Fuck it, I was going to be late. I slowed the bike, peering through the dark visor at the street names - where the hell was Ermine Street? Ah! There it was. I did a swift U-turn on the main road and powered the Honda down the busy side street, looking right and left for number 25.
The appointment for my dental check-up was for 2.30 (Chinese Dentist Time - I always smiled at that) and it was 2.28 already. Normally I go to a different surgery, but I'd had a letter through the post asking me to come here instead this time as the other practise was closed for buildng renovation. It had taken me half an hour to find the place.
I parked the bike and locked it, then ran up the steps and in through the door. A second door faced me, with the words: "RECEPTION - PLEASE KNOCK AND ENTER" on it. I knocked and entered.
To my surprise, the receptionist was male - and a hunk. No 1 crop, muscular, dark penetrating eyes, and although his long white coat was buttoned up to the neck, he clearly had a figure to die for.
He smiled, and the entire room went sort of fuzzy. "Mr. Benson? James?"
"Jamie," I nodded. I really wanted to be on first-name terms with this guy.
He gazed at me for a moment, then said, "Damien. You'd better take your crash helmet off," he said. "You can leave it with me."
"Oh. Oh, yeah." I'd forgotten I'd got it on. I removed it and handed it to him, running a hand through my spiky hair. He pressed a button on the intercom and told the dentist that I was here. A green light appeared on his board. "You can go straight in. Through that door, turn right, down the corridor, and last door on the left."
I thanked him, and hesitated - I wanted to talk to Damien some more. Whether he read my mind or not I don't know, but he grinned at me. "See you later."
I smiled back at him. "Thanks."
I walked down the corridor and put my hand on the surgery door knob. As I did so, the door behind me opened, and I heard someone coming towards me quickly. I began to turn, but suddenly he grabbed me - expertly holding me immobile with my hands behind my back, and somehow managing to get an arm around my neck. An arm which was covered in black leather.
"Ffff...ugh!" Was all that I could manage to get out.
At that moment the door I'd come through a few moments ago burst open, and I heard the sound of boots running down the corridor. It was the hunky receptionist Damien coming to my rescue!
Wrong. He opened the surgery door, then clamped a leather-gloved hand over my mouth and helped the other guy to hold me still while they allowed me to take in the sight before my wide-open, staring eyes.
The surgery was a small room, dominated - as they usually are - by the operating chair. Now call me provincial, but I had never seen an operating chair fitted with wide leather restraining straps before. Nor, in my experience, does the usual dentist wear a black rubber apron, DMs, and a leather executioner's hood - or sit there holding a black rubber anaesthetic mask threateningly as the patient enters.
But this was the sight before me. "What the fuck?!!" I yelled into the gagging gloved hand. I took one look and ran.
Well, that's what my brain told my body to do, but the two pairs of strong arms holding me made that impossible. Instead, I was frogmarched into the surgery, towards that chair. I heard the door close behind me with a dreadful finality.
They pulled my leather jacket off me roughly, and pushed me onto the chair - but instead of strapping me into it, just held me there, keeping my head still as the rubber mask came down over my nose and mouth and I smelled the nitrous oxide. I understood: it would be a lot easier to get me restrained if I was gassed.
In fact they didn't put me to sleep - the masked dentist gave me just enough to make fighting them difficult. Unable to move my body properly, but otherwise fully conscious, I watched helplessly as they leisurely went about tightening the straps, one by one, over my arms, legs, thighs, stomach, and chest. Once they'd got me, the dentist removed the anaesthetic mask from my face.
The other two guys stood back to observe their handiwork. Damien - now, I saw, fully dressed in biker leathers (he must have had that gear on under the white coat when I was talking to him in the reception, I realized) - was stood with one gloved hand resting on his hip, and the other gently squeezing his bulging cock. He was staring at me with those dark eyes of his. The other guy - if anything even more muscular than Damien - had a ski-mask on, so I couldn't see his face, but I got the uneasy impression that he was enjoying this immensely. He was also in full biker kit, but I had never seen leather jeans as tight and clinging as those: the bulge between his thighs was obscene. It was also mouth-wateringly horny.
What the fuck was going on? If I hadn't been scared shitless, this would have turned me on like crazy. Strapped down helpless in a dentist's chair, at the mercy of three hunky, leather- and rubber-clad guys - this was the kind of fantasy I write about on my website all the time - but this was real. That was real nitrous oxide in that mask; those were real dentistry instruments in that tray; those were real leather straps holding me down. And the expression of sadistic anticipation on Damien's face was also real. I felt an urgent need to have a crap.
My head was clearing and my muscles were responding normally again - but now it was too late. I struggled experimentally in the restraints, but I knew before I tried that it was hopeless.
"Oh, you're not gonna get out of that," said the ski-masked guy.
"Wh-what do you want? What are you going to do to me?"
Damien smiled an evil smile. "Wouldn't you like to know...?" He chuckled.
I heard myself pleading. "Please don't hurt me."
"Give him some more gas," said Ski-mask. "It's time to start. Don't give him too much though - we want him to feel EVERYTHING..."
"NO! PLEASE! NOOOooooo!" Very slowly, the black rubber mask came down towards my face. I twisted my head to avoid it, but I couldn't move far enough. The smell of nitrous hit me well before the mask made contact and the sadistic bastard in the executioner's mask held it there in spite of my struggling, laughing quietly and enjoying my efforts to escape it. I held my breath for as long as I could, all the time shaking my head to try to dislodge the rubber mask, but the dentist follwed my movements easily.
