The Milking Den Ch. 07: Milking Day

"Oh, oh, I'm close! I'm close!"

Chase's chest heaves, his abs clench tight, and I drop his cock just as it throbs dangerously on the point of no return. "Ah, ah, argh!" Chase's chest lifts as far off as his bonds allow, his face and body strained tight against this hot, sticky wave. His abs twist and grind like coils of bronze. He gasps, his grip faltering a bit - his cock twitches and glows.

"You got it, come on man - hold it, hold it!" By this point, I'm on Chase's side as well. It feels like we're bros who go to the gym together, except he's always the one pushing and I'm always spotting. And I want him to make it!

"Oh, oh - phew." All the tension evaporates from Chase's body as the hot load bottled in his prostate fades away. His head hits the pillow again, his iron-wrought brow melting. I pat his sweaty torso proudly.

"Nice job, man. Ten out of ten." Chase lets out a chuckle as I unbuckle the soft leather cuffs strapping him down to the corners of the milking bed.

Our penultimate challenge before M-Day, M for "Milking" - get to the edge ten times. Which Chase thought sounded easy enough until he realized I'd keep him cruising along the pleasure river for an hour before we started counting. Both of us are sticky and covered in lube now, but glowing with accomplishment.

"Thanks, man." Chase pushes himself off the bed, his entire body strung through with fatigue. He looks like he just came back from a run. Catching his breath, he reaches for a towel and wipes off the sweat from his shining neck and chest. "The last few were a bitch to hold through." But even then, the sunshine in his voice still shone through his tiredness. Maybe even brighter than before, now that he knows how strong he can be when he needs to be.

"Yeah, it's good training for tomorrow. You think you're ready?" I ask as I towel down myself. Edging a guy is tough work. My tank top is soaked through with sweat too, and my forearms are tight and sore. My palms are oiled smooth like a baby's cheeks.

Chase laughs and shrugs with the air of an athlete interviewed about an upcoming race. Honestly, it's the same, isn't it? Edging is an extreme sexual sport and the ones who make it are those with the mental force to endure. "Dude, I don't think anyone is ever ready for what you put us through." He gets up and turns around to head for the door, but then stops a bit and swivels back. "Just curious - do the other guys you play with also find it this tiring?"

"It depends. Some of them play tough and like the feeling of being tortured. Some are totally into it and begging to be edged even more. You're... kinda in the middle. Why?"

Chase shrugs. There's something else lingering on his lips. "Nah, just asking. Was just wondering where I stand. Alright, see ya tomorrow!"

"Wait!" Chase stops in his wet tracks again.

"Yeah?"

"About tomorrow - you know you can tap out anytime, right? It's gonna be intense. It's a whole day thing... if you really can't continue, we can just stop."

"Yeah." Chase smiles candidly. "I trust you, man."

"Perfect. See you at 8 o' clock in the tightest underwear you have."

—

MILKING DAY

"Good morning!" Chase whoops, swinging his arms while strolling out from his room. Looking up from the dining table, I see he's excited for the day ahead. His hair is nicely tousled and he's in snug baby blue briefs. The past week's edging is evident down there - his balls' fullness bulges through the cotton and his shaft is hard and ready to go. As a whole, he looks... juicier. Sex drive permeates his entire body, filling up his muscles and brimming in his actions.

"Hey Chase! Breakfast?"

"Aw, yeah! Big day ahead, hahaha." Chase walks up to me and stops, his mouth caught mid gasp, at the sight of his plate.

A sausage, flanked by two hard boiled eggs, drizzled with mayonnaise. A glass of cold milk.

"Wow. This is direct."

On the other hand, I'm having coffee and a very normal sandwich.

"Big meal for my big boy. Dig in - you'll need the energy." Juice bursts from firm taut sausage skin as he sinks his teeth into hot meat. Milk pools at his lips.

That's right. We're turning Chase into a sex object for breakfast.

"Oh this is tasty!" Chase finishes up his sausage.

"Yes, you are." I make smouldering sexy eyes at Chase before we both break into laughter. This is so over-the-top that it's almost funny for us both. As the chuckles die down, Chase drums the table with his fingertips, not sure what he should do now.

I slide my mug away.

"Shall we?"

Chase nods. There's a tiger inside him ready to be stroked.

It's showtime.

"Welcome to Milking Day. You have one rule - you cannot cum until the sun sets. There's no point asking for permission, because the answer will always be no."

