Chapter 12
He dozed off eventually in his bondage, a refreshing sleep that restored some of his fatigue and was accompanied by dreams of comfort and promise and erotic excitement.
He woke up when they took the blanket off his head and untied his shackles, and he wasn't too happy about that. He had enjoyed his dreams and was reluctant to come back to cold, cruel reality. And though he should have rejoiced to regain his freedom and to be released from the excruciating pain and humiliation of his bondage, he found he didn't cherish his freedom as much as he'd enjoyed the constraints that freed him of his need to take responsibility for his decisions.
He stood up on tottering feet and a chill blast of exposure hit his balls and bared ass. He felt ashamed and vulnerable. He wanted to cover himself and seized the blanket, almost instinctively, but coarse laughter of derision made him change his mind and he dropped the blanket to stand shivering and embarrassed. His cock was small and wrinkled and dried and his ass-hole was puckered with his ass-flanks drawn in and the exposed skin broke out in goose pimples.
He adjusted his eyes to the unaccustomed light. An orgy was in progress, an ordinary, straightforward, garden-variety orgy with couples lying here and there, fucking and licking, kissing and sucking as the imagine took them. The crowd had swelled in the measureless hours he'd been shackled on the bench and asleep in the arms of Morpheus, and it seemed there must have been about twenty people including those standing around him and those gathered up in tangled heaps of flesh and lust.
He looked at the frame in which Elizabeth had been strapped. It gaped bare like an empty tomb. He was disappointed. Lizbeth was his contact with reality, his only connection with the world outside. Now she had disappeared and he was all alone. Or perhaps they had simply finished the punishment without him and he felt himself cheated that he, who had been used to bring Lizbeth's body to the brink of desire and had thereby helped provoke the jaded appetites of the perverse audience to the point where they were able later to disport themselves with him and now in their wild abandon with each other-that he had not been vouchsafed at least a spectator's role in the ultimate whipping and torturing for which Lizbeth had been prepared.
It made him realize how unnecessary and dispensable he was in this scheme of things. Lizbeth didn't need him, Arbella-ahh! the magnificent Arbella, where was she now?-Arbella didn't need him, no one here needed him. They had done with him what they wanted and now he was nothing and a no one.
Where was Arbella? Ah there, he could see her bucking and heaving in her suit of leather under the form of the black giant whose physique he had admired earlier, and he felt the full fury of his envy rise from his belly to his gorge. He wanted Arbella, he wanted to serve her, he wanted to fuck her, he deserved to fuck her after all he had done and all he had had done to him. But Arbella had not a thought for him as she thrashed in the throes of miscegenative fornication.
Arbella was otherwise occupied.
Not so the plumpish older woman whom Robin had taken note of earlier, the one with the hair dyed a firehouse red in a high pile on her head. Wearing leather waist-clincher, leather half-bra, black-lace panties and garter belt with black mesh opera hose, she had a cruel, venomous expression painted on her face. She, it became obvious to Robin, was now in charge. It was under her orders that he had been released and Robin wondered, shudderingly, what she might be planning for him.
"Strip him, Ann?" A perspiring middle aged man, entirely nude, asked the woman.
"What else?" asked the woman called Ann in a withering tone.
Robin quaked in her presence. She had an infinite capacity for cruelty. It wasn't tempered, as it seemed to be in the case of Arbella, the dominatrix, with any esthetic sense or balance. Arbella's cruelty, Robin felt, was part of an essentially positive drive, something that led to achievement, mastery, satisfaction, a joy of strength and the wielding of strength. She could and would inflict pain with pleasure, but the ultimate end of the pain was pleasure and there was beauty in her pain and an esthetic balance in her cruelty. Not so this Ann. She seemed to be an evil woman whose only aim was evil. Robin could see no possibility of joy in her except the joy of spite and cold animal hatred.
The fat man, balding, with gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose and rolls of fat around his belly, waddled over to Robin and started unbuckling his leather clothing. Robin had a passing urge to fight him off but he felt too tired of the game to want to resist at this point. It would happen, it was happening, it had to happen, he raised his arms where the man required it, lowered them, turned around, submitted to his plump hands and fingers. His helmet was taken off his head, the jacket off his back, the shorts off his torso, the jackboots of his leg. He stood naked, abjectedly naked, in front of an indifferent audience that had shrunk to two. "The revolver?" the fat man asked.
"What else?" was Ann's reply. Robin trembled.
The fat man had a whip-the very whip that Robin had used earlier-and prodded Robin with it in the lower ribs. Robin shuffled off, to meet his doom.
They approached the frame that Lizbeth had once occupied and now abandoned, passed it, and came to another contraption, a circlet of stainless steel, seven foot in diameter, supported in a quadrant gimbal between floor and ceiling. They paused in front of it. Robin stared at it, trying to understand its purpose and mode of operation and realized that it was probably an advancement improvement on the square frame that had once held Lizbeth. His guess was soon confirmed.
The fat man pressed a concealed button on the frame and the whole frame tilted up in its quadrant. He made Robin put his feet on a certain spot of the large circle and immediately pulled out a clamp and fastened it around the ankle. A push of the button, the frame tilted forward, Robin was made to put up his hand and that too was immediately shackled into place. The frame was tilted again carrying the partly suspended Robin with it to a vertical position. Now the other foot was shackled and then the frame was swung down again so that the stout man could shackle the second wrist without needing to exert himself by stretching.
The stout man pressed the button and the frame went to full vertical. He pressed another button and the circle spun slowly through the air. At one point Robin was standing spread-eagled in the frame, in a vertical position, then he found himself being turned slowly to the left, tilted further and further until he was in the horizontal. The pull on his right arm and right leg was excruciating. Then the frame revolved further and Robin felt a certain relief as he hung suspended upside down. The man adjusted some buttons and levers and Robin felt the tension increasing in each of his limbs, then he was revolved to hang suspended from his left arm and left leg.
Then the man went crazy with his electrically operated toy. He spun Robin around very fast in a circle in one direction, stopped it suddenly and reversed the direction. He repeated it with the mechanism tilted at various angles, then introduced a double spin that had Robin spin on the axis of his torso even as his torso was being revolved on the circle's azimuth plane. All perceptions became confusion.
The orgiasts had gathered from their various preoccupations to see the revolving steel circle in operation with its hapless victim. They stood below him now and watched or crouched on their naked limbs and gawked. Robin saw them as blurs of flesh, naked and raw, heads, cocks, cunts, boots, hair, tits, balls. He seemed to be flying through a heaven whose constellation was all sexual parts. His mind seemed a detached object, half a celestial buttock, hurtling through space, crashing past planets of tit, past comets of cock, through milky ways of sperm. Faster and faster as his soul was centrifuged out of his body and became detached in some madness of the tormented eternity.
He came to a stop at last, a dizzying stop of bone-jarring suddenness that made him wish the spinning had continued for now, like a loose crate hurling through a truck that has been suddenly braked, his mind kept whirling at sickening speed even after the frame had come to a halt.
When he could see again he realized that he was again suspended with his head at the top vertical position but tilted forward now so that his cock hung clown and all the blood was rushing into it, distending the tip to a fearful red.
Milton, the effeminate one, dressed as a painted Roman transvestite in purple-edged toga and painted face, approached him with a leer. His soft hands were out and he took Robin's cock between their soft palms and rolled it between them like a child rolling out modeling clay to create a wiener. His cock seemed to get longer and longer and thinner and thinner and he was afraid that the manipulations of the man would lead to permanent deformation and perhaps loss of his virile power.
Milton removed his hands, looked at the cock, inclined his head as if in momentary doubt, rolled up his mouth, then suddenly let forth a fob of spittle that landed directly on Robin's cock. Now he took it again in both his palms and rolled it in frothy spittle, glistening and slithering and sliding slipper-Milton rolled Robin's stiff cock between his hands for perhaps five minutes, but he was not the only one impinging his perversions on Robin's sensitivities. Someone whipped him from the back. Someone else thrust a huge steel rectoscope, ungreased, into his rectum and painfully distended the screws. Someone tread on his toes. A crazy idiot suspended himself from his shoulders and well-nigh pulled his arms from their sockets.
Ann cried "Halt!" and immediately all ceased whatever they were doing.
"Well Milt," she said. "Do your bit. Consecrate your electric revolutionary spit in your own inestimable way."
A smile of pride and pleasure crossed Milton's face. Under his toga, his prick rose significantly. He approached the frame, righted it, turned it upside down so that Robin hung with head down and feet in the air. He climbed into the frame facing the spread-eagled prisoner, clamped in his feet, reached up and eased his hands into a stirrup. His mouth was at a level with Robin's cock...and then his mouth was on Robin's cock and swallowing it.
The stout man pressed a button and the frame swung slowly counter-clockwise. As he did so the skirt of Milton's toga fell away to around his waist and his cock jumped out; it was long and thin, as if it had for years been subjected to sucking and rolling by over-eager hands and mouths. His cock seemed to hang and quiver and then, as if directed by a powerful set of muscles, it went unerringly at Robin's lips.
Robin closed his lips. He pushed away against the loathsome object, but the cock seemed to have a life and power of its own and us he felt the increasing pressure on his lips some inner spring of perverse desire took over and he opened his lips hungrily and eagerly and allowed the cock to enter.
Milton did something with his feet, the brackets holding them opened, and Milton wrapped his legs around Robin's head. The steel circle spun once again, the man called Milton slipped his wrists out of their stirrups and wrapped his hands around his victim's thighs, doing obscene things with his ass and balls. The circle gathered momentum and all the while Milton moved his body on that of his victim, forcing his cock in and out of Robin's mouth and forcing his mouth on and off his cock.
He seemed to hunger for that cock. Robin felt his cock sucked and devoured, as if the weak effeminate man was trying to pull his virility and masculinity out of him through his cock-and at the same time, with his own strangely thin and long prick he seemed to be forcing his own epicene qualities into Robin.
At first Robin revolted. He could feel only the disgust engendered by this obscene act performed by this obscene pervert. He could sense his debasement as a man and as a human. He felt the thin hard cock in his mouth and tried to deny its being even while his lips were hungrily enjoying the oral delight of the sucking movement. He felt the alien mouth on his cock and, in order to repress his sense of disgust, he pretended it was a woman's mouth that was paying him tribute at the tip of his prick.
As the circle of steel revolved, Robin was again on his head with his violator hanging to his body in the opposite direction. He was sucking cock and he was having cock sucked but pretended he wasn't and it wasn't. The folds of Milton's toga swung around, covered Robin's head, brushed against his cheeks. Memories flooded back of cunt lapping under the maid's bedclothes, of pussy-licking under a calico dress, of cock-chewing under a boy's shirt tails. Especially cock-chewing.
Memories of chewing little boys' cocks. That's what he had now, just as hard and tight, just as strangely thin and elongated. It brought Robin's mind back to those little boys with whom he'd played at the forbidden games when he was five and six and seven. Cocks just like theirs. Mouths just like theirs on his cock. Glorious childhood, glorious days, glorious fun, glorious cocks.
Nostalgia for the little boy flowed into him. The cock was in his mouth. Hard cock, tight cock, thin cock, smooth cock. Little boy's cock, three times as long and three times as good but still with the same proportions.
Robin was so engrossed in the childhood memories and their attendant emotions now suddenly revived, that he forgot his predicament, forgot where he was, forgot even the human leech clinging to his body and trying to drain him, forgot the numbing strain in ankles and wrists and shoulders and thighs where his body stretched under the tension and the double burden it was carrying. He was unaware that the steel circle had been slowly inclined so that it-and its human cargo-was now horizontal, that it was revolving in an equatorial plane now, that he was being spun slowly in horizontal position.
Then the horizontal spinning was ended and a new motion took over Robin, stretched tight, his body seemingly being torn apart, was stretched in the rack, face and belly up, back and ass down. On top of him, clinging to him and riding him, was Milton, with his head at Robin's cock and his own cock in Robin's mouth. The controls of the stainless steel rack had been pressed by the fat man-apparently Milton had trained him in the proper operation of the complicated machinery-and now a gentle rocking was being imparted to the frame. It rocked on its axis like a see-saw: one moment Robin's head was dipped below the horizontal and Milton, riding on top, was forcing his cock deeper into his mouth; the next moment, Robin's head had risen and now he was reaching up and up to maintain its grip on the long thin slippery cock. One moment Robin's cock was up above the horizontal, driving itself high into the roof of Milton's mouth, and the next his limbs were low and Milton was scrabbling after his cock with seeking lips.
But Robin, insensible to the location, insensible even to the excruciating strain in his limbs and joints, was aware only of a rocking, a rocking and bobbing like that of a ship bouncing on rhythmic waves. He was conscious of the rocking and of the twitching and heaving of the cock in his mouth and the legs wrapped around his head and neck and shoulders. He was conscious of the embrace that massaged his cock warmly and wetly and lovingly. Of the coming together of belly on belly and face with crotch and limb against limb. Of the insertion of cock into mouth and of withdrawal, of the embrace of lips on cock and sliding and gliding. He was conscious of a warmth and a comfort engendered by the rocking and holding tight, the oral satisfaction occasioned by the rigid prick he was sucking, the genital pleasures he was deriving from the mouth on his cock and the anal thrills from the fingers digging into his buttocks and his groin.
He quivered and thrilled and reached climax after climax of thrilling paroxysms, one mightier than the previous one but none of them exhausting. The tension in his limbs, or perhaps some other psychological or physiological factor was inhibiting ejaculation but it did not prevent his building up of excitement and pleasure which raced through his body and rocked his limbs and sent him into unbearable ecstasies.
He must have had a dozen climaxes in this way, the way he had had girls under him climax a dozen times while he was fucking and sucking them. He had never himself been able to do this before, climax without ejaculating, climax in an orgasm and be ready for the next one, and the next, and the next. It was glorious. A feeling of mounting and continuous passions that need have no end, that would mean no ultimate loss. Fuck on and on and on.
Again his body heaved and his limbs thrashed to the extent they were able to, tensed inside the giant steel ring with the body of the perverted lecher clinging to him. Again his body bounced and heaved and the thrills of pleasure coursed through him. But this time something changed for the man above him, the lecher who was clinging to his body and had been trying to drain it of its virility and its manhood, now heaved too and in a similar way. The controls were pushed again and the rocking was speeded up, faster and faster, and Robin felt the man s body convulse and felt the twitching in the knobbly protrusions of his prick and as he Kept on sucking, sucking hard and hungrily, the thin cock in his mouth jerked and vibrated and then it pumped into his mouth, deep into the roof of it, gob after gob after gob of semen.
It was as if all of Milton s semen, throughout all the years of his life, had been stored up for just this moment. It poured out in seemingly never-ending profusion and poured into Robin s mouth and trickled down his throat. The taste of his own sperm after he had fucked the maid Fresa, had been rather like this and his memory bade him lap it up and suck it in and drink it down.
The pleasure was immense and Robin wanted to immerse himself in it fully. He felt his cock growing even bigger in the sucking mouth and he felt-with a mixture of regret and relief-that he would at last ejaculate. That it was a man who was bringing him to this pleasure didn't in the least bother him any more; he was completely oblivious to the gender of the person, and even the presence of an ejaculating cock in his own mouth seemed to be disconnected from the fact that it was a man.
He was about to come but the man clinging to him convulsed with one last convulsion, rolled off Robin's stretched-out body, and jumped to the ground.