Escapologist – The Egg
Forced milking, humiliation
An escape act goes wrong, resulting in an evening of irresistible milking.
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This story is set in the world of my graphic novel (unfinished) called the Escapologist, which $5 patrons can find on my site. A famous but kinky escape artist has been mentoring a young man into the art of escape artistry, all the time adding, for his own pleasure, more and more kinky things for the youth to do.
Escapologist – The Egg
“But why do they have to see me cum Mr Martin?” Stu asked his mentor.
“They don’t HAVE to Stu,” the man replied, “but it goes down really well with a certain audience if you do.”
“Dirty old men!” Stu thought to himself.
“Gay people?” he asked.
“Exactly. They love to see a young man lose control and blow his cork. It proves that it’s all real.”
“But I’ll already have a boner; isn’t that enough?”
“This is a special show. The audience have seen a lot of young men, and if you leave them happy, you’ll get invited back to do even more shows.”
“I’m pretty sure Milo never did THIS,” Stu sulked, referring back to the famous nude Greek wrestler.
“Ha ha ha!”
Mr Martin roared with laughter, hearing Stu throw back the bullshit reference that he had once used to persuade the young man to train naked in the first place.
“No that’s true enough Stu, but then Milo was not being paid three thousand dollars for a night’s entertainment.”
“And I get all of that?” Stu asked, repeating the question he had already asked several times.
“That’s after my 10% arrangement fee, so yes, you get to keep it all Stu.”
It was a lot of money. Three times as much as his best paid show. He could use it for his college tuition. Even community college had its expenses.
Stu had been publicly performing naked for small audiences for a year now, but this was different.
At the previous shows, his nudity was a kinky bonus for the audience while he performed his feats of escapology. This time, the escapology was a pretence for nudity, and moreover, this time he was going to be deliberately turned on.
Since his first unintended boners around Mr Martin, Stu had experienced many more, and they never really ceased to be embarrassing, no matter how much the man tried to put him at his ease. And now, it was going to be intentional. But he was going to be well compensated for that embarrassment. 30 minutes nude, the final 5 minutes with a boner, followed by an orgasm, then it was over, and he’d have enough money to pay for a year of college, with enough left over for the newest Playstation and even a couple of games.
“So, shall we go over it again?” Jonathan Martin asked.
Stu exhaled heavily, accepting that it was a very good deal.
He lay back in the padded chair. it was not designed for sitting. It was more like a space rocket launch chair, that supported his back, holding him in a reclining position with his butt in the air. The chair was supported at the bottom of a metal frame shaped like an egg bisected along its long axis. His head, leaning against a headrest, was at the narrow end of the oval, with his legs at the wide end. The frame was constructed of tubular steel, with the cross-sectioned egg made out of a single curved tube, and two more pipes curving beneath him, one at each end to support the seat. It was designed for maximum visibility of his groin by an audience.
Mr Martin moved into place to set up the restraints from which Stu would be escaping. They were welded to the frame. First, two leather ankle straps, that wrapped around the teenager’s ankles, holding his feet apart and resting atop the frame. Then two handcuffs that held his wrists on the outside of the frame to his sides. As Mr Martin applied the cuffs, Stu extended his thumbs to tense the tendon and increase his wrist diameter so that he would be able to escape later.
Now that the naked youth was secured into “The Egg” as they both called it, Mr Martin moved the additional parts into place. First was a machine with two soft tongs that would shake Stu’s testicles. Each tong comprised of two loops of industrial-gauge steel wire on the end of a one-foot wire arm. Jonathan reached for Stu’s left testicle. It was warm in his soft, shaven bag. He pulled it away from the youth’s body, and closed the tongs around it, trapping it between them. He repeated the process with the right testicle.
“Your left ball is bigger,” he commented.
“Must be why you walk lopsided!”
“Do I?!” Stu asked, shocked.
Mr Martin smirked at him.
“Course you don’t. It’s only a bit bigger. Maybe 25 percent.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Nah, barely notices. They’re perfectly normal. Just the right amount of droopy. Looks good on you.”
As he spoke, Jonathan calibrated the front to back movement range of the shakers.
When they were calibrated, Martin moved the electro-stimulator into place.
The stimulator was a slender metal-tipped dildo mounted on a heavy frame. With his feet secured akimbo, his butt was lifted, exposed, ready for penetration. Mr Martin move the frame into place.
“Here it comes. Relax.”
Stu’s hole was already looser than a straight guy his age should be. Stu was no stranger to having things up his ass. Mr Martin had been deviously lowering his reluctance for some time now, making up fictions about it holding him in place, or making for a better show. The truth was, Martin got off sticking things into the straight boy’s hole, knowing that he was cunting the young man, turning his asshole into a pussy. But this was the first time that he would experience a stimulator.
