Friday, March 25, 2016
A Roman Experience - Part 9
A Roman Experience - Part 9
Based on an original story by Prisoner/J.D.
"Well, Belorus," Marcus addressed me, "you are last. What have you prepared to entertain yourself and us?"
I smiled enigmatically and rose to move slowly towards the boy. In truth, I had not yet considered what I would do to him. His pubic hair had been plucked, his nipples pierced and bitten, his prostate massaged, his balls pummeled, stretched, and abused, his cock whipped and fucked. Frankly, I wasn't sure what new delight I could inflict that would not be a mere repetition of a previous effort.
I reached the enormous lad’s side and silently looked over him, marveling at his magnificent size and equally magnificent masculine beauty and perfection. Once again he had closed his startlingly blue eyes. His mighty chest rose and fell most invitingly with the symmetry of his even breathing. The muscular blond giant was resting in preparation for what he knew would be the last torture.
My eyes scanned his face. It was still achingly beautiful in repose, even after all that he had suffered. His dampened, golden hair was pasted against his forehead. His entire body was coated with sweat, which ran freely off his perfect, unblemished skin and onto the dirt below. My eyes swept down his chest and noted the still faint welts from the nettles that stood out a light red against the pale ivory of his skin, while his nipples were an angrier red, though they were no longer bleeding.
My eyes continued to survey his body, his denuded crotch making his already mammoth sex organs seem even more massive. I reached down and cradled as much of his limp cock and enormous balls in one hand as I could. I watched as another drop of cum — the sticky remnants from his last awesome load — dangled from his cock head and dripped to the marble floor below, and only then did I notice the vast puddle of cum I was standing in. Maybe lake would have been more precise! I had thought that the bulk of the young stud’s cum had landed on his tormentors, but obviously a significant amount had also been spilled on the floor. The ground was awash with literally goblets full of thick, gamey semen, and I was again astounded that even balls as gargantuan as those I now held in my hand could produce that much cum in a matter of hours. The young and heroically muscular boy was a veritable god of sex.
The muscles around the hunky stud’s eyes flinched at the touch my hand on his genitals, as though he were preparing himself against whatever torment I had devised to visit on his vulnerable cock and balls, which were themselves reddened and swollen from all the previous abuse. I released them and stood back from him, pondering what I would do that would entertain my fellow guests.
A thought crossed my mind, and I smiled inwardly. All manner of implements had been used on the boy, and all who had gone before had been successful in bringing him to orgasm. It was obvious that the boy was predisposed to this kind of treatment, either by disposition or by training. Perhaps, I reasoned, I could get the boy to make himself cum. I turned to Marcus and the other diners.
"Marcus," I spoke formally, "and my fellow guests. We have all been entertained this evening by watching this spectacular young man here," I pointed towards the bound youth, "repeatedly tortured to magnificent orgasm." I paused for effect, and then continued.
"It is obvious to me that the boy is predisposed to this kind of sexual release, either by nature or by our friend Marcus's training." I stopped and paused while the diners murmured agreement. I could see that they were all wondering what I intended to do to win my wager.
"I propose to risk my wager on this reasoning, by making the youth cum once again, but..." I paused as the murmuring stopped and the other diners and Marcus waited on my words, "I will do so without touching him."
"That’s not possible!" I heard someone shout, to be followed by general agreement from the other diners. Marcus only looked intrigued, a smug smile spreading across his face.
"Perhaps Belorus would care to increase the wager?” Marcus asked the other diners.
"Gladly, " I replied, "I will wager against the winnings of anyone who wishes to test my theory."
Immediately, several of the diners offered their winnings, including my friend Practicus. The majordomo collected the challenge money and placed it in front of Marcus.
"I, too, would like to see this, and will match these wagers with my own," Marcus spoke, indicating the pile of bags in front of him.
"Done," I said simply, and turned towards the boy.
The handsome lad’s blue eyes were open and he stared silently at me. He had heard what was said, and was himself puzzled by my actions.
"What is your name, boy?" I asked him.
“Titus," he responded, speaking for the very first time. His voice was incredibly deep, a rich baritone, and husky from several hours of screaming and bellowing. Just the sound of his voice nearly made me weak in my knees.
"Well, Titus, " I replied, "I want you to listen very carefully to what I am going to say. I want your mind to paint pictures of the words I am going to use in describing how I will treat you when you are my slave."
His eyes opened wider as I continued speaking.
"Yes, Titus, I intend to buy you from Marcus when we are through here, so you can be quite certain that what I am about to describe will, in truth, happen." I spoke with firmness and surety.
"Close your eyes, Titus, and let your mind see." The room was quiet as each of the diners and Marcus listened to my words.
"Tonight, when these festivities are concluded, you will be released from this cross. But you will not be free. I will have your wrists bound together behind your powerful, muscular back, and joined by a leather strap to your massive testicles, which will also be tightly bound." I paused to see if my words were creating any pictures for the youth. I could tell by his breathing that he was, in fact, seeing what I was describing.
"You will remain naked, and thus bound, as I lead you through the streets of Rome to my home. You can be sure that any of the good citizens of Rome that chance to see you will heap ridicule on you and perhaps even wish to molest you. I will not stop them." I could see his breathing quicken slightly. I knew then that I was correct in my reasoning. I would win the wager.
