Title: "Pierced Cock Domination" - Part I By: Sexy City Si (sexycitysi69@gmail.com) Category: Authoritarian
Themes: Genital Piercing; Domination; Submission; Jock Lads; Cock and Ball Torture; Freeballing; Humiliation; Slave and Master Feedback: Welcomed via e-mail, especially from freeballers. -----------------------------------------------------
There I lay, a broken heap on the floor. I was naked; my arse hurt from brutal overuse. My cock was held in position - my Prince Albert and the ring that pierced my ball bag were padlocked together, preventing my dick from stiffening. The guys had taken complete control of my dick, balls and hole. I was forbidden to wear any underwear. The most precious parts of my body were no longer mine and I now existed only to pleasure them, my Masters. How had this all happened? Let me start at the beginning...
I was always short of money and, once again, I didn't have enough cash. The lads were generally good to me though, digging deep to help cover my costs. The three of us had been friends for a while -- we met at the gym, where our routine was to workout every morning, followed by a swim and protein shakes in the sauna. This was at the YMCA, a male-only gym that offered discounted rates for people like me. The friendship started in a pretty relaxed way; we used to spot each other with the heavier weights, which became encouraging each other to push our bodies to the maximum for the greatest gain. We did see some really good results too - I am quite short, but had shred all my excess fat to reveal a well-defined physique. Max is tall, dark and handsome, with a natural six-pack. His gym routine helped broaden his shoulders and strengthen his arms, which combined to make a stunning look. Jack is also tall, with floppy hair and a lean swimmers' build. His prowess in the pool had created chiselled abdominals and powerful legs, as well as heavily muscled shoulders. Overall, we were all doing pretty well physically and, given we were all super horny guys, the only real question was how we could convert our physical attributes into sexual conquests.
We would workout on the gym floor in our shabby gear but, given our bold physiques, we didn't really care. The swimming pool was naked and it was compulsory to swim in the buff. This was standard YMCA policy to prevent the guys who couldn't afford any swimmers (like myself) feeling discriminated against and as it was an all-male gym, it really was no big deal; everyone complied. We were used to skinny dipping together and a quick swim was the best antidote to an intense workout, combined with some horsing around and lots of laughter. No surprise, the sauna was naked too and after a skinny dip, this seemed completely natural. There were signs everywhere saying that strictly no clothing or towels were allowed, as this would violate the gym's ethos of equality for all men.
Sauna time was used to update the other lads on our sexual antics, usually in graphic detail. We told each other everything and nothing was ever left to the imagination. I suppose I did check-out my mates' bodies and their junk, as their stories unfolded. It wasn't a gay thing; it was just that everything was permanently on display and you couldn't help but look. We all had a pretty brazen approach to nudity, mainly because none of us had anything to hide; quite the opposite, in fact, and we all took the opportunity to show-off whenever we had the chance. Max had large, low-hanging balls, which bounced around when he played in the pool. We joked that they were made of metal, as they would make a loud knock against the wood of the sauna benches when he sat down. I assumed it was painful, but he never flinched once. His dick was long too; it snaked down his inner thigh and the tip lined-up with the bottom of his ball sack. He was uncut, with a chunky skin that packaged his meat neatly. Jack's cock was not quite as long, but it was noticeably thicker. It hung heavily between his legs, dangling from a nest of fair pubes. Max had a bit of hair on his chest; Jack's was smooth. With both, it was easy to see their well-defined pecs and wash-board stomachs, along with the cum gutters that directed the eye to the meat between their legs. And then there's me: being slightly smaller, my build was a bit more stocky, but with no excess fat and some decent muscle definition. My uncut dick and hairy balls were pretty big too, but looked comparatively small. Everyone commented on my tight muscular bubble butt, built from years of hardcore squats. One more thing I should mention: Jack was cut and at the end of his dick, he had a piercing. A metal bar went right through his piss slit and came out the other end, through his dick head. He had had it as long as I could remember and, apparently, it was the result of a college dare he had lost years ago. However, he often talked about how he enjoyed having metal through his bell-end and had never regretted taking the dare.
