Pain Pig

My Playroom—October, 2012

I had a flurry of activity in early October.  This was good, since I had eleven days in the middle of the month, when the playroom had to be converted back to a guest bedroom.  First up was Martin.  When I first saw his pictures, all I could focus on was his hairy chest.  He was delightfully furry—I couldn’t wait to wet it down and wring it out with my tongue.  Martin is my age or perhaps a few years younger, bearish, and much more into BDSM than I am.  He is a real pain pig.   He brought a ton of toys many of which stayed in his bag, but he had smaller dildos than the few I possess for my fisting boys.  He had an electro set—something that I have no interest in; a violent wand—which I was willing to use but we never got to it; and sounds—which I am intrigued by, but want a tutorial in how to use them, before I incorporate them into play.  He also wanted condoms—so out came the Magnums.

He was intrigued by watersports and said that he certainly wanted to get fucked, but it wasn’t as important to him as being made helpless in the sling and abused….

So I started with forced fellatio, with him in nothing but a red jock and a black t-shirt.  He gagged easily.  Soon he was bent into the sling, holding on to it, his chest on the leather, with his furry ass in the air.  The piss came out of my cock in a torrent.  It covered his crack and dripped onto the mat below.  I licked him clean, slipped on a condom and began opening his ass—using my cock to prod at his pucker.  I finally entered his tight hole—but I could tell my cock hated the latex.

Soon he was flipped and in the sling properly.  I ripped open his t-shirt.  I clipped his leather bound wrists to the chains above his head.  I added a hood that only had a mouth opening.  I chewed on his nipples.  I attached a set of tit forceps to his full, pointy nipples.  He groaned.  Now we were headed into his territory.  I tied his cock up to the remains of his shirt.

 

Then I used clothes pins on his balls.  Martin began squirming in delight…

 

I let the clothes pins stay in place.  My piss arcs out again.  I cover his hairy chest, and then concentrate on his balls.  The excess runs down his ass crack.  “Yes, Sir.  That’s so hot.”

I tongue some of it off his balls.  My piss is sweet.  I suit up and enter him roughly.  It’s the last thing he was expecting.  My fucking is making the pins rock back and forth, pulling on his flesh.  With my cock still in place, I begin removing the clothes pins on his balls.  That’s when the real pain happens—as the blood rushes back to the abused flesh.  Each pinned area is rubbed with my fingers to help the pain.  He gasps with each removal and his ass contracts on my cock.  His balls are fiery red.  I pull out of his ass and throw the condom onto the floor.  I grab a leather paddle and a plain hardware store paint stirrer.  With my left hand I choke his ball sack right at the base of his cock.  His balls plump.  I twist my left hand tighter until his sack is shiny.  I flick the leather paddle across them.  Lightly.  He still jumps, as he can’t see a thing.  I flick again.  Then harder.  I take the paddling down to almost a caress with the leather.  Then I whack them as hard as I can. 

He screams.  This is what he wants.

I give him another.  Then let go and stroke and caress them back to normal.  I pick up the paint stick.  I snap it against his balls.  He howls.  I gather up the sack again.  Once shiny, I whack them repeatedly.  His breath is ragged.  I slow.  Then stop.  I rub them again.

“Oh, Sir….”  He’s right where he wants to be.

I remove his tit forceps and a set of clothes pins I’ve added up there.  I rub.  He thinks I’m done.  Instead, I scoop up his balls again, tighten them down to shiny orbs and punch them. 

Hard.

He screams.  One word.  “YES!”

I hit them again—though with less force.  Then a softer one yet.  Then I pound the shit out of his balls—four hard whacks that leave him gasping for breath. 

I spit on them.

 

And start all over again…

Eventually, I used the speculum.   I cranked him open and ran my fingers over his prostate. 

That got him off.  I have to say, I never did shoot myself, but I still enjoyed dishing it out.

 

 

That night, I got what looked like a gift from the Gods:  A big city young man, staying with his parents in the boonies, who needed to be loaded.  He arrived.  Cuter than his pics.  He cleaned out and got on the bed.  It was heaven to slip into a young ass with my bare cock after the latex of the afternoon.  Then it went bad.
 

He tried a clean out again.  And got in the sling.  I slipped in…and it was worse.
 

He tried once more--then we called it a day.  Neither of us getting what we needed…