Stu exhaled deliberately, forcing himself to relax his hole as Mr Martin had taught him. He felt the lubricated tip on his hole, then it was being pushed into him. It went in smoothly; painlessly. It was thinner than an average erect penis, not that he’d experienced one to compare against.
Stu look up at the ever-present video camera. Mr Martin claimed that he was recording each escape so that they could analyse each escape, but they rarely viewed a recording. The truth was, Martin wanted a library of the young man, naked and in various peril positions.
“Okay, all set, are you ready?”
Stu gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Yeahhhh, I guess.”
Jonathan smiled at him.
“Here we go then.”
He turned on the rectal stimulator, and Stu instantly felt a tingle running through his prostate. His cock immediately started to fill with blood, rising from his belly in a series of twitching surges.
Mr Martin nodded in approval.
“Good, now let’s turn on the shakers.”
He turned on the testicle shakers and Stu’s testicles rapidly started moving back and forwards between his legs. Stu’s eyes opened wide, shocked at how arousing the sensation felt.
“Ahhh,” he gasped softly. “Damn that’s… intense.”
Stu was reluctant to use the word “horny,” as though it made him less masculine to admit.
He started working his left hand, compressing his fingers together, ready to slide them through the hand cuff.
“Not too quick,” his mentor said. “Remember the audience wants to see you cum.”
“Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh,” Stu panted. “D… d… don’t think that’s going to be a p…problem.”
“Make a show of struggling. Make it look harder than it is. Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean,” Jonathan added with a grin.
Stu’s cock was twitching in time with his powerful heartbeat. Suddenly, he blasted a wad that reached all the way to his face. He turned away disgusted as a second blast landed in his long, dark hair. He thrust his hips as far as the shakers would allow him to move, repeatedly stabbing with a thrusting motion that was encoded by a million years of evolution.
The man watched as Stu nutted, hard. When he was finished, the side of the boy’s face looked like a Jackson Pollock splatter painting, and his right eye was closed by his own jizz.
The camera stood between his legs, but further back and four feet off the ground, catching everything; his dancing balls, his twitching cock, his flushed torso, and best of all, the look of disgust on his cum-blasted face.
“Uhhh, a little help. A towel please,” Stu said.
“Free yourself and get your own towel.”
“Tsch, seriously Mr Martin?”
Stu rarely expressed irritation – he respected the man too much for that, but with his face dripping in his own cum, and the constant pleasure between his legs, distracting him, he momentarily acted like a normal teenager.
He gave another exaggerated sigh, and set about freeing his right hand. He scrunched his fingers together into a narrow beak shape, rotated his wrist, then gradually slipped it from the cuff. As soon as the right one was freed, he wiped the spunk from his right eye with the heel of his hand.
With his vision restored, he freed the other hand then leaned forwards and undid the straps on his ankles. He could feel the shakers, keeping him horny.
“Okay, I’m out, turn those off,” he said gesturing towards the shakers.
Mr Martin immediately complied, turning off the shakers and the stimulator. He was in a precarious position. If the young man ever suspected that his actions were motivated by lust, or worse still, low level sadism, trust would be broken and it would be much harder to persuade the college kid to keep putting himself in this crazy situations.
It was true that they all consisted of a valid escape component, but naked, and with a boner?! Martin had spent a long time gaslighting Stu, lowering his inhibitions, and this was going to be his finest hour.
Stu stood up and headed for the stairs that lead up from the basement to the ground floor level.
“Where are you going?” Jonathan asked.
“To get all this goo off my face,” Stu replied.
He walked up the stairs, his cock bouncing in front like a large finger pointing the way.
Three weeks later, Jonathan watched from afar as his protégé clambered into the egg at Venue, the exclusive gentlemen’s club. The performance area was at ground level, surrounded by chairs, and small square tables with four patrons seated at each. The tables were arranged in concentric circles, each receding circle higher than the one before. Stu had never performed at a venue that arranged the seating in the round like this, and he found it a little intimidating. Multiple overhead spotlights bathed the eight-foot stage in overlapping circles of light. The surrounding seating lighting was much more subdued. He could see the patrons, but they were darkened shades, lurking just at the edge of visibility.
Stu had already gone through 25 minutes of increasingly challenging and athletic escapes, all designed primarily to show off his body and his genitals. And now, this was his final act of the night. If all went well, in ten minutes, it would all be over. He would stand, wipe the jizz from his belly, and he could go home $3000 the richer. He just hoped that he wouldn’t cum on his face again.
