Forced milking, humiliation

A university student discovers that he is not as alpha as he believed.

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Caged

Riley sat with his arms crossed in front of him, wearing a scowl that was almost comical in its excessiveness. His lips protruded, his eye-brows were so low that they obscured his vision, half-closing his eyes. He was on the verge of tears. If you said to a 7-year-old boy, “Make the angriest face you can,” he could have done no better than Riley’s current expression.

But Riley was no child; he was 20 years old, and into his second year of university. He was a reasonably athletic, adventurous, young man. Not that he would ever share tonight’s adventure with his friends at university, even before things took a turn. Until tonight, he thought of himself as something of a tough guy; someone for the weaker students to give proper respect to. As he sat now, on the verge of tears, he realised that if they ever found out about tonight, he would be an object of nothing but ridicule…

Riley was naked; almost naked. He wore a tight-fitting cage that wrapped around his head. It was made of leather, designed for control and humiliation rather than confinement. At any time, he was free to remove it, but then that would add three hours to his ordeal, and he felt certain that he’d pass out if he had to endure even a second longer than he already had to.

He’d been sitting for an hour. Not long in the grand scheme of his life, but a hell of a long time to sit with an achingly hard erection. A long time also, to feel an unwanted dildo filling his asshole. He’d never had anything in his hole before, and he definitely didn’t want the experience. James told him it measured just six inches; pretty much the same size as his own dick, and it looked no thicker. James even pointed out how realistic it looked before it was inserted.

“Just like a real cock.”

“I’m not a faggot,” Riley said, but his words were barely intelligible. “Um not a hagguh.”

The leather head cage forced his lips together and out, in a parody of the ridiculous duck face expression that so many young women used on the social media, but it was not an expression he pulled by choice.

He also wore a leather body harness around his bare torso. He was not especially muscular, but nor was he overweight. His chin was linked to his chest with a padlock to limit his head movement, and the chest harness was connected at the rear to the seat he sat on, although to call it a seat did not do it justice. It was a work of art; a moulded seat, that spread his ass cheeks so that the dildo which stood atop a steel post beneath him, could be held inside his unwilling asshole. Curved frames held his knees far apart, and he was prevented from lifting his legs past the frames with yet more straps.

But the coup de grace, were the shakers; a pair of claws, each comprising four opposing fingers coated in soft rubber. Each one gripped one of his dangling testicles; firmly enough so that the soft ovals of flesh would not rattle loosely, but not so firmly that it would cause the slightest discomfort, nor impede his ability to ejaculate. The claws were locked in place. He tried to pull them apart, or stop them moving, but there was nothing he could do to free his testicles, and that was the real crux of his confinement.

He was free to use his hands, but there was nothing he could do to stop his balls from shaking between his open legs, and that was somehow more frustrating than if he was fully restrained, tied to a wall or a bed. He felt as though he should be able to get up and walk away. He felt as though he should be able to pull the dildo from his asshole. He felt as though he should be able to stop himself from cumming time after time after time. But none of those things were true, and he had already cum more times in the last hour, than he normally managed in a month. He wouldn’t have believed he could nut so many times, but he couldn’t stop himself. In spite of his scowl, he was desperately horny. Constantly, overwhelmingly horny. And he knew that he was no more than a minute of two from blowing his load again. Not that there would be much load after more than 30 orgasms. The shakers had made him insanely horny, and unbeknownst to him, his testicles were currently producing sperm at a phenomenal rate, but now, the most that emerged from his hard pole was bubbling semen foam, or at best the occasional pathetic squirt that raised barely a centimetre from the eye of his cock.

“Wanna make some money?” the man in the park asked.

Riley should have been more cautious. As a kid, it was drilled into him not to meet up with strangers, and especially not to go anywhere that was not public, but as a near adult, he was confident in his ability to beat most men in a fair fight, so his guard was down.

“Doing what?”

“Easy money. Two hundred for two hours.”

“Doing what?”

“First of all, how old are you?”

“I’m 20.”

“You go to university here?”

“Yeah. So, what work have you got?”

“What are you willing to do?”

He was university student, struggling to live on a grant and the minimum wage salary from a weekend job.

“What’s the job?”

“All you gotta do is wank yourself off while we watch.”

“What?! No way. I’m not queer.”

“Never said you were. Three hundred.”

“But I’m not…”

“Five hundred, final offer.”

It was enough to give Riley pause.

“Five hundred pounds?”

“That’s right.”

“Just to wank myself off?”

“We watch. No phones, no recording. You cum a couple of times; I pay you, and you go home five hundred quid better off.”

“Just for a wank?”

“Nice and slow.”

“Five hundred?!”

The thought of all that money just for a wank blinded his good sense.

“I’m not queer though.”

“Course you’re not. You look like you can handle yourself in a fight.”

That appealed to his ego.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Good. We only like straight boys. The queer ones can be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?”

“Yeah, you know, all the moaning, and squirming, and playing it up like they’re in a porn movie. Straight men just get on with it.”

Riley sniggered at the imagery of a queer hamming it up.

“Yeah, faggots. Where do you want me to do it?”

“My house. Newton Road. Just round the corner. I’ve got a car.”

“Five hundred for a wank. Nothing more?”

“You gotta cum three times.”

“Three? Don’t think I can do that. Most I ever managed was two,” he admitted.

“Stud like you can manage three in two hours. Smoke?”

The man offered him a joint.

Riley accepted.

“I wanna see the money first.”

“First things first, let me see your dick.”

Riley pulled the front of his jeans away from his body to show the pale meat curled within.

“Get it out,” the man said.

Riley unbuttoned his jeans, and lowered the zipper, then pushed his boxers down and flopped his flaccid cock out. It dangled, like a lifeless snake. The men looked at it, and Riley looked them in the face and made a “Well?” gesture with both hands. His cock jiggled.

The man smiled and produced a wallet. It was bulging with notes. He pulled out a bunch of fifties and showed them.

“I’m James, by the way. This is Carlo.”

“Like the Brazil manager?” Riley asked.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Carlo said smiling.

“Riley,” Riley said.

He stuffed his penis back into his jeans and zipped up.

They walked to the car, and he got into the back with Carlo. He never even saw the small needle before it stuck him in the leg. He turned to Carlo.

“What the fuck?!”

Carlo just smiled. Riley was out cold before he could struggle.

When he came around, Riley was already naked, wearing the straps that would restrain him. His arms were held in place behind his back, and he was laying on his side on a couch. He sat up awkwardly.

“He’s awake,” Carlo said.

“Ahh good, let’s get him in the seat.”

“Ot the huck are you doing?” Riley demanded.

His mumbled words came out squeaky and ridiculous-sounding through his pouting lips.

Carlo and a third man lifted Riley onto the seat. Riley struggled, but without the use of his arms, he was no match for them. Truth be told, WITH the use of his arms, he would not have been able to fight them off. He was a slightly soft-bellied University student with delusions of toughness, and they looked like doormen or body builders. Nevertheless, Riley put up a token struggle.

They sat his bare ass hard onto a seat that was sculpted for human buttocks and Carlo attached the rear connector of Riley’s torso harness to a ring behind the seat, preventing him from standing up. The seat comprised of two halves, divided along the centre, back to front. Each half was angled slightly downwards towards the other, so that as Riley’s ass slid into place, the cheeks of his bottom were drawn apart, exposing his hole.

One man held Riley in place as Carlo moved to the front and positioned Riley’s legs on the frames that were attached to the front of the seat, securing them into place with leather straps at his knees and upper thighs. Now he truly could not lift off the seat unless the straps were removed. Carlo pushed the leg frames apart. They clicked on ratcheted pinions, locking in place with every gear tooth that the cog wheels beneath the frames passed over, spreading his legs apart. When Carlo was satisfied, he stepped away to view his work.

Riley’s legs were held apart at an angle of 90 degrees – wide, but not painfully so, but the young man was uncomfortably aware of how exposed and vulnerable his genitals were, dangling between his open legs. To make matters worse, his hole was also exposed to the air, which felt cool on sphincter. It was not a part of his body that was ever revealed, except when taking a shit, or cleaning himself in the shower. But now it felt as though it was on display; available; defenceless against whatever his captors had planned.

“Don’t worry,” James assured him, standing in front to the side. “We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to play. You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“If he can sleep at all,” the third man added.