"Yeah, that's it... fight it, boy. Hold your breath. Struggle. We can wait. You gotta breathe soon - and when you do, the gas is gonna get you..."
I glared defiantly at him, and tried to shape my face so that I would be able to take a breath around the edge of the mask, but it sealed completely to my skin, and eventually I had to breathe in. The anaesthetic coursed down my windpipe and into my lungs.
"Yeaahh.." he drawled, "we've got you."
I fought against the straps holding me down - but it was no use. Seconds later I felt myself getting light-headed again. My muscles ceased to obey my commands, and I began to sink into a netherworld - still conscious, but dreamy and completely helpless. It actually felt wonderful, and I stopped being quite so afraid. Then the bastard removed the mask and I began the gradual climb back to normality again - and the reality of my situation returned undiminished. I realized that they were playing with me - making me feel as helpless as possible. I do it all the time (albeit in different ways) to the victims I have in my playroom at home.
At this point I'd better explain - I have a largish website on the internet, through which I meet a fair number of guys and get them into my playroom for sessions which involve lots of leather, bondage, hoods, gags, blindfolds, teasing, tickling sometimes, cum-control and enforced milking. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to guess that this situation I was now in had something to do with that - but what was it about? Had I played with one of these guys and hurt him in some way? Was this revenge? I'm not at all into inflicting pain, so that was unlikely...
"Revenge? No, not revenge," said Ski-mask.
I hadn't realized I'd been mumbling aloud. Must be the gas.
"More about taking down tops."
"Uh?" What was the guy talking about? My brain wasn't functioning properly or I'd have figured it out there and then. As it was I didn't have time to think further as the dentist handed a wicked-looking instrment on an electric cord to Damien, who inspected it carefully, and then put his hand on my crotch.
Now it is very rare to find me not wearing leather jeans - especially when I'm riding the bike (I wear leather 99% of my waking life, and sometimes in bed as well...) - but because I'd been rushed today, I'd pulled on my stretch bleachers instead, for speed. Nothing underneath, as usual. So there was just a single, extremely thin, well-worn and faded thickness of denim between my genitals and his hand as he felt around for my cock. He found it without too much trouble, and manouvered it around to the other side of the zip, where the denim was thinner, more faded and worn than anywhere else, positioning it down the top of my right thigh. As that hunky guy touched and moved it, it began to grow, and he chuckled.
Then he brought the instrument in his other hand into sight, and turned it, so I could get a good view of it.
"Interesting little device, this - it's used to descale teeth, or so I understand. Vibrates the dirt off." He swiched it on and it began to whine. The sound was unpleasantly like a dentist's drill. When he touched it - very lightly - to the base of my cock, however, and slowly ran it up to the head, I closed my eyes and gasped in ecstasy. I had never felt enything like that before - it was fucking heavenly. Instantly my cock grew to full erection, its horny stiffness bulging the stretchy denim out to meet the devilish device as he traced it round and round the head very lightly.
Within seconds, I wanted to cum. But he removed it, and applied it instead to my balls. It felt like a dozen feathers gently tickling me between my legs. My instinctive reaction was to close my thighs together tightly to keep it out, but the leather straps holding them apart made that impossible. The unbearably horny ticking continued as he stroked the device gently over my balls - the thin denim of my skintight stretch jeans not only failing to provide any protection at all from the wickedly vibrating head, but also partly transmitting the vibrations to my cock and thighs, making it feel even sexier.
I'd been yelling since the first moment it had touched me, and now Ski-mask had had enough. He produced a roll of wide duct tape, tore a length off, and gagged me with it. I desperately tried to get it off, but there was no way it would budge.
"That's better," said Damien. He continued working on my balls for a while, then stood up and nodded to the masked dentist, who took another instrument from the tray and rolled it lovingly between his fingers. This was one of those things they use to scrape your teeth: a scalpel-like handle with a thin metal scraper blade set at an angle on each end. I stared in horror at it - what the fuck was he going to do with that?
I started to sweat as he leant over me, and slowly brought the thing closer to my crotch. My cock, however, was still as rigid as a steel rod under my jeans - so much so, in fact, that the shape of the cock-head was visible in meticulous detail under the thin denim.
The dentist carefully positioned his hand, then - watching my face through the slits in the leather executioner's mask - lightly scraped the blade of the instrument slowly over my cock-head. I convulsed. It was so controlled, and intense, and indescribably frustrating: it made me need to cum, but I knew there was no way that I could do.
Although I couldn't see his face, I knew from his eyes that the dentist was smiling sadistically at my reaction. He had so much power in hs hands - just a single light stroke of that metal scraper over the thin denim covering my sensitive, horny cock-head had made me tense every muscle, jerk in my restraints, close my eyes and gasp in ecstasy.
Looking down now at what he was doing, he stroked the instrument around my cock-head - over the ridges, up to the piss-slit, back down again... over and over, so lightly that the flat metal blade was hardly touching.
My cock jerked at every tiny movement of the instrument. This was cold, calculated and precise torture. Oh it didn't hurt in the slightest, but it sent waves of urgent need right through me. I needed to cum. God, I needed to cum.
