Hate wank

humiliation, forced arousal

Not every wank is enjoyable.

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Hate wank

The sound of cheering filled his ears. Congratulations, whoops of approval, encouragement and more, all directed at him, but Theo didn’t feel like a winner.

He was pulling a series of faces; a mixture of strain, exertion, and anger. He’d already passed through humiliation, but that would return again, when his dick stopped aching. But for now, he was concentrating on just one thing; continuing to pound his dick into submission.

He rarely came twice in a single session, but now he was ejaculating for a third time. His shoulders and forehead were pink from the effort, and his tiny dark nipples stood out on his lean chest, his small pectoral muscles barely visible against the smooth skin.

The first orgasm had been easy enough. Despite his hatred of the situation, his libido trumped everything, and he’d cum hard, leaving creamy squirts on the black marble bathroom counter all the way to the mirror where his phone was propped up and broadcasting.

The second one had also been easier than he’d expected. He usually stopped after one and went to sleep, or finished showering before college, but once in a rare while, when he was feeling particularly horny and relaxed at night, he’d keep going, and bang a second one out immediately after the first.

Occasionally, he’d try making his jack off sessions last to get a stronger single orgasm, but he was not used to edging, and they often caught him by surprise. Even though he’d hurriedly remove his hand from his dick, the rising excitement surge past the point of no return, and he’d spill his seed against his wishes, his eager spunk rising in a few small gushers. On such occasions, he’d feel cheated of a full orgasm, and would usually manage to quickly rub another one out soon after without too much effort.

He glanced at the remains of the small packet on the counter. It had been left in his locker. He’d unwillingly consumed the pill it contained, and it sent his lust into overdrive.

Theo wasn’t shy about his body. His dick was just five inches long and his balls were small and tight. He kept himself shaved so that his dick would look bigger. It was a nice shape, with a neatly circumcised head, and it got good and hard when he was excited. He was happy to show it off to any out-of-state girl that would show him her tits, and more than willing to jerk it for any girl that would finger herself for his amusement.

But he’d made two fatal mistakes; the first was assuming that the girls actually came from where they claimed to come from. The second was to break a more cardinal sexting rule; never show your face in the same video as your dick.

Unfortunately for Theo, despite his good looks, he was both gifted and cursed by all-consuming, knee-trembling orgasms. He’d always liked the way that his knees turned to jelly, and the orgasms briefly surged through his body, turning him temporarily into a mindless animal. But what he didn’t know was how incredibly goofy he looked as he came. Involuntarily, he twisted his face into a series of snarls, gasps, pants, and gorilla like poses.

Then yesterday morning, he discovered a series of print-outs in his locker, each showing him, dick in hand, and a series of ridiculous faces as he came. Some were filmed in his bedroom, but most were in the same family bathroom he was in now.

He looked around him to see who had placed them there, but none of the other students in the hallway looked out of the ordinary. He stared at the photos, his heart pounding, a knot clenching at the pit of his stomach. Then his phone rang. Audible rings were not allowed at school, but he jumped at the vibration, slamming his locker door shut as though the silent ring might attract his attention.

He answered the call.

“What do you think of the photos?” a female voice asked.

“Who are you?” he responded.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to call you at home tonight at 9. There’s an envelope in your locker. Make sure you have it with you. If you disobey, everyone you know will receive these photos, or videos of you beating your meat. Do you understand?”

“What? What do you w…”

The female disconnected.

And now, as he stared at the camera, his brows lowered into a frown of hatred, he was once again making the same faces. He knew it; he could feel himself making them but he couldn’t help himself.

He hunched over as he pumped his cock in his fist. Unlike the first two times, the jizz did not spurt from it; instead it oozed out, coating his shiny helmet and fist. He’d had to work harder for it, pumping hard for a solid ten minutes since his second.

He wondered if he would even be able to cum at all on the fourth time, and he was absolutely certain that his balls would completely emptied beyond that. They were already aching. He only hoped that his tormentors would accept his best effort. They’d told him he needed to cum seven times or the pictures would be sent to his parents and friends, but worse still, all over the school.

He snarled towards the mirror, staring down at the phone, which showed half a dozen teenagers, both male and female, wearing masks, gathered around, laughing and enjoying his exertions. At least one of them went to his school, but he had no idea which.

He continued pounding his dick. The sticky helmet slid in and out of his fist, his own cum acting as  lubricant. He wasn’t even allowed to take a break in order to get past the uncomfortable refractory point. He shivered and his entire body quaked as though he was experiencing petit mal epileptic seizures, but now it was not pleasure that caused the fits and tremors; it was post-orgasmic discomfort.

He tried in vain to ignore the shivers rising from his groin. Instead, he scowled at the camera and repeated a mantra to himself.

“Four more to go, four more to go.”

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