The Experiment

"Looks like someone just leveled up," someone said from behind me. Tom maybe? Laughter all around.

"Next!" Shouted another voice. I felt myself hauled up by rough hands under my arms and was turned around and deposited in front of a cock that would have been at home in any of the porn I'd watched. I looked up and it was Shawn, and he was massive. I stockpiled oxygen as I grasped his thick, wedge-like meat in my hand and took his golf-ball-sized head into my mouth. He wasted no time driving straight down into the depths of me. I almost gagged — he was so much bigger and wider — but the reflex seemed to have gotten the message that it wasn't needed.

Shawn fucked my throat slow and deep, and all I could do was cling to the backs of his muscular legs and gratefully take a breath when he let me. I don't know how long all of this went on; I truly don't. My cock had gotten hard almost as soon as I'd seen Christopher expose himself, and it had stayed rock solid as each of these men took turns using my throat. My balls throbbed, filled with days' worth of frustration. I consciously resisted the urge to touch myself, fearing what Bruce and the others would do to enforce my wife's prohibition.

None of the guys came yet, though I tasted plenty of precum as they got more and more worked up under my labors. They simply passed me around, each man getting a few minutes of service at a time before letting the next one take his place. And everyone got at least a couple of turns. It seemed like I was basically a fluffer for something yet to take place. Eventually, as I was sucking on Greg's balls, my head wedged between his beefy thighs and beneath his prodigious belly, I heard a distinct clinking. The room fell silent. I paused and looked up. Bruce was striking his glass with a small spoon.

"Gentlemen," he said pleasantly, "now that we all seem to be warmed up, may I suggest we retire to the Recreation Room?" This was met by a unanimous chorus of approval, and suddenly the men began filing out of the room through a doorway I hadn't noticed earlier. I was panting to catch my breath, and I noticed my pile of clothes by the bar. I started over to retrieve them, but Bruce waved me off. "Don't worry, they'll be safe ... and you're not going to need them in the Recreation Room." Then he swept his hand in a gesture toward the door. I took another deep breath and did as he bade. I knew this was about to get more intense. I was certain I was about to get fucked. I glanced at the windows and noticed it was already pitch dark outside. It had gotten late.

The doorway led to a set of stairs, which led to a basement that comprised, in great part, an array of custom furniture (apparatuses might be closer to the mark) and mats and fixtures and cabinets and rows of threatening-looking implements of questionable purpose. The motif was black leather and aluminum diamond plate. The lighting was dim and tinted red. It was some version of the sorts of dungeons I'd seen in some BDSM videos, only much more comfortably appointed. Low house music thrummed, the bass softly reverberating and giving the entire room an energy of expectation.

Two of the guys were kissing passionately against the near wall and stroking each other's cocks. The rest of the men were standing around a low, wide square platform or table — a couple of feet high and maybe eight feet long per side, entirely covered in some kind of black rubber. Bruce took me by the elbow and guided me over to it.

"Climb on up," he said. I reached down with a hand and tested the table's surface, finding it to be cushioned under the latex veneer. I leaned forward and slowly crawled onto it. When I got to about the center I stopped and knelt, glancing back to see what Bruce had in store for me. He was rubbing lube onto his erect member.

"Uh uh," he said disapprovingly as he climbed on behind me. "You had it right the first time. Hands and knees. Like a doggie." I complied. Shit. This was it, I thought. I was going to get fucked in the ass. I was terrified that it was going to hurt. I closed my eyes and felt him grab my hips then nudge my legs further apart with his knee. He didn't waste any time before pressing the head of his cock against my asshole, stretching me open. And it did hurt, very sharply but only very briefly until his head popped itself in behind my ring. In that moment I was perversely grateful for the plugs I'd been made to wear during the last few days.

"Pop goes the cherry," Greg shouted, and the other guys who were watching chuckled approvingly. My breath had caught in my throat at the sensation of being penetrated, and I was near hyperventilation as I felt Bruce's cock push itself further inside me. He paused when he was just a couple of inches in, then withdrew until his head tugged my ring. Then he pushed in again, deeper, and then out again. Each time he pushed himself back into me he went deeper still. His cock was bigger than any of the plugs, and I was stretched tightly around every contour of his tool.

