Date: Fri, 01 Jun 2007 10:59:09 -0700
From: David Andrew <daprivate12@hotmail.com>
Subject: Bondage, Balls, Pain and Pleasure 2

	As you may imagine I called Tom, the man in black, the very next time I was
in NYC, and on each subsequent trip too. Unfortunately he spent a lot of
time in Washington, and each time I'd call I'd get an answering machine.
However, I knew he was still interested because on my next trip to the city
he'd have left a message for me at the hotel. I'd liked him, especially his
irreverent sense of humor, so I persevered. One day I called and was a
little surprised to hear his voice, live, not recorded. My stomach tightened
up immediately, but he sounded very pleased that I'd called and invited me
to come over to his place as soon as I was ready.
Tom lived in a brown-stone building, three stories, with a broad flight of
steps leading up to the front door. (For those who are not familiar with the
term "brown-stone building" I should say that these are actually made of
brown sandstone, were built in the late 19th or early 20th century as family
homes. With few exceptions they have been turned into apartments, but still
retain an elegance of earlier times.) There were three bell-presses, his
name was at the top. I pressed the button, he answered almost immediately
and the electric door strike buzzed. Inside I could see that this had once
been a private home. There was an immense lobby, marble floors, and a wide,
curving staircase going up to the upper floors. In an alcove at the base of
the stairs was a bronze statue of a naked Greek or Roman athlete, maybe
three feet high. Where the stairs curved around was another alcove with
another bronze naked man, this one life size, and I passed two more further
up. This clearly was not an average apartment building! (Much later I
discovered that he owned the building.)  When I reached the third floor I
saw Tom standing at an open doorway. I'd like to say that he was wearing
nothing but his sardonic smile, but that wouldn't be quite true. He was
wearing black leather chaps, not pants, just chaps, no crotch, no back.
Other than that he was naked. When he saw my surprise his grin broadened.
	"Come on in. It's great to see you again." It was a real warm welcome. "Go
on in...strip off...make yourself comfortable," he said indicating the door
to the lounge. "I'll fix drinks...wine OK
	"Oh yes, that would be fine," I said as I went on through to the lounge.
What I saw as I entered the room stopped me dead in my tracks. There was a
long, low coffee table, maybe six feet long, covered from end to end with
whips laid across it. There could have been a hundred of them, paddles,
straps, cats with plain thongs, cats with plaited thongs, short whips,
great, long bull whips lying in coils. I'd never seen so many menacing
looking things all in one place, not even in the s&m shops on Washington
Street. Suddenly I realized that I was in deep, way too deep. I was still
standing looking at them in shock when he came in with two glasses of wine.
	"Look," I said, "I'm not into whipping...I mean there's no way that I could
take..."
	"Oh it's not what it looks like, I was cleaning them up. Don't worry, I
won't use a whip until you're ready for it."
	'Until you're ready for it!' I thought. 'I'll never be ready for that sort
of pain.' "Well, I must tell you," I said, "I'll never be ready for it.
Believe me I know, I used to be caned at school, bare-assed, so I do know
what I'm talking about. I would never want that again."
	"No...it's not like that," he tried to reassure me. "Believe me, one day
you will want it, and when you're ready it'll be the hottest turn on you
ever had. Anyway, forget about them, get your things off, let's have some
fun."
	As I started to strip he asked me about the caning, where, when and how it
was done. I told him all about it, the ritual that we were put through, from
the age of ten and up, and just how bad it had been. He was fascinated,
wanted to know all the details, his cock hanging down between his legs
started to stiffen as we talked. (I can tell you about it too if you'd be
interested, let me know.) Finally, as we finished our wine he stood up.
	"Come, time to play," he said. He led me through to a bedroom. It was
impressive, a black and white room. The walls were white, ceiling black, the
carpet white, the king-sized bed black. It was covered with what felt like
very thin, soft, black leather, but was in fact some sort of artificial
fabric. "Lie down, I'll make you comfortable!"
	"Not too comfortable," I said hoping to sound more confident than I felt.
	"Oh, you won't be dozing off any time soon," he said with a laugh. Although
the room was warm I began to shiver.