I thought it couldn't be any worse than this, but then Damien squatted down by the side of my legs and applied the vibrating device to my inner thighs and my balls while the masked sadist continued to work carefully on my cock-head. The two together - along with the feeling of pure helplessness from being gagged and strapped down in this operating chair and at the mercy of these two hunky masked guys and drop-dead gorgeous Damien - were driving me out of my mind with the need to cum. I groaned and writhed in my restraints, desperately trying to get enough friction against my jeans to bring myself off, as Damien and the dentist slowly worked on me. They knew exactly what they were doing to me - they knew I couldn't cum from such carefully slow stimulation, but they were sadistically and intentionally making me WANT to cum more and more and more... My muscles were out of control, they were flexing and jerking in the tight restraints. The leather executioner's mask reflected the overhead lights as the dentist scraped the metal instrument lightly over and over my denim-clad cock, and Damien used the vibrator on my perineum and on the back of my balls. Oh fuck, I HAD TO CUM!! But it went on and on and on.. and I COULDN'T!!!!
And every time I opened my eyes I saw Ski-mask standing there watching my suffering - the bulge in his jeans was now unbelievable. As I stared at it, I realized that his leather jeans in fact had a rubber codpiece - a stretchy, shiny black rubber bag that bulged out to the size of an orange, holding his bull-balls and, above them, his enormous, rock-hard cock was trying to stick straight out away from his body - but the stretchy thin black rubber codpiece was restraining it, forcing it into an upward curve which ended in a shiny black hemisphere at the very top of which his cock-head reflected the light glossily every time he moved. I wanted to run my hands over his skintight leather-jeaned thighs; I wanted to lick his boots and his legs; and most of all I wanted to suck that amazing cock through that rubber codpiece and make the bastard cum in it.
As if he had read every single thought going through my mind just then, he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, and began to stroke his fingertips teasingly over the shape of his cock and his balls. Looking at this while the other two were doing what they were doing to me was too much - I felt my spunk boiling in my balls and getting ready to shoot...
"Uh-huh," chuckled the masked dentist. Simultaneously he and Damien stopped working on me and withdrew their hands, leaving me on the edge of cumming. I yelled into the gag and thrust my hips, trying to get enough friction from my jeans to finish the job of bringing me off - but it was no use: I just couldn't move enough. I had never felt so fucking frstrated in my life. If the gag hadn't been sticking my lips together I would have fucking SCREAMED.
"It's not that easy, is it...?" Damien smiled, and stood up. "OK, let's see if we can make it a bit worse for him."
So far, the chair had been in a fairly upright position, but now the dentist pressed a button and with a whirr it reclined until it was almost flat - taking me along with it. This was worse - it felt like being on an operating table and I couldn't see as much as I'd been able to before. I felt even more helpless and vulnerable.
Ski-mask came closer, standing over me with that fucking enormous bulge stabbing the air, still playing with it teasingly. That sexy stretched rubber codpiece seemed to fill my vision. If only I wasn't strapped down I could raise myself and take it into my mouth...
Hands - it was Damien - reached down and pulled my teeshirt up, exposing my stomach. He placed his fingers carefully at each side of my waist, just below the bottom rib, and smiled at me. "I hear that one of the things you like to do to guys when you've got them defenseless so that they can't fight back, is THIS..."
I screamed into the gagging duct tape as he jabbed his thumbs into my sides. It was perfectly true what he said - it turns me on like crazy to tickle boys slowly and sadistically when they're helpless to stop it - but the reason it turns me on so much is that I can't take it myself. I screamed and shook my head madly from side to side pleading for him to stop but, just like I do when I'm top, he took not the slightest notice.
I couldn't stand this. It was sheer - I was going to say 'agony', but it wasn't pain. It had the intensity of agony, but it was pure ticklishness . And the boy was good at it. He felt around for the spots that produced the most reaction from me and then slowly moved his thumbs around them, pressing all the time. The result was devastating. I was almost pissing myself.
When he eventually stopped and I got my breath back, I noticed that my cock was harder than ever. Traitorious fucking dick. Damien took one look at it and repeated the entire procedure.
I wanted to be anywhere but there during those next five minutes. It seemed like forever. I screamed and writhed and pleaded incoherently under the gag but I knew that nothing would make him stop before he wanted to. And those fucking leather straps held me totally helpless. That was the worst thing about it: I couldn't stand it, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. NOTHING.
Eventually he removed his hands. "Now you know what it feels like," he said. As my trembling gradually subsided, I wracked my brain for the second time. Had I had a session with him before? I would surely have remembered such a good-looking, sexy guy. No - that wasn't it.
Ski-mask looked me, and smiled. "You want to know why we're doing this?"
I nodded.
Ski-mask gave his cock a hard squeeze. "Because we enjoy it," he said. Then he stood astride the top end of the table, reached down, and pulled the duct tape from off my mouth. Before I could make a sound he lowered that horny, bulging, rubber-clad crotch down towards my face. I raised my head to meet it - but he kept it coming, and soon his bulge was pressing my head down hard into the padding under it.
I squirmed under the pressure, unable to get any air, but it was a good while before he raised himself slightly. I gulped in oxygen, and ran my eyes over that massive bulge inches from me. OH YES! Now this I could deal with. I licked his rubber-covered balls all over, and strained to get to his huge cock. At first he would only allow me to touch the base of it, but what I was doing must have felt good to him as he rotated his pelvis so that I could lick along the length of the shaft and - YEAH! - get the bloated cock-head into my mouth. I used my lips, my tongue and, extremely gently, my teeth on the thin, tightly-stretched black rubber imprisoning it. Soon he started to breathe faster, and then he pulled himself away sharply. "Nooo," he said, shaking his head, "not just yet, boy." He tore off another strip of tape and sealed it across my mouth, gagging me again.
