AUTHOR'S NOTE
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE ON THE POLL AT THE TOP OF THE THREAD
BE SURE TO SHARE YOUR ANSWER WITH US!
BE SURE TO SHARE YOUR ANSWER WITH US!
CHAPTER 310 - EVERY LAST DROP
Tuesday, May 26 (9:45 PM)
When my husbandly boyfriend's big fat boxing gloves landed on the mattress, I knew I needed to try and make a run for it.
My trapped limbs did their best to carry me out of the bedroom, but much to my eternal chagrin, they were utterly powerless to break out of the sleepsack.
"Haha! Someone sure looks happy to see the arrival of these gloves." Zack teased, once more digging his fingers into my defenceless crotch and getting a big kick from the sight of my hardening appendage.
I shook my head 'no' to refute his frustratingly outlandish claim and broke down into a hysterical bout of laughter beneath my positively reeking sockgag.
"Hahaha! Coochie coochie-coo." the heavily armoured tickle-tyrant teased, filling the raunchy bedroom with his incredibly sexy laughter whilst I choked and convulsed in a mixture of uncontrollable delight and panic.
Nick even joined the fray and dug his beefy fingers into my darlex-clad soles at that point. His laughter wasn't even close to being as prominent or as vocal as Zack's, but the sound of his deep chuckling nevertheless proved extremely arousing.
In the seconds that followed, my erection swelled up to full mast and I remember letting out an alarmed whimper when my man suddenly pulled his gloves off and wrapped his calloused fingers around my rigid shaft.
I watched as Zack brought one of the bulbous boxing gloves up to his face and watched as he stole a tentative whiff from the rather diminutive opening.
*Sniff Sniff*
"Holy fuck!" he half-cried out, half-laughed. "These aren't as bad as my hockey gloves, but they still smell like shit." he excitedly cheered, causing a look of unmistakable pride and satisfaction to drape itself across my manly lover's smoking hot face. The strong reek festering inside the glove was a testament to Nick's manliness, and judging from the look of things, I knew it pleased him a great deal to have another man sample it.
When I saw Zack slowly moving the glove down towards my gas-masked face, I panicked and immediately tried squirming away and making a run for it. I cried out for Nick to come save me and screamed for help beneath my gag in the hopes that he would intervene. Unfortunately for me, neither of my behemoth captors gave my protests any heed. My boyfriend simply used his gargantuan right hand to start jerking my erect member off and watched as his more chivalrous friend chased my gasmasked face around with the orifice of that dreadfully pungent boxing glove.
"Haha! Gotcha!" Zack triumphantly grinned upon successfully clamping the glove's tube-like opening down atop my hopelessly protruding breathing filter.
I let out a heart-wrenching shriek and actually managed to shake myself free of it. But my valiant efforts to get away only postponed the inevitable and my intake filter was eventually swallowed whole once more.
The next five minutes or so proved indescribably torturous. Not only was I being forced to sniff up the potent funk of my own boyfriend's heavily-insulated boxing glove, but Nick's skilful ministrations themselves were driving me to the brink of hysteria.
The stony-faced brute's fleshy warm palms were massive, and my average-sized boner was dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of his impossibly broad fingers.
Nick's furrowed brow and stern expression betrayed no semblance of sympathy as he pumped my shaft up and down with something of a minor vengeance.
He was bent on milking me dry and was determined to give me the release he felt I so badly needed. The only problem was that I'd already given myself that release and had no way of articulating an explanation...no way of letting him know what I'd done. And so, my freakishly colossal, 248-pound boyfriend was going to milk my balls dry whilst remaining completely oblivious to the fact that I was already spent, drained and empty.
"Uggh mpggh phhhgghh!"
The reek filling my mask up stank of leather, sweat and bacterial buildup. But even so, my predicament reached a new level of dire when Zack pulled the funky boxing glove off my mask and picked Nick's giant sneaker up instead.
"So which d'you prefer, Steevie-boi? The stinky boxing glove or the old basketball shoe?" the brown-haired muscle-knight asked, causing me to once again break down into a panic and struggle to escape my fate.
Jeremy's stupendously hunky boyfriend paid my screams little heed as I protested the return of Nick's shoe. He promptly slid his left hand beneath the back of my head, raised it up off the mattress and brought the putrid thing's maw down on top of my defenceless breathing filter.
I sniffed, coughed, gagged and cried out, just like I had a million times before. Zack pretended not to know what I was telling him and kept on alternating between making me sniff the shoe and the boxing glove. Meanwhile, Nick was still busily pumping my shaft up and down and no doubt wondering why I hadn't actually shot my load yet.
