Forced milking, humiliation

A horny guy is milked like a cow

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Powerless – part 1

Jesse sat on the floor, his legs spread, the tiles cold against his bare bottom. His underpants lay discarded beside him, but in that moment, he didn’t care about them. He was stroking his hard cock with both hands. Neither of them could fully reach it, so instead, they stroked on either side, pressing it between them. He’d often wondered how it would feel to simply take his penis in his fist and pound it furiously. The thought made him even more horny, but that was not an option he was ever likely to enjoy.

He had few sources of sexual fantasy. Women never visited, and even though he was no longer a child, his uptight uncle had placed child lock software on the laptop the government had provided, so he never got to enjoy pornography. Even the TV shows they watched were strictly PG.

Occasionally, they saw attractive females when they were out, but they never looked at him, or if they did it was with disgust or pity, then they looked away quickly.

Jesse’s balls drooped in a loose sack between his legs; not excessively low, but just low enough to brush the tiled floor occasionally. As soon as they did, the cold made them retract away. It was a distracting cycle of relax and tense, but if was going to masturbate in the bathroom, there was no other way for him to sit.

He’d have preferred to masturbate in his bed, perhaps even fucking a pillow, and he’d done so on multiple occasions, but it was impossible to clean up, then his uncle would always discover the aftermath on his sheets; the crusty yellowing spunk stains, or worse yet, the still-wet patch.

Jesse didn’t understand how his uncle caught him so often. It was as though the man had some kind of radar that went off whenever he was jerking it. But the truth was, his hearing was as defective as the rest of his body, and his uncle was simply responding to the moaning sounds that Jesse made as he neared, and achieved orgasm.

That was the point he was at now. His hands stroked faster on his thick five-inch erection. It didn’t look small on him. Like so much of his body, his cock was not the normal member of an eighteen-year-old man – it looked far older. It was a part of his body that rarely got washed, and it looked like it. His uncle was reluctant to touch it at all, and Jesse was not able to give it the care it deserved.

His foreskin was drawn back a little on the head, still covering most of it, but just far enough to reveal the eye.

Jesse let out a groan of elation, his hands moving as best they could along its sides. The first jet of thick cream erupted, shooting 6 inches away, then another gusher, and another. An expression of triumphant euphoria painted itself on Jesse’s face as his body was overtaken by a powerful orgasm. His head tilted upwards, like a worshipper looking to the heavens.

Then the bathroom door opened, and his uncle Frank was standing there. The man looked down at his nephew, his eyes taking in the scene in an instant.

A look of horror flashed onto Jesse’s face. Despite living in near total isolation, both from other people, and anything approaching pornography, he still felt a deep sense of embarrassment, being caught just at his most exposed and private moment. But there was nothing he do to hide his shame. His deformed arms, withered by the Thalidomide drug his mother had taken during pregnancy to manage her morning sickness, were far shorter than a regular persons’, and the hands were more like animal claws, the fingers fused into two lumpen stumps. Nature had not even been kind enough to give him thumbs.

Below the waist, it was even worse. He had no thigh bones, and his shins were just six inches long, with deformed feet attached and fused, making him look more like a seal than a human being. When he “walked,” it was more of a shuffling roll that dragged and pressed his balls against the ground with every waddling step.

And now, just at his most vulnerable moment; when he should have been enjoying one of the rare moments of joy in his life, Jesse was instead caught, like a food-stealing racoon in a sudden porch light.

“Uncle Frank!”

He looked up at the man. There was nothing Jesse could do to hide himself. His cock was hard and twitching, an incriminating puddle of spunk lay on the floor before him.

His uncle looked down at him with all the disapproving contempt of a Victorian school ma’am. Jesse shrivelled inside, but his eager cock did not. He was still mid orgasm. Masturbation was such an effort for him, that he did it rarely, but every time he did, his orgasms were powerful, usually lasting 20 seconds; sometimes much longer, and releasing weeks-worth of pent-up spunk.

His uncle looked down at Jesse’s groin, unflinchingly refusing to give his nephew the privacy or kindness that most parents would show to a son caught in flagrante. Jesse stared up at him, red faced, paralysed by the shock of the moment, and unable to shield himself even if he had thought to. His cock twitched again, launching another spurt of cum to join the earlier ones on the floor. His eyes widened further. His body was beyond the point of pulling back, even without the rubbing hands to intensify the sensation. Another spurt, and another, then a long gusher, as though his body wanted to give a middle finger to his watching uncle. Jesse ignored them, as though failing to acknowledge the spurts he could feel were still launching from his cock, would somehow disguise them.