	He buckled broad leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. I looked at them,
nicely padded, very comfortable, very strong. There'd be no way of wriggling
out of them. He told me to lie back. Each of the cuffs had a steel ring
built in to it, these he attached with dog clips to chains that were fitted
to the four corners of the bed. In a minute or so I was spread-eagled. Now
the shivering became almost uncontrollable, I had to clench my teeth to stop
them chattering, and was afraid he'd see how scared I was. Looking down at
my body I could see that my cock was still up and hard, but honestly I don't
know why, it looked a lot better than I felt. I had to remind myself that
this is what I'd wanted for so long. Paul had tied my hands and feet, he'd
tortured my balls. But being spread-eagled was so much better, at last my
body was totally exposed, my cock and balls at the mercy of another man and
there was absolutely nothing I could do to save them. Tom went to a
cupboard, brought out a what looked like a black leather bag. I didn't know
what it was until he pulled it over my head.
	"Open your mouth!"
	"But I..." I got no further, a fat rubber gag attached to the inside of the
hood was forced into my mouth. 'Well,' I thought, 'don't want him to think
I'm a wimp, Paul used a gag, I can live with it.' But being in total
darkness didn't help with the shivering.
	I heard Tom moving around the room, some water running, then a whoose and a
chill feeling all around my cock and balls. Then there were tapping sounds
of metal on thin metal. I was still trying to work out the significance of
the noise when I felt the scraping at the side of my scrotum.
	'SHIT! A razor!' I thought. I shook my head furiously objecting as clearly
as I could. "Oooah Iiee oh ah." It was just noise, but Tom stopped.
	"What's the matter?" he asked. I made more noises and continued to shake my
head. Finally he leant over, loosened the cord securing the mask over my
head and pulled the gag from my mouth. "What's the problem?" he asked again,
clearly puzzled by my strong reaction.
	"I'm married. I told you. I can't go home with no pubes."
	"Ah crap." He wasn't impressed and went to put the gag back in. I managed
to avoid it.
	"No really...I can't. "
	"But you've hardly got any hair on your balls. All I'm doing is removing
what's left."
	"No please!" I pleaded. "What would I tell her?"
	"Tell her you did it yourself." It was obvious that this guy had never been
married. He was right that I didn't have hair on my balls, but stripping
them had been a very gradual process, it had taken years to get my them as
bald as they were at this time. Besides, it was just the sac that was bald,
the rest of my pubic hair looked normal. What would any wife think if her
husband returned from a night in New York with no pubic hair at all? There
would be hell to pay.
	"No! Believe me, I'd end up in the divorce court!" I had to convince him.
	"Oh well...if it means so much to you...But now this goes in again!" He
thrust in the gag and tightened the cord even as I was trying to thank him
for his indulgence. I gathered that he wasn't about to get into any further
discussions. I felt Tom's fingers on my balls, he was handling them the way
a butcher handles meat. He grabbed them, twisted them, pulled down hard,
slapped them lightly left and right. With each wrench and slap I couldn't
help but let out a gasp. "Your balls are good and tender," he said
approvingly. "We're going to have a good time with these." I just hoped I'd
be able to take the "good time" well enough to please him. I was left alone
for a little while, not that I relaxed, then I felt a cool, smooth surface
under my balls. A moment later another cool, smooth surface came down on top
of them. It felt good, but I didn't need to see what was being done to know
that this was a ball-press. I'd seen them in sex shops in the Village, I
thought I knew what was coming. There were two screw threads, one at each
end of the press. Tom tightened each one in turn. As the pressure increased
my balls were flattened, squeezed, extruded. I moved my hips on the bed
trying to adjust to the pressure: made no difference. Relentlessly the gap
between the blocks narrowed. The pain was awful. In my mind I could
visualize my balls spread as thin as potato chips. I shook my head
vigorously, it seemed to help for a moment, but then Tom turned the screw
again. Soon I was making roaring noises behind the gag.
	"What's the problem?" Tom asked as though I might be able to tell him.
"Just breathe deeply, don't struggle, let it happen. We've got a long way to
go."
	'Christ! A long way to go? I can't take any more.' But I didn't want to be
a total failure, I knew I was going to have to take it.