Riley scowled at James; feeling in equal measures apprehensive, angry, and humiliated.

“I are you doing iss?” he asked.

“Oh, just for fun. Handsome lad like you needs to be fully drained sometimes. For his own good. You know, to keep his ego under control.”

His companions laughed.

James looked down at Riley’s genitals. He had a generous-sized, pair of nuts in a loose bag, dangling behind an uncut tube of flaccid meat. The man reached down and hefted the boy’s nuts in his right palm.

“Nice nuts. Heavy too. You’re quite the young stallion. Studs like you should be regularly drained to keep you healthy. Otherwise, you get too excited and your libido gets the better of you; makes you do stupid things. Start throwing your weight around.”

His companions laughed again.

“Anyway, we take great satisfaction in providing that service.”

He addressed his companion.

“Carlo…”

Carlo looked at him and nodded then dropped to his knees between Riley’s legs. Although Riley was afraid, his nuts were still low and loose. Carlo chased the left testicle down. It slid within the soft skin of Riley’s scrotum. He gripped it between all 4 fingers and the thumb of his right hand. It was cool; the size of a small plum.

“Hmmm, hell of a pair on the kid. I bet he can spray like a hose.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Riley looked up at James with scared puppy eyes. Wanking for money was one thing, so long as no one at Uni found out about it. He had rationalised it as nothing more than a financial transaction. But being milked of his spunk like some kind of lowly animal was another entirely.

He looked down as Carlo clamped his left testicle into the shaker. He whined through the mask as the man turned the handle that closed the clamp fingers.

“Don’t worry kid, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The reassurance helped a little, but Riley didn’t exhale fully until the man stopped tightening. Carlo moved onto the other testicle. It was equally impressive. He clamped it beside the first.

“There you go,” Carlo said. “All done. Told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Riley snorted through his nostrils. He was hardly going to express gratitude to his kidnapper.

“Okay, one last thing,” James said, holding something up for Riley to see. It was an incredibly realistic dildo, with veins on the shaft and a large head. There was a metal insert at the opposite end to the glans.

“I guess you know what this is. Just like a real cock. See if you can guess where it’s going? I’m sure a cock-sucking faggot like you will enjoy it.”

Riley’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing.

“Guess we’ll soon find out if you’re queer or not, huh?”

James moved behind him and attached the dildo to the top of a telescopic steel pole that currently rested a foot above the ground. When the dildo was locked rigidly in place, he lubricated the top with Vaseline.

“Deep breath; here it comes.”

He lifted the dildo until the head touched Riley’s virgin pucker. Riley tensed at the touch, and squealed into the cage.

“No! No! Leese don’t!”

James pressed the dildo against Riley’s hole. Riley pushed back, but the muscles in his sphincter were no match for those of James’ arm. Riley started to pant heavily through his pursed lips, as he felt the dildo assault his hole. James was patient, and slowly the lips of Riley’s ass-pussy spread, as though sucking the dildo. It slipped inside, and he locked it off when 5 inches were buried in the kid’s hole.

Riley grimaced, his expression constrained by the cage. His expression of disgust looked as though someone was smearing shit on his lips. He squirmed on the seat but discovered that he could neither lift himself off the dildo, nor expel it from his rectum. He struggled more frantically, aware only of the rubber that filled him.

“See, told you he was queer,” Carlo said.

Riley looked up at his face, then he followed the man’s eyes to his own groin. He was hard – hard as steel! His dick stood vertically. Rising out of in his lap, veins similar to the ones on the dildo. His foreskin was tight – it only retracted halfway off his helmet. He was horrified. He hadn’t even noticed his hard-on growing, but now it appeared as though he was eager to be fucked. He imagined how it would look if his friends saw him now.

“Nnnnoooo,” he whined, sickened at his body’s betrayal. “I’m not a faggot,” Riley said, but his words were barely intelligible. “Um not a hagguh.”

He was straight. He knew he was straight, but his straining cock was telling these men a different story.

“Well, well, Riley. Guess you were not being truthful with us. We get that a lot, but your prick doesn’t lie. As soon as you get a cock in your ass, it reveals your true feelings.”

“No, no, no, no, no! It’s not true,” Riley’s brain screamed silently. “I’m not a fag! I fuck women. I eat pussy!”

“Not to worry.” James said. “So long as you don’t start hamming it up, it doesn’t matter to us.  No need to keep your arms tied. You’re not going anywhere.”

Carlo removed the wrist straps.

“Let’s get started shall we?” James said. “You said you could only cum twice. I’m willing to bet you can beat that today. Let’s go for 50 shall we?”

Riley’s eyes opened wide.

Then James turned on the shakers…

Riley’s testicles immediately started shaking backwards and forwards, the left moving in one direction while the right moved in the opposite. At the end of each stroke, they instantly moved back where they had come from, but because they were clamped just right, there was no discomfort on the change of direction. Each testicle travelled half a centimetre from one extreme to the other – about the thickness of a pinky finger viewed side on; not a huge amount, but considerably more than a mere vibration.

Riley was shocked. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the sensation was incredibly arousing. Normally, whether he was wanking or fucking, there was a gradual build-up of arousal. Even if he was so horny that he was leaking, he didn’t go from 0-100 instantly. But the second James turned on the shakers, Riley felt an immediate sensation of horniness deep in his balls.

He didn’t generally consider WHERE the feeling of lust emanated from. When he rubbed his dick with his fist, or the inside of a pussy; it felt increasingly good, then it finished with the explosive experience of an orgasm. If he’d had to say what part of his body felt good when he came, Riley couldn’t have answered with specificity, but he’d have probably said it was around the base of his dick, where the pumping sensation emanated from. Now, as his balls shook, he realised that they were the true physical source of ecstasy.

He gasped; his inner thighs trembled. He squirmed, futilely attempting to move away from the shakers. His thighs were spread, and he felt an incredible sense of excitement between them.

Although he had agreed to wank for money, now he didn’t want to cum. Not like this; not like some kind of animal. He had been willing to show off his adolescent virility, but he had never agreed to have his body used against his will. But now it was being used against him.

He reached down to grip the shakers in an effort to still their violent, deeply pleasurably shaking.

He gripped the shakers, feeling them rattling his testicles. He tried to stop their movement but they were powerful, moving implacably. He strained his fingers, looking down at himself as he exerted his muscles. He might as well have been trying to stop the pistons of a tractor for all the difference his efforts achieved. The shakers continued without the slightest indication that he was affecting their motion, and even as his fingers strained, he could feel the arousal swirling in his testicles.

Suddenly, spunk came rushing from his cock. He saw it before he felt it; it surprised him; a fountain of white, leaping into the air, hitting him square in the face, striking his nose and his pouting lips. He turned away in revulsion, and the power of it made his eyes half close, his lids fluttering like a kitten dreaming. His spunk continued shooting, over his shoulder now; two, three more gargantuan blasts, before diminishing, and falling to his chest, belly, then his pubes, then it stopped.

He was shocked at how quickly he had reached an orgasm. Normally, he could go from nothing to shooting a wad in under two minutes easily enough. If he was horny, he could halve that. As a kid, he’d even managed an occasional 45 second speed wank before school when he was horny but under time pressure. But this was unreal. It felt like the shakers had only been working for seconds; 15 at most, yet he was blowing his load like a porn star.

Thick ropes of spunk hung from his lips like jelly. He reached up and wiped his own cock snot from his face with his hands, spitting it from his lips. The watching men laughed in a state of high amusement at Riley’s grumpy antics. Riley was not amused, but the shakers continued, and he still felt horny beyond endurance.

The spunk on his chest, slowly thinned, as his body heat transformed it and as it got thinner, it trickled languidly down his body, over the gentle paunch of his belly, and into his pubes.

He was suddenly very aware once again, of the dildo filling his ass. His sphincter was stretched wide to accommodate it. Uncomfortably wide, but not painfully so. He could feel the tip pressing against him deep inside, and to his dismay, it felt good. There was a spot in his rectum that he had never explored before, but now, as he struggled, the dildo rubbed against it. His attention leaped back and forth between his hole and his balls.

He was so fucking excited; so horny; almost demented with lust. It was making his cock strain hard, so very, VERY fucking hard. He felt like his cock was deliberately showing off for the watching men. He didn’t WANT to show off for them, but he had no control over his own body. He couldn’t will it away, and he was certain that it would not go soft on its own.

