This story is intended for adults only and contains material that is sexually oriented and may offend some people. If you are not of legal age to read adult material please stop reading now. This story is complete fiction.
[Author's note: A real pain pig has written the parts of this story that are identified as 'GREG'S THOUGHTS'. I owe my inspiration to his lust for pain and sexual torment.] TheRigGuy@aol.com
GREG'S THOUGHTS:
When I see him uncoiling that tube and examining the ends, my brain somehow registers what he is going to do with it. The gag in my mouth stops me from yelling NO! I am terrified of the pain he is about to inflict on my cock. Then, as he starts to slide the end of the tube into my cock, feeling it slowly sliding deeper and deeper inside me is an incredible sensation. The other side of my brain takes over and I want him to shove it in even deeper and harder! Yes, there's pressure and it hurts, but it is a kind of sensual pain, like he is working my cock from the inside out. I have never experienced such a feeling and my grunts of terror gradually turn into moans of unbelievable pleasure.
When the tube gets in deeper I see it start to fill with yellow piss and now he is taping the other end of the tube to my gag. He ignores my screams of Noooooooo and continues to position it carefully in my mouth and then he is painstakingly taping the opening of the gag so it is almost entirely sealed. Oh God, I don't want to drink piss, not even my own! I have always enjoyed pissing on myself in the shower, down my legs and even up into my face and letting it run down my body, what the guys online call a golden shower. And I've even fantasized about what it would be like if some other guy pissed on me. That always gets me so hot I jack off thinking about it. But I never wanted to taste it and sure as hell would never think of drinking it! Then he opens the clamp and a steady stream of warm piss starts flooding my mouth. I start to gag and choke and do my best to force it out of my mouth but the small opening he left only lets a little of it escape. I can feel some of it running down my neck and onto my chest and even though I am struggling against it, I can't help swallowing most of it, drinking my own piss! It isn't long before I realize that struggling to force it out of my mouth is a losing battle, and I have no choice but to keep swallowing. The taste is vile and drinking it is a nightmare, but after a minute or so I stop gagging and start gulping it down. As the panic begins to subside, in some weird way it begins to seem natural. I mean, it's my own piss, coming out of my body, so... so it's... natural.
Oh shit, my cock is growing hard around the tube, it's betraying me. I'm embarrassed as hell. It's humiliating to get turned on by this freaky torture but I am! No matter how hard I try to stop it, my cock is getting harder, and there's nothing I can do to stop getting boned or to stop the flow of piss. I try to clamp down with my dick but my cock just gets harder and the piss still keeps flowing into my mouth. Jesus Christ, I'm drinking my own warm piss and it's turning me on! What the fuck is wrong with me?! I look up at his face and I can see just the slightest hint of a smile. It's the first expression of any kind that he has shown. Is he actually enjoying watching me swallow my own piss! He has the look of a teacher who is satisfied with himself... satisfied that he had taught his student a lesson. And my hard cock is proof that I have learned the lesson... to drink my own piss.
JASON:
Damn, I love watching a guy gag on his first real drink of piss, and no matter how many times I've restrained and rigged guys up this way, I can't help but smile at that moment when he gives up trying to avoid it and finally starts to drink the piss down. That life-changing split second when he stops deluding himself that he's an "alpha male" and gives himself over to the submissive beta he has always suppressed.
I can't count the times I've forced a guy to drink my piss when he's on his knees sucking my cock and not expecting me to let go my warm stream in his mouth. I let him suck me for a few minutes and then when I know my stream is ready I force his head from behind into my pubes and hold it so tight he can't back away, then I let it go and he has no choice but to start swallowing it. I love doing that, love the predictable struggle, then anger, then the inevitable humiliation. But doing it this way is infinitely better because I get to watch the look on his face. And now with Greg, it's even more amazing because he's totally boned! His uncut dick is so rock hard that his foreskin is now stretched all the way back over the glans and his shiny purple cockhead is so pumped up you'd think he has been pressing weights with it!
Eventually his bladder is emptied and the yellow stream slowly weakens and then comes to a stop. Drops of piss trickle back down the tube to accumulate in the lowest point near his left hip. His cock is still hard, twitching in the air every few seconds. Now it's time to take care of his balls.
Greg has nice plump balls, not exactly low hangers but a nice full sack that hangs down low enough so I can easily get a nice grip above his balls with my right thumb and forefinger. Naturally he reacts the minute I touch him there, but I just let my hand lay at rest and give him time to settle down. Of course the palm of my hand is laying on his balls while my thumb and finger loosely encircle his inch or so of natural "stretch". I can feel his balls churning in my hand and it isn't very long before I can hear him begin to moan with pleasure. That's my signal to slowly tighten my grip and start to gently tug. His moaning is my guide to continue the stretching and it is a bit of a surprise just how far he lets me go before the moans morph into grunts.
I judge he's got about a two inch stretch by this time which is more than ample for the next step. With my left hand I reach into my bag and find the adjustable stainless steel ball stretcher I designed and had custom made. While I'm removing it from the bag I slide it into its next-to-smallest size, