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Erotica by Joe Tortuga

SirTortuga's Fucktoy Friday: Fifteen

(fucktoy, sirtortuga)

December 31, 2010

I met Fifteen in the private playroom off my main suite. The fucktoys call it “The Principal’s Office” because the only reason they ever go there is if something is really bad or really good. He was naked, his hands behind his back, and he was standing with his feet shoulder length apart. His cock wasn’t hard, but Fifteen was a shower, so there’d be something to work with no matter how he was feeling.

“Did you realize you were breaking her limit when you tickled her?” I asked him earlier.

“Yes, Sir” he said. “And I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m not the only one you need to apologize to,” I said. He didn’t say anything to that, and Iet him talk as I found the bight of the rope I intended to use on him. It was a smooth quarter-inch rope, not soft necessarily, but no rough edges. I’d chosen a black one to contrast well with his skin. Aesthetics matter, even if no one sees it but me.

“So is winning that important?” I asked him. I slid the bight around his waist and began working on the bondage around his cock and balls.

“Not winning,” he said. “But the prize…”

He drew his breath in quickly as I separated his balls, wrapping them with the cord-like rope. “You wanted bells dangled from your naughty bits?” I asked.

“I didn’t care bout the entertainment, Sir” he said. “Or the New Year’s Party.”

“What then?” I asked, continuing my ropework. His cock was getting hard, which made my work of trapping it even easier.

He didn’t respond, and I let him stew on it for a bit.

My second favorite thing in the world to torture is another man’s cock and balls. Breasts are my favorite target, but cock is a close second. I admired my work as I finished it up —rope was wrapped around the base of his balls, and divided and separated them pulling them away from his body. I finished the rope off around his cock, pulling it tight against his body, giving me a clean shot at his shaft, and each ball.

I pulled a crop from where it hung on the wall, and turned back to him. “What did you care about?” I asked. “What was so important?”

While he considered, I ran the crop over his balls gently,and up his shaft. When he didn’t respond, I started beating them lightly. At this level, I’m sure he liked it, but he knew what was coming, and still he didn’t respond to me.

“You’re lucky that Zee’s team did so well. The point of the contest for me was to find the most suited fucktoys for Carol’s show; you robbed me of that, by cheating,” I said. “And now you say you didn’t cheat to win. Why is that?” I punctuated my sentences with strokes of the crop. Every period and comma, apostrophe and semicolon was a strike to one of his balls or the shaft of his cock. He was squirming now, but still didn’t speak.

“Why the competition with Zee?” I asked. “What is the point of all of it?” I continued to beat on his cock and balls, and he continued to be quiet as I tortured him.

He was still quite hard from all this brutal treatment, and in truth, I knew he liked it to some degree. For that reason, this wasn’t his punishment, it was foreplay. I was getting hot and bothered by it,too, and just wanted him to tell me what was up so I could fuck him, and get on with it. But with each strike my anger was growing, and had been over the week, and talking to Zee the day before hadn’t helped.

Finally, I pulled the crop back and looked him in the eye. “Tell me.” He said nothing, and I swung the crop down hard on his left ball. He bent over, then, biting his lip so he didn’t cry out, and then he stood back up, and looked me in the eye.

“Is it just to be the best?” I asked. “Is that so very important?” He was silent, so I pulled the crop back again. “Tell me.” I swung it down on his cock, harder this time, and he winced in pain, and jerked back. I gave him a moment to resume his stance.

“No, not to be the best,” he said, and looked back at me.

“Then why?” I asked. “Tell me, damn it!” I swung the crop again, striking his right ball with the hardest strike yet. He fell to the ground, wincing in pain, and I knelt beside him. Tears were in his eyes from the pain and the struggle, and I knelt there and watched him.

“Damn it, just tell me so I can fuck and punish you and we can be done with this!”

“Promise, Sir? That you’ll fuck me?”

“That’s what I said!”

“It’s not about being the best,” he said. “It’s about being your favorite. You take care of your favorites, you love us, and we crave it.”

I just looked at him. I take care of my fucktoys, yes. That’s a requirement of having them, but love? What was all this talk of love? I love Lady T. I love some of my submissives, but the fucktoys are fuck toys. They know that going in, it’s part of the agreement.

I looked him over, and saw that his erection had finally subsided, which hadn’t been my goal, but fit with my current plans. I got up and got the chastity device that I’d planned for his punishment. He doesn’t like orgasm control, but it’s not a hard limit, which makes it perfect for this sort of thing.

I unwound his cock and balls, and he sighed as I touched him. He still hadn’t gotten off the floor, but I didn’t need him too. His cock went into a plastic tube that would keep it from getting hard, and it wrapped and tied around his balls. A padlock made sure it wouldn’t come off without my permission, and I was done.

“Two weeks,” I told him. “That’s how long you’ll wear it. That’s your punishment from me for breaking the rules. You’ll need to work out what Zee needs for forgiveness amongst yourselves.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

I got up, and walked to the door. “You and your team are working the full shift at the New Year’s Eve party, as well, so you should go get ready.”

“But…” he said as he got up to his knees. “You were going to…”

“And I will,” I said. “In two weeks when that thing comes off.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, and I left him there to go plan my party.

Joe Tortuga

Written by Joe Tortuga a bisexual dominant erotica writer and programmer (he/him). Follow me on Twitter