Jardonn's Erotic Tales.com

... an excerpt ...

I look at Nancy and she at me. Our mouths agape, eyes wide, we are stupefied beyond words.

"Aw, you bastards," Hughes groans. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

That's what my wife and I want to know. They've got Randall Hughes stretched and quartered good and tight, each limb pulled toward a corner of the room. His body is like a slope. No parts touch the floor. Head dangles. Arms and legs angle down, and at the apex of the slope, his crotch. The bucket under his butt elevates his middle a half a foot above the rest of him, and he, like the females to his right, suffers from the ecstatic heat of pepper lotion smeared all over his important parts.

Nancy and I are in a daze. Sure, we are together, my arm wrapping her shoulder, her head nestled in the crook of my pec and arm pit, but we are in our own little worlds. Our eyes, ears and minds are lost in the scene presented before us. On the screen. In the screen, and we tingle with anticipation as the four commandos strip themselves naked. We cringe with dread as Chester Patek pushes his remote and another chain drops from the ceiling. It is a tiny thing. A serpentine chain. Glistening a shiny gold like fine jewelry. Slithering in its descent like a vile viper.

Seems kinda heartless when Patek clutches his prisoner's cock shaft in his fist and holds it vertical. Without question it is the cruelest of cruelties when Patek wraps the serpentine chain around his prisoner's mushroom head. Once around, twice, thrice, directly below the man's rim where cockhead meets shaft, until the chain is taut between pecker and ceiling, and Patek removes his hand.

"You sadistic shit!" Hughes howls, straining his neck to confirm it by sight -- his cock is in bondage, fully erect and perfectly vertical, the tiny chain choking his throbbing mushroom.

Patek stands in front of Hughes, between his V-stretched arms, cackling at the spectacle he's created. "Yes, you butt-fucking animal. We're the sadistic ones. So you say, but let me say this. If you want to get off, you'll have to do it yourself. Nobody in this room will be touching your dick. Not anymore. Not tonight. It's just you, the hot lotion, and four chains. Make that five, counting the noose around your peckerhead's neck."

"God damn you! Lemme go... " Hughes violently pulls at his chains. His chest expands. Face turns red. Arms and legs flex but can only rise an inch, maybe two. "You rotten," he gives up, body sags, hard cock still choked in its noose, "back-stabbin' mother fuckin'..."

"Oh, I'm not so rotten," Patek interrupts. "I didn't say you wouldn't be touched. I said your dick." He turns toward his naked commandos. "All right, men. You know what to do."

Patek's goons step to the wall, pick partners, and proceed to screw those pitiful women. And guess what... the chained females don't mind. That lotion has them so stirred into a frenzy, they arch their spines and stretch themselves toward the men.

Each commando squeezes them in bear hugs, squishing titties against their chests while putting their cocks into pussy holes.

Hughes, on the other hand, does mind. "You dirty sonsabitches. Leave them alone," he screams, frantically pulling on his chains, uselessly trying to break free.

I cannot recall ever being so horny. My wife is the same. I can tell by how she's squirming on our couch. I can tell by the sounds she's making. No words necessary. We both want to make love. Both of us are about to explode. Overdosed with lust, but our TV is like a tractor beam... got us locked... pulling us in... forcing us to see what's next.

The commandos take their time, with purpose. Every time one of the females is about to spew, the men pull out and change partners. They torture those helpless beauties. Their cock-control is phenomenal. How do they keep from shooting? I know if I so much as exhale on my dick I'll come from here to kingdom come.

They torture Hughes. Force him to watch his women being erotically abused. He and they suffer the torments of denial. So, too, do Nancy and me. Ours is self-inflicted, but Hughes has no choice. He tugs on his chains, clenches his scrotum, trying to stimulate his bound cock to ejaculation, but it is completely immobilized. There's syrup oozing from his slit, but that's about all he's going to get.

I honestly can't say if it's been ten minutes or sixty, but finally, the first female shrieks her song of orgasm. Nancy and I are in a hypnotic state... too astonished to look away... too intrigued to touch and finish ourselves.

The females fall, one by one. They scream and contort. The commandos grunt and growl. Four bound females and four brutal males all get off, and once everybody calms down, Chester Patek keeps his promise. He tells his men to release the women. Orders they be dragged by their collars over to Hughes. Has them forced to their knees, two on each side of the chained man. As his goons hold the women in place with firm grips on their collars, Patek goes to the crate and pulls out handcuffs. One by one, he locks the women's hands behind their backs, and then he grunts, "Eat him alive."