When he first hit puberty, it got so hard in his sleep that it woke him up, and he begged it to go down. It felt just like that now.

Except it was not going to go down of its own accord. It was going to keep straining like this as long as that dildo kept touching him.

He let out a long moan; half dismay, half arousal. Then he was blowing his load again. It happened so fast. Again, there was no gradual build up. He was desperately horny then he was blasting, like a shaken champagne bottle popping its cork.

He didn’t squirt as high, but he came incredibly hard the second time. It made him grimace at the intensity as his body was forced to give up its precious cream.

After that, he barely squirted again, but that didn’t stop him nutting again and again and again. Every one made him grimace at the sheer intensity. His face looked like a constipated geriatric trying to shit, but his groin was pulsing with adolescent energy as his balls tried to spit out spunk that had long since been drained.

In his mind, he flashed through every kid he’d shoved around in high school. Every boy he’d looked down on for not being manly enough in university. What would they think if they could see him now, sitting with his pole standing tall, while he was milked again and again? He didn’t feel so masculine now. He was not the one in control, THEY were. Three men, watching him and joking about how easily he gave up his spunk. He noticed the camera, recording everything. Riley felt wretched; humiliated; betrayed by the ease with which his own body had betrayed him, turning him from the alpha he’d believed himself to be, into a mewling, gasping whore, whose dick would perform on demand.

Eventually, he was exhausted. On the verge of slipping into an orgasmic coma. His head slumped, and his arms rested on his stomach.

“He looks like a sulky garden gnome!” Carlo remarked.

Riley sat, exhausted, resigned, powerless, as his body was forced to cum over and again, and he was unable to do a thing to stop it.

Finally, two hours after it had started, James stood before him and said, “Have you had enough kid?”

Wordlessly, Riley gave a small, terse nod, his head rising as far as the chin restraint allowed him.

“Okay, well just fifteen minutes to go, then you can go home. You’ll have a real story to tell your friends back at university.”

His companions laughed.

“I don’t think he’s gonna be telling many people about this one James!” Carlo said.

“No, maybe not.”

He addressed Riley.

“Will you?”

Riley shook his head almost imperceptibly. Nobody would EVER find out about the time he agreed to put on a sex show for a bunch of horny fags, and ended up putting on more of a show than he had possibly imagined.

“No, didn’t think so. Anyway, why don’t we finish with a bang. Leave you with something to remember.”

James reached behind and a moment later, the dildo started pumping.

“Nnnno!” Riley groaned.

The sensation was far too much like getting fucked by a person. His mind hated it, but his asshole loved it. So did his cock. It bounced and twitched like a dog reacting to the sound of a food packet being opened.

James crouched in front. There was a puddle of cum on the floor, spunk on Riley’s stomach, matted into his pubes, and drizzled down his bouncing cock like frosting on a lollipop.

“My, you have gotten yourself into a mess. That’s the trouble with young men – no self-control!”

He knew that even the most disciplined monk could not have resisted the shakers. One minute was the most any male could withhold his load, and this kid has not gone a fraction of that. But the ridicule served his purpose. His goal was to humble Riley; to milk the arrogance from him.

“Oh well, you might as well finish in style.”

Riley could feel the dildo rhythmically pounding his asshole, like some kind of piston trying to bore a hole into his belly.

James turned a dial, and the shakers doubled their speed.

Riley gritted his teeth, and let out a gurgling squeal, saliva bubbling between his lips.

“Nnnng, guuuhh, urrrr…”

He came almost immediately, and then again, and again, then his orgasms all blended into one continuous orgasm that just wouldn’t stop. He was exhausted, so horny, his balls were thrumming with life, but they felt drained more completely than his body could ever have managed without the mechanical assistance. It was more than assistance. It was compulsion. He was forced to cum, on and on, in an endless orgasm. He started to cry. His tears were not from pain or even humiliation. He was completely broken. He had no fight in him. His brain surrendered utterly, and accepted the wild euphoria that emanated for his groin and his hole.

“There he goes,” the third man says.

“Yeah, I knew he would,” James said. “First time I saw him.”