So, there we were in the sauna and the chat started in the usual way. Jack was first:
"My new girl loves my dick metal," he declared. "Her pussy's so tight, she says she can feel the metal right inside her cunt. It makes her scream out load."
Jack talked with some pride - it wasn't unusual for the girls to want his dick metal, in any hole. Jack flexed his cock in his hand, demonstrating the powerful strokes he had used to shag his bird. He was starting to get a bit stiff, his cock was filling with excitement as he continued to narrate graphic stories of using his metal in every one of his girl's holes and how much she loved it.
"Does it really feel that good, mate?" Max asked.
"Absolutely!" Jack shouted, without hesitation. "What's more, you don't know proper pleasure until you've had a bitch tongue your dick metal. You should get your cock pierced and try it yourself."
"Maybe that's not such a bad idea, you know. What do you think, James?"
My heart sunk a little. I already had a slight inclination where this conversation was going and didn't much like it. I didn't know what to say. Sitting in the sauna butt naked, I looked down at my own dick and balls. My legs were open and my cock hung obediently between my legs. I was proud of my uncut dick - when stiff, it was over seven inches long and quite thick, and the skin naturally rolled back to reveal a large purple head. The idea of a Prince Albert just terrified me; my dick was far too precious to have any metal going through it, no matter how good Jack said it felt.
"Umm... I'm not so sure, guys. It sounds pretty painful to me and I can't imagine having any metal down there." Then, a simple (but true) excuse came to me: "Besides, I can't afford it!"
"That's a story I've heard before," joked Jack, rolling his eyes.
"We should do it! We should all do it!" Max declared decisively. I glanced over and recognised that look in his eyes.
"Good idea, mate!" Jack responded, "and by the way, the pain is part of the point." This last comment was meant for me.
"But, how much is it going to cost?" I asked, desperate to find a way to escape this crazy plan. Before I had finished my sentence though, Max chipped in.
"We'll just have to spot you, James...again."
Now both guys had their dicks in their hands. Jack was playing with the metal that was already there and Max was getting excited about the metal to come. After a bit more discussion, Max and Jack took the strange view that having identical dick piercings was the best way for the three of us to solidify our friendship. It became clear that I wouldn't be able to get out of this piercing pact, no matter how much I protested.
The next day, the three of us arrived at the piercing parlour. I was shitting myself; Max didn't seemed that bothered and Jack just thought the whole thing was amusing. We were greeted by a handsome guy at the counter, with some well-placed tattoos across his tight, muscular body. He had huge inked arms and, through a thin white vest, you could see more tattoos around his nipples, which were also pierced. He remembered Jack from before and Jack explained that we were having the same done.
"Well, there are a few options, lads. Come out back and I'll show you."
We followed the tattoo artist into his studio. Without any hesitation, he turned to face us, unbuckled his ripped jeans and pushed them down to reveal a huge dick, no underwear in sight. There was no hint of embarrassment, the tattoo artist was clearly used to showing off his dick and he casually stepped out of his jeans, so his cock could remain on display. It was easily the biggest dick I had ever seen, at least ten inches and still soft; and chunky too. There was loads of metal in his junk, which weighed his dick down so it swung between his legs.
"Here you go, lads." He took his large trouser snake into his hand. Along the thick foreskin, there were a few bars and at the tip, a silver ring for a Prince Albert. He then pulled his dick right up to show us the three rings that went through his ball bag, starting at the base of his shaft and finishing where the scrotum meets the arse crack, where the skin is most sensitive. He also explained that any of his dick rings could be chained to his nipple rings.
"Doesn't it hurt?" I asked, innocently. "You're not even wearing any undies."
"What the fuck? Are you some kind of fucking girl?" the tattoo artist shouted at me. "Once you've got your dick pierced, you should never wear any underwear...ever."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean you wanna properly feel the piercing," the tattoo artist retorted. "I can feel my piercings rubbing hard against the rough of my jeans all the time and that's the way it should be."
The other guys were laughing and suddenly I felt pretty silly. I remembered that neither Max nor Jack wore any underwear either. They were life-long freeballers and were committed to their dick and balls hanging free. They didn't believe in underwear and often berated me for wearing my tighty-whities.
"It's about time you ditched those fucking pants!" Jack told me forcefully.
