Date: Mon, 1 May 2006 20:54:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: NiteSearcher2000 <nitesearcher2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pool Table and my Balls Chapter 25

This story is not completely fictional. Nor is it the
truth and nothing but the truth. The names have
definitely been changed to protect the guilty. We are
all disease free and stay that way by protecting
ourselves whenever we play with anyone but each other.
Descriptions of unprotected sex are fictional because
I'm imaginative and not stupid.

You know the rules... Don't read this if you're a
minor or are offended by gay or BDSM expression. Don't
even think about reproducing or publishing it without
my permission. Remember, I have sadistic friends who
like to punish people! <<evil grin>>


Chapter 25


Oh fuck! Oh fuck! This gotta pass. Oh shit it gotta
pass. Oh man. Please let it pass. I break out in a
sweat. I struggle to maintain my breathing. I've gotta
breathe. It will ease out faster if I breathe. This
fucking dildo in my mouth is driving me nuts. I just
wish I could move my fucking head. I scream into the
gag. With the fucking headphones on I can't even hear
myself. I have no fucking idea how loud it's coming
out. Oh fuck! Who thought I could be tortured by a
blow job? Oh man, please let it ease out, oh please....
Time seems to last eternally. I fight to keep my
composure. Finally! It's easing out. It's getting
better. Okay, I can handle this. Whew... Deep breaths,
deep breaths. Okay, it's not so bad anymore. Oh man my
balls hurt. They fucking ache. I move my lips around
the dildo but it's too big in my mouth to do anything
else. I just wish I could close my mouth, close my
mouth and move my head, and have the ball crusher off
my balls. With just that I'd be fine again. I was fine
before and I'd be fine again. I scream into the gag
again hoping to get some relief.

Michael looks at Steven, "It's your call man."

As he waits for an answer he rubs his thumb along the
outline of his hard on. With a nod of his head he
points out Steven's boner as well. Steven grabs his
own crotch and leans back against the table taking
another sip of his coffee. Michael nods and sits
beside him. He reaches across and places his hand over
the hand that Steven is using to massage his dick.
Steven moves his hand and lets Michael do it for him.
Still sitting on the table Michael eases Steven over
to stand between his legs. Neither of them is wearing
a shirt and Michael easily slides his hand down
Steven's pants. He strokes his dick for him inside his
pants. Steven reaches down and opens his own pants to
give Michael better access to his cock. Michael works
his dick expertly with slow teasing strokes. He tries
to ease Steven's pants down but Steven holds them in
place. Michael picks up the pace sending waves of
pleasure through Steven's dick and tries again to drop
his pants.

Steven holds them firmly and himself as well. He does
not flinch or pull away. He stands his ground and
holds his place. He will neither surrender nor
retreat, but is too smart to counter. It isn't the
right time, not yet anyway. Michael continues to play
with him until he realizes that he won't get what he
wants, and then he stops. Steven simply puts himself
away and sidesteps to sit beside Michael again. They
both watch the struggles and listen to the moans
coming from the box. Their raging hard-ons confirm
their shared sadistic interests.

The bartender's dick is rock hard as well. Not missing
an opportunity, Michael tells him to strip down and
lie on the floor next to the other slave. Squeezing
generous amounts of Capzasin ES into his hand he tells
the slave to jerk off. The little sideshow is just an
added perk for their entertainment. The poor boy has
no idea what's coming until the cream really heats up.
Not being familiar with the sensations he stops
jerking off and just rolls around on the floor in
agony. It's just icing on the cake to watch him
suffering too.

The main attraction is still in the box. They both
understand what is happening. The milking machine
caused pleasure until after the orgasm, then it
tortures the highly sensitive cock, and of course the
slave it's attached to. Without relief the period of
heightened sensitivity is prolonged and the period of
torture drawn out. The strict bondage prohibiting any
movement just adds to the psychological feelings of
helplessness. The additional discomforts are actually
beneficial to the slave because the body can only
handle so much and by distributing the pain it
actually makes the cock torture more tolerable. Then
of course it slowly turns to pleasure again.