The dentist lifted my head off the padded rest and before I knew what was happening, pulled a plastic bag down over my face. Oh shit.
Ski-mask was still there, playing gently with his straining cock through the rubber codpiece - I'd got him close to cumming when he'd pulled off a moment ago. Through the plastic his bulge was blurred in places and partially fragmented. At the moment I could breathe with no problem, but then the dentist's black rubber-gloved hands appeared and gripped me gently around the throat, pulling the bag down tightly over my head and sealing it around my neck. In panic I gasped for air - and the plastic sucked inwards and clung to my face. I couldn't even bite a hole in it with my teeth as I was gagged with the tape. Ski-mask was pumping his cock now through the black rubber and snarling, "Yeah.... yeah.... suffocate the bastard... yeah..." My eyes were wide open in terror as I struggled for breath, and then, suddenly, there was fresh air. I inhaled deeply and tried to get my pulse rate back to a semblance of normality.
Ski-mask went back to playing with his cock slowly while I was allowed to recover, and then the dentist's hands sealed the plastic bag around my neck again. This time I was less afraid, and knew they wouldn't let it go too far, so I actually began to get into it a bit. I tried not to panic, but instead breathed in carefully as much as I could, and the feeling of the plastic vacuumed to my face was horny. I blew out, ballooning the bag, and then in again. Ski-mask was once again pumping his cock hard through the codpiece.I needed to breathe now. I really needed to breathe. I started to panic, and then there was air.
I'm not normally into breath control at all myself (although I love doing it to victims if they get off on it), and I would have thought that such an experience would have sent my cock soft in seconds flat, but it seemed that nothing these guys did would turn it off: it remained as hard as steel inside my tight jeans.
I watched Ski-mask squeeze his bulge a few times, and then, with a snarl, he pulled off the rubber codpiece. His cock - hard as a rock and dripping precum, sprang out into the air, free at last. He reached into his back pocket and produced a pair of long, thick, black rubber gloves, which he pulled on slowly. Then, standing with his feet wide apart, and with the fingers of one hand pulling his huge balls, he began to wank himself off over me.
Simultaneously the dentist pulled the bag very tight around my neck. I had a strong feeling that I wasn't going to get any more air ths time until Ski-mask had cum.
His rubber-gloved hand was flying up and down the length of his cock shaft and he was pulling hard on his balls now. But I got the distinct impression that he was waiting for something - holding himself back.
Of course - he was waiting for me to panic. Well this time I wasn't going to. The dentist would let me have air in a few seconds...
I held my breath for as long as I could, staring at Ski-mask defiantly through the plastic - but there soon came a point where I could hold it no longer. I had to breathe. Involuntarily I inhaled sharply - but the bag clung to my face. I began to struggle. My lungs were burning, and I needed air NOW. The straps held me down and my eyes were wide in terror as Ski-mask continued to wank himself off over me as I fought against the straps. I knew that I was close to passing out...
Suddenly his body went rigid, and with a shout, he came. The dentist pulled the bag even tighter over my face, while a continuous stream of white, sticky spunk shot out of Ski-mask's cock, arced in the air and landed squarely on my jeans just to the side of my cock. That stream ended, and immediately another spurt jetted out - followed by another, and another, and another, soaking my balls. Gradually the flow ceased, and Ski-mask started to breathe again.
The masked dentist quickly pulled the bag off my head, and ripped the tape off my mouth. I lay there gasping lungfuls of air, panting like I'd just run a marathon. Oh, that air tasted good!
Surprisingly quickly my racing heart slowed, and I began to relax again. Ski-mask sneered under the mask, and shook the last drops of cum from the tip of his cock before replacing the rubber codpiece.
As he stepped back to the side of the operating chair, I noticed Damien. He was holding up a white teeshirt and grinning. Written in large, easy-to-read letters on the front were the words: "I'VE JUST CUM IN MY JEANS. "
I frowned, not understanding what was going on - and then it dawned.
"One by one we are going to cum over those tight jeans of yours. They are gong to be RUNNING with spunk by the time we've finished. And then, you have a choice." He paused, and smiled. "If you shoot your spunk in them as well, we are gonna make you walk home in this teeshirt, without your jacket on," he held up my motorbike keys and my leather jacket and shook them tauntingly, "and every fucking person who passes you is gonna read that, and look at your spunk-soaked jeans." If you manage to hold out, you can go home on your bike and no-one will see..."
I shook my head. It was Saturday afternoon, and the surgery was right on a busy street. Worse - the only way home was down the main road. In fact it was busy streets almost all of the hour's walk back to my house. This was unacceptable. There was no way I was going to walk through crowded streets displaying a message like that ! "No fucking way, mate. No fucking way!"
Ski-mask's spunk was cooling on my jeans and soaking into the denim. It felt sippery and sexy.
Damien smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." He put the teeshirt and keys down, then nodded to the dentist, who adjusted knobs on the anaesthetic machine and lowered the rubber mask over my face again. But this time the smell was more familiar than nitrous oxide - it was poppers!