"I agree!" Max said, supporting Jack. "You've only got the one pair anyway."
All the other guys were laughing at me now.
"Let's see!" said the tattoo artist, in fits of hysterics. "This should be good for a laugh."
So, I was shamed into dropping my jeans. Slowly, I unfastened the buckle of my belt and popped the button, and then pulled down the zip tentatively. When my jeans were around my upper thighs, I found the courage to look down. True, my tight white underwear was a bit dirty, they were the only undies I had and they didn't often make it into the wash. You could clearly see a crusty stain where my dick had repeatedly leaked pre-cum and the thin material was straining to contain my junk.
"What the fuck is the point of them?" shouted the tattoo artist, laughing, with his huge dick still hanging loose for everyone to see, a proud and committed freeballer.
"That's what we've been saying for years," Jack said. "James, you're like a fucking child and it's about time you grew-up."
"Well, here's a quick and easy way to fix the issue," said Max and with that, he grabbed a pair of industrial scissors from the counter beside him and quickly cut my underwear away. It happened so quickly, there was nothing I could do. Max tugged at the loose material hard and, as my undies disappeared, my dick and balls fell between my legs, swinging heavily as gravity took over. It was actually a bit painful, but I knew better than to show it.
"Dude, that was my last pair!" I protested, "I can't afford another."
"Good!" All the guys cried in unison. "About bloody time!"
"Now you're a real man," said the tattoo artist forcefully, with no irony.
So, there I stood, my jeans lowered around my thighs, my dick and balls hanging loose, with my hole exposed.
"And don't bother pulling those jeans up," was the tattoo artist's next instruction. "You'll only need to pull them back down again. Now, let's get on with it..."
Max confidently stood bolt upright, undid his jeans, unzipped and let them fall to his ankles; no underwear in sight. His dick and balls hung low between his legs, as always, and it was clear he was ready to get pierced.
"Nice meat!" declared the tattoo artist, openly admiring what Max was proudly displaying. "This is the kind of dick that deserves some metal."
With some haste, the tattoo artist took a fresh needle and unceremoniously shoved it through the end of Max's bell end, right through his piss slit. Max subtly bit his tongue and tried not to wince, but I could tell he was in pain. A metal bar was inserted into the new dick hole and then, Max quickly pulled his jeans back up.
"See, no big deal," said the tattoo artist and Jack agreed, smiling at his mate.
"Well done, fella, proud of you."
"Now for you," the tattoo artist said, turning to me. My cock and balls were still out in the open. Suddenly, my heart started racing and the panic took over.
"I don't think I can do it!" I cried. "It's not for me."
"Too late, James. Your mates have already paid and they want their money's worth. Now, don't be a pussy."
"No, please. No!" I begged them.
Without any regard for my protests, the tattoo artist turned to Max and issued another instruction: "Hold him down!"
Max moved quickly, following the direct orders of the tattoo artist. He jumped up onto the counter, manoeuvred himself behind me and grabbed hold of my arms, leaning all his weight over my shoulders. My back was firmly pinned against his huge chest and now I could barely move. With my genitals already fully exposed, all the tattoo artist needed to do was follow procedure. He quickly grabbed another needle from the side and, taking my dick in his rough hands, he aggressively shoved the needle up my piss slit and forced it out the other end, through my delicate dick head. I screamed with pain, but all I could hear was laughter and cheers. Then, the tattoo artist took some metal, this time a ring, and fastened it through the hole. It was done: I was now a pierced freeballer.
"You guys still want everything you paid for?" enquired the tattoo artist. I wasn't sure what he meant and neither did I understand why Max still had me pinned. Then, all of a sudden, Max forced me forward, brutally pushing me onto the cold steel table in front. Jack quickly grabbed hold of my arms and once again, I was pinned down and couldn't move. Now I could hear Max laughing in the background, as the tattoo artist came around to survey my exposed arse.
"Nice tight arse," he said. "Now, be a good boy and spread those legs for me."
I refused, but my protests were futile. Max simply kicked me in the back of the knee a couple of times and my legs automatically opened.
"Well, what have we here?" asked the tattoo artist, sarcastically. My face was planted into the table, I couldn't see what was going on behind me and how all three guys were now smiling at each other.
