Beach Diary 4: Epilogue
It has been 3 weeks since we returned home.
3 weeks 6 days 12 hours and 4 minutes since I last touched my cock.
3 weeks 6 days 11hours and 58 minutes since I last had what most people would call an orgasm.
I remember that incredible orgasm I had in the rest area. If I had known it would be my last I would have never stuck my cock through the hole into Tommy's skillful mouth. If I had known that locked up meant locked up permanently I would have never put my cock into the cage let alone locked it let alone given Tommy the key.
Now, the only way I can find anything that could be called a release comes from a dildo that Tommy superglued to the shower wall and a bucket from Home Depot turned upside down so I can rest my hands on it to keep myself from falling over while I impale myself repeated on the rubber phallus in the shower.
And by repeatedly I mean at least 20 minutes of rocking back and forth - often 30 - until my cock begins to dribble spunk all over the shower floor.
Tommy says it's a redneck milking machine.
I call it a horror show.
It's a horror show not because the rubber dildo is big. It is. The first time I saw it. When Tommy gave me instructions - and permission - to milk myself when I needed it, I said to him "No way that looks like a horse's cock or some other animal - not anything belong to a man."
"Suit yourself," he said. "But it is the only way you will get some release and relief."
It's a horror show not because the dildo is positioned a little to high for me to mount.
It is.
I have to stand on my tip toes to insert it in my hole. It is angled down as I fuck myself on it; positioned precisely to stimulate my prostrate.
It's a horror show not because Tommy was right: it does give some relief from this caged life I am now living. It does. If you can call it relief.
It's a horror show because I can't stop impaling myself on it.
My ass is raw. It is stretched wide from daily penetration. When I fart I dribble down my leg. I seem to have lost all control. Tommy says he is going to get me an adult diaper.
I don't want it. I won't wear one.
But I can't stop fucking myself in the shower everyday.
It's my only release.
I can't even have a wet dream.
Actually that is not entirely true.
I did have a massive wet dream about two and a half weeks ago. I don't know how it happened but my cock slipped out of the metal cage while I was sleeping. I had noticed that when I was completely flaccid, my cock took up very little space in the metal cage but didn't consider it much because with the level of deprivation I was enduring I was rarely completely flaccid. Tommy didn't appreciate the fact that I escaped and came all over the sheets during the night. Three days later via priority post he received a package for something called a "Holy Trainer" which he claims allows for long term more comfortable wear and is also escape proof. That is what I have been wearing since.
Tommy is the sole beneficiary of this pent up sexual energy. He doesn't even have to promise me anything. My sex drive is out of control. I cannot help but suck his cock, rim his ass and let him fuck me.
At least he takes care of me. Each evening we go into the shower and after he handcuffs my hands behind my back he takes off the trainer and washes it and my cock with tea tree oil soap. Then he rubs cocoa butter on my cock and balls and puts them back in the trainer. Once each week he shaves my crotch, balls and ass.
Tommy says that after a month he will free me and jerk me off. I don't believe him. It's less than 12 hours until then end of the first month.
----- "Today is Day 30," Tommy announced this morning when we woke up .
"Are you ready?" he asked.
I rolled over and kissed him passionately and put my hand on his bare ass. It was a Saturday and I hoped we would fuck the morning away.
"Nope," he said as he pushed my hand away. "Things are different now. But don't worry. I promise I will take care of you later."
"Let's get in the shower," Tommy instructed.
Our typical Saturday routine was to get up and have some coffee, fruit and yogurt before showering together, but I did as I was told. Obedience was becoming a habit.
In the rush to shower I hadn't even noticed that neither of us had gone to the bathroom.
"I've really gotta piss," Tommy said. "Get on your knees."
I dropped to my knees without even thinking and pressed my lips to the head of his cock.
"Uggh," he groaned as he began to fill my mouth with his piss. "Don't spill a drop."
I did as I was told, struggling to keep myself from retching. It was one thing to swallow piss after an evening drinking beer. It was mostly like water. It was quite another to swallow morning piss. The strong salt taste could not cover up the putrid, acidic flavor and it was difficult to swallow. Most revolting. But I obliged Tommy without hesitation looking up at him the whole time I drank his waste.
Tommy was insistent about this fact: whether sucking his cock or swallowing his piss, I was never to close my eyes, instead I was to always look up at him.
"Your turn," he said as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
"Really!?" I exclaimed, my eyes wide in excited anticipation.
"No way!" Tommy responded as he reached out of the shower and grabbed a glass.
Putting my cock in the glass he ordered, "Piss."
Once I finished Tommy stood up and holding out the glass said, "Drink up."