I settle into the new sensations. It's starting to
feel good on my dick again but my balls ache. My jaw
has a dull ache to it as well and my tongue is getting
claustrophobic pinned in place by the dildo. I miss
the luxury of being able to move my head. I just wish
I could do that again. My dick feels pretty good so I
try to concentrate on that. It helps me to block
everything else out. I wish I could take off the
stupid earphones because they're so distracting and I
can't hear anything else with them on. Where the fuck
did these lyrics come from anyway? All it talks about
is abusing and beating low life sub boys who suck
cock, swallow cum, drink piss, lick ass and on and on.
At first I try to block it out but then realize if I
concentrate on the words they're really kind of a
turn-on. I've always been turned on by verbal abuse.
It's like this stuff was tailor made for me.

I get lost in the lyrics and start putting faces and
bodies together in my head picturing the lyrics played
out in real time. I picture myself licking out
Steven's ass.... Hhhmmmm, sucking on his dick..... I
imagine the feel of him sliding up inside me. And
Michael, whew.... I picture myself on my knees serving
him too. Me sucking Michael as Steven fucks me from
behind sweet and slow. Fuck! I'd love to be sandwiched
between the two of them! That would be my idea of boy
heaven!

I ease into the sensations going through my dick. I
try to block out everything else. I feel myself
moaning into the gag. It feels good to do that. I
guess because I can't move it's a way of expending the
energy I'm feeling. I feel myself slipping deeper into
my fantasies. They're moving faster in my head,
switching between Steven and Michael. Every few
seconds it's a different scene in my head.  Different
guys, different places, different positions... The
different things I see in my head make my dick feel
different. Oh man... I love this. The whole world ceases
to exist and it's just me and my thoughts and my dick.
Nothing else. No one else. This is so fucking awesome.
Everyone should feel this. I moan deeper.

Michael looks at Steven and says in amusement, "the
dumb fuck doesn't learn."

"He always thinks with his dick." Michael laughs but
Steven isn't really joking. There's a bit too much
truth to what he'd said. He does think with his dick
and it has gotten him into trouble lots of times, but
no matter how many times it has happened he doesn't
seem to learn from it. The boy is insatiable.

Not being a stupid man Steven realizes that it is not
going to change. The boy likes a lot of sex and he
likes doing it with a lot of different guys. It's the
same with the S & M shit. He can't get enough, at
least not yet anyway. In the beginning the concern was
that he'd abuse his safe word, now the concern is that
he won't ever use it. Training someone to take more
would be easy compared to getting someone to be
satisfied with less. How the fuck do you do that?

Being honest Steven admits to himself... I get off on
watching other guys using him both sexually and by
abusing him. I like sharing him. I like hanging out
with the other guys and tag teaming him and conspiring
and plotting against him. So where do I draw the line,
and how? When is enough, enough? I thought he'd set
the limits but he isn't. He always set the pace and
called the shots since we were kids. Every time I
pushed it past where he wanted to go he backed way
off. I can understand that it was hard for him to come
to terms with and admit what he is. Hell, it was hard
for me to admit to myself and even harder for me to
admit to him that I get off on seeing him in pain,
being humiliated and degraded, by seeing him abused.
It had to have been hard for him to admit that he got
off on submitting and being subservient to other men,
by being abused by them, by drinking piss and
everything else he does. Now that the line's been
crossed and we've started all this, where's the line
where it stops?

The moans from the box pull Steven from his thoughts.
He and Michael exchange glances while their main focus
stays on the box. They watch him moving toward orgasm
which is entertainment in and of itself but what will
come after is what really interests them. The
sensitivity after orgasm, after the second orgasm,
will be agony. Sweet agony! It won't last long but it
will be hot and intense for as long as it lasts.

Thinking quickly, Steven moves to the box in the
floor. Using his toes he presses against the ball
crusher. The sudden increase in pain and discomfort
override the pleasure of the approaching orgasm and
delay it. Letting go, they all watch as it moves
toward orgasm again.

Fuck! I was so close. I wanted to cum so bad. The
sudden pressure on my balls pulled me away from
cumming. I concentrate on the sensations going through
my cock. I'm determined to stay quiet so I don't let
them know I'm going to cum. Fuck it! I want to cum so
badly!

Steven notices the sudden quiet. He pulls the gag out
of its mouth. A moan escapes as if it were being held
prisoner by the gag. Steven knows it's getting close
again. Pulling off the earphones Steven gives him a
choice. "We can stop now before you cum and I'll let
you out, but the cock cage gets put back on and you'll
wear it for a month straight. Or, you can cum again
and we keep going. Decide now, right now."

I'm delighted to hear Steven's voice and to know he's
here. I struggle to digest what he said. Stop now and
the cage goes back on or I can cum again. Why the fuck
wouldn't I want to cum again? Why would I want to wear
the cage again for a month? My orgasm is close. So
close.

"Answer me now." Steven's voice breaks into my head
and disrupts my thoughts.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh fuck, man, I'm gonna shoot. Oh fuck
yeah!" I hang for several seconds at the edge of
cumming. My orgasm is incredibly intense. It shudders
through my whole body. It takes me a second to realize
it's me screaming as the pleasure quickly turns into
agony. "Oh fuck no! No! Please stop! Please! Oh fuck!
I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please. I made a mistake. I'll
wear the cage. I'll do anything! Oh please make it
stop!" I gasp out a sob as I realize begging won't
help. I continue to cry unable to do anything else. I
feel Steven place his hand on the side of my face and
I push against it for security. He caresses my face as
I struggle to cope with sensations raging through my
overly sensitive cock. I make all kinds of promises to
obey and behave for him. I tell him how much I love
him, how much I need him, how I want him to make my
decisions for me because I fuck up on my own. His
response is in his hand. It caresses me tenderly. The
agony in my cock slowly subsides but my balls are
aching and so is my stomach from holding my muscles
clenched. My throat is dry and sore from screaming and
begging.

"Take a drink." He holds the straw to my lips and I
drink from it. I drink slow but steady until I finish
it all. The milking machine is shut off and the tube
is slid off my dick. I'm relieved and glad it's over.
Dread washes over me as the gag is put back in my
mouth and I realize I'm not getting out yet. I sink
further as I feel the cream being rubbed into my dick
and balls and I know what's coming. I wait for the
burning sensation I know is coming. I try to prepare
for it, but I can't. It always hurts more than I
remember it. I just endure it knowing I could have
stopped it and I didn't. I jump as the lid slams
closed above me. Oh fuck..... This time they leave me
with the dildo gag in my mouth which means I can't
even move my head or close my mouth. I can't get a
drink, even if all I had last time was piss it was
better than nothing. And my balls, oh shit my balls
are still in the ball crusher. How long am I going to
have to endure all of this? SHIT! I'm so fucking
stupid. He gave me the option of ending all this and I
chose to cum again. When will I learn not to think
with my dick?

Steven had slammed the lid for effect and then very
slowly opened it. He wanted to watch and listen. The
low moans, the quiet sobs into the dick gag, the
movement of his lips around the gag, watching his cock
shrivel and his balls suck up from the discomfort of
the heat cream. He could even see the contractions of
his muscles under the vet wrap. He could sense the
anxiety level, watch it fall and rise as he fights for
control by his breathing. As he watches he's filled
with a sense of pride; more than pride. More like awe
and admiration. The fucker can really take it all, the
pain, the bondage, the humiliation and embarrassment,
cum control, obedience, and everything else that's
been thrown at him. He's one tough man Steven admits
to himself. He also admits that he couldn't do it, but
then again, he wouldn't do it. No fucking way. He
closes the lid.

Grabbing the bartender by the hair he pulls him up to
his knees. Looking at Michael, he takes his cock out
of his pants and shoves it in the whore's mouth.
Michael follows his lead and pulls the bartender up by
his waist. Slapping lube on his asshole, Michael
pushes his cock straight up the guy's ass. He opens
his mouth to scream but Steven just shoves his cock
down his throat preventing any sound except the one
from his gag reflex. They fuck him hard at both ends.
Steven pulls out and shoots his load all over the poor
guy's face. Michael is really turned on by watching
Steven shoot his load. He pulls out of the guy's ass
and goes postal on spanking his ass with his hand.
He's relentless pausing only to shove his cock back in
for a few strokes until he's close and then pulls out
and spanks him again. When he's being spanked he begs
Michael to stop and when he's being fucked he begs
Michael not to stop.

Michael pulls out and shoots his cum all over the
slut's back. He lands a bunch more smacks across his
ass. "Get dressed and get the fuck out of here. We're
done with you."

