Jardonn's Erotic Tales.com

an excerpt

He swung open a full-length mirror between the wash basins and shower stall. Punched in a numbers code to unlock a door. Opened it and turned on a light revealing a stairwell. Onto the steps, he carefully pulled shut the mirror, and then closed the door.

Down a dozen stairs, we walked a narrow hallway. Black tile floor and gray metal walls illuminated by a series of bare, overhead bulbs. Reminded me of the opening sequence from the old Get Smart television show I've seen in syndication. After twenty-or-so paces, another door. Code entered, it opened to a second stairwell leading down to a wider hallway with same design and lighting, but also with closed doors sporadically spaced on both walls.

Another thirty paces, and Pete stopped at a door to our right. Code entered. We entered. The tunic guy, minus his tunic, hung upside down and naked on a St. Andrew's cross. His mouth covered by a leather gag. His sheathed cock hooked up to an extractionator, while the three females he had violated now abused him. Mainly, the woman who'd taken the flogger handle into her vagina now screwed him in the ass with a gigantic, hand held, greased up dildo.

"Wow, Pete!" I followed him as we stepped closer to the action. "Looks like about twelve inches of battering ram she's using on him. Hi, ladies!" I waved.

"Hello, whoever you are," answered one.

"Hi, Pete," smirked another. "Do you like our version of his Roman fantasy?"

"Sure do." Pete circled the cross, as did I. The man's thighs, inverted and spread wide open, made his asshole readily available as it hovered just above the intersecting wood of the cross. "Hmm," Pete observed. "It appears his Roman fantasy has turned into his Roman nightmare."

"Yes, indeed," the dildo manipulator agreed. "I had heard about this business of stimulating a man's prostate, but little did I know just how effective it could be." She rapidly and violently retracted and thrust her phallic monstrosity, giving her victim its full penetration. "He's already shot one load. Sounds like he's about to fire another."

He was not happy about it either. Evident from his anguished face and muffled epitaphs coming from under his gag. The other two worked him over with their floggers. Thrashing his chest, arms, legs, and soles of his feet.

Waving for me to follow, Pete headed for a table. "What do you think, Kyle?" he nodded toward an array of available playthings. Riding crops, pinching clamps, more floggers. "Care to join in?"

I looked over the supplies present. Gazed at the victim and offered my opinion. "Actually, this guy doesn't interest me. Too skinny. No meat on him."

"You're right. Not much muscle to punish, is there?"

"Nope, and besides, I think he's a scumbag for doing what he did. That would be my only reason for wailing on him, but it wouldn't turn me on in the least."

"Good," Pete's fist tapped my shoulder. "I'm with you. Let's go find something else to do." We headed for the door, Pete bidding them farewell. "Ladies, have fun. This is Kyle, by the way. Maybe someday you all can hook up for a little playtime."

"We sure hope so," chirped one.

"Hello and goodbye, Kyle," offered another. "Please don't be a stranger, you handsome devil."

"Farewell, you evil vixens," I waved from the door. "Show him no mercy!"

Further down the hallway, an elevator took us lower level and opened to a rectangular space with one door per wall. Pete turned right. Coded us in, where I was presented with a Harry Houdini kind of spectacle. The water torture cell.

Inverted man in an oblong tank. His head covered by a glass globe with hose running to the bottom of the tank. His ankles in chains and cuffs at the top. Wrists in chains and cuffs with his arms stretched below his head. His cock sheathed, hose running to the top of the tank, where a hidden extractionator sucked out his loads for deposit to a visible glass jar atop the tank and out of the water. Damn jar was nearly full of come.

Scattered outside the tank, men and women, some in white medical smocks, some in light blue scrubs, held and manipulated tablets looking like touchpads. They paced about the tank observing and fiddling with their devices, while the man inside writhed, contorted, and stretched himself in ecstasy, or perhaps agony.

It was the most beautiful scene I have ever laid eyes upon.

"Who is he, Pete?" I approached the tank, my mouth agape in wonderment.

"A longshoreman who works at the harbor docks. He's strong as an ox."

"Oh, man. You don't have to tell me."

The stockily-built fellow strained against his bondage, every one of his naturally-bulked muscles flexed to perfect proportion. I scrutinized him from all angles, slowly pacing around the tank, unconcerned that I blocked the views of other observers.

Pete stayed close to me, matching my full-blown erection with one of his own. "Like him?"

"Certainly, doctor," I played theater actor, trying to make light of my undeniable admiration of the man. "He is indeed a fine specimen."

Pete chuckled. "Fine? More like fantastic, and he shoots sperm like its spit. A non-stop fountain of seed."

"Yeah, boy! I can see the jar. How long has he been in there?"

"Since we were chowing down my burgers."

I shook my head. "Damn guy is a super-stud. I sure do like what's happening to him. By the way, what is happening to him?"

end of excerpt from The Extractionators

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