Joined by the Trainee Pt. 01

"Why sweetie, sexual things, of course. Look at his penis, have you ever seen such a big, sorry looking penis?"

Carmen giggled, then replied, "I guess not. I didn't know they could get so big."

"It's not that big, trust me. But it looks extra chubby because that awful toy he has around his junk is a one way street for the blood flow."

The gates of hell was not as bad as the name suggested. I had pulled it out of its packaging for the first time this evening, and I have to admit - I had been extremely nervous about putting this thing on. Probably, I should have waited for Angela in case a trip to the emergency room became necessary.

The first ring was the largest, and I had needed to get all of my manhood through it. That had been the hard part, since the ring was only big enough for one testicle at a time. First the balls, then the penis. The only problem was, I had been so worked up by then, that I was already rather hard. Bending my rigid penis to force it through that first ring - a tight fit with my scrotum already occupying valuable space - this had been the challenge. The other two rings were easy enough, I just had to pull my penis through them, and then they hugged it tightly. The whole thing felt pretty sturdy once on, with the final steel ring leaving about a third of my erection free for... whatever. I applauded myself for this little victory. I was on unfamiliar ground after all, and putting on 'the gates of hell' had been one of my sources of anxiety surrounding tonight's plan.

But if I thought I had an erection before the gates, I was in for a mild shock. The rings slowed the flow of blood from my member, and before the blindfold went on I had marveled at how much fatter my manhood looked, purple and angry and all bulging veins. And it was only slightly uncomfortable, even after the better part of an hour had passed (whereas cock rings in general cut off the circulation too tightly, and cannot be worn for extended periods of time). Mostly, it made my manhood feel heavy, so I was constantly aware of my condition down there. I was grateful that I had extended my shaving this afternoon to include a thorough job on my genitals - reviews for the product suggested that pubic hairs catching on the device was not fun, and as a bonus being suddenly hairless (and suitably extra sensitive) made me feel sexier for tonight's occasion.

I had been so pleased with the overall result, so impressed by how big my gear was looking... I measured it. Couldn't help myself. Boys will be boys, after all. Anyway, I had reached a respectable 6.5", not really more than usual. But with my pubic hair just shaved off, and with the swelling effect of the cock rings, he certainly looked bigger than usual.

Angela continued. "So, what are we going to do, you ask? Well, we are going to take advantage of this, for one thing." She brushed my rigid pole with her fingers for the second time, just a tease to make me try to reach towards that elusive warm hand, but then it was gone again.

"And what about this thing in his mouth. What are we meant to do about that?"

"I think that should be obvious sweetie, though it looks silly to me. Anyway, did I tell you my Donovan is a policeman?"

"Nooooo! Really? Oh- could I be doing something wrong?"

"Not at all. But you should think of this as the one chance you might get in your life to get even with the law. Something to remember every time you get a speeding fine. You can get even tonight, without any fear of getting in any trouble. Donnie isn't going to do a damn thing to you, is he?"

The question was directed at me, and I shook my head slightly. I wanted our guest to feel as comfortable with this as was possible.

"Ummm... Okay... Though I don't have anything against the police, really." Carmen sounded very unsure. Then I could hear a slurp like someone was taking a big pull from their wine. It was followed by the chink of the glass been set down. Angela had just drained her glass dry. Yes, I know that was very fast for a lady to be finishing a whole glass, but enough years with someone, and you can tell these things.

"I'm going to have my shower real quick. You sit your cute booty right there and drink your wine and... Get to know my husband a little."

Carmen giggled again. "Uh, okay!" She sounded happy. Happy, and so close to my naked body that I thought I might have a heart attack. Then I heard my wife skip down the hallway to the bathroom. And just like that, I was alone with the lovely young Carmen.

I didn't know what to do. Well, there wasn't much I could do. No conversation that she would be able to understand, and not much I could do with body language. I think my raging boner was saying enough.

