Marching Band Cadet Chapter 23

Marching Band Cadet-- Chapter 23

This is a series about high school males in the late 1970s. They had a secret club in which they engaged in gay sex and BDSM rituals. This series is told from the point of view of a club member who served as their submissive. The initial chapters establish the background and characters. As the story progresses, in later chapters there will be hardcore sex, group sex, S&M, and some raunch and taboo activities. The series is set in the years before HIV, so condoms are not used.

This is fiction. If you object to fiction that includes the activities listed above, then you should read no further and exit from this page.

I support Nifty with dollars. If you have not already done so, please consider it! It's quick, easy, safe, and confidential at https://donate.nifty.org/.

Previously: It's now Saturday evening, and Sam is due for his third and final milking at the hands of JT. JT has warned Sam to be prepared for "excruciating pleasure."

I was going to have a lesson in over-milking and in BDSM before dinner. Once again, I was rock hard.

We stopped in the kitchen so that JT could put our dinner into the oven. Then he led me back to his bedroom. Once we were in the bedroom, he had me sit down on his bed. He went to his closet and pulled out some rope. There were two separate pieces of rope, each several feet long. He tied one to each of my wrists. I was expecting this, because he had advised me that bondage was going to be involved.

Then he mysteriously tied the other end of each rope to a book. He partially closed his bedroom door, and then he told me to stand with my back to the door. He took the books and lightly tossed them over the top of the door. He adjusted the ropes a little bit, and then he closed the door all the way.

If someone were to approach his bedroom from the outside, they would have seen two books, tied in rope, and hanging from the top of the door. But if they could see the inside, they would have seen me, naked and backed up against the door, my hands held over my head by the ropes. It was not elaborate or inescapable bondage, but when I tugged on the rope with my wrists and hands, it did not move.

"And now for your safe word," JT said. "There will be times when your voice will spontaneously say `No.' Your mouth might say `stop' or something like that before your mind wants to. When things get difficult, sometimes your body starts to fight back, and your mouth will actually say `stop' even if you are not ready to stop. So sometimes we use a safe word, which tells me that you really, truly want me to stop or need me to stop. This is for your safety."

I did not realize it at the time, but JT was in his full "Dom mode," doing BDSM by the book and talking about safety. When you are fortunate enough to interact with a knowledgeable and responsible Dom like JT, it can be like the safety talk that a flight attendant gives prior to take off.

"You have two safe words, Sam. The first is my name. Any time that you call me `JT' instead of `Sir,' that tells me something is really wrong. I know you like having a Sir, so I know that if you called me by my name, then you would be experiencing something bad.

"Your other safe word," JT continued, "is one that you get to choose. You should probably choose a word that would not normally come up. A word like `banana' or `penguin.'"

"How about `tamale'?" I asked.

"Perfect," JT said. "If you say `stop,' I will not stop. If you say `tamale,' I will stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

JT leaned his head down to kiss me. While he kissed me, he began to stroke my cock. I was unable to wrap my arms around him or touch him because my wrists were bound. My arms were not stretched uncomfortably. But the bondage held me in place, forcing me to be passive.

JT was masturbating me with just his fingertips. It was not the kind of grip he'd utilized earlier. It was a teasing, tickling sensation. This would be my third orgasm of the day, so I was not as quick on the trigger as before. JT seemed to be using a lighter touch because this was going to take longer.

But not that long! I was burning with curiosity and excitement. JT's description of "over milking" and "excruciating pleasure" were both scary and arousing. The bondage was having a psychological effect on me. Once again, I was aware that this was real. I was really giving myself over to him, and he was really taking me on his terms.

I was also in a kinky kind of dilemma. I knew that after my orgasm, I was going to be experiencing a certain kind of torment. I would hit my peak ecstasy, and almost immediately that ecstasy would transform into an ordeal. Anticipation of the ordeal ironically propelled me more quickly toward my climax.

"For you, Sir," I said as my ejaculation began. It was a slow, smooth sensation. This third orgasm of the day was not the usual pulsation. It felt like going down a very long water slide in one long continuous whoosh.

I wasn't able to perceive how much cum JT was milking out of me because there were no spurts, only an oozing. Surely there was less volume. JT continued his delicate stroking of my penis, but it was now warm and slippery with my own cum.

After I climaxed, there was no pause, and there was no period of transition. The pleasure of JT's hand stroke suddenly became an annoyance. At first it was like a bothersome sensation, like a pesky fly that keeps landing on your face. It rapidly became something worse, like forcing yourself to run faster when you cannot run any more. And finally, it was overwhelming. It was not pain, strictly speaking. It was overstimulation and it was unbearable.

I was determined not to quit.

I howled in protest. I thrashed my lower body, trying to move away from JT. But my arms were bound up and I could not do anything more than twist. My arms wanted to fight back, to push JT away from me. Obviously, that would not succeed.

A submissive guy like me would never hit or slap or kick his Sir. But as JT had predicted, my body was fighting back. My mind had not given up, but my body was in "fight or flight" mode, and it was putting up a fight. My body would have shoved and pummeled JT, if it could.

For his part, JT was simply continuing the feather-light stroking that he had begun with. He was as steady as a mechanical clock despite the fact that I was behaving like someone having a seizure.

"Please, Sir," I begged. JT halted the stroking for a couple of seconds.

"Please is not a safe word," he said, and resumed his stroking. I resumed howling.

He paused again. I wanted to speak but I was gasping for air. Finally I said, breathlessly, "Give me a sock." His eyes were shining and quizzical. In a series of panting phrases, I asked him to get one of his sweaty socks out of his dirty clothes hamper. And to stuff his sweaty sock in my mouth.

"Why not use your safe word?" JT said. But he quickly rummaged and found a white athletic sock. He pushed a little bit of it into my mouth. And then he resumed stroking.

No my howls were muffled by the sock. I mentally rehearsed how I would spit the sock out and yell "Tamale!" if I were defeated. But I was now in a game of will with my Sir. I was not going to quit just yet.

"You're still hard," JT teased, and paused again. "I think maybe you have more cum inside that you haven't shared with me. Are you holding back, boy?"

I shook my head vigorously and tried to shout "No!" through the sock. JT just grinned wickedly, and resumed the stroking.

I stared directly into his eyes with as much ferocity as I could. With my eyes I told him that I would never quit. Never!

But he kept stroking, and I kept howling. I hung on for what seemed like an eternity, but it was probably just another thirty seconds.

Unable to imagine this torment going on for even another split-second, I spit the sock out of my mouth, and I swore loudly, "Shit!"

JT didn't blink. "Shit is not the safeword, boy." He kept stroking, uninterrupted. I shrieked again.

"Tamale! Tamale! Tamale!" I yelled. JT stopped stroking as soon as I finished saying it once. But I repeated myself again for good measure: "Tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale, tamale."

"Okay, boy. Good job. A very good job." JT slowly opened the door to loosen the ropes, and in seconds he had me out of my bondage. He took me in his arms and told me to breathe slowly. I did as he said, and as I calmed down, I felt another warm surge of emotions for JT: gratitude, admiration, love. The emotions that a sub feels for his true Master.

"You did great, Sam!" JT said happily. He let me out of his embrace and gripped my shoulders, gazing directly into my eyes with pride and joy. "I knew that you were going to be a lot of fun. And I was right about that. I can smell our dinner in the oven. Let's go. Did I mention that it's Mom's homemade shepherd's pie?"

It has been a busy Saturday with many firsts for Sam. Soon his exhaustion will catch up with him. JT has a lot more to share with Sam before taking Sam home on Sunday. You won't want to miss the next chapter of Sam's unbelievable journey!