"If necessary, we will stop so that any citizen who would so choose may torment you. Yes, Titus, imagine, you are powerless to stop inquiring hands as they explore and torment your body, as they twist and pinch your aching nipples, as they probe and finger your anus, as they pull on and pummel and squeeze and twist your tender nuts, marveling as we all have at their great size, weight, and heft. And unlike this evening’s earlier entertainments, if the good citizens desire to torment your cock, I will not stop them."
The boy's breathing became heavier. He took a swallow. His flaccid and exhausted cock began to engorge slightly.
"When they are finished with you, we will continue on our way. When we reach my villa, this is what you will see. It is like most other villas, except for a special room that I have prepared to entertain slaves such as you." The boy's cock continued to grow firmer.
"There is a table fixed with restraints so that I can stretch my guests. There are whipping posts, and there is a special framework from which I can suspend an unruly slave." Clearly the boy saw every part of the image I was creating, and even more that he was adding from his own imagination, for his cock was nearly fully hard and, incredibly, began to ooze a thin trickle of precum.
The other diners were silent, watching the boy's reactions, and seeing the image created in their own minds.
"When we arrive, I will have my slaves take you and wash you. You will be oiled and perfumed and then brought into that special room. You will be taken to the framework, your wrists bound together and raised over your head, and you will be raised until your feet hang free, suspended, naked, waiting for whatever torture I wish to visit upon you." The youth's precum was now oozing continuously, his breaths coming in quick intakes as his excitement grew. His eyes remained closed.
"I will order my slaves to spread your legs and bind them wide apart so that I may use your massive cock and balls freely. What will I do to you Titus? Hmmm." I paused. "First I will mark you as my slave by having rings inserted through your nipples and through the frenum on your cock. Feel it Titus as my slaves first thrust a silver needle through your flesh to be followed by golden rings. Feel the needle enter the tender skin underneath the head of your penis. Feel the first prick and then the slow, excruciating puncture." I stopped as the boy took a sharp breath. Though his cock bobbed with excitement, it was not quite ready to give up his juice.
"Once ringed, Titus, I will join those rings with a leather cord from nipple to nipple and down to your cock. I will tighten up on that cord until your mighty cock is pulled upwards towards your chest as far as it will go without tearing out the ring. The rings in your nipples will be pulled downward. A triangle of pain will be created. Feel it Titus." I stopped again, watching the boy's reaction. I could almost hear his heart beating faster and faster with his mounting excitement. Even his huge, low-hanging, brutally overworked balls were quivering with excitement.
"My marking will not be complete though, Titus. You are ringed, but unmarked. But, with your cock pulled upward and out of the way, your tender nuts will be open to me. I clap my hands and a slave withdraws a tiny brand from the fire. I take your big bull nuts in my hand and apply the brand to first one and then the other testicle. Feel it Titus, smell the burning flesh as each of your balls is marked with my signet, marking you as my property forever."
"UNNNNGGGGHH!!!!!" the boy gave a deep, bellowing, guttural moan, and his cock waved upward to slap sharply against his abs just beneath his massive pecs. Spurt after massive spurt of unbelievably thick cum began to spatter his body. This last image had served to drive him past control, and he had completely given himself up to the image I created.
Incredibly, this orgasm proved to be the largest one one of all! Great globs of cum jetted forth in huge ropes and thick streams, bigger and thicker and longer than any of his previous wads, splatting wetly against his great muscular body and glowing a lustrous white against his perfectly unblemished skin. His cum was the thickest I had ever seen, with a consistency not unlike a very thick custard or pudding, and it ran slowly down his gorgeous skin in great clotted chunks, almost like molasses.
Again and again, shot after shot after shot erupted from his massive cannon of a cock, drenching his face and torso and shoulders and arms with his own powerful cum. The orgasm seemed to never end, and must have lasted for well over two minutes. Young Titus shot no less than 37 spectacular wads of cream, by far his largest, most incredible orgasm of the night, before the size of his wads quickly tapered off.
But even then, after his mighty, colossal sperm tanks were finally well and truly empty, his awesome well of virility finally running dry, the muscular boy’s orgasm raged onward unabated. Titus’s cock continued throbbing and lurching like some great, violent beast, pulsing with incredible power but only producing a few drops of watery cum.
This painful dry orgasm must have lasted nearly another full minute before the monumental release finally slowed to a halt. The only sound to be heard was the deep and rapid breathing of young Titus as he struggled to regain his ragged breath.
There was no cheering, only silence as I turned to Marcus and the other guests. Marcus shook his head and smiled.
"Well, Belorus, you have won. The wagers are yours."
I smiled, "No Marcus, keep the coins, and give me the boy. I mean to make real the image I just created."
Marcus paused for only a moment before answering, "He is yours."
I turned and looked up at the blond youth. His eyes were opened, and his mouth was quivering slightly. His cock remained rock hard, distended and angry and spent, but rock hard. I smiled up at him, and for a moment his deep blue eyes stared into mine. Then, as though to acknowledge my control, he cast his look downward, in submission.
"Yes, Titus," I spoke softly, "now you will know real torture."