"Is it really ok for me to touch you?" Carmen broke the silence. I nodded once, firmly - still trying to appear sure of myself. A long moment later I felt a warm hand touching my bare chest, so, so gently. A small, soft hand, that brushed over my skin, feeling the contours of my muscles while my chest heaved with my heavy breathing. My senses were heightened by arousal and blindness, and my heart pounded as every slight touch to my muscles felt incredible. It was a butterflies-in-my-tummy kind of joy - and obviously forbidden under the commonly accepted terms of marriage. But this was happening, and next, her hands wandered to my arms.

"Oh my God, you're so beautiful," Carmen surprised me with the compliment, which sounded genuine to me. What I felt like was a dirty old man and an adulterer. But I was in pretty good shape. I didn't have huge muscles, but the ones I had were hard; chiseled into my frame which carried very little fat. I worked out a lot, and I was strong. You kind of need to be to get selected by the police force. It also helped that I was tall - my roguish mop of curly blonde hair pushed me just past 6 feet. And it occurred to me that while Carmen surely would have had boyfriends before, she probably hadn't touched a fully developed, grown man in a sensual way before. I considered this, and then every delicate caress carried more significance, and I became willing putty under her playful touch. If only I could feel more of that soft warm body besides her hand, if only I could see her youthful face for heaven's sake!

Fingers traced down over my belly, and lower still. I heard a chink of glass, that confirmed she was getting through her wine with her free hand. I reflected that tonight my strength meant absolutely nothing, as I handed my body and my heart over to the care (or abuse) of two amazing women. For better or worse, I was completely vulnerable and at their mercy.

"Ummm, can I touch you, you know, down here?" Her fingertips rested low on my abdomen, teasing the flesh that was now super sensitive in the wake of my shaven pubic mound. I hesitated. Her voice was that of an innocent young girl, but her words were becoming increasingly deviant. The contrast of impressions played havoc on my mind. Then I heard the shower come on elsewhere in the house. The sound of water was muffled, and I knew the bathroom door was closed. Presumably, even if Angela hadn't intended for Carmen to go this far while we were alone, she wouldn't even know. I nodded again, and Carmen giggled softly. It was a lovely little musical sound that I could listen to all day.

And her hand trailed south. Playful fingers walked down my inner thighs, then up the underside of my tower-like penis, and as they went they rubbed the three steel rings that were its foundation and supports. She was testing the contraption, probably fascinated by it. A fingertip drew a big circle around the head of my penis. I was surprised by how sensitive I was; obviously completely unsheathed from my foreskin, and the sheer size of the circle she drew made me again awed by how big I had become there from the swelling.

Then the touch left, only to resume at my balls. She cupped both my jewels in that soft warm hand, and squeezed them gently.

"So, is it actually ok for us to like, hurt you?"

That hopeful note had returned to her voice, the coyness all but gone. Then came a gentle scratching. Carmen was using one fingernail to trace over my balls. It felt amazing, and made me incapable of rational thought. I nodded in response to her question. But perhaps I should have given it more consideration.

"Actually, I do have a little score to settle with the cops. My brother got singled out by a few of your friends on his 21st birthday and they beat the shit out him. Then they justified it by charging him for 'assaulting a police officer' and locking him up for the night."

The pleasurable scratching was gone, and the squeeze intensified slowly, second by second, until finally I was in pain. There came the panic of my balls being crushed and I couldn't help but tense up my thighs and groan in pain. Carmen backed off with her squeeze, but kept both my balls hostage in her small but potentially vicious grip. Then the scratching finger returned, and again it was a sensation I would savour. But the pleasure was marred by anxiety - I was more wary now, as I waited for her to squeeze them again.

"He was studying to become a pilot, but the criminal record totally ruined his life. The thing is, he never did anything wrong, he was a victim." Carmen almost spat the words, though she seemed incapable of producing any vocal tones that sounded anything but cute to me. I didn't doubt her story. The charge she mentioned was very common and some of the cops that patrolled the nightclub district were rather thug-ish. Nobody whom I associated with though - I was stationed at a precinct in the suburbs. And I didn't really care to shoulder the blame for men I didn't even know. But it was my own wife who told Carmen that she could take all her law enforcement qualms out on me. And suddenly that soft little hand started squeezing again, squeezing - with a vengeance.