He crouched in front of Riley.

“You’re a fag aren’t you kid? No point denying it. Look how hard your cock is now that you’re getting fucked. Be honest.”

Riley grizzled into the cage. Saliva dribbled from his mouth, and snot from his nose, but he had no fight in him. He couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed the feeling of a hard cock pounding his hole.

“Y… yeeeees,” he sobbed. “I’m a fag.”

James smiled.

“I knew it. No shame in admitting it. Now you can start to really live when you get back to university.”

He left the shaker and dildo running for the full 15 minutes he’d promised, just to make sure the boy’s hole craved the feeling of cock. Then they sedated him once more.

When Riley came around, he was back in the local park. He staggered to his feet. His asshole felt as though it was wide open. His nuts felt like two over-ripe cherries clinging to a branch at the end of harvest season. The base of his dick ached. It was dark, although he could see streetlights at the edge of the park. He reached into underwear and cupped his balls. They hung loose. Although they’d been drained, they were puffy to the touch. He tentatively squeezed one; it was tender but not painful, so at least they hadn’t damaged him. He could feel that his penis was shrivelled, its foreskin soft and puckered. He reached behind him. He was right; his hole was still gaping; wide enough to slip his second and third fingers in side by side.

He pulled his hand from his pants and wiped his fingers on the grass, then he started walking towards the street lights. With every step, he felt his loose testicles, tug at the cremaster muscles that normally controlled their elevation. The muscles were ruined now, stretched and strained by the shakers into complete disfunction, serving only as cords from which his testicles dangled. It would be years before they self-repaired enough to draw his balls towards his body in the cold, or during arousal. Now, his balls swung and bounced in his sack like two pool balls at the bottom of a marble bag.

His mind was whirling. He didn’t know what to make of his ordeal. He was grateful to be alive and free, but he remembered his confession too.

Riley entered the quad in front of his dorm block. There were two guys younger than him; probably first year students hugging. One had his hands wrapped around the other’s bottom, pulling their groins together. He could see that the front of their trousers bulged with hardness, rubbing against each other.

Riley passed them in silence, looking the other way to give them privacy. They giggled, full of youthful lust and love. Riley’s brain whirled. His confession played through his mind over and again.

“I’m a fag… I’m a fag… I’m a fag… I’m a fag…”

It was not just a stress response. He knew it. He’d finally admitted the thing he’d been hiding from since he was 12.

He wearily made his way up to his room. Inside, he immediately dropped his trousers and underwear. His scrotum was a rosy pink from all the shaking, and his penis was small and pathetic.

He stood in front of the mirror, with his back to it, then pulled his butt cheeks apart. His hole gaped wide enough to slide in a narrow spray deodorant can.

Riley turned back to face the mirror. His nuts looked beaten up and lifeless. He reached down. The skin of his scrotum felt thin as a plastic shopping bag. He hefted his nuts, they slid away from his fingers, drained and skittish. He could feel their utter emptiness, and he knew that he would not even be interested in ejaculating for a loooong time.

He released them and they fell away from him, bouncing to a rest in a sack that was now far more stretched and sinuous-looking than it had been at the start of the night. They bounced against each other as they came to rest, each clearly defined through the now-gossamer-thin skin of his abused scrotum.

His cock was small and innocuous in the mirror; a timid shrew poking out from his groin, his foreskin forming its snout. It was not something he would want anyone to see in that state. Not a woman, not even a guy. Would any woman ever see it again? After his admission? Would he be happier as a fag? His hole still tingled with the memory of the dildo.

Then he noticed black spots and beads of blood on his cock in the mirror. He looked down. There were marks on it. He gripped his shrivelled foreskin and stretched it out in front, stretching his penis. The skin of his penis was pale; the kind of white that only a child or Scandinavian has. There were words written on the sides. The fuckers had tattooed him while his was out.

He turned his flaccid cock so that he could read the words. The marks were the same on both sides; tattooed along the shaft below the glans in black, indelible capital letters against his white skin. They simply read, “QUEER.”

Disclaimer: Photograph found on BDMSLR. Copyright to original (unknown) photographer. Used subject to terms of fair use. Story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the model. If you know who took this photo, I’d love to see more in the series or give them due credit.