He reclined on the club’s egg. It was the same dimensions as the one he’d practiced on in Mr Martin’s basement, although it looked more complicated, with more restraint attachment points.
The assistants secured Stu’s ankles, just as Mr Martin had, then they cuffed his wrists, attached the shakers to his testicles, and inserted the stimulator. Unlike Mr Martin’s, it was shaped to look like a realistic erect penis. That was one detail that Stu noticed with annoyance. It made no difference, and he already KNEW the audience were all pervs, but it still he hadn’t anticipated receiving a lifelike cock in his asshole. Something that annoyed him considerably more, was the fact that it was quite a bit thicker than the stimulator he trained with. But he let it go. He’d never dream of letting Mr Martin down by making a scene. Not that his mentor was anywhere to be seen. He’d nodded and disappeared into the low light sometime during Stu’s first escape, and Stu had not seen him since.
“Alright young man, thank you for a fine evening of entertainment,” the compere said. “This is your final act of the night. The Egg. I’d just like to run through a few things. First off, you are doing this escape of your own free will, is that correct?”
“Uhh, yes sir,” Stu replied.
“No threats, coercion, or menaces right?”
“Good, good. So, for this final act, you will escape from The Egg. If you manage it before you orgasm, we will add an extra $500 dollars as a bonus. If you do not escape, then there will be no bonus, and you will remain in the device until you are able to free yourself, or until 10:55pm just before the club closes. Do you agree to those terms?”
Stu frowned and looked around for Mr Martin, but he was still nowhere to be seen. These terms were unexpected, but he was confident in his abilities.
“Uhhh, yes, I guess so. Okay.”
“Jolly good. The safe words are ‘free me’. If you get into trouble, just say those words and we’ll let you go.”
“Just to make it more interesting, we’re going to secure your head so you can’t look at your hands while you escape.”
Stu frowned. This was not part of the deal, but he didn’t need to see his hands to get free. The two assistants moved in and pushed a rubber gag into his mouth. Before they inserted it, they showed it to him. It looked like a short fat cock, attached to a leather mask that would cover the lower half of his face. They forced it between his lips before he had time to protest, and secured it to mounts on the headrest. Stu’s eyes widened and he made an “Umph umph” sound into the gag as he attempted to protest. How could he say the safe words with a gag in his mouth?!
“We’d hate to make it too easy, so you don’t mind if we add some additional restraints do you?” the compere said.
The assistants moved to Stu’s hands and added an additional restraint to each one. It was a metal frame with five rubber clamps that screwed down behind the first joint of each finger, keeping his finger spread wide. The frames were attached to the side of the egg like vertical hand pads for a futuristic flight control system.
Stu’s eyes widened still further. He was being set up. There’s no way he could escape without his fingers being free.
“You don’t mind if we give everyone a better view do you Stu?” the compere asked.
Stu couldn’t move his head to express his disapproval.
The two assistants moved down to Stu’s knees and attached additional leather restraints, then they pulled them outwards to the edges of the egg, attaching them in place. It made no functional difference to his escape – Stu didn’t need his knees close together, but somehow it made him feel much more exposed with his knees pulled wide apart. He stared at the compere with an expression between shock and trepidation. He had no idea how he could escape from this situation. He’d never even experienced finger restraints before.
“Ready to go?” the tuxedoed man asked.
He turned on the current in the stimulator and Stu immediately grew hard. His cock was a little below average in size but it still drew appreciative murmurs. Stu felt very strange, laying there with a bone in front of all these men, but it was what he’d signed up for.
The compere leaned forwards and said in a stage whisper, “I think you might find our shakers a bit more lively than the ones you’ve practiced with.”
He gave Stu a wink.
“Remember, ‘free me’ if you want to stop.”
The audience chuckled, in on the absurdity of giving Stu a safe phrase he could never utter. For his part, Stu no longer had any intention of prolonging the performance long enough to cum if he could help it. His asshole and his mouth were both filled by cocks; albeit rubber ones, and he’d been tricked. He was not happy.
The compere turned on the shakers, and Stu gasped into the gag. They were vibrating twice as fast as the ones the Mr Martin used. But there was something even more concerning; the well lubed stimulator was not merely impaling him and keeping him hard; it was pumping in and out of him – he was being mechanically fucked in front of dozens of men!
Stu looked at the compere who stood over him. The man had a gentle smile on his face that made it clear that he was well aware that this was not was Stu had agreed to. Stu stared back at the man with a face like a startled bushbaby – eyes wide as they could go.