He couldn’t help himself. Jesse inhaled in a trembling breath as the long gusher continued, more like a stream of piss, than spunk. His face went dreamy and his eyelids half closed as the orgasm dominated him.

The gusher stopped, and his cock returned to a series of sputtering squirts. His uncle stood watching in stern, disapproving silence, arms crossed now, as though he’d expected Jesse to simply stop shooting, mid-orgasm. Instead, his nephew’s testicles pulsated as they dumped a month’s worth of cum onto the grey tiles. Jesse tensed his stomach, desperately trying to contain his orgasm now, sucking his balls upwards, but that only made it worse, intensifying the orgasm.

As he regained his senses, he looked up at his uncle like a puppy caught midway through pissing on the carpet, but his balls didn’t care about his shame; once started, the orgasm was unstoppable.

They continued pumping, sputtering, splashing, then finally dribbling a month’s worth of pent-up spunk, and all Jesse could do was sit there as it happened, each pump, a confession of adolescent horniness.

Finally, he was spent. His forehead was spotted with dew drops of sweat, and his rapid panting gradually slowed.

Then his uncle spoke.

“What have I told you about doing that in here?”

“Where else am I supposed to do it?”

“You’re not supposed to do it at all,” his uncle shot back.

“That’s not fair. My old teacher said it was natural.”

“Your teacher doesn’t have to clean up the mess.”

“I clean up after myself.”

His uncle looked down at the huge puddle and the spatter that had sprayed further more widely.

Jesse looked at it too.

“I do. I clean it all.”

“And do you use disinfectant afterwards? I don’t want to be walking on your dried reproductive juices.”

Jesse hesitated and considered the comment. It was not unreasonable.

“If you leave disinfectant in the bathroom, I could clean up.”

His uncle gestured towards the thick cum dribble hanging from his nephew’s cock.

“You can’t even clean yourself. Look at you. Like a dog in heat! And your pants are crusted with the stuff.”

“It’s not my fault. I try not to, but I get so desperate I just have to. And then I have wet dreams if I leave it even two weeks, then you complain about the mess in my pyjamas from that!”

His uncle stormed from the bathroom, and returned 30 seconds later carrying a roll of paper kitchen towel. Jesse had turned to wriggle towards the toilet paper dispenser, but as his uncle stomped back in, he turned to face him.

Without a word, his uncle tore off four sheets of towelling and bundled them up into a wad, then set about mopping up the considerable puddle and additional splashes on the floor. He huffed as he did so, non-verbally making his displeasure known.

As he neared the end of the task, Jesse spoke.

“Uncle Frank…”

His uncle looked at him, furious.

“No, don’t Jesse! Do you think I want to be cleaning up your bodily fluids?”

“But Sir…”

“No! It’s absolutely disgusting. See how you like it!”

He grabbed the back of his nephew’s head and aggressively rubbed the cum-drenched towel all over his face. Jesse tried to recoil in disgust, but he was unable to prevent it. He tried to protest, only to be rewarded with his own cum in his mouth.

Eventually, his uncle stopped, but there were sticky snail trails of his own jizz all over Jesse’s face, smeared on his lips, and sticking his eye lashes together in clumps.

Frank was occasionally abusive towards his nephew, allowing his frustration at being the boy’s carer to manifest verbally.  Since the death of Jesse’s mother, the deformed boy had been lucky that anyone would care for him at all, and absolutely nobody bothered with welfare checks, especially out in the sticks where they lived.

Frank threw the wadded towels into the toilet bowl. Then he tore off two fresh sheets. With his left arm, he easily hoisted Jesse off the floor, then with his right hand, he roughly rubbed at his nephew’s now-flaccid genitals, cleaning the small amount of semen that had dribbled onto them. His nephew’s penis and testicles loosely flopped in his hand, and he gripped them far harder than was necessary under the pretence of cleaning them. He yanked the boy’s loose testicles, rubbing them firmly in his fist.

“Ahh Frank! You’re hurting me!” Jesse screamed, but his uncle ignored his pleas.