"Yeah, you prefer the shoe, don't you?" Zack teased, forcing me to violently shake my head 'no' and causing me to lament the fact that he was intentionally deducing the exact opposite of what he knew I was telling him.
"Uggh ggghhmmph ggh mpphhh!" I screamed, flashing him an angry glare through the foggy goggles of my gasmask.
I watched as the unbearably rotten sneaker began making its much-dreaded return towards my face, but was understandably surprised and relieved when Nick's voice suddenly rose up to intervene.
"Wait. Pass the shoe." he called out, taking a break from the laborious milking of my hard cock and motioning for Zack to hand over the shoe he was holding. That momentary glimmer of relief I experienced almost instantly faded away when my husbandly Master's mercy turned out to be nothing more than a fanciful illusion.
Nick was neither sadistic nor was he by any means cruel.
As far as Masters went, he was remarkably fair, if not a little iron-fisted. But one thing he was not known for was showing mercy. He could occasionally be swayed by heartfelt pleas for leniency, but the chances of that happening were very slim and laments to that effect were almost always met with deaf ears. This was one of those times.
My terror-stricken eyes watched as the beefy blond goliath-god reached out to grab his hockey-playing friend's nauseatingly putrid tube sock. I watched as he wadded the putrescent fabric into a ball and watched as he stuffed it into the puke-inducing chasm of his own basketball shoe.
My gagged mouth immediately let out a string of protests and my rubber-clad head shook 'no' over and over again. Still, Nick's face betrayed no outwardly decipherable signs of sympathy. He simply glared at me with a furrowed brow and menacingly made his way even closer towards me.
"Quiet!" the gargantuan brute somewhat angrily roared, apparently not appreciating the unrelenting nature of my pathetic complaints. "If you don't shoot your load in the next five minutes, I'm gonna fucking leave you like this and you're gonna spend the rest of the night sniffing Zack's shitty tube sock!" he aggressively growled, turning my cacophonic screams into nothing more than a set of submissive whimpers.
"Here. Plant this over his mask." he spoke, suddenly adopting a much more relaxed and casual tone as he handed the sock-stuffed shoe back to his visibly amused friend.
Still shocked from the ferocity of my authoritarian boyfriend's fear-inspiring outburst, I literally just lay there in complete silence as the reeking mixture of horrifyingly putrid footwear was lowered down onto my gas-masked face.
The soft creaking of leather met my ears as the shoe's gaping maw adjusted itself to the size of my intake filter. Then I watched as the brown-haired muscle-knight's superbly beefy gloved fingers knotted the laces tight and secured the "new and improved" torture chamber to the front of my breathing unit.
"Haha! There you go, buddy-boi. Enjoy that." came the sound of Zack's teasing chuckle as he rubbed the top of my rubbery head with the flat of his hefty palm.
The combined stench that went on to assault my vulnerable sniff-holes was indescribable at best. I choked on my gag, convulsed in my sleepsack and spent the next three minutes quite literally struggling to hold on to what little sanity remained within me.
My chest heaved and my nostrils flared open, causing rush after rush of morbidly sickening air to spill into my heavy-duty gas mask.
*KKKFFFFFFT. HHFFFFFFF*
*KKKFFFFFFT. HHFFFFFFF*
*KKKFFFFFFT. HHFFFFFFF*
Nick's shoe was rotten to the point of nearly making me barf, and Zack's unbearably torturous tube sock reeked of acrid fumes cheesier than anything you can possibly imagine.
My heart rate struggled to keep up with the positively gargantuan hand pumping my rigid member up and down, and my breathing grew erratic when Zack's cruel fingers joined the fray and began tickling my body senseless.
"Yeah. We're gonna milk his little balls dry." Nick mused, the sound of his uber deep voice and the cadence of his heavy-handed ministrations filling my thighs up with what can only be described as a familiar tingling sensation.
Zack just laughed and dug his leathery fingers into my soles, ribs and stomach. But it's only when both of his gloved hands converged on my overstimulated crotch and began tickling the underside of my nutsack that my body arched up and let out a momentous release of energy.
Two meagre squirts fired out of my flaring piss slit, followed by nothing more than a rapidly-dwindling stream that gave way to some minor tears and droplets. In other words, definitely not the showing that my well-meaning captors were expecting.
BOUND & GAGGED CHAPTER INDEX
A "CLICK-TO-READ" LIST OF CHAPTERS DESIGNED TO MAKE FINDING SPECIFIC SCENES A LOT EASIER
A "CLICK-TO-READ" LIST OF CHAPTERS DESIGNED TO MAKE FINDING SPECIFIC SCENES A LOT EASIER