A familiar aura dawns over Chase's shoulders. He settles into the headspace he knows so well by now, a space soft and warm but laced with black leather.

"Yes sir."

He looks so sexy and submissive that the sound of his husky, thirsty voice alone triggers a small spasm inside me. Time to nudge that spot, rub it in deep and good - I want Chase to spend his entire day squirming, struggling.

"Let's warm up with some exercise."

Chase gulps his milk down. Now it truly begins.

"Before we start with the cock work, let's get your body stretched and primed for action." I rest my tongue heavily on those long, delicious words. Chase looks sheepish, but his cock perks up as it always does when I make him sound like a hot stud who lives solely to bring his master pleasure. We walk up to the living room where there's a big space in front of the couch, a nice stage for the morning muscle show.

"First: glute bridges."

Demeaned, Chase gets down on all fours, preparing to turn himself over onto his back - but I stop him with a quick raise of a hand.

"Oh, that's a good position to have you in." Chase blushes at the overt sexual comment. "But no, I want you - there."

The coffee table.

Chase stares at the low sturdy table, and then back at me, his eyes confused and embarrassed.

"What, on the table?"

"Yeah. You've done it before. Now get on."

Biting his lip, Chase makes to get back on his feet, but I pause him again. He turns to me, not sure what's happening next.

"I want you to crawl onto the table."

Chase laughs hesitantly. "Come on, man, I-"

"Do it," I tease. "I haven't decided how long to milk you yet..."

"Alright, alright!" Chase gives in, and turns slowly, shamefully, on all fours and crawls along the floor before slinking up the table. Oh, boy... the sight of his lean muscled body crawling like a sexy naked animal has me so damn fired up. I grind my hips a bit, feeling that slight friction against my trousers. Now that Chase is on top, he looks down at the floor, his modesty clinging to the edge of the table.

"Glute bridges, please." I can taste the objectification in the air - his shame slipping away as he turns into a himbo muscle show. Chase gets on his back and lifts his huge, claspable butt high in the air, lifting up his ample bulge in a steady thrust up. To get to that position, he has to clench his abs too, and his thighs flex like big thick pipes. I let out a luxurious sigh at the sight of his muscles moving like a pleasure machine all for me. Up, down, up, down... those globes clenching, his abs pulling and letting go. Chase tries to keep his face straight but I know he's melting under the spotlight. He's blushing.

"Yes... very nice. Let's move on to the next exercise - squats. Come on, face me. Look down at me - my eyes are here, not on the floor - don't you wanna do these squats for me?"

Making eye contact with me was like holding onto a block of ice. Chase's gaze shook and trembled as he did his squats. His underwear was straining against his gifted assets, and the squatting did much for viewing them. He was beginning to build up a fine, thin mist of perspiration, and I could smell it off him too - musk and shame and enjoyment.

"Last one. Pushups. Count them."

Chase got back down on his chest and pressed himself off the strong table, showing off his shoulders and back muscles. "One, two, three..." he went, his voice straining against the fatigue. I imagine running my hands through his sandy brown hair, feeling his sweat mist off his body and enveloping me. I want his virility, his manliness, all over me.

"...Twenty." Chase collapses onto the table, his breath pumping up his chest. I drink in his suffering image from the comfort of my couch. He hopes it's over. But even if this is over, that would only mean that the true torture is about to start. He looks at me expectantly - do we go to the Den now?

We would, but I want him now.

I spread my legs wide and pat my thighs, beckoning him in.

Apprehensively, Chase crawls off the table and stops in front of me. He looks afraid - he was still as straight as he wanted to be. What was I going to ask him to do?

"Don't worry. Lean back on me."

"Oh, haha. I thought you were hinting at... something else." Tension steams off Chase's chest in a chuckle. He turns around, facing his glorious back to me, and sits back down against the lower body of the couch, resting his armpits on my knees and leaning his head down in between my thighs. I can smell him even closer now, and it's a smoky, meaty scent I love. I lean forward into his heat, feeling sex radiate off his skin, take a whiff of his neck. My fingers play with his hair for a moment, but they soon find their way down his forehead, past his lips, and down to my favorite opening act - his nipples.

Chase moans as I flick them slow and easy. So many straight men don't know that their nipples are ecstasy buttons. Chase practically melts into my lap, his face blooming in hot bliss. "Oh, yeah, oh my god... that's so good." He gets stiffer and stiffer, and so do I. Soon, he's writhing all over my shins, thrusting up in the air with his sweaty bulge. His abs clench and flare up with each deft flick, thirst blooming in his groin.