"You keep pushing," I blurted unexpectedly.
"You are right," Tommy responded. "I want total obedience. Total compliance. Total servitude. Now.
Drink. Up. And be sure to look at me even though it is your piss."
I took the glass in hand and gazing into Tommy's eyes drank it down. I thought I would vomit.
"Keep going, keep going," Tommy said encouragingly.
When I finished, Tommy caressed my face with his hand, saying, "Good boy."
We finished showering and as Tommy dried me off, he asked, "Are you ready, baby?"
"You bet!"
"Then come with me," he said as he took my hand.
He led me naked into the garage. There I saw one of our old kitchen stools. Tommy had made a hole in the center and fitted it with a 2-inch trailer hitch ball. . Sitting on the stool next to the ball was a small jar of Vaseline.
"Sit on the stool," he commanded.
I didn't even hesitate. I lubed up the ball and climbed on the stool. It was awkward trying to get the ball up my ass and I could feel my ass lips sliding slowly along the chrome ball.
I stopped when I reached my max.
"What's wrong?" Tommy asked.
"It's too big," I said.
"None sense," Tommy replied. "Either stretch your ass lips around it or I will push down on your shoulders. Your choice. But either way, that ball is going inside you."
I took a deep breath, came up a little bit, exhaled then pushed out like I was taking a shit and sat all the way down.
The ball was firmly in my ass. It was only slightly uncomfortable. I don't know if it was the width or the fact that it was steel and totally inflexible but I found it hard to move. I just sat there, impaled on the stool, looking at Tommy.
My cock, still trapped in its cage, was only partially erect. I couldn't help but wonder if I would have trouble getting hard once Tommy released me. The thought of that frightened me. Would I only be able to come by getting fucked, I wondered to myself. Maybe this is what Tommy's goal is.
Tommy walked toward me with roll gauze and duct tape in his hands. He took the roll gauze and wrapped each of my ankles carefully then, lifted them up onto the rails of the stool so my knees were bent and all the weight was on my ass and the trailer hitch ball. Taking the duct tape, he carefully secured each ankle to a leg of the stool. He then went behind me and wrapped roller gauze along each wrist, followed by duct tape to secure my hands behind my back.
Sitting there with my hands taped behind me - combined with the high positioning of my ankles son the stool - I found myself leaning forward slightly in order to keep from falling backward.
"Don't fall," Tommy said with a smile as he reached for my chastity device and released me.
"You don't seem enticed by all of this," he said looking at my flaccid cock.
I don't know if it was the month in the cage or my anxiety that I would never be hard again - either way, my fear had come true. I could not get hard.
"I can fix that," Tommy said and he left the garage.
It seemed like hours waiting for him to return while I sat there on the stool, immobilized by the trailer hitch ball firmly inside of me.
It was probably only minutes.
Tommy returned with a black leather zippered case in his hand and a tube of water-soluble hospital lubricant. He set the lube on the workbench and unzipped the black leather case. I could see 8 metal, strangely-S-shaped rods.
My eyes widened.
"They are called sounds," said Tommy in response to my expression. "They are used to probe the urethra and increase the inner diameter. What size should I start you with?"
Tommy surveyed his options - looking at the case and then looking at my flaccid penis laying on the stool.
"I think the third size," he said as he pulled out the second smallest probe from its case.
He walked over to the front of the stool and coated the probe with lubricating jelly. He grasped the tip of my cock between his thumb and index finger of us left hand and pressed the tip of the probe against my cock hole with his right hand.
I started to get hard but was still limp compared to my aggressive horny self a month ago.
"Relax baby," he said as he penetrated my cock with the probe. "This will insure you are hard. Think of it like a cast for a broken arm."
He inserted the sound the full length of my cock and then started to massage my dick head with his fingers. I started to grow and soon was rock hard.
Tommy continued to rub my glans between his fingers. He did little else. No jerking. No pulling. Just rubbing my cockhead between his thumb and index finger.
"That's all you get," he said.
That's all I needed.
In moments I was in ecstasy and pain. I was cumming but my jiz had nowhere to go with my dick plugged with the sound. Once I finished my release, Tommy slowly removed the sound and a quarter cup of my cum dripped from my cock into a measuring cup Tommy held at the head.
"Swallow your cum," Tommy told me as he held the cup to my lips. I didn't hesitate and did as I was told.
"One month," Tommy said as he encaged my cock in its home. "That is, one month if you do as you are told and please me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Yes?" Tommy asked.
"Yes Sir," I replied.
"That's better. And exactly what I expect from my property. That's what you are now. I have broken and trained you. You are my property. To do with as I please for as long as I please."