"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed, not that anyone was listening to my cries.
"Why don't you just relax?" said Max and as he did so, I felt the tattoo artist cup my balls in his hand. Jack had me pinned so tightly, I couldn't move. Bent over the table, with my trousers down and no underwear, it was like I was presenting my balls as an offering to everyone. The tattoo artist suddenly changed his grip and tugged my balls down hard, holding them firmly in his fist. I yelped in pain.
"Shut the fuck up, pussy-boy," he shouted. As if on cue, Max removed his tight white t-shirt, his muscles rippling as he took if off. He lent forward and stuffed it in my mouth, making sure the fabric went right down my throat to prevent me making another sound.
"That's better," said the tattoo artist, "finally some peace and quiet."
Without warning, the tattoo artist then grabbed a metal clamp. He used it to fasten the loose ball bag skin, just where it meets the arse crack. The clamp was cold and heavy, and it hurt like hell. I bit down hard on Max's t-shirt and then, out the corner of my eye, I saw the tattoo artist grab another needle.
"What the fuck?" I thought. "What the hell is he going to do now?"
Then it occurred to he - he was about to pierce my ball sack. I started to scream and struggle, thrashing my hips in an effort to escape. But it was no use, Jack just held me more tightly and now Max was helping him. The more I moved, the more painful the clamp was on my bollocks too.
"Hold still!" ordered the tattoo artist and, as he had another needle in his hand, I thought it best to do as I was told. After a moment of stillness, I could suddenly feel the cold sharpness of the needle enter my ball sack and come out the other side. A ring was then inserted and my balls were now pierced.
I went into shock - Jack let go his grip, as did Max. I'd collapsed, bent over the table like a cheap whore. My underwear was gone and my jeans were around my ankles. I couldn't move, it was too painful and I'd been through too much. My balls were aching and my cock was throbbing. Max lent forward and pulled his t-shirt out of my mouth.
"So, are you going to be a good boy now?" he said sarcastically, but with a serious overtone. I didn't know what to say. I was at the whim of the guys and now they were in complete control of me.
"I don't know about you, Jack, but I think it's pay-back time." I wasn't exactly sure what Max meant and I certainly didn't like the inference. However, there was little I could do and protesting would only make the situation worse. Max suddenly pulled the belt from his jeans, doubled it over in his fist and in the same motion, he brought it down on my bare arse with considerable force. I cried out, the sting of the leather was excruciating.
"No! Please, no!" I begged, but to no avail.
Max beat me with his belt another five or six times; I lost count. A couple of the strikes caught my new bollock piercing, which was even more painful. The more red my arse became, the more the lads laughed and cheered. This only encouraged Max, who had now broken into a sweat from the force he had applied to my beating.
"Here's the thing," Jack declared, in a commanding tone. "You owe us big time and we know you don't have the money to pay. So, me and Max have been thinking of some other ways of taking what's owed to us."
"Guys, I'll get you the cash. I swear!"
"No you fucking won't and payment's well overdue. We don't have a choice, but to take what's ours by some other means."
It was futile. I couldn't deny I was completely indebted to the guys and had no idea how I was supposed to pay. But, I certainly didn't like this idea of payment `by some other means'. I found the strength to straighten myself up a little and politely asked the guys if we could come to some kind of agreement.
"I think we just have," they both said in unison. "Now bend the fuck over," ordered Max. With that, he took his two middle fingers and roughly shoved them up my arse hole; no lube; no warning. I gasped and winced.
"This hole is ours. We now own all your holes," Max explained and as he did, he took his fingers from my arse and then forced them into my open mouth for cleaning. As Max's dirty fingers entered, I found myself complying and slowly started polishing them with my tongue. I would have no real choices going forward and from now on, it would always be best to just do as I was told.
"Here's that padlock," the tattoo artist interjected. Max took it from him and in one swift movement, he locked my cock to my balls through the rings of my piercings. My dick was now permanently held in position between my legs, painfully bolted to my ball bag. It prevented me from getting erect and if I needed a piss, I would just have to dribble down my legs. This is the way it be from now on.
Follow my cock and ball slavery in the next instalment of the series; many thanks.