I realized in a flash of horror that he hadn't put a condom on. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to formulate an objection, but I realized I was too timid to question him. I opted instead to rationalize that my wife must have taken whatever measures were necessary to ensure that I would be safe.

Bruce was starting to work himself into a rhythm, gripping my hips and pulling me back as he thrust, impaling me. My own junk was swinging back and forth beneath me as my body rocked with Bruce's thrusts. My balls felt like they weighed ten pounds. I'd been so keyed up so many times for so many days, and I still hadn't been permitted any release.

Zach much have gotten tired of just watching because he climbed up onto the cushioned surface and knelt in front of me, his manhood level with my face. I opened my mouth, knowing what was expected of me, and he slapped my cheek a couple of times with his firm tool and then thrust it into my mouth. It was the most full I'd ever felt. Bruce was sawing into me faster now, his knob punching my guts, and Zach was keeping pace pumping into my throat. I was nothing but a warm tube filled with meat.

Bruce ripped his cock free all of a sudden, then he slapped me on my ass on told me to flip over on my back. Zach removed himself from my mouth to let me maneuver, and as soon as my back hit the surface, Bruce pulled my feet up into the air and set them atop his shoulders and then he was inside me again, ramming me, driving me into the padding. His eyes shone red in the colored light, and he grunted with lust and exertion.

The pounding of his cock against my depths was having an effect on me. It felt amazing. My cock was throbbing. I must have reached for it without thinking because Zach snatched me by the wrist and pinned my arm down by my side, then he did the same with my other arm. That's how I was positioned when Bruce pulled out of my ass again, this time shooting his load all over my chest and stomach with a satisfied groan.

And that seemed to be the signal for everyone else to get involved. Shawn and Greg lifted me up and carried me over to a swing that hung from hooks in the ceiling. Once they'd made the necessary adjustments, I was suspended in the air, facing up, with my legs hoisted wide open, knees bent and my wrists secured to my ankles. My head was tilted back and upside down.

This gave the group unfettered access to my holes, and they set upon me like wild animals. Zach forced his huge tool into my anal cavity while Shawn fucked my throat again without mercy. I was angled differently than when Bruce had taken my virginity, and it felt like both cocks were burrowing even deeper into me than anything I'd experienced to that point. Before long Shawn took a final thrust and shuddered, his rod firmly ensconced in my neck, and pumped hot seed directly into my gullet. Load after load of it. He was still cumming as he pulled his cock out, and he painted my nose and lips with the final couple of bursts.

Another cock replaced it. And when Zach was ready to finish he just erupted inside me. And I knew then that he wasn't wearing a condom either because I felt his hot seed filling my rectum. Part of my consciousness was still worried about that. But it also felt delicious, and so did the next cock that was pressing its way into my battered hole. And I had another cock in front of my face demanding to be sucked.

Again and again, rigid rods of flesh punched their way into me from both ends. I rocked back and forth, helpless in the swing, no choice but to continue to accept these men into the deepest recesses of my body. The music pulsed in my ears, relentlessly. A strobe effect in the red-tinted light made my head swim when I chanced to open my eyes.

Another deep thrust into my ass and another shuddering torrent of hot seed painted my bowels, pumping me, breeding me. The spent shaft withdrew and was replaced by another. It became a blur. The only things that changed were the cocks inside me and the increasing sensation of fullness in my stomach and my lower abdomen as the men continued to dump cum inside me. Time became meaningless. I was an object. I had no identity. I was just a vessel for their aggression.

At some point it all seemed to slow down. I guess there are only so many times six men can ejaculate before they need a break. I was lifted, dripping and leaking, from the swing and carried limply over to another apparatus that I hadn't noticed before. It was, in part, a padded bench, slightly declined, so that when I was placed on my back, my helpless body was tilted with my head slightly below the level of my feet. My entire body was sore, but most especially my asshole and my jaw. I was dripping with sweat and cum — not my own. And still my balls ached and my cock yearned for release.

My arms were arrayed out to the sides, and I offered no resistance as they were secured with straps on extensions perpendicular to the bench. I remained passive as my legs were lifted and placed into stirrups that clicked firmly closed around my ankles, which were spread apart lasciviously. Through my parted thighs I could see some sort of mechanism beyond, but it was too dimly lit to make sense of.