"And what's even worse, during that night in lock up, they had another prisoner there and that man assaulted my brother. He was beaten up so badly to begin with that he couldn't defend himself, and then the real criminal in the room raped him in the arse. And he remembers hearing laughter on the other side of the bars!"

"Gnnnnnnn!" I screamed into the gag as Carmen squeezed my testicles so hard I thought they might pop. Harder than my wife or any other lover had ever squeezed them for fun. She held them in that little vice for a long moment, and my legs shook while I pounded my fists behind my head - a clear sign that this was beyond what I had meant to sign myself up for. A sign that was duly ignored by my teenage tormentress. Still, my restraints didn't exactly leave me helpless, particularly my legs. I could have crunched my body and kneed that girl in the face, had I considered her an assailant. But apparently I was willing to take the stranger's punishment for some reason.

Some reason? About a year ago, when it was starting to get a bit too long between love making sessions with my wife, I had developed an unfortunate tendency to start cumming notably earlier than normal. Angela didn't ever seem disappointed, at least not like I was, but she did start making a game of it.

"If you cum before I do this time, I'm going to punish your emptied balls till your sorry." She had said that one night, the moment after I slid my hard rod into her. We had both been really turned on by her playful threat, and I spurted inside her within a minute. I pulled out and lay on my back with a confused expression on my face. I hadn't even felt due warning that I was going to blow. Then Angie cuddled me as she always did after sex, and we lay there in silence while I wondered what had just happened.

But after a few minutes, she had broken out of the cuddle and scooted down between my legs. She held my scrotum in a fist and bunched my balls above it. And then she flicked a testicle - hard. I exclaimed with the electric pain that was more intense then I would have expected for such a trivial movement. A flick was nothing more than a hand gesture, after all. Apparently, I was more sensitive after ejaculation, a little fact my wife began exploiting. She flicked each testicle several times that night, and I let her; took it like a man. She giggled as she did it, surprising me with her enthusiasm for torturing me, albeit a playful, sexy torture.

But the weird thing was that I got hard again. Angela exclaimed with delight when she noticed and she tested it out in her hands, and, satisfied that it was a decent erection, she straddled me with her already cum-filled pussy. The second time round, it was Angela who came faster than usual, and, by way of further revenge, she jumped off me after her orgasm and went back to cuddling, saying that I wasn't getting any more that night.

Thus began a trend that continued for the following months, though most of the time we didn't have sex a second time after the flicking - she would just sit on my face until the score was even. The testicle flicking stung like a mother fucker, but nonetheless it was very controlled on her part, and I always knew what to expect. I knew that the more times she flicked me, the longer it would take for the aching to subside. That's right - from the moment she was done with the punishment, there came a cruel ache inside my balls. It was like the ache in my heart for our declining sex life became manifested physically, and the gentle agony lingered, tormenting me, even long after my wife would fall asleep in my arms.

But this was a positive change. We learned that we both, somewhat sadistically, loved this new form of play. The frequency of our love making increased to a couple of times a week, and I quickly got back to my old self in terms of holding my load.

But our little arrangement had become a game to Angela. And Angela did not like to lose games. So she responded to my improved stamina by becoming a sexier lover, and focusing on the things that she knew made me lose control fast. Things like bending over and shaking her booty, which had become noticeably larger over our time together - and even more desirable to me. Sex for me meant 'losing' a game, and my partner ended up spending more time lovingly torturing my genitals than having intercourse with me.

One night I explained to her that the lingering pain following her 'testi-flicks' - as she called them - was keeping me up at night, and that it was a lot worse if we were at it two nights in a row. She listened attentively, her green eyes alight with interest. "I guess you had better wait your turn before you cum then!" That was her only response, but she made sure, as usual, who came first during our love-making. She added a few testi-flicks to her highest record that night, reminding me of a beautiful young girl who had been so mean whilst holding a candle over her tied-up boyfriend. After that... difficult night, I knew better than to complain about the pain, or beg for any concessions.