I had no choice but to breathe in the fumes and within seconds I felt my heart beating fast and my blood rushing. Then he must have turned it down, because I stayed at a level that kept me high, but feeling good - and a lot more horny.
Damien leaned over me, took the mask from the dentist's hand, and slowly removed it. Then he lowered his head until his face was inches from mine, smiled one of the sexiest smiles I'd ever seen, and kissed me. It was a very long kiss. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and his lips felt gorgeous against mine. All the time those deep, dark eyes were looking into mine. I wanted to melt into that beautiful hunky skinhead, and I wanted that kiss to go on forever.
At the same time I became conscious of fingers playing with my cock through my jeans. Ski-mask or the dentist was working on me leisurely while Damien kissed me. I could have cum gallons at the moment. Oh fuck that was so horny!
Damien drew back slightly, then ran his tongue over my face, licking me slowly. He worked his way around to my neck, kissing it gently and nibbling my ear. "You are gonna cum, boy. We are gonna make you shoot your load and there is fuck all you can do about it." Then he kissed me again.
I'd been on the edge of cumming since he'd started, and at that point I needed to shoot so badly that I turned my head sideways to break away from the wonderful kiss to plead. "Pleeeeease, let me cum, Damien. I'm so fucking horny. And let me go home on the bike. Pleeeeeeease. "
He smiled again then, cocked his head to one side as if he were thinking about it, then blinked and said, as if he'd finally come to a decision: "No." He looked at the masked dentist and said, simply, "your turn, I think."
The dentist groaned in anticipation. "Open his mouth."
They grabbed me and forced my mouth open, and the dentist inserted a metal device which kept my jaws apart. He turned a screw until my mouth was wide open and there was no way I could close it.
Then my worst fears were realized. He picked up a drill and switched it on. The familiar - and, under these circumstances, terrifying - whine began.
He let me sweat for a minute, then said,"Oh don't worry - I'm not going to drill your teeth. This is a polisher. You've had your teeth polished before, haven't you?"
I nodded, still very afraid.
"Look." he stopped the device and showed me the business end. It was like a drill, but instead of a boring bit, the tip of this one was a corrugated sphere about an eighth of an inch across. It looked as if it was made of hard rubber or something.
"Tell me - have you ever been having your teeth polished when the hygeinist has accidentally touched your gum or the roof of your mouth with it?"
Oh shit NO! Unless you have experienced this yourself, it's impossible to explain what it feels like. It's not pain, it's not exactly a tickling, but it is unbelievably, intensely, UNBEARABLE. I yelled but because of the metal thing keeping my mouth open, no intelligible words came out. I began to hyperventilate.
"Oh calm down. This won't hurt a bit..." He started the polisher and brought it towards my mouth. Both Damien and Ski-mask were holding my head still, and there was no way I could escape it. The device went between my teeth and just touched - just TOUCHED the ridge of gum behind my top ones.... and I screamed. Like I say, it doesn't hurt - but it's like an itch so localised and intense you will do ANYTHING to stop it. But I couldn't.
With his free hand he pushed his black rubber apron to one side and began to wank himself off. Again he used the fiendish instrument - this time on the roof of my mouth. I screamed again. He was a fucking sadist, that bastard, because the closer he came to shooting his load, the more he used the polisher on me. Again and again he touched it lightly to carefully-chosen different parts of my mouth - and each one seemed worse than the one before. The last one was absolute, pure hell - as he came over my jeans, he kept the thing in contact with me - running it gently over my gums. How he managed to be so precise while he was in the throes of orgasm I will never know - but he did.
At long last, as his spunk reduced to a dribble from the end of his cock, he switched the damn polisher off. I was yelling fit to bust and desperately trying to scratch the inside of my mouth with my tongue to relieve the lingering itching sensations but it wasn't having very much effect.
They released my head and removed the jaw-clamp. I panted in relief. "Oh please," I whispered, "never do that to me again".
"Hmmm... horny, isn't it," said the dentist, nodding to my cock. I couldn't believe it: the fucking thing was harder than ever and I could feel it oozing precum like it was going out of fashion.
I looked down at my crotch - so far their aim had been excellent: there was a pool of glistening spunk right on the shaft of my cock, over a slightly larger, dark patch extending down to my balls, where Ski-mask had shot his load. And there was still Damien to cum yet.
But that was where it would end. Let them have their fun - but I was not about to let myself be controlled in this way and have to walk back with that fucking teeshirt telling the world I'd creamed my jeans. Fuck them - I was a top and, horny as I might be, I could fucking beat them at their own game. From that moment, I was determined not to cum.
Without taking his eyes off me, Damien slowly unbuckled his studded belt and unzipped his leather jeans. His cock, when he pulled it out, was about the same length as mine - average - but a bit thicker. It was almost hard, but as he slowly massaged it, it became fully erect in his hand.
I guessed it was his turn now. I'd been suffocated while Ski-mask came; tortured with the tooth polisher while the sadistic bastard dentist wanked himself off - what torments was I going to have to undergo to get the skinhead off?
He stood astride the table, in a similar position to where Ski-mask had been and, holding onto the two operating light posts for support, lowered himself at an angle until the tip of his cock was against my lips.
Oh fuck, that felt good. I took his cock between my lips and started to suck. I reasoned that if I could get him off like this, I could save myself whatever else he had in mind. I used all my considerable skill on his cock - and I felt it harden abruptly. Yeah - he was going to cum!