I looked around as far as my bonds would permit, and the assembled men were, variously, leaning against walls and furniture, passing out drinks (I figured there must have been a discrete bar somewhere in the basement), murmuring to each other in low tones, glistening under the red lights in the afterglow of having completely defiled me.

Bruce stepped forward and knelt down next to my head. He delicately swept a strand of my sweat-and-cum-soaked hair away from my face.

"Well, Kevin," he said softly. "It must be said that you certainly did not disappoint." He smiled kindly. "I'm glad I took a chance on you. And — who knows — maybe we'll have the opportunity to play together again. I'd certainly like that, and I think the lads would too."

I didn't know what to say to that. I wanted to be hopeful that my ordeal was coming to an end, but the piece of equipment I'd just been strapped to — without any objection, I scolded myself — portended otherwise.

"You know," Bruce continued, his voice now barely more than a whisper, "I wasn't kidding when I told you that I almost didn't agree to meet you." He stroked my hair gently. "In truth, I was fully prepared to say 'no,' when you surprised me — you wrote something to me that I found absolutely thrilling, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind."

Bruce reached down beneath the bench and produced a fist-sized object with a short, rubber phallus protruding from one end and an elastic strap.

"Open up," he coaxed gently. Inexplicably, I did. He inserted the phallus into my mouth. It was thick enough that it held my lips open wide in an obscene O shape; the head filled my mouth but didn't threaten my throat. Bruce fitted the strap around the back of my head and pulled it snug. There was a small hole that enabled me to breathe, but making any sort of intelligible sound was now impossible.

"Do you remember what you wrote, Kevin," Bruce asked, his voice barely audible above the thumping bass. Was that rhetorical? I could only offer a muffled whimper in reply. He smiled, a shimmer of something — anticipation, perhaps a touch of cruelty? — catching in his eyes.

"You wrote — and I quote: 'I want to let you tie me up. I want to let you render me completely helpless.'" He inhaled, then paused for effect: "'And then I want you to make me regret it.'"

Bruce emitted a low, sinister chuckle, closed his eyes and savored it. "Oh, the delicious implications. That is just the stuff of *nightmares* isn't it?" I averted my eyes and tried to control my breathing, restricted as it was.

"My guess is that was more your wife's idea than yours," Bruce admitted. "But that doesn't matter now. You are where you are. You are, in fact, completely helpless. And so it's time for me to do my part — and make you regret it."

Bruce reached under the bench once more, and this time he produced an all-too-familiar device that made my gut sink when I saw it. The cage was shaped much like the one Denise had used on me, but this one was black and seemed metallic rather than plastic. At least he was gentle as he tucked my semi-hard penis and cum-laden balls into it and latched it shut. As soon as he did, though, I could feel that this cage, too, had sharp protrusions lining the interior. And those protrusions — like the rest of the cage — were metal instead of plastic. They weren't sharp enough to pierce my skin, but they were unyielding as they pressed into my flesh.

I closed my eyes and willed my arousal to recede. The pain helped. When I opened them again, Bruce was fiddling with the mechanism that I couldn't quite see in the dimness beyond my pried-open legs. Then he manipulated it closer and I could at last see what it was: a sinister-looking, black rubber dildo — appreciably beyond human proportions — ribbed with alternating rows of bumps and ridges, some of them gleaming metal. It was easily two feet long and as thick as my wrist. It was mounted to a steel rod, which in turn protruded from a solid, night-table-sized iron box encasing interconnected gears, belts, and electrical wiring.

Bruce guided the entire machine heavily toward me on wheels or tracks until the bulbous tip of the monstrous phallus, which shone under a coating of some slick lubricant, rested threateningly at the entrance to my beleaguered asshole. He tapped a pedal with his foot and the whole assembly clanked solidly, anchoring itself firmly in place.

"Spectacular, isn't it," Bruce crowed. I breathed rapidly through nose and gag. "My own creation," he continued. "I mean, I obviously didn't invent the concept of a fucking machine. But I dare say I've made some improvements." I could only stare in horror.

