By Andy Caulden

Neil sat on the sofa in Paul’s living-room, nursing a near-empty glass of red wine. The married bisexual was looking extremely nervous and uncomfortable, and he was clearly having second thoughts about going through with the good doctor’s plan – he had been persuaded by Paul to become a bondage slave for the day; and in return, he would be allowed to have sex with me.

Initially, Neil had readily agreed to be restrained and examined by the good doctor – he so wanted to have sex with the young thruster sitting opposite him in the armchair; and if that meant being tied down on a bed and having his rectum probed with surgical steel, then so be it. The only problem now was that he didn’t have the nerve to go through with it.

‘Did you hear what I said, arse-wipe,’ said Paul. ‘Put the glass down, stand up and strip off. I want you to take off all your clothes and remove any jewellery you have on – that includes the wrist-watch and wedding ring.’

‘No, I don’t think…’ said Neil.

‘You don’t think, period!’ Paul snapped. ‘You simply stand up and undress. Young Andy wants to see you naked; and he wants to suck on that nice looking cock of yours. So put the glass down and stand up.’

Neil tried to focus on the man doing all the talking. Everything in the room began to blur as the drug began to take hold of his nervous system. ‘Yes, I must take off my clothes,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘And I must…’

‘Do exactly as you are told,’ interrupted Paul, stepping forward and taking the glass away from the bewildered bank clerk. ‘Now stand up and get naked.’

Neil tried to lift himself off the sofa, but flopped back down again.

‘Help the fool stand up, Andy,’ sighed Paul. ‘He’ll be able to do things for himself in a minute or two; he just needs to get used to operating in a lower gear. I may have put a tad too much trank in his wine.’

‘He did need calming down, sir,’ I said, grabbing hold of Neil’s left arm. ‘He was as nervous as hell before the pills kicked in. Besides, he really needs to be relaxed before those thingamajigs enter his bum-hole.’

‘Yes, the arse-wipe was about to bolt. I could see it in his eyes. Still, I don’t think he’ll want to disappoint me again after today, and who knows, I may even get to play with that son of his next time.’

‘That’s so pervy, sir,’ I said, grinning. ‘Shall I help our guest to undress? The poor sod ain’t gonna do it by himself.’

‘Yes, I want the both of you naked and performing in front of the camera before Arnim and the others arrive.’

Paul’s flat occupied the whole top floor of the block: the two flats originally planned for the floor had been converted into one during the building’s construction. Therefore, there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study where a kitchen would have stood. Three of the bedrooms were used to entertain guests at the weekend – Paul liked to have two or three slaves tied down before Arnim arrived with his entourage.

The good doctor maintained the same hold over every one of his bisexual slaves. Each had agreed to be tied down and examined by the shrink in exchange for sex with a young thruster like me. Unfortunately, the trank in their pre-examination drink had fogged their judgement and allowed Paul to obtain their permission to take a few Polaroids of the sex-romp. These compromising photographs were then used to encourage the men to turn up on a regular basis and be fucked by Arnim & Co.

Paul didn’t see anything wrong in blackmailing this group of closet bisexuals. ‘It’s all part of their therapy,’ he would say. ‘The photographs are simply a spur to get them to do what they secretly want to do. The fact that they have no say in the matter is irrelevant.’

The psychosurgeon loved to play mind games with his slaves. He would fill their heads with all kinds of psychobabble about the benefits of using bondage and humiliation as tools to satisfy their sexual cravings. For instance, if they saw themselves as hapless victims, being forced into having sex with bully-boy men, they could step into the lion’s den and avoid the guilt-trip by telling themselves, ‘It wasn’t my fault. They forced me to suck cock’.

Unfortunately, once tied down, the hapless victim suffered far more abuse than he had originally signed up for. The shrink had a thing for holes – he drilled holes into the heads of his patients at the hospital, and then filled them with tiny radioactive rods. The man loved playing around with holes, especially those that belonged to his slaves. He used a variety of surgical steel probes to examine their ears and nostrils; he filled their mouths with inflatable rubber gags; he used catheters on their cocks, and then went to work on their arseholes with an assortment of metal and rubber implements.