The men force female faces down onto Hughes, and they greedily kiss and lick him, two from his left, two from his right. Lips and tongues worship his chest and stomach, thighs and shins. The commandos dictate which targeted areas are assaulted, grasping firmly to the neck collars and directing greedy female mouths to the choicest spots. The choicest place of all, however, his cock, is off limits.

"There you go," Patek taunts. "Does that help?" He positions himself between Hughes' arms. "Think you can blow your load now?" He glares down at Hughes' inverted, anguished face. "Come on, you butt-fucker. What's taking so long?"

"Screw you," Hughes barks, torn between rage and ecstasy.

"Why are you so pissed? Hell, you're living every man's fantasy. All stripped down. All tied up. Four gorgeous ladies ravaging your body. Don't you like what's happening to you?"

"Yeah, but..." Hughes is panting like an after-race greyhound, deep-toned groans seeping out on his exhales. "I need 'em to..."

"To what?" Patek torments. "Good God, man. They've got their mouths all over you. We're not forcing 'em anymore." He tells truth. The frantic females are insane with lotion-stimulated lust. Crazed by the masculine beauty of their bound hero. Their tongues lap up his lotion and replace it with their spit. They're making sounds like it's their first meal in many a day. Munching away on him from his pits to his ankle-chained feet, but they're not allowed to touch what matters most to Hughes. His pitiful pecker in its hangman's noose is wiggling the few micro-inches it can. He's hurting something awful, and Patek's only making it worse. "I just don't understand you, Hughes. What in the world is your problem?"

"Let 'em touch my dick," he moans, sounding like he's about to bawl. "Come on... PLEASE! Just one lick on me. That's all I need."

"What kind of man are you, Hughes?" Patek never lets up. "Most men would sell their soul to be where you are right now. To have his body worshiped this way. Did you shoot all your come into that guy's ass? Can't get fired up again? Do you want me to bring Bernard back in here? Will that trip your trigger?"

"Fuck you!" Hughes spits. "I'll get off. You just watch. I'll show you what a real man..."

"Blah, blah. You're all talk, Hughes. No action. Can't you feel those ravenous females devouring you with their love? Can't you hear what they're saying between their munching? Telling you how magnificent you are? So strong? So manly? So..."

Patek's verbal taunting is no longer necessary, because Hughes lets out a vociferous grunt like he shit a turd twice the size of his ass. His cock shakes its chain, as a volley of white sperm shoots from his slit like a cannon. Honest to God. I'm guessing his first bullet fires straight up a good three feet. Then, like a flow of volcanic-semenic lava, one gob after another emerges from his slit. His cock repeatedly contracts his come despite its bondage in the hangman's noose. Sperm forms a dome all over his cockhead and he's making the sounds of a man in pain. He's coming, but it hurts, because he's coming all alone. No contact for his tortured cock. No stimulation for his sensitive cockhead, and he's howling like he's having a mental breakdown. Hughes is a crazed madman, suffering what no man should ever have to suffer.

The screen slowly fades to black, leaving us with his horrific groans, followed by a sinister chuckle and the voice of Chester Patek. "Good God, Hughes. Look at that! All your alpha sperm gone to waste. Sure is depressing. Don't you think?"

The laughter which follows is purely evil. Not just Patek, but his commandos, too, as the sounds slowly fade and words on the screen thank everybody for purchasing the Petersonville Penal Punishment Pay-per-view. Some other words follow, but Nancy and I move on to other activities, if you catch my drift.

Holy crap! What an incredible show. Now that's what I call quality television.

This broadcast brought the beasts out of me and my wife. We didn't even bother going to the bedroom. What with both of us naked and my old basement couch readily available, the only thing to stop us was the damn telephone ringing. Burt, asking if I'd watched what he just watched. Had to get rude with him when he wanted to talk about it. Had to tell him Nancy and I were busy. Had to tell him he's a damn fool for calling me up when he should be making love to his wife, same as I planned to do if he'd ever let me alone. Had to hang up on him when he still couldn't get my point.

I think next time there's a penal pay-per-view, we'll just invite Burt and Marie over here so we can orgy when it's over. As for now, Nancy and I might still be going at it until time for work Monday morning. Damn shit is the hottest thing we have ever witnessed. $2.95? Hell, I will shell out two hundred ninety five bucks for the next show if they ask for it. This Petersonville program has relit the fire in our romance. Got us acting like horny high schoolers again. In lust and in love.

 

(Copyright 2012 - Jasper McCutcheon & Jardonn Smith)

 

from Penal Punishment Pay-per-view

$12.95 at Amazon.com

 

 

Jardonn's Erotic Tales.com