"The base here is now magnetically clamped in place for total leverage," he said, patting the heavy iron outer cabinet. "You can see the special attachment I designed for maximum stimulation." Because of the downward angle at which my body was tilted I could look up and see the full length and girth of the huge black thing poised menacingly above my helpless pelvis, ready to savage me. Each bump and ridge threatened torment.

"I don't want you to worry too much, though," Bruce assured me, "it's entirely self-lubricating. I could program this thing to fuck you nonstop for a month, and it would keep itself slick and smooth the whole time — you'd never have to worry about chafing." I didn't find that as reassuring as he seemed to think I should.

"But the real genius here," he beamed now with pride, "is the proprietary lubricant that I developed. It's a silicon-base — very heavy-duty — and I've fortified it with a trace amount of MDMA — that's ecstasy — to keep you interested." My eyes bugged wide open. Bruce smiled. "The effects will be nearly instantaneous," he added.

Bruce had two more surprises for me: First, he attached sturdy metal clamps to my nipples. The clamps were strung on wires that, in turn, were connected to the big metal fucking machine.

Second, he produced what appeared to be a virtual-reality headset — basically a pair of black, fully opaque, oversized goggles with ear coverings attached.

"It's time to disconnect you from the real world for awhile, Kevin," Bruce said. The boys are going to go upstairs and play some cards. I'm going to watch you for a bit and enjoy seeing your body positively overloaded with stimuli. Eventually I'll head up myself and leave you in the capable embrace of my little creation. I haven't decided how long to subject you to this particular torment, but you can be assured that it will seem endless."

My eyes pleaded with him for mercy, and he ignored them.

Bruce placed the goggles over my head, fully covering my eyes and ears, and I was instantly shut off from all sights and sounds. Then the interior of the goggles lit up and I realized they were actually a panoramic screen. A barrage of images started to flash across it. Cocks. Huge cocks being sucked. Cocks penetrating assholes. Cocks shooting cum. And my ears were filled with a mixture of deep, rhythmic thrumming and the sounds of male grunting. This was no movie; nothing coherent or structured. It was just a melange of brief images and clips of various species of penetration and cock worship. My entire world was the inside of those goggles and headphones.

Then the bench on which I was prone began to vibrate, and I felt the massive phallus begin to push its way into my asshole. It was by far the largest object that had ever been inside of me, and my ring felt as though it was on the verge of tearing as the massive, well-lubricated tool pushed its way inexorably into my anal cavity, the various nubs and bumps and ribs that covered its surface each taking a toll on my sensitive flesh. My fists clenched in pain and helpless terror.

All of a sudden my entire body began to tingle and a wave of — for lack of a better word —ecstasy overcame me. I moaned wantonly into the phallic gag. And as if that weren't enough stimulation, the nipple clamps buzzed to life and my whole body rocked as the electrical shock coursed through me. My cock began to harden in response, the tiny metal tines inside the cage dug into my flesh to punish me for it.

Still the dildo pushed deeper inside of me. It hit a wall somewhere in my abdomen. There must have been more than a foot of its length buried in me. I was fully impaled as cocks, cocks, and more cocks flashed before my eyes, the soundtrack of moaning and grunting and flesh slapping assaulting my ear drums. My entire body was taut like a guitar string. I was completely overwhelmed.

And then the huge shaft in my ass came to life in a whole new way. It's cylindrical surface must have been composed of a series of individual rings stacked along its length because I felt sections of it begin to rotate inside me in different directions at the same time. Every inch of the inside of my asshole was being pulled and twisted and massaged by rotating bumps and ridges.

The nipple clamps surged to life again, and my whole body convulsed. I breathed erratically through my nose and around around the rubber cock head that filled my mouth. Before my eyes, cocks twitched and pounded and erupted. Briefly, a vision of a young man's face was deluged with cum.

I could now make out another element to the soundtrack, too. Barely perceptible voices whispered to me over the sounds of fucking and sucking and moaning. "I love cock ... I need it inside me ... I want cum ... Yummy cum ... Yummy yummy cum ... My body was made to be fucked ... My mouth is built to serve cocks ... Mmmmmm ... it feels so good when the cocks fill me with yummy yummy cum ... The yummy cum means I did a good job ... I'm such a little slut ... I need to be a good cocksucker ... Cockslut Cumslut Cockslut Cumslut ..."