A slave never forgot the first time he was examined by the good doctor, and thanked his lucky stars that his drink had been spiked before the examination began. Every orifice was violated two or three times by the psychosurgeon; and then, when the examination was over, he was given another trank and handed over to Arnim & Co.

The tranquillizer Paul favoured had no name, only a number. It had been withdrawn from medical trials at the hospital because it had unusual and somewhat embarrassing side effects – patients who took the drug became extremely horny and lost all their sexual inhibitions. They also became confused and susceptible to suggestion, especially if sex was involved in any way.

* * *

Neil stumbled into the bedroom and headed straight for the bed. He still felt a little disorientated as he spread himself out on the rubber covered mattress. The journey from the living-room to the bedroom had been a precarious one: he had taken a wrong turn at one point and walked straight into a wall, sending a rare lithograph crashing to the floor in the process. He had also hurt his right arm when he collided with a doorframe.

I leapt onto Neil’s back the instant his body hit the rubber sheet. I playfully pressed my groin into his arse-cheeks and pretended to hump him. The horny sod managed to throw me off after a few minutes, and then tried to wrestle me into submission. The two of us rolled back and forth across the bed as we groped each other in all the right places.

‘Come on, arse-wipe,’ said Paul, stepping up to the king-size bed with his Polaroid camera. ‘Lie back and let Andy suck on that hard-standing cock.’

Neil’s face could clearly be seen in the viewfinder as the flash from the camera bounced off the bedroom ceiling.

‘No photographs of the face, as promised,’ said the shrink, lying. ‘Now spread those legs apart and let Andy have a go at that scrummy looking seed-sac.’

I sucked heavily on the hairless ball-sac, which was giving off a highly intoxicating aroma. I then lifted it up and focused on the anus beneath. The tip of my tongue probed the swelling until I pushed forward and buried my face into the narrow arse-crack.

Neil gave out a long, low moan as I lifted his legs high into the air and began rimming the entrance to his inner sanctum. I spread his arse-cheeks apart and held them there as I grazed on his anus, ball-sac and swollen cock-head. Like an unwavering disciple, I worshipped at the cock-head of life, until my master ordered me to help him restrain his new slave to the bed.

The cock-sucking romp was interrupted for some five to ten minutes, whilst straps were fitted to Neil’s wrists and ankles, and then secured to the four corners of the bed with rope. I eagerly returned to sucking on the man’s six-inch stem as Paul checked that every knot had been tied securely.

‘Ease up a bit, Andy,’ said Paul. ‘We don’t want our guest to shed his load too soon. He might not have enough oomph in him to fuck you later.’

Neil gave out an angry grunt when I suddenly released his uncut cock and left it swaying, like a flagpole, in mid-air. The man looked mighty aggrieved that my tongue and lips were no longer grazing on his shaft and ball-sac. So, in way of an apology, I clambered off the bed and blew him an over the top air-kiss.

‘Fetch me my Gladstone bag, Andy,’ Paul ordered. ‘It’s in the study, on the desk.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I replied, grinning.

Paul’s examination of Neil’s ears began the instant I returned with the bag. The poor sod began to sweat and tug at his bonds as the first metal probe entered his left ear.

‘Hold still, arse-wipe,’ Paul snapped. ‘I could perforate your eardrum if you don’t keep your head still.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ whimpered Neil.

The pencil-like probe was soon replaced by a flexible metal tube, which had a tiny light bulb at one end and a battery pack at the other. Paul used the torch-like probe to look inside both ears. He then used a metal syringe, filled with warm water, to cleanse the ears before they were stopped up with plastic earplugs.

Neil’s nostrils were scrutinized next. The clerk clenched his teeth and closed his tear-filled eyes as a dozen or more nasal hairs were cruelly wrenched from their anchorage by tweezers.

A few minutes later the good doctor put down the tweezers and inserted an inflatable butterfly gag into Neil’s mouth. I watched the slave’s rosy-red cheeks puff up like a hamster’s – it was quite entertaining to watch him cope with the rubber gobstopper.

‘That’s far too much air,’ said Paul, releasing the valve on the squeeze bulb. ‘Let’s try again.’