The bartender pulls his pants on sniveling. Grabbing
his shoes in one hand and his shirt in the other he
turns to Michael, "Can I come back next week?" Michael
doesn't answer. "Please?" Michael just continues to
stare at him. The poor guy looks pathetic. He tries
one more time. "Please?" Michael barely nods in
response. "Thank you, Sir." His relief is evident as
he quickly turns to leave before Michael has a chance
to change his mind. Michael wonders what is it about
some guys and their need to be treated like shit?

"What do you want to do now?" Michael asks Steven.

"How about a nap?" They smile at each other and head
upstairs. They sleep well even with the volume turned
way up to monitor the boy in the box. Truth be told
the boy slept well too, until he pissed himself again.

He woke up as he felt the warm water tickling his
legs. It's not that pissing himself was offensive
anymore; it was that he didn't wake up first when he
had to pee. He hadn't done that since he was about
three years old. What the fuck was that about? Was he
in such a deep sleep or was he getting a little
whacko? The thought upset him. How long had he been in
here? He had no fucking idea. It started Saturday
night. It couldn't have been very late because they
weren't at the club for very long. Then they came back
here and played for just a little while so he'd
probably been in the box since pretty early Saturday
night. Then the thought occurred to him that he was
thinking `he' instead of `I'. He was smart enough to
figure out what that means; it means he is so
miserable that he's disassociating himself from the
event. That isn't a good sign. Okay, so it was early
Saturday night. Then whoever it was woke him up in the
morning by punching him in the balls and telling him
he'd do it again if he fell back to sleep and he did
fall asleep again so a lot of time must have passed.
Then that other guy helped him because he was upset
that they weren't feeding him or letting him out. That
had to have been in the afternoon some time and then
he went back to sleep but he had no idea how long he'd
slept until Michael woke him up again. Then the
orgasm, then Steven arriving, then the orgasm again,
then he slept again... SHIT! It had to be Monday morning
or damn close to it.

Fuck! He felt the panic starting to rise and tried his
best to push it down again. They had to let him out to
go to work, didn't they; or did they? His boss was in
on it. Fuck! If they told him what they were doing to
him he'd be all for it. The panic pushed its way back
to the surface. He felt his stomach tighten, really
tighten, then cramp. All of a sudden he had to go to
the bathroom. No, no, no.... this can't be happening. Oh
please no... but it happened. He messed himself and the
despair and desperation washed over him. He hit
bottom. Fuck... this ain't fun anymore, but what the
hell can I do about it?

Moving is impossible. After being confined this long
his body felt like dead weight. The dildo gag in his
mouth prevented any movement of his head or any
intelligible words from coming out. He took inventory
of his situation. His balls have a dull ache that runs
all the way around his back. His jaw aches as well
from the dildo strapped into his mouth. His lips are
wet and getting raw from constantly moving them around
the dildo but he can't stop himself from doing it.
He's starving and so thirsty he can't stand it. He
desperately wants to move or change positions because
he is sore from being in the same position for so
long. He aches.... everywhere. He is wet and dirty and
his own stink is starting to nauseate him. That's it!
That's the breaking point! If I vomit in this position
I could choke on my own puke. No fucken way am I
letting that happen.

Steven jumped up and ran down the stairs as fast as he
could with Michael right behind him. Michael grabbed
the lid out of Steven's hands before he even had it
open half way freeing Steven to rip the gag out of his
mouth instantly. They were both simultaneously
assessing the situation as they moved quickly.

Steven's voice was strong and steady as he clearly
phrased his question, "Tell me exactly what's wrong so
I can fix it."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I just can't stand it
anymore. I'm afraid I'm going to be sick."

"It's okay, I'm right here. Are you going to be sick?"
Without waiting for an answer they lifted him out of
the box in one quick easy motion and laid him on the
floor ready to roll him over if he started vomiting.

With the fresh air and the reduced anxiety from
knowing he was there he was already feeling better.
"No. I think I'm okay now. I'm sorry. I really thought
I might get sick."

"It's okay, don't be sorry. You did the right thing.
I'm proud of you for using good judgment. Now I know I
can trust you." Steven really means that. He was
beginning to wonder if he could trust him to use good
judgment.

"Michael is going to be pissed. He told me if I used
my safe word it would look bad on you and you'd be
thrown out of the club." Steven glares at Michael.
Michael holds his hands up as if to surrender and
steps back.

"Don't worry about that. Are you okay now?"

He has to think about it. "I'm miserable. I hurt
everywhere and I messed myself. I'm sorry, I couldn't
help it. I'm really hungry too..... and thirsty......" he
starts to cry. "I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to
complain or wimp out."

Steven touches his face. "Sshhhh, quiet. You're not
wimping out. You've been through a lot. You did
great." He cried harder. All of the emotion was coming
out. Steven held his face and tried to comfort him.

Michael leans back against the table and watches them
as his cock grows hard in his pants. He finds it
interesting and arousing that Steven makes no move to
free him or release him. He doesn't even take the
blindfold off. Sure, he's comforting him, but not
letting him go. Very interesting, and very hot.

Steven continues to offer comfort. He stays beside
him. He strokes his face. He tells him how well he's
done, how proud he is of him. It works. He grows
calmer. Michael watches in amazement.

Steven glances over at Michael before talking. He
points out his own erection and then nods at
Michael's, acknowledging he is aware of his hard-on as
well as his own. "Listen to me, you did the right
thing. You needed to use your safety signal and it
worked perfectly. Humming I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy
got my attention instantly. I want you to use it again
if you have to. Promise me you will. I want you to
promise me."

"I promise I will." It feels so good to have his
concern and approval. I thought he'd be disappointed
in me and it feels good to know he isn't disappointed,
just concerned. I must be the luckiest man on earth.

"You know I love you, right?" Steven's voice is warm
and gentle. I nod that I know he loves me and tell him
that I love him too. "I know you do. Feeling better?"
I tell him that I am feeling much better. "Good, and
if you need me I want you to use your safety signal
again, okay? You promised me. I want you to keep that
promise." I promise him again that I would. "Good boy,
very good, boy."  My stomach clenches at the way he
said, boy. "You make me so proud of you." I don't have
to see his face; I can hear his smile in his voice. I
love it when he's pleased.

Steven looks at Michael with a wicked smirk as he
places the gag back in his boy's mouth and clasps it
behind his head. His moan is so hot when he realizes
what's happening and both Steven and Michael smile
when they hear it. "For me baby. Make me proud of you.
We'll keep this between us and when Michael gets back
we'll let you out. We won't tell anyone you used your
safe word." Without any instruction Michael helps
Steven put him back in the box. They slam the lid hard
for affect and high five each other as they leave the
basement.

At the top of the stairs, Steven stops and turns to
look at Michael who is a couple of steps lower. He
likes the feeling of standing over him so he lingers
there for a moment. "Well?" His look is a challenge.

"You did good," Michael acknowledges.

"Good?" Steven is still working the moment.

"Very good." Michael concedes.

"Your cock is rock hard and leaking pre-cum through
your pants and the best you can do is very good?"

Michael reflexively touches the wet spot on his pants
and smiles, "Masterful." He gives up the point to
Steven.

"I think you owe me a blowjob." Steven pushes it
further.

Michael smiles, "I'll fuck you. I think you deserve
that."

"Fuck you!" Steven tells him as he turns and walks
away knowing Michael is staring at his ass and getting
off on it.

Michael catches up to him in the kitchen and playfully
pins him against the counter by pushing his crotch
against Steven's round muscular ass. Steven quickly
turns around to face Michael square in the eyes.
Michael breaks the silence that Steven is a master at
letting linger between them. "Don't tell me you've
never been fucked."

"Don't tell me you've never sucked dick." He holds it
so steady. Their crotches are plastered against each
other and they are both hard. They hold each other's
attention. Michael moves forward increasing the
pressure against their cocks. Steven reaches behind
him and runs his fingers through Michael's hair.
Michael leans in as if going for a kiss. Steven
doesn't pull away. As Michael moves in closer Steven
pulls back on Michael's hair leaving him with the
choice of backing off or allowing Steven to inflict
pain on him if he still wants to move in for a kiss.
Stalemate! The moment is acknowledged and lost in a
heartbeat and they step away from each other both
feeling as if they've come out on top.

In the box.... well, he's counting in a vain attempt to
keep track of time.


I'm sorry it has been so long between chapters. Due to
a situation at work I've been working in three
different states, Florida, Illinois, and California
and commuting between them.

This chapter is short in an effort to pick up the mood
and the thread of the story. Other chapters will be
more timely.

Thank you all for your patience, understanding, and
suppport.

regards,
eric