By now I should have known better, I suppose. He just pulled it out and grinned at me. "Nice try," he said.
He stepped off the operating chair and the dentist raised it to its reclined upright position again. Standing in front of me where I could see him perfectly, he nodded to Ski-mask, who positioned himself directly behind the skinhead. He produced a pair of handcuffs and locked Damien's wrists behind his back; then, reaching around his waist, he unzipped the boy's leather jacket and parted it. Damien was wearing nothing underneath, and his pecs were beautiful.
What happened next I had not expected: Ski-mask took a leather hood and quickly pulled it down over Damien's head. It seemed that Damien hadn't been expecting this either as he began to swear and struggle in Ski-mask's grip. The dentist went over to help, and between them they got the skinhead down on the floor and hogtied. Then they fastened the straps and zip of the hood tightly.
When that was done, the dentist came back to me and put the rubber mask over my face again, fixing it in place with an elastic strap around my head. I got more poppers. This time they were pretty strong to start with, but again the level was adjusted to keep me high and horny.
The sight of that sexy, hunky boy lying on his side on the floor, helplessly hooded and struggling, was almost too much for me. I wanted to rape him. With a raging hard-on in my jeans which was demanding attention, I watched as Ski-mask knelt behind Damien, found his nipples and began to squeeze. The boy's swearing abruptly changed to groans of pleasure. His cock was as hard as a rock, and stuck out of the fly of his leather jeans like a flagpole.
The dentist went back to the other two and got on all fours, his glossy black rubber apron lying over the struggling boy's legs, and began to lick the tip of Damien's cock. He had placed himself so that I could see exactly what was going on, and my cock jumped in my jeans with every single lick of the masked sadist's tongue.
Gradually he worked more and more of the skinhead's cock into his mouth until his lips were sliding hungrily up and down the entire length from the root to the tip. Ski-mask was working hard on Damien's nipples, squeezing and the rolling them between his fingers, and the boy was moaning and writhing in his restraints between them. The sight of muscular Ski-mask and the rubber-aproned, masked dentist working on the tied, hooded Damien together was so horny I found myself fighting the straps that held me down, to get to my cock. I very, VERY badly needed to wank.
This went on for some time, and I thought they were going to bring Damien off - by the sounds he was making he was very close to cumming - but they eventually stopped and untied the skinhead's booted feet, stood him up, and positioned him, still hooded and with his wrists cuffed behind his back, astride the bottom part of the operating chair, facing me.
Ski-mask gripped both his nipples again from behind, and the masked dentist stood at the side. He carefully took Damien's cock-head between a single black rubber-gloved finger and thumb, and began to wank him slowly, sliding his fingers over just the cock-head. After a few seconds Damien began to thrust his hips. "Faster, you bastard," he said from inside the leather hood, but the dentist continued at the same frustratingly slow speed.
"Oh fuck, do it fucking faster. I'll get you for this you cunt."
The dentist put his other hand between Damien's thighs and began to play with his balls at the same time through the boy's biker jeans. This brought remewed hip-thrusting from the skinhead.
"Oh shit I'm gonna cum. Faster. FASTER!"
But instead of speeding up, the sadistic dentist slowed the movements of his fingers over Damien's cock-head - he was now doing it about once every second. His other hand continued to tease the horny boy's balls through the shiny black leather.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING B... OOOOOH FUUUUUCK!!!"
The hunky skinhead came - his spunk, aimed expertly by the dentist, landing smack on my own cock-head. Wave after wave of hot, glistening spunk joined the pool already there - the denim of my jeans was now saturated and no longer capable of absorbing any more. All the way through the boy's orgasm, the dentist's fingers continued their slow, slow milking, making it excruciatingly intense. Damien's involuntary muscle spasms made aiming difficult, and as the flow slowed, streams of cum landed on my thigh and down to my right knee.
Ski-mask gave Damien's nipples a final squeeze, and then they released the skinhead from his restraints. He blinked in the light as the hood came off, and grinned at the dentist. "You are going to suffer for that!" Damien shook his head and ran his hand over his cropped hair. "Phew - that was intense."
All through this I had been breathing poppers from the rubber mask, and I was out of my mind with the need to cum. I would have done anything they asked at that point - including walking home with that teeshirt on - if only they would MAKE ME CUM!
But the dentist removed the mask and after a few moments of breathing fresh air, my resolve returned - now even stronger. They were pushing all my buttons, but they were going to find out that I had more self-control than they thought.
Damien zipped himself up and took a piece of paper out of his back pocket. He looked at me, then read it aloud:
"Biker top - into leather, rubber, bondage, breath control, tickling, teasing, cum-control and enforced milking is looking for victims. Especially love humiliating other tops and making them cum against their will."
He looked up at me again. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
I knew it! That was the advert on my website. I knew it was about this. Of course - the 'humiliating tops' bit. That was what this was about. I hadn't played with any of these guys before. I nodded at the skinhead. "Yeah, that's my advert."
"Correct. Well, we are three tops. You've never met us before, but we took exception to your ad. Humiliating tops indeed. We decided that you needed a lesson in respect. You are now going to shoot your spunk into those jeans and, when you do, you're going to walk home in this teeshrt."
I shook my head. "Uh-huh. Wrong. You may be three VERY horny guys, but making me cum against my will is not going to happen."