The gag was deflated and inflated several more times.

‘Excellent,’ grinned Paul. ‘Our guest won’t be choking on the gag now; although his jaw will ache a little tomorrow.’

‘Are you going to blindfold him, sir?’

‘Yes, of course. I don’t want him seeing how many cocks I’ve invited along to the fuck-fest. The poor fellow might have a heart attack.’

With a padded blindfold covering his eyes, Neil’s upper head was wrapped in a two-inch wide rubber binding, which ensured the blindfold and earplugs stayed in place. He could still breathe through his nose, but every other hole in his head was either covered or stopped up with plastic or rubber.

The catheter was just about to enter his urethra when the telephone in the hallway rang.

‘Damn it all,’ growled the shrink, throwing back his head in exasperation. ‘It better not be Arnim; and it better not be Henderson.’

Paul stormed out of the bedroom, leaving me with explicit instructions to ‘Look, but don’t touch’.

‘Calm down, Henderson,’ said Paul, gripping the telephone handset tightly. ‘Run amok! Who has run amok?’

I stared intensely at Neil’s flaccid cock. It looked so tempting, so mouth-watering tempting.

‘Why didn’t you sedate him when you had the chance, and where were Stupid One and Stupid Two when the bell rang?’ Paul snapped into the mouthpiece. ‘I told those two retards to keep an eye on him over the weekend.’

I squeezed my hard-standing cock and stepped closer to the object of my desire.

‘Yes! I’ll be there within the hour. And Henderson; don’t do anything else to exacerbate the situation. Have I made myself clear?’

Paul slammed the handset down and made his way back to the bedroom.

‘Right, change of plan,’ he announced curtly, collecting up the tools of his trade and dumping them into the Gladstone bag. ‘I’m off to the hospital to help my incompetent junior rectify a serious breach of procedure. You stay here and look after chummy.’

I looked at Neil’s outstretched body and squeezed my cock even harder.

‘Can I tease and torment his cock, sir?’

‘Yes, yes, but don’t let him choke on that butterfly gag. And release him from his bonds when Arnim and the others arrive.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’ll take real good care of him.’

‘And don’t let him get too excited. Your bottom will glow for a week if he sheds his load before I return from the hospital. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, you can rely on me, sir.’

‘I do hope so, Andy. I do hope so.’

* * *

I found a ball of twine and a plastic hairbrush some five minutes after Paul had left for the loony bin. The brush was cylindrical in shape and covered in sharp, nylon bristles; the twine was dark grey in colour and made of hemp.

It took me less than a minute to get Neil’s cock fully erect and straining for action. The uncut shaft began to twitch fitfully as the twine was looped around its base and tied off with a simple parcel knot. The cock and ball-sac were then enclosed in a tightly wound sheath of dark grey hemp – I carefully eased back the foreskin as the sheath was being formed and used another knot, fastened securely behind the ridge of the swollen knob, to stop the restraint from unravelling during the stretch.

The remainder of the twine was passed through a metal ring, which was attached to the light fitting in the centre of the ceiling, and left to hang in mid-air until my return from the kitchen. It was then cut to length, pulled tight and tied securely to the neck of an unopened bottle of Chateau Latour.

Neil’s body twitched erratically as the hairbrush rolled slowly over his cock-head. He pulled desperately on his wrist-straps as the nylon bristles stabbed repeatedly at his engorged knob. I took great delight in using the brush to tease and torment the poor sod for some fifteen minutes; it felt really good having so much power over him.

The target of my next torment was the soles of his feet. I used a sturdy leather strap to soften them up before they were introduced to the exhilarating caress of the brush. Neil’s head bobbed up and down, and then rolled from side to side as the brush’s caress intensified. He clearly had sensitive feet.

Emboldened by the success of my previous two torments, I picked up the offcut of twine, cut it in two and used one length to tie the toes of his right foot together. The second length of twine was then interlaced between the toes of his left foot and tied off. I then decided to stretch his cock a little more by setting the bottle of wine in motion, swinging it back and forth like a pendulum.

It was then that the doorbell rang.

– – –

Copyright (c) 2011-2013 Andy Caulden