	When the pain got really, really bad, Tom backed of the pressure a bit. Oh
God! The relief! But it was only for a few moments. Once again he crushed my
nuts as he calmly told me to relax. Tighten, loosen, tighten loosen, Tom was
trying to get me through the pain barrier. Each time the pressure was
applied it was harder than the time before, each time it was eased the
relief was greater, more delicious.
	"Now I'm going to put some real pressure on...You've got to stay loose. It
won't be for long so take it well."
	'Jesus Christ!' I thought. 'What does he mean by real pressure...I
can't...' I felt the blocks move, I had to show him I could take it. I took
a deep breath and pushed my balls down has hard as I could. Internally I
screamed for the whole thirty seconds, but I took it. What surprised me most
was that the pain was even worse as Tom removed the press. It was one long,
screaming agony as the blood rushed back into my crushed testicles.
	"There now, it wasn't bad was it?" He was being facetious of course. It had
been hell, but now that it was over I felt just wonderful. And now that I
could think about something other than my balls being destroyed I realized I
had a problem that was developing rapidly. The wine was having an effect, I
needed a piss, needed to make Tom understand. I made oooing and aahhhing
noises whilst pointing with my finger towards my mouth. Eventually he
released the hood again to ease the gag from my mouth.
	"I'm sorry," I said, "but I need a piss."
	"So? Go ahead! Piss, the cover's waterproof." I wasn't sure if I'd heard
right.
	"No, really, I'll have to go."
	"Do it! Go on...piss!"
	I tried, couldn't do it. I still don't know if it was because I was lying
on my back and my cock was as stiff as a pole. It's not easy to piss with a
hard on, but I think there was more to it than that, something to do with
training. From the age of nothing we're trained not to piss in our pants,
but now Tom was telling me to do it over my body, over the bed. I couldn't.
Eventually I convinced him that I had to go to the bathroom, he released my
arms and legs, but left the hood over my head. He guided me through a
doorway, but instead of feeling the toilet bowl against my legs I felt the
side of a bath.
	"Climb in," he commanded. I thought that he was doing this because I could
not see the bowl to piss in so I climbed over the edge. "Kneel down."
	I knelt. It wasn't easy even then to get the piss flowing, but when it did
come the relief was wonderful. Just as I was beginning to relax I felt the
warm stream flowing over my shoulders, down my back, then my chest, my cock
and balls. It was a moment before I realized what was happening.
	"It's as good a time as any to get used to it. Start the way you mean to
continue I always say," said Tom. I wasn't particularly thrilled to be
pissed on, but what the hell, I was getting what I needed, Tom was entitled
to his pleasure too. Back on the bed I could feel his piss drying on my body
as he stretched my limbs even tighter than before. The gag went back in, the
hood tightened.
I lay on the bed for a minute or two very conscious of the fact that I'd
failed twice so far. Then I recognized the feel of a steel ring against my
scrotum, much smaller than the cock-ring I'd used when I went to the baths.
His fingers pushed at the back of my left testicle trying to force it
through. I was sure it couldn't be done, the ring was too small. The
pressure increased, so did the pain. I didn't utter a sound, I didn't want
Tom to think I was a total wimp. Just when the agony was up to screaming
pitch the testicle popped through with a sharp stab of pain into my guts.
Then relief, but only for a moment, because his fingers were now pressing on
my right nut. If the left one was difficult to get through the right one was
terrible. I was breathing very hard, shaking my head from side to side to
try to keep my mind off my testicle, just couldn't hold still. The left one
had popped through suddenly, this one was extruded through the small
remaining space, slowly at first, then shot through the tiny remaining gap
like a melon pip from your fingers. When he finally got it in I was
exhausted, and this was just the preliminaries. He fondled them for a while
working the pain out, seemed well pleased with the way they felt in his
hand.
	"Yes...They'll do," he said quietly as though thinking aloud, then gave
them a hard slap. I stifled a cry. "Good! Now we can enjoy them." And for
the next hour or so that is exactly what he did, or more accurately what we
did. As Tom tortured my balls I alternated between ecstasy, agony and
terror..
