Chapter Seventeen

Part Two

Brandy’s Story

Chapter Seventeen

The table was cleared and the caterer’s matronly waitresses brought coffee. I looked up to see the masturbator struggle to move his head, the tracheal tube and neck collar greatly limiting his mobility. He could hear the people in the room..., the sounds consisting of light conversation and the pleasant effects of continuous oral service.

Erma arose to once again to toy with the hanging boy’s testicles.

“Amazingly soft and absolutely hairless,” she noted.

Her hand moved up and the masturbator felt her fingers testing the firmness of his seven inches. Its hardness surprised even the masturbator. Since he could neither touch nor gaze downward to see it, it was only Erma’s exploring hand that implied to the masturbator the intensity of his erection. It was as if the organ belonged to someone else, and the masturbator merely acted as custodian.

The women enjoyed coffee. They talked. They discussed the curious stiffness of his anatomy. Jackie arose to stand at his side. More fingers were felt. They were bold. Dr. Ann also stood and reconnoitered with the tenderness of a mother examining a child. The masturbator slowly flushed with embarrassment. Naked, restrained, ..., he stayed erect for the group despite his humiliation.

“Goodness, he’s leaking.”

The masturbator heard the tittering laughter of the feminine gathering as the observer noted pre-ejaculatory fluid beading about the purple tip of his manhood.

“The harness does such wonders for the exhibition of the male, does it not ladies?” observed Dr. Ann.

All murmured agreement as a firm hand bent the most steadfast of erections downward, testing its turgidness. The masturbator squirmed attempting to bend his waist to more comfortably adapt to the pressure the Doctor applied.

Erma moved to a nearby buffet and opened a drawer. Within was a set of rubber phalli organized from left to right in increasing sizes. She selected one of moderate size and returned to the hanging masturbator.

Dr. Ann and Jackie sat down. The masturbator felt the familiar firmness of Erma’s touch. She stood out of sight to his left side as her right hand steadied his nearly free swinging form by gripping the thick flesh of his left buttock. Her left cupped the bottom of his scrotum, raising it and drawing the bag of smooth pinkness forward for better viewing.

“This boy is known as the ‘masturbator’. He’s one of our older boys ladies. Though he won’t respond as well to alteration, I’m sure you’ll find the exhibition of his virility to be most entertaining. I’m going to demonstrate the mastery that an assertive woman can attain over the subservient male..., and when Brandy gives me the sign we’ll have the masturbator here spurting for you like a fire hose.”

The room filled with politely restrained laughter. Erma withdrew, leaving the masturbator’s plums swinging before a dozen feminine eyes. The boy closed his eyes in shame. He could hear the consumption of coffee and to the side Erma preparing for the exhibition. The rope attached to his neck collar was jostled.

The masturbator felt a finger gently explore the crevice of his buttocks. It was slippery and when it found his rectum, slid in easily to the second knuckle. Oddly, the masturbator would appreciate the precautionary lubrication. His rear passage was tight and little utilized.

Desert was served and the exhibition began in earnest. I knew suspension had a curious affect on the male anatomy, effecting the nerves and dendrites of the spine so as to make the male organ stiff. Erma commented.

“Interesting is it not ladies? The effect of suspension on the penis. I often wonder how long a male can stay erect like this. There does not seem to be a limit.”

Erma slipped a simple length of polished wood between the masturbator’s knees, forcing apart the thighs. Its very width kept the cleverly designed board in place as the masturbator could not part his knees any further to release it. The addition resulted in the masturbator’s scrotal sac swinging freely below the erect phallus. There was discussion at the table referring to his position as being the picture of submission, Jackie wishing she had a camera.

“Such a photo would be a warming visual memento for a cold winter’s night,” she gushed with a chortle.

For a male’s system to maintain an erection, circulation is essential. The masturbator breathed heavily to draw in the oxygen needed for tumescence. The sound of air rushing through the tracheal tube punctuated the occasional silence.

Erma attached the rubber phallus to her thigh strap. When she turned to approach the naked form swinging at the end of his chain, Melanie gasped. The phallus had a special bump designed to pressure the prostate gland. She had never before seen such a specially crafted cylinder of rubber.

Erma grasped the free end of rope hanging from the pulley above. With her left hand she tugged gently, signaling the masturbator and reminding him of her control. She moved behind him. Her right hand guided the rubber phallus attached to her thigh. The tip slipped between the masturbator’s cheeks.

“Open nicely for me.”

She increased the tension on the rope. His experience at the ranch told him that Erma would do as she chose. His intention would be to make it as painless as possible for himself.

With a slight forward and upward motion of Erma’s powerful thigh, the black rubber obelisk slithered into the masturbator’s anus. My guests whispered approval.

“Waggle for the ladies, boy. Give them a nice greeting.”

The masturbator could feel the proximity of his ebony tormentress. His inner thighs brushed against her right leg. His upper arms, secured behind him, felt the warmth and firmness of her breasts. She positioned her face over his left shoulder and blew into his ear.

“You’re going to please me today, aren’t you boy. I know how to make you very happy.”

Her left hand pulled. More of the masturbator’s weight was borne by his neck collar. The tracheal tube insured that his supply of oxygen was maintained while Erma playfully demonstrated to my friends the amazing effect of full body suspension with carefully monitored traction of the spine.

The masturbator’s erection moved straight up. Pointing to the ceiling, the tip almost pressed against his stomach. Incredibly, the organ in fact waggled in humble response to Erma’s request. The room erupted in laughter.

The right thigh of the accomplished musturbatrix began to pump. The masturbator was being sodomized before the gathering. He felt shame. He was embarrassed. He was humiliated. But he savored the moment as pure ecstasy.

This was what he had lived for during his weeks of chastity at the ranch. Each day forced to exhibit himself naked, being exercised, washed, inspected..., his constant restraint forbidding masturbatory relief. And now Erma was finally going to allow him to tumefy, to entertain before a group of women..., to feel the powerful touch of the amazingly Dominant black woman..., and in graciously being permitted to spill his seed..., to climax..., for her and before a group of women..., and later to be permitted to kiss her feet in gratitude.

Fluid began to ooze from the masturbator’s penis and streamed down the long shaft. He could not help but squeeze his buttocks and grip the phallus with his sphincter, increasing the friction and the sensation in his prostate. His body surrendered, taking the mammoth object with waves of ecstacy ebbing in his cerebrum.

He had no thoughts of resistance. In fact he tried to pull his own trigger, thrusting forth his hips to end the overwhelming pleasure by ejaculating for the crowd of women. Though he did not want the wondrous sensation to end, he was overwhelmed.

Erma felt his effort.

“No, no. Boy. When I say so. You know my boys here climax only when I wish.”

How true.

The rope tightened. The thigh moved more vigorously. Erma’s right hand circled his right hip and palmed the testicles.

“Notice how the scrotal sac tightens ladies? His system is preparing itself to ejaculate. The various muscles are contracting, getting ready to explode.

“But you’re not going to do that yet, are you boy?”

Erma taunted as her hand moved to the base of the erect manhood. She squeezed with a hand that could crush steel cans, completely blocking the urethra.

The masturbator would not ejaculate prematurely. Nothing would pass while the hand of the ebony giantess maintained its hold.

Several more minutes of pumping ensued. The masturbator squirmed, trying his best to end the agonizing torment of overwhelming but incomplete pleasure. Meanwhile the rope tightened causing the neck collar to bear more and more weight. The sound of air rushing through the tracheal tube evidenced the masturbator’s need. His circulation raced. Erma could feel the intensity of his body heat through her thin latex skirt.

For Erma, knowing that it was by her hand that he heavily breathed and squirmed, fighting to bring himself to that most humiliating moment, brought a rush of satisfaction. Erma had a live puppet with which she played, dangling helplessly impaled on the curious phallus of her choosing. Her wetness flowed. She could feel the moisture of arousal drip down her thighs.

Finally after an interminable period, Erma’s right hand stroked.

Just one stroke..., a tease, bringing her hand up from the bottom to the tip of the erection. The masturbator shuddered and again thrust forward his hips in a futile effort, expecting a down stroke. Instead, Erma removed her hand and the masturbator found his penis thrusting into air. Again the room erupted in laughter.

“I think you’re hinting at something, boy,” a smiling Erma mocked.

“Let’s see now..., you’re completely naked before a room full of women..., you’re helplessly suspended in mid air..., your backside is stuffed with a huge implement doing what to your prostate I can only imagine..., your penis is erect and the color of purple..., and I’ve kept you completely chaste for weeks.

“Now what is it you want?”

Erma paused her hand action, continuing to pump methodically with her thigh.

“I’m going to guess that you’d like to show all these women how much you enjoy ejaculating.”

Erma’s right hand returned. Incredibly, she could stroke the long shaft with enough pressure to make ejaculation impossible. The masturbator had never experienced such a firm grip. And to add to the torment the knowing hand bent the stiff manhood downward, completely eliminating any chance of the masturbator emptying himself before the appointed moment.

The masturbation began.

The left hand lifted more, the right hand stroked, the thigh pumped. The masturbator squirmed in ecstasy trying desperately for the final ignominious act..., to empty himself for Erma and for the pleasure of the fascinated audience of women.

Stroke after stroke, the masturbator tried in vain. Finally Erma looked to me. I smiled, greatly enjoying the display, knowing that my gathering of friends was well entertained.

I nodded. It was the signal Erma awaited.

“Well boy. Would you like to squirt for me? Would you like to soil the table cloth?”

Erma’s grip eased and she stroked faster. She slowly changed the angle of the erect appendage. Her left hand pulled. The chain slackened. The rope attached to the masturbator’s neck collar bore his entire weight.

“Come for me boy. Show the ladies how obedient you are.”

The penis pointed straight forward, Erma stroked. The watching women gasped as a thick jet of white splattered to the white cloth. Another stroke another splatter. Laughter. A third stroke a third load of thickness.

“Good boy. Pump for me. Pull those little ejaculatory muscles.”

The masturbator squirmed in obedience, thrusting and working to give Erma all that his system had to offer. He understood the command to pull, initiating pressure on the male valve deep in his system.

The explosions ended but the penis still exuded fluid.

Erma’s thumb and forefinger pinched the base of the deflating appendage then drew down to the tip, forcing from the organ the last drops of spermatic fluid.

The gathering applauded. The masturbator closed his eyes and remained motionless in a strange reverie of combined shame and elation.

He had been well masturbated, drained of all he had to offer by a woman he would come to idolize..., worship..., revere. I imagined that he wished he had more to give and fantasized being permanently suspended while a firm feminine hand ceaselessly stroked and forced his essence from him in an endless geyser of gelatinous whiteness. He envisioned himself as a fountain of semen, performing continuously for Dominant women and for my pleasure.