It might sound weird, and unfair, but at the end of the day, ballbusting had made a huge improvement to our sex lives. No, the only problem was, these days we weren't getting into that intimate situation in the first place. And the bind I had put myself in tonight was testament to how much I craved a little cock and ball torture at the hands of my beautiful and cruel wife.

But it was not my wife who was presently crushing my nuts in her hand. Carmen maintained her vice-like grip, neither pushing further beyond my threshold nor relaxing, and I continued to thrash about, though in small movements that did not force her to stop what she was doing. This girl might have been pushing me a little too far, but her attentions were still an incredible turn-on nonetheless. And from the start I had worked myself into the mindset that things might go further than usual, particularly when it came to my poor old balls. So I was determined not to break, and to let the ladies decide when enough was enough.

Then, finally, the squeeze stopped. It probably hadn't even been ten seconds in total, but it had been hell.

"Wow, I can't believe you really let me do that." Carmen's tone had changed, the anger had dissipated and there was wonder in her voice. "That was fun. It felt good." There came the sound of her gulping her wine, and the chink of the glass being put down. Probably also empty, I guessed.

"But, I think I just want to do this now instead." She sounded a little detached somehow, and for a moment I feared she might have been some kind of psychopath. If she wanted to cut my balls from my body, I doubted I'd be able to blame anyone but myself for the moronic string of decisions that led me here.

But then a warm wet paradise washed over the head of my cock. Carmen had taken me straight into her mouth!

"Mmmmmf!" I exclaimed from the pleasure - that special pleasure that was oral sex, and which I had not enjoyed in, well, probably this year. At first, she kept her mouth over the head of my cock, and the acidity of the wine mixed in with her saliva made my member tingle with a mild, erotic pain. She felt small around my member, like I filled more of her then I thought would be possible. And then she used her tongue on my glands - sensitive from all the retained blood. She didn't just flick her tongue to tease me, she bathed the head of my penis with the tip and the with the blade. She pressed it all over my pleasure senses, and sent me straight to heaven.

Then she moved onto gentle sucking, sliding her mouth further down my shaft, to where the leather strap of the gates of hell toy must have touched her lips. Then she went up again, and she kissed the tip of my cock. Her lips felt full and soft, and wet - she may have had lip gloss on.

I groaned again, and the short but fat dong in my mouth absorbed most of my appreciation for Carmen's affections. She went straight back into her work, delivering the most enthusiastic blow job I had experienced in reasonable memory. She worked my rod like a pro; certainly her innocent demeanor had just been a facade. She had done this before, and more than once. And her confessed anger with the justice system didn't seem so deep that it extended to me personally. I had sensed her rage as she recounted the memory, but it had dissipated the moment she stopped talking about it. And now it seemed she wanted to make amends for even that brief moment of testicle torture.

She made excited sighs as she licked and sucked, as if she were the one receiving the gratification, and she made a point of using the tip of her tongue to test the entire circumference of each of the steel rings that shaped and maintained my erection. Everything she did felt unbelievably good, and it wasn't long before I was worried about blowing my load.

Not yet! The night was only getting started. Carmen did nothing to let up, but I managed to get myself under control with sheer force of will. It seemed the cock rings were also helping me to manage my orgasm.

Still, the minutes dragged by without any reprieve from Carmen's cock sucking, and I was on cloud nine with her, but the name of the game was to maintain calm and in control of myself.

It had been at least 10 minutes of unrelenting pleasure. Maybe as many as 15 minutes, when I heard the slow tread of feet on floorboards. Oh - when did the shower stop? My wife had returned, and we were caught red-handed, my cock filling Carmen's mouth. But our guest had no shame in this matter, indeed she didn't even pause in her administrations of pleasure. The footsteps came closer and closer, until they stopped. Angela was standing right by us now, and still Carmen carried on, like my hard cock was the only thing in her world.