The pumping dildo felt good, and it bumped past his prostate, and teased his sphincter. And his balls – his balls felt almost indescribably good. Stu knew that he was not going to last long with them being shaken like that. What was the longest he had held his nut against Mr Martin’s slower machine – 45 seconds? A minute at most. But now, he could barely discern one testicle from the other – both were a single vibrating mass of sexual ecstasy.
Suddenly Stu snapped out of it. How long had he lost in the shocked euphoria emanating from his groin? 5 seconds? 10? He needed to escape quickly. He didn’t care about the bonus, but he knew he could not endure this level of horniness for long. He concentrated on his right hand; the fingers were stretched but maybe he could just pull…
Suddenly there was an explosion in his head and one between his legs as his overstimulated balls triggered a massive orgasm.
Back in Mr Martin’s basement, there was a certain delicious, illicit eroticism to being boned up in front of a grown man. It fuelled his hardness and the power of his orgasm. Here, at Venue, Stu felt no such sense of forbidden excitement, but despite that, the expert stimulation of his genitals was so pitch perfect, it drove him to the Yellowstone super-eruption of all orgasms. Any hopes he had of not reaching his face evaporated as the first blast passed his face, landing on the floor above his head. The next few landed stickily in his hair, then splattered onto his trapped face, then his neck, then his chest. Every blast firing clear over his belly and pubes without touching them. Stu howled into the gag; his vocal chords not his to command as he lost himself to a response as far beyond his control as his rate of digestion.
Fifteen seconds after it began, the orgasm was over. Stu could feel the cum on his face. His instinct was to wipe it off, or to turn his head so that it would at least dribble off to the sides. He could feel his own cum on his forehead, his nose, and on the small part of his lips exposed by the gag. At least it hadn’t gone into his eyes this time, but there was so much of it. He felt he’d been doused with a Supersoaker, but it was his own balls that had provided the gloopy liquid.
Stu’s thoughts were whirling, his brain fried by the force of the orgasm. Then he became aware that the compere was talking.
“…has missed out on the bonus, but I’m sure you’ll all agree, that was a very impressive orgasm.”
All around him, Stu could hear cheering and clapping. All clapping at his nut. He took no pride in it, laying back with his impossibly hard boner still twitching as it tried to squirt fluid from temporarily depleted cum reservoirs. He could feel his dick bouncing, drawing attention to his horniness. And his balls, my god, they felt so horny; like he would nut forever. He couldn’t tell if his dick was bouncing because it wanted to continue squirting, or because he wanted to squirt again. He didn’t care. He couldn’t endure another one like that. It had nearly made him lose his mind. He focussed on his right-hand thumb. That was the strongest digit. If he could just get that free it would be a start. He tried to move it, but it was clamped securely. What about the other fingers? First? No. Middle? No. Th….
“Oh no, oh no, not already!” Stu thought. “I only just…”
He never finished the thought, instead, his thoughts were wiped as a second supernova exploded across brain, as the pleasure in his loins robbed him of conscious thought. He thrashed and moaned, and he felt yet more cum hitting his face, only the barest of residual consciousness informing him of the fact.
The noise level in the audience rose, as they witnessed his second orgasm in two minutes. They were used to seeing young men and teens giving up their seed. The audience all knew that it was a set-up, yet they still appreciated most of the involuntarily performances. The young men all arrived so confident; certain of their skills; certain of their self-control, but within 30 minutes, they were all moaning into their gags; some blubbing with shame; others with unimagined ecstasy. No, they ALL groaned with ecstasy, but some felt shame at their inability to control their bodily responses to it.
But even against such a cast of horny, beautiful, lusty young artists, Stu was special. The ability to blast your own face was a rarity, but the ability to do it repeatedly, was almost as magical as seeing a real-life unicorn!
Stu was stuck now, in a cycle that he could never win. After the second orgasm, he was exhausted and stupefied; unable to gather his thoughts for at least 20 seconds. And then, just as he became aware of his urgent need to escape, the next orgasm was almost upon him. And with each one, his periods of lucidity grew shorter, and his orgasms more mentally incapacitation as each ones seared his brain like the flash of an atomic bomb.
By the seventh orgasm, he ceased to squirt, and lost the ability to even try to fight, yet he remained, locked into the relentless machine, laying back, staring upwards into space, only peripherally aware of the gentle hubbub of appreciative voices all around him. Some of them liked to sit where they could watch his face, as he floated in an orgasmic stupor; other preferred seats where they could clearly see his dick as it intermittently leapt, in time with orgasms that were now dry.
From time to time, Stu would whimper, when the occasional extra powerful orgasm wracked his body.
