Chapter 1

The house is full to the brim, the music is blaring and the people are lively drinking the night away. There’s two youngsters dancing, swinging their hips enticingly, twerking their asses to draw people’s attention to the stage.

He is going to appear on stage soon, he turns to the mirror for the eleventh’s time this night and he sees himself reflected, dressed in a french maid outfit that covers only his dick and raises stupidly on his bare ass showing his round globes. The outfit is see-through on the top letting the people see the lace bra his using. What they can’t see yet is the penis ring, the reason why he’s dick can’t get flaccid and why he’s here.

He hears his name and walks instantly to the stage, the host explains something about his “act” but he’s not really paying attention to them, he’s naturally searching on the crowd for a person and there! 3 rows back to the left, his Sir is sitting alone, close enough he can read Sir’s expressions even, or maybe is just the need that is making his eyes focus enough or imaging the expressions Sir is having. Sir’s eyes are a deep, light, cold blue color, they seem to run through his body and burn his skin.

The host gives the signal and he moves to a mark on the floor nearby the host and turns to the public, automatically his body bends in surrender and kneel, he follows a sequence, showing his mouth, his torso, then bending to show his raised ass. The applause is loud, resonating over the old and tall building. His back is to the public so he can’t really tell how many but he knows Sir is still looking, still waiting.

Another person arrives, he can’t see them of course in his pose, but he can hear them coming, the tapping of his heavy boots marking the pace. He also knows they’re wearing all black leather, including a mask, the metallic clank lets him know they’re also carrying items. His dick is already pulsing, hardening at the thought. He wants to raise his face and look at Sir but he can’t.

People are taking pictures, the stage is round and close to the audience so they can easily snap their phones quite close to him, he’s body warmth up with embarrassment and lust. Then the host disappears and the leather handler moves closer to him, something is connected to his dick, cold, slick and thin, then the handler moves to the side and there’s a click followed by a buzzing sound that’s immediately drowned by his moans.

He’s not naturally loud, but he knows what to do, the people demand more and he KNOWS Sir is looking, pleased. The floor on his face is warming, and he closes his eyes, gasping, when a sudden flare and burning pain runs on his bare skin. The handler is using a whip on his ass, the long strip of leather cuts through his skin in swift movements, it won’t leave a scar at the end, it doesn’t even hurt for long, but the buzzing is still going, making a striking contrast of pain and pleasure and torture.

After 5 minutes his saliva is pooling on the floor, the handler touches his ass and sticks his finger, he has been prepared but the sudden attack makes him moan even loader. The audience is thrilled so the handler lifts his face by pulling his hair and he sees, not the audience but Sir’s waiting face, the smirk, the moving fingers he knows so well.

The handler is adding one more finger now, and then another, and another in fast succession, fucking his ass till he almost has the whole fist inside him. But he knows that’s not the scheduled finale. The fingers are removed and a hard cold tube replaces them. The memory of the clear, fully transparent tube breaks his mind with guilt, shame and so much placer. The plastic thrusting deeper and deeper making him hump and try to fuck the floor in his desperation while the whole auditorium watches and most probably films the insides of his rectum.

10 minutes, his dick it’s so hard, he knows it’s impossible but he truly feels like the band is shrinking and twisting around his cock. He wants to beg for the ending, he needs it more than anything but he just keeps moaning.

Then there’s warmth, no, not warmth, heat, all consuming and increasing heat on his ass. It takes a second for him to remember what’s next when the melting wax reminds him of it. Now he hears the roar “push it, push it”. He needs to avoid the last melting of the candle, he works his abdomen muscles, so his ass can push the candle out, the position should help but suddenly the vibration increases, or rather, the vibration he had not noticed coming from a bigger machine added increased quickly and loudly. A wand with a large rotating head that mixed rubbing and drilling his dick and testicles, making him stretch and scream, making him bury the candle deeper in his ass.

The wax is melting faster, the burning allows him enough bearings to work against it again. Trying to breath following the vibrating rhythms he gives 2 big pushes and the candle is out. The handler was waiting, avoiding the fire to touch his legs or the wooden floor. Fortunately the handler is a professional and would always care for the well being of Sir’s possessions.

The handler lifts his face again and pulls even farther, signaling for him to roll to one side, belly up. After the handler places his legs apart and lifts his hips for the audience to see his abused and marked hole. He can hear the voice of the host somewhere but he can barely register the sound, not following the words he only look at Sir again, another hand gesture, a ring on his finger catching the light making his ass twitch and his whole body quivers. He lets his head fall to the ground and raises his hips even higher.

The handler moves to his side, hands going under him to place a vibrator, thick and veiny, like a beer-can size cock on his hole, settling it’s base on the floor. He lets his body weigh impale himself, screaming again in agony and ecstasy. Then the handler takes the wand off his penis to cover it now with a transparent sleeve connected to said wand.

He can hear the audience cheering now, counting “one, two, threeeee” they scream and he starts lifting his hips to fuck himself against the dildo, masturbating himself against the sleeve at the same time since the handler is just keeping it in place. Now he’s grunting more than moaning, the strength and the desperation to orgasm.

“now?” the host asks the audience

“No!!” and he keeps on thrusting

“now?”

“no!!!” he can hear them laughing and he’s hips are trembling so hard with the strain of keeping pace and not cuming

“now?”

“yes!!!” it’s almost deafening, or maybe is just the white hot feeling when the vibrator on the sleeves is turned on. Everything inside his mind explodes, he can’t tell if he’s still moving his hips or not, there’s only sex, pure sex and lust and pain. It’s so strong it feels as if the sleeve is thickening or tightening, to equal the damned ring that is keeping him away from his climax yet powering it at the same time.

And then, he’s back to the show and he notices he’s hips ravaging his own ass at an amazing rate, it’s almost surreal. Some people, probably the highest payers are around him, ready. Looking at Sir he can see the smirk, the ring obvious on his hand. He moves his head as best as he can, still thrusting, barely holding. Sir touches the ring’s head and he immediately feels his cock bursting, ropes and ropes of thick semen covering his chest and face and even his hair. The last thing he notices is the people around painting his whole body with their spent.

The payment for the show, his need fulfilled for the night.