Years worth of frustration and resentment were coming out, and his nephew was the powerless target.

“Please Uncle!” Jesse begged, his voice shrill, and finally the yelp penetrated the red haze of his uncle’s rage.

He dumped his deformed nephew harder than was necessary onto the unforgiving floor. Jesse looked up, shellshocked, his own jizz drying on his face. His now flaccid genitals lay drooping against the tiles.

“Get your pants on,” his uncle said, discarding the second wad of towel.

“This has to stop!”

With that, he pressed the flush button and stomped out of the bathroom.

Jesse’s nuts ached from the rough clean-up for hours, and his own dried cum remained on his face until bedtime, when Frank finally relented and lifted Jesse to the sink to wash it off.

For the next month, there was an uneasy peace between the two. Jesse knew that his entire life was at the good grace of his uncle, but he felt resentful about the way that the man had treated him.

Then, 34 days later, after breakfast, rather than allowing Jesse to wriggle down to the floor so that he could continue his day as he saw fit, the man lifted his nephew from the dining room chair without so much as asking.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asked.

“I’m taking you out to the back garden. I have something to show you.”

“What is it?” Jesse asked, his voice strained.

Frank was not known for his benevolence, and was not a man who ever gave gifts, so the announcement raised in Jesse, a sense of trepidation rather than anticipation.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Frank carried him through the door to their back yard. It comprised a large cut grass square, with a wooden decked patio close to the house, and a couple of small apple trees towards the rear.  A four-foot-high fence divided his garden from their one neighbour, serving more as a boundary marker than to provide privacy. On the other side and at the rear, longer, wild grass, led to scrub land then a sparsely populated forest at a distance of about a hundred yards.

But the terrain was not what drew Jesse’s attention. On the edge of the patio stood an iron frame, and hanging from the frame were two looped canvas straps. Beneath the frame, was a mechanical device, with a thick wire leading back towards the house.

Jesse frowned when it became clear that was where his uncle was taking him.

“What’s that Uncle Frank?” he asked, not really eager to know the answer.

“Milking frame. Gonna sort your disgusting lust out, if not forever, then for a good few months.”

“My lust Uncle Frank? What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean Jesse. Your pecker stands up at the slightest provocation. You’re like an oversexed dog.”

Jesse swallowed.

“It’s not my fault sir, and it’s about the nicest feeling I know.”

“I’m sure it is, but your pecker is not a toy. It’s for procreation, or at least putting into a woman.”

“What woman would do it with me?”

Frank hesitated. For a rare moment, he felt a sense of empathy. He sighed.

“I don’t know boy, maybe no-one, but that’s not my problem is it?”

“What does it do?” Jesse asked quietly.

“I’m gonna milk you like a cow, boy. If you shoot your seed enough times, maybe you won’t want to shoot it again for a good long time. That’ll help to keep your pecker soft like it’s meant to be.”

“Like a cow?”

The thought actually didn’t sound too awful. He’d seen cows with pumps sucking their teats. If that was what his uncle planned, it wouldn’t be too bad; in fact it sounded pretty good. Jesse’s cock started to twitch.

“Not exactly like a cow, but you’ll sure be giving up your cream. Going to milk you so dry, you won’t be able to get it up even if the sexiest girl in town starts sucking on you.”

“No chance of that ever happening to a freak like me,” Jesse thought to himself.

He didn’t know what dry balls would feel like. An image of two dusty, shrivelled raisins popped into his mind.

“I don’t want to be milked,” he said.

“You don’t have any choice in the matter.”

Jesse frowned.

“That’s not fair. I’m not just an animal that you can treat any way you like.”

“I’m sick of you spewing your damned sperm everywhere. You have two choices; I can milk you, or I can cut your nuts off entirely so you never want to masturbate again. Your decision.”

Jesse looked at his uncle with shock.

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not – I’m deadly serious. So, what’s it to be; nuts gone, or milked?”

“Don’t cut my balls off,” Jesse said solemnly.

“Okay, you’ve made your decision…”

POSTNOTE

Although this story is written from the perspective of a severely disabled young guy, it is not intended to be insulting to the disabled. I have the greatest empathy for people with disabilities. But there is something undeniable erotic about having limited control over your own bodily autonomy. And disabled people deserve to be the stars of my stories too! 😊