"Oh, god, I'm so horny right now."

"Yeah, I know. I see that." I can see how absolutely desperate he is for cock contact, but my rhythm stays focused and specific. Nipples only. Chase's face tightens and loosens, building up in red frustration.

"Sir... sir..." Chase mews. It's been almost ten minutes and all I've done is stay on his nipples. Driven out of his mind, he gazes up at me, hot and hungry. His body is tense like a live wire.

"Yes?" I ask, sweetly feigning ignorance of the torture I'm putting him through.

Chase gulps. His lips part slowly. "Can I - can I touch myself please?"

I tut mockingly as my flicks turn into pinches, and Chase recoils and yelps.

"That's so naughty of you, boy... you know I get to decide these things. What are you again? Hmm?" I pinch his nipples hard as he gasps for air and whimpers. His face twists like it's pressed against a red iron.

"Your muscle money boy, sir - argh, please!"

"'Please stop', or 'please may I touch myself'?" I breathe down on his neck, twisting his sore nips even harder, trapping Chase's gasp between a moan and a scream.

"Argh - I don't know!"

Finally, I let go of his red glowing nipples, and Chase catches his breath and whimpers.

"Fine. I'll let you grope yourself. But there's a price."

"What's the price?" Chase asks concernedly. He knows how these games play out - never in his favor - but the beast in his loins was so starved and eager that he'd do it anyway.

"I'm thinking about it. You'll find out."

Chase looks like he's pressed up between two hard places. Forgo rubbing himself and drag out the tease, or rub himself now and deepen the punishment?

My fingers move again and he moans, his cock gearing up for action.

"You know what you wanna do. You wanna rub your bulge, because you're a slut and you want to be punished. The idea of being punished makes you hard, doesn't it? Go on, Chase. Touch yourself. Rub it because you know you're a bad, bad boy."

"Oh... yes, sir." Chase sighs and leans back again. This time, as I resume playing softly with his hard, sensitive nipples, Chase grabs his plump bulge and massages himself through the hot damp cotton, and he roars like a lion in heat. He grabs it, rubs through his underwear savagely, rubbing himself insane. "Oh, fuck, oh my god that's so good. Oh my god." Chase undulates all over my floor. His toes curl and his lips part in a pained gasp. It looks like he could orgasm by rubbing alone.

And in fact, he almost does. Precum starts pooling on his baby blue underwear. His hips rock a bit too quickly and his face pulls into a silent moan.

"Stop." I lift his arms off his body as he grunts in protest, like a car forced to brake just as it hit ignition.

"Time for us to get real. Get to the room - it starts now."

Chase looks almost hungry to begin.

This is the more familiar setup - Chase is back on the milking bed, his arms fastened tightly above his head and his ankles below. This time, to mark the festive occasion, we also have black leather straps binding his thick thighs midway to the frame. His underwear is still on.

"No more rubbing yourself now. You're all mine - mine to rub, tease and break. I'm not letting you go until you cry." Chase's entire body shakes at my warning. Then, that quaking turns to wet moaning as I uncap my lube and squeeze it all over his body. "Oh!" Chase gasps like a sloppy geyser. He's drowning in slippery goodness, like honey over waffles, melting all over his golden skin. I use up an entire fresh bottle, coating him thick with the stuff. Lube drips from his pecs down to his sides, down the lean insides of his thighs... but his bulge remains dry. Chase's chest lifts slightly.

Time to take off my jacket. Things are about to get messy.

I've been told by my gay studs that I look pretty damn milkable myself. My milker uniform is simple but fierce. I wear a tight white wife beater that shows off the hard, long work I've put into myself, and simple fitting black trousers. Chase might not get the full appeal, but he knows, from his reverent look, that I am a real man to behold.

From behind his head, my hands slide down Chase's neck and creep up to his nipples again. Chase's breath catches in his throat. The lube intensifies everything he feels; he's seething even before I touch his nipples. And when I do, he curses and swears, pulling his arms down to no avail as each flick sends electric jolts across his chest. But his struggling only brings out his tortured beauty.