Ski-mask pulled off his rubber codpiece, picked up another one and slowly pressed it into place. This one was much larger and looser than the other had been, and whereas his hard cock had been resrained by the tighter rubber before, now it hung free and fully erect inside this one. He turned sideways for me to see - the bulge was unbelievable: it formed an enormous rounded triangle - his huge cock stook straight out away from his body at least eight inches and formed the top side of the triange; the thin, shiny rubber then came down at an angle to the bottom corner, where his huge bull-balls nestled inside. The third side was formed by his flat, muscular stomach. Turning back towards me, he gripped the loose rubber at the sides, and used it to move his cock slowly from side to side beneath the codpiece. As he did so, the loose but fully-filled rubber bag changed shape, reflecting the operating lights on its shiny black surface. I watched, mesmerised as the shape of his cock-head slid teasingly from side to side under that sexy black rubber. I needed to touch it. I needed to hold it, lick it, suck it, wank it... I felt an almost physical need to make that prickteasing fucker shoot his load into that horny rubber codpiece.
"Enjoy the sight while you can," said the dentist, "'cos you're not going to be able to see it much longer..." He picked up the anaesthetic mask, detached it from the corrugated rubber pipe, and connected a different mask to the tube. This one had a long black leather hood attached - and there were no eyeholes. the hood itself looked quite loose, but there was a strap attached to the breathing mask so it could be pulled tight to seal properly. The inside surface of the hood was also shiny black leather.
It took both the dentist and Ski-mask to get it over my struggling head, but they managed it, and soon I was more helpless that I'd ever been: completely blindfolded by that black leather hood that reached down to my shoulders, and how much - and what - I could breathe controlled by the sadistic dentist via the integral mask connected to the anaesthetic machine. The last sight I'd had before the blindfolding leather came down over my face was of my crotch: it was so soaked with the combined spunk of the three guys that pools of glistening cum lay over my cock, unable to soak into the saturated, skintight stretchy beached denim.
I felt more vulnerable than ever before. Not only was I strapped down helpless and hooded so that I couldn't see a fucking thing, but I could also now be knocked out at the turn of a knob.
So far, it had been air coming through the mask - but suddenly I was aware of the smell of nitrous oxide. It wasn't much, but just enough so that I knew what it was. The smell of it - and knowing what it could do - together with the fact that I was now hooded, conspired to make me twice as fucking horny as I'd been before. My cock was desperate - I could feel it sliding against the thick film of cool slimy spunk on my jeans.
I couldn't see - and that made me afraid again. What were they up to? I listened carefully, but all I could hear was the rhythmic 'hissssss-click' of the ventilating machine as I breathed in and out.
At present the operating chair was reclined, but upright. But then the motor started, and it reclined further - about halfway to being flat.
Then I felt the strap over my stomach being unfastened, followed by the ones over my thighs. Were they releasing me? No - they left the straps holding my chest and lower legs tightly fastened. I shifted position in the chair experimentally and found that I could now arch my back, move my hips from side to side, and close my knees to within a few inches of each other - but nothing more; I was as inescapably restrained as before. Now why had they done that?
I felt fingertips on my legs then, stroking and teasing slowly upwards, tickling my thighs and following the inner seams of my tight jeans up towards my perineum. I was determined not to react, but then a second pair of hands joined the first, exploring up under my teeshirt to my nipples and gently stroking them and my armpits and my chest and my sides and my stomach. I tensed, ready to scream as fingers were dug into my sides again, but it didn't happen: they just teased and stroked, while the first pair of hands arrived at my balls.
The touch was so light - it was inexpressably erotic. The tight, thin denim between his fingers and my sensitized balls made his touch a hundred times more horny that it would have been on my bare skin. And the gentle, slow teasing/tickling of my upper body was wonderful beyond belief - especially knowing that one of those hunky guys was doing it. I kept feelng the end of a zip fastener or the cool leather of a jacketed arm against my skin, and that made it even hornier.
My wrists were strapped to the arms of the chair/table, with my palms resting facing upwards. Suddenly I felt rubber brush against the fingers of my left hand. I could move my hand a little, so I raised it, and felt what could only be Ski-mask's codpiece bulge cupped in my palm. He didn't move away, so I felt around and luxuriated in the feel of his smooth rubber-clad balls. Further up that gigantic bulge was his cock - it was as stiff as when he'd been wanking over me earlier - I played with it, moving it inside the rubber codpiece, feeling it slipping around on the precum lubricating the inner surface. I squeezed the shaft, then found the head and began to slide the loose rubber over it slowly - up and down, up and down... Oh for fuck's sake was that horny!
The bastard dentist must have adjusted my air mix at that point as the smell of the nitrous became a little stronger. I coudn't stand it any more - I NEEDED TO CUM. My resolve not to react to the guy teasing my thighs and balls shattered and I found myself struggling and moving as much as my - now fewer - restraints would allow. As my movements lifted my arse off the table, the fingers on my balls slipped underneath and worked on the backs of my legs, the crease in my jeans between my arse cheeks, and my inner thighs. For some reason (probably because I could move more) that now started to tickle, and I went ballistic trying to get away from those fingers. I strained to close my knees together; when the straps prevented that, I opened them wide in desperation. I bucked and fought and struggled - and the fingertips worked faster and faster. They were all over my arse, perineum, thighs, legs, knees, balls... tickling and teasing me through the skintight bleachers. And with every movement I made, my cock slid inside my spunky jeans - I HAD TO CUM. I HAD TO CUM. I HAD TO CUM!!!!!