	Eventually I was left in peace again. I could hear him fiddling with
something beside the bed, then he took my cock in one hand and slipped a
cool, smooth object into the piss slit. It didn't go far in, about an inch,
nor was it uncomfortable. Now his attention switched to my hole. With one
finger he found the opening, then another cool, smooth object was slipped
in. This one was fatter and longer than the one in my cock, it went in about
two or three inches, felt good too. Next Tom bound a bandage around my right
thigh, up high, close to my scrotum. When he was through with the bandage I
expected the pain, but to my surprise nothing happened. I must have lain
there for two or three minutes in total peace and silence, except that my
mind was hardly at peace. As I lay there in pitch darkness my mind was going
at a hundred-thousand revs trying to work out what was coming.
	I'm not sure that I noticed when it started, but I gradually became aware
that my stiff  cock was nodding. You know the sort of movement when you
finish pissing and you flex your dick to get the last of it out. It was like
that, only I wasn't doing it. Little by little the movement increased. Now I
could feel the muscles at the base of my dick flexing, about once a second,
and the movement of my cock became much stronger. That's when I realized
that I was attached to some sort of electrical device. The flexing varied
from fast to slow, from slight to strong, Tom was obviously playing with the
controls. He must have flicked a switch because suddenly I felt as though my
penis was being torn out of my body. It was an incredibly strong wrench,
like a man with a good grip on it trying to lift me off the bed by my cock.
My back arched up off the bed as far as I could, which wasn't far, to try to
relieve the pain. Suddenly it stopped, I slumped back. Start, stop, start,
stop, that's the way it went for several minutes, then it didn't start
again. I waited for the pain, it didn't come, but I couldn't relax. Maybe
two minutes went by: I gradually allowed myself to sink back in relief still
breathing hard.
	The next thing I felt was my balls being pulled down towards my knees. The
ring he'd forced them into at the start of the session was metal, and I
hadn't felt Tom touch them so I knew that this too was electrical
stimulation. Sure enough the wrenching on my nuts grew stronger and stronger
until I wanted to scream. The power went off for a moment then both my cock
and my balls were wrenched violently at the same time. Then nothing. He was
playing with me, and thoroughly enjoying himself. I knew I was in real deep
with Tom, this was all much more than I had expected. I had to keep
reminding myself that this is what I had been looking for all the time I was
in the wilderness of Europe and Africa. I was spread-eagled, my cock and
balls were being tortured. It was exactly what I'd wanted, now I was getting
it. That made me feel better, until my hole was brought into play. It was
the strangest sensation, my sphincter tightening and opening in rapid
succession. I was scared of shitting in the bed so I clamped as tight as I
could, which meant that I was gripping hard on the electrode that was
causing the problem. After a while Tom started to switch the power from cock
to ball to hole to cock in rapid succession. The current produced the most
pain in my penis, or maybe it just seemed that way because I loved the ball
torture. Where my hole was concerned I just had to hang on tight to prevent
anything escaping so I wasn't so aware of the pain. As the power was
switched from pulses to continuous current, from electrode to electrode, my
body twisted and twitched furiously. At times I felt as though I was being
held up by my penis and shaken like a rag doll. A second later there was a
vacuum cleaner tube stuck up my ass which was alternately sucking and
blowing. In short it was a wild ride. My entire being was totally occupied
with surviving, naturally I lost all concept of time. I had no way of asking
Tom to ease up on the torture because the vigorous head shaking and
gesticulating with my hands wouldn't work now, my whole body was twitching
and twisting continuously in time with the pulsing and wrenching electric
current. I suppose it was like being strapped by my genitals to a runaway
trolley that was hurtling down a mountain, the best I could hope for was to
make to the bottom without losing them. Even when the power went off and I
felt Tom's fingers at the back of the hood I still couldn't relax. I knew it
was going to come on again, just didn't know what form it would take.
	"So did you like it?" Tom was trying to get the gag from between my tightly
clenched teeth.
	"Oh God!" I gasped when I got a breath. "That was terrible!"
	"Oh?" He was genuinely surprised. "I thought it was real fun when it was
done to me." What could I say, I wasn't in his league.
	We parted on good terms. He made me promise to call next time I was in
town, but I had been out of my depth, and just thinking about all those
whips made me shudder. I didn't call.