"You already got to grope yourself - no more touching," I gloat. Chase breaks into a string of whimpers. He drifts in and out of speech, but my fingers stay fixed on his nipples. His thighs strain against their straps but he's not getting any action. He's trapped like a puppy in a cage.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. Please, I'm so horny." Chase spews. The sobs puncturing his voice make him sound real convincing, but I want to be sure. Circling down to his side, I take over one of my fingers with my tongue. With the tip of my tongue, I zigzag across the very peak of Chase's nipple, zooming out with slow circles, then rush back in for the bullseye. Chase thrashes and begs, utterly desperate for cock contact. His briefs are stained wet with pre-cum. But I love it when he begs and pleads. Resting my head on his pecs as I lick and flick, I can hear the bass of his voice booming in his chest. I can hear the beating of his troubled heart.

We stay like that for twenty minutes. Just with lube and nipple teasing, Chase has been totally broken down into a sighing, heaving inarticulate mess.

And the edging hasn't even begun.

All that licking has turbocharged Chase's cock. It twitches even when I brush past the elastic strap of his briefs; he moans just by a sliding of my finger underneath.

"Have you learned your lesson?" I taunt. Chase snivels and nods.

"What did you learn?"

"I'm a bad boy for touching myself."

"Yes. And do you deserve to be touched now?"

Chase pauses and blinks. His lips quiver and he looks at me before giggling sheepishly.

"Yes, please?"

His cock does a little excited jump and I can't help but laugh. Chase is so pure, so earnest. I love making him suffer for me.

And with all the pomp of a grand unveiling, I finally pull his briefs off his big, long cock. Chase sighs with release as it comes out into the open, and he roars with pleasure as I cradle it in my hands. He's so expectant - he closes his eyes, ready to drift into bliss... as I slide just a thinly greased finger up his shaft at excruciatingly slow speed. Chase looks down at me wordlessly, but his eyes do all the begging.

"Well, buddy - you're gonna have to earn it."

Slowly, when I sense his frustration has built to a peak, I add another finger. Now, it's just two fingers and my thumb ringed together, sliding up and down in slow lazy sweeps. Chase grunts as he tries to thrust but these trusty thigh straps hold him tightly down. He laughs in danger when he finally realizes he's trapped and helpless. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to be but on my milking bed, mine to drive crazy.

After an hour has passed, we're using my whole hand.

"I could keep you here, all trussed up like a piece of meat, and stroke you all day without letting you cum. And I will. But maybe some time today, I will finally, finally make you cum. But then I'll make you cum again, and again, and again."

Lost in denial, Chase grunts limply - but that hungry look in his eyes tells me he loves this.

"On a scale of one to ten, how close are you now?"

"Six," Chase breathes.

"Good. Now tell me when you're at nine." It doesn't take long. Some good pumping and a few lashes of fresh lube and Chase is struggling to hold it in. I find the corkscrew stroke, combined with some ball cradling, very effective in turning his heat up.

"N-n-nine!" Chase exclaims, his entire chest locked down and straining.

"Keep it there." Instead of letting go, I just slow down. I continue sliding along his shaft with all my fingers.

"Fuck, sir-"

"Steady, steady." Four fingers now - my pace slows down to the pace of ice melting. Chase's face is so red it looks like it's going to pop. Where's he at now? 9.5?

"Sir, I'm gonna c-" Chase's voice digs into his gut, his body trembling as every muscle strains to lock his orgasm in. But from what I've seen, he can do more. Down to three fingers. Chase stammers. Now, two - a ring of electric fire orbiting his girth just below his glans. His entire body is charged with static energy.

"You can do it, Chase. Come on. You're strong. Don't you dare give up now. Come on, come on." Chase looks up at the ceiling, wondering how on earth he ended up in this position, and clenches down with all his unholy might. His face is tight like wire. I can feel hot sex twitching, bulging under the skin of his cock.

"Ah, ah, ah! - - - oh."

Chase finally takes a breath. He managed to hold the building warm wave in. Orgasm avoided - punishment averted.

"Well done." I slap my hand on his chest. "Time for a break."

—

"What're you gonna do when you get back?" I ask as I press an elbow into Chase's thick back. For our mid-morning break, I'm treating Chase to a well deserved massage. All that edging tightens up his muscles so badly. Besides, it's yet another excuse - as if I needed one - to rub even more lube all over his body.

"I have to pick up my pet dog from my sitter." Chase moans into the bed.

Smoothly, I slide up from Chase's back and into those tough knots in his neck. So Chase has a dog. Outside of our sessions, both of us are totally normal people. All of us are. It's so interesting to think about all the other dimensions of the people we meet in specific aspects of our lives. And what brings people into this very specific setup? Why does Chase come back willingly to me?