But of course I couldn't. I didn't know which was worse - not being able to breathe earlier, or not being able to cum now. I just knew that I would go insane if I wasn't allowed to shoot in the next five seconds.
The fingers of my left hand were wanking Ski-mask's incredible cock through that horny, smooth black rubber; another guy, presumably Damien, was teasing and tickling my legs, arse, thighs and balls through my jeans, and the dentist was gently running his fingers over my upper body, up under my teeshirt. I had never been so fucking horny in my fucking LIFE!
But evidently the bastard dentist didn't think I was horny enough yet. He increased the level of nitrous oxide gas still further and then, forcing his free hand behind my head, pulled the leather hood as tight as he could across my face.
Just about every erogenous zone on my body was being played with - except my cock! Nobody was even touching it! But it was siding about in the spunk soaked into my jeans - and I was going to cum. The gas was getting to me: my head was swimming, I was in a delerium of strapped-down, blindfolded, nitrous oxide-gassed, leather-black, struggling, hooded, rubber-cock-wanking, helpless jeans-rape horniness under the hood - but I mustn't fucking CUM!!!! I needed to cum so badly that it was the only thing I could think about, but if I did, they would have won and I would have to go home in that fucking teeshirt. I was on the point of going FUCKING MAD. In spite of the gas, the hood, and what they were all doing to me I was fucking determined to hold out!
I struggled and fought, but hands were everywhere, tickling my balls and thighs and teasing my upper body; the shiny black leather of the hood was pulled tight over my eyes, blindfolding me, enclosing me in a world of black leather; I was being very slowly chloroformed by the gas; I was milking a masked, muscular guy's huge, horny cock through that unbelievably sexy black rubber codpiece; my spunk-soaked jeans were slowly tossing me off, and I was helpless - the leather straps were holding me so that I couldn't get away from any of it. I yelled into the anaesthetic mask: "I WILL NOT FUCKING CUM!!!!"
Then someone - I'd lost track of whose hands were doing what - dug his fingers hard into the creases at the sides of my balls, gripping the very root of my cock, where it was inside my body, and at the same time touched the vibrator device to the very tip of my cock-head, and held it there, following my movements as I struggled and fought against them. I did everything I could to get away from it, but it was no use: wherever I moved it moved with me, and stayed there on the end of my cock-head.
Even with that irresistable thing on my cock, I might have lasted another few seconds - but at that moment I felt Ski-mask's cock stiffen and then start to jerk and buck under the thin rubber as I made him cum. I could feel his spunk pumping out into the codpiece, warm and thick, under my milking fingers.
That was the trigger. Instantly I came. My cock erupted inside my jeans and spunk jetted out like a high-pressure hose into the already-soaked bleached denim. At the precise moment that I started to cum, the dentist turned the nitrous oxide on full, and it got me. The feeling of sheer, perfect HELPLESSNESS at that moment was transcendental. As I slowly slipped into unconsciousness...
I came... and came... and came... and came... and came..... and came...
* * *
When I awoke, I was sitting on the doorstep of the dental surgery (which apparently was no longer a surgery - at any rate the name plate had gone off the door), with my hands thrust deeply into the back pockets of my jeans. There was something tight around each of my thumbs, and I tried to pull my hands out to look at what it was, but my hands would not come out of my pockets. As I pulled, I felt something - a chain? a wire? - tighten across my bum, INSIDE my jeans. Then I worked it out. The bastards had put thumb-cuffs in me, and joined them together with a wire or a chain that presumably went through a hole in each pocket and across inside my jeans to the other one. The only way I was going to get out of this was at home, where somehow I'd have to rip the denim or get my jeans off. They had put the teeshirt on me, of course, and with my hands in my back pockets there was no way I could cover up the embarrassing message as I walked home. The cunning, devious, evil, horny bastards.
Then I saw the note blu-tacked to the doorframe:
'The key to the cuffs is in your garage - along with your bike & jacket. Have a nice walk.'
It was signed Paul, Damien, and Chris. Underneath was written:
"P.S. I think you lost...", and
"P.P.S. Get your teeth cleaned."
I stood up a bit shakily - I could still smell the nitrous oxide - and, head down as far as I cold get it to hide a very red face, began the long walk home.
* * *
About halfway home, I had just crossed a busy road when a biker in full leathers pulled up alongside me. "Want a lift?" he asked.
I jumped at the chance. He had a spare helmet with him, and he fastened it onto my head. We set off.
"Left here, please," I shouted when we got to the next crossroads. But he kept straight on. "LEFT! We should have gone LEFT there!"
No response. For a moment I wondered if this biker was one of the three guys who had done me in the surgery, but he didn't look to be quite the same shape as any of them. We continued for a while, then took some smaller and smaller roads until finally he brought the bike to a stop outside a house. Without a word, he helped me off the bike and inside.
We went straight up to the attic of the house - which turned out to be a very well-equipped playroom! "What the..."
"Get on your fucking knees and lick my boots, boy!" He commanded.
It was then that I caught sight of my reflection in a mirror. There was another message on the back of my teeshirt. This one said: "CUFFED SLAVE FOR USE - JUST PICK ME UP, SIR."
Oh fuck...