At 10:55 the compere took to the stage again. Beside him, Stu was still reclining within The Egg, his penis hard. Cum trails shone all down the sides of his face and torso, as the cum that Stu had so liberally deposited all over himself, liquefied, and ran away, leaving a sticky, moist residue.
“Gentlemen, I think that you’ll agree, Stu has been entertaining. He didn’t earn his bonus, but he’s certainly earned his fee tonight. Let’s give him a round of applause.”
The audience clapped and a few cheered. The sound penetrated Stu’s orgasmic fog, but he was too mentally exhausted to give the sound any thought. Even while the compere talked, Stu’s balls continued to rattle back and forwards, and even if he’d wanted to, Stu could not turn to see what had stimulated the audience. He let out a trembling shudder as he came again. Nobody was counting, but if they had been, it was his 87th orgasm in two hours.
The compere looked down at him, recognising the orgasm. He smiled.
“I think we’d better get this young man out of there. I don’t think he’ll be wanting to touch himself for a VERY long time.”
The audience laughed at the joke. No performers ever won the game. It was rigged from the start. The patrons simply enjoyed watching horning young men milked dry, and then forced to experience a normally impossible number of orgasms against their will.
The lights rose and the patrons gradually left the club as the compere and his assistants dealt with Stu.
He turned off the shakers and the stimulator, pulling the dildo from Stu’s rectum. The young man’s hole gaped wide open, the sphincter muscles inflamed and numbed by two hours of continuous pounding. It would be two days before his hole closed fully, and three weeks before the bruising was fully gone.
Freed from the shakers, his balls drooped low and sorry-looking, in a now scrawny sack.
But at least the machine was no longer forcing Stu to keep cumming.
The assistants worked their way around him, removing the various restraints, leaving the gag until last. When it came out of Stu’s mouth, it was followed by a long sigh of relief.
Stu lay, unmoving for 30 seconds, then Mr Martin crouched next to him and touched his hand.
“Hey Stu, can you hear me? It’s over. We can go home now.”
“Hooome?” Stu murmured, drawling the word.
“Yes. You didn’t escape but everyone loved you. I have your $3000. It’s time to get dressed and go home.”
“It’s schtopped?” he slurred.
He could barely form words.
“Yes, it’s over.”
“But I can shtill feel…”
Stu looked at his groin. His dick was still fiercely hard, but the shakers were gone and the dildo was absent. He frowned.
Mr Martin offered him a hand to his feet. Stu rose then stepped out of the egg. His legs immediately collapsed and Mr Martin caught him before he fell to the floor.
“Whoa, wobbly legs there Stu,” the compere said, grinning. “gonna have jelly legs for a few days I expect.”
Stu looked at him, his face still red and drenched in sweat. A range of emotions crossed his face one after the other in rapid succession; annoyance, betrayal, confusion. There was a lot he wanted to say but he didn’t want to disgrace Mr Martin. Ultimately, his expression settled on exhaustion.
“Here’s your briefs,” Jonathan said, offering them to him.
Stu looked at them like he didn’t understand what he was looking at. His body was tired but that was nothing compared to how very, deeply exhausted his testicles felt. They felt empty; drained in a way that he’d never experienced; like two dried husks.
Eventually, he accepted the underwear, and lifted one leg, crane style, to pull his briefs onto his foot. He immediately fell over, too weak to stand on one leg.
“You need some help there Stu?” Mr Martin asked.
Stu looked up pitifully from the ground, then nodded.
“Got no shtreng…” he slurred.
“Yeah, you must have cum at least 50 times. No wonder you’re exhausted.”
Mr Martin knelt down and pulled Stu’s briefs up past his feet. He couldn’t help giving the boy’s red balls a jiggle before tucking them into his briefs. Stu squirmed in slow motion.
“Not gonna be doing much with these guys for a while I suspect.”
Soon enough, Martin had the young man dressed and ready. He stood, helping Stu back to his feet and draped the young man’s arm over his shoulder for support. He gave the compere a wink and a grin.
Martin carry-dragged Stu slowly towards the door. Stu walked like a puppet with the strings to its legs cut. His thighs wobbled in and out, knees occasionally knocking together, every bit of energy drained from him. It was as though his balls were the source of his power, and the stopper had been removed from his dick, allowing it to slowly leak from him, one orgasm at a time. Despite his extreme exhaustion, Stu was acutely aware of each of his testicles, each rubbing against the other, jangling low in his briefs. They were incredibly hot, and although they were half their normal size, they felt heavy.
“Hope to see you back again sometime Stu,” the man said as Stu was about to leave.
Stu turned his head, eyes drooping.
“I don’t think sho,” he said, every word an effort.
The compere smiled.
“Never say never.”