed-up dick and form a neverending tunnel. As one hand slides down his cock, the other picks up from the tip in one seamless stroke. Dan's toes curl as his hips buckle and shake; his breathing is shallow and exhausted.

Half an hour in, Dan's thick body is tight with the pulling force of steel wire. His entire being is condensed into the burn radiating throughout every inch of his cock. Here on my bed, spread out like a cut of prime meat and soaking in the excesses of his own need, I worship him with my hands. Every stroke and pump tells him he's beautiful.

Dan thrusts a bit too forcefully; his cock throbs, and I let go. His crying fills the room as his cock flops impotently against his abs.

Feeling betrayed, Dan opens his eyes and grimaces at me. His face, usually a frame of stoic security, is swathed with aching streaks of sweat and loss. His quivering lip tells me I've trained him well.

"That was dangerously close." Silkily, my hands clasp his cock again, drawing out a fresh gasp as he tightens his pelvis, bracing himself for the next ride to his peak. "Almost became a bad boy. But you're a good boy, aren't you? And what does a good boy do?" As my palm glides over his head, Dan looks almost like he might cry.

"A good boy asks before he cums."

Dan's voice is hard along its edges but soft inside. He's holding it in, holding himself together. He's always been a fighter and I love that about him.

"Good boy."

And the torture continues.

Across the next few minutes, Dan fills the den with his screams, whimpering and babbling. I'm not even sure what he's saying. It's some combination of "please", "sorry" and "fuck".

"This how you talk in court?" I jest as I continue spinning my hands in a vortex around his cock. Dan bites his lip and thrashes his head against the pillow. He's soaked the bed through with his sweat, and his hair is ruffled from his violent attempts at escaping. I fan my fingers across his cock head a few more times just to see if he'll let himself go. He grunts in deep long agony, but his abs remain tight like an iron wall damming in the flood. I slow down my pumps as I wonder how I can break his endurance. I survey his convulsing body: what have I not yet conquered?

Oh yes. Dan's the sort of straight guy who doesn't remember he has nipples.

I pump with my left, and my right snakes up to his taut chest. "Oh God, no." Dan's strong jaw goes weak. He tries to pretend otherwise, but he loves it when I toy with his nipples. Dan shudders as I find his nub, whimpers as I circle it, and breaks out into a whole new level of whimpering as I flick it back and forth with my thumb.

My pumps speed up and my fingers strum his nipples with hot urgency. Dan looks like he's on a roller coaster one inch away from the plunge. I grin evilly - he knows the end is near too. He's holding his breath, straining every sinew in his body, but the monster in his groin is too strong. A feral grin spreads across my face. Dan sputters and gags as his body lifts off the bed against his will.

"Please, Sir... I'm gonna cum." Dan braces his body for the final fight as I pump and flick, pump and flick. Every muscle in his body is twitching and convulsing and begging for release. His eyes plead as his mouth stammers, far too overloaded to grasp onto logic and time.

I grin silently and continue pumping.

Dread, regret and anticipation wash over Dan's face. He's losing, and he really does not want to be punished tonight - but that animal longing is ripping him apart. "Sir, SIR!!" He's crying for help by this point. It builds up inside him, its explosion no longer avoidable. Panic grips his eyes and mouth. His eyes shout at me to release him from this suffering.

We lock eyes - and in that moment outside time and space, when all that exists is just his cock, my hands and bliss like a rocket inside his loins - I nod.

"FUCK! ARGH!"

Big juicy shots explode from Dan's throbbing cock, painting my face, his body and the floor with his pleasure. Dan lets out an animal noise, a mix of crying, moaning and pure exhilaration. Lost in bliss, his body crashes limply back onto the bed, his eyes zooming in and out of focus.

Right on the dot, at nine in the evening, Lawyer Dan has been milked dry.

My hands haven't left his spent cock.

"What do you say, boy?" I ask as my hand continues stroking in the aftermath, reminding Dan that it isn't over yet.

Dan looks back at me, life returning to his shell-shocked eyes. More? His eyes say as they search my face for an answer. After a few deep breaths, he lets out a knowing noise and a hearty laugh.

"Thank you, Sir."

Finally releasing his cock, I meet him with a warm smile of my own.

"Good boy. Now, let's get you out of there and back to work."

Dan and I hug at the door before he goes down to his Uber. He's exhausted, but I can see life in his eyes that wasn't there before. My boy fought so bravely and strongly today. I'm honestly proud of him. I also love how he's so loose and relaxed now. Finally, he's free of his stress and suffering.

"Take care, my man." I say as I wave casually at Dan through the closing elevator doors. Once my boys get off the bed, we become equals again. As the afterglow fades, we become normal people just trying to find pleasure amidst our dreary lives.

Walking back to my milking den, I smell the aftermath before I see it. There's sperm, oil and sweat all over the bed and floor. Cleaning this up is the boring part of my hobby. But, like edging, the ups outweigh the downs.

As I reach for my cleaning supplies on the other end of the room, I take a quick glance at my milking schedule. A calendar hangs on the wall of my den covered with names and circles. So many boys, so little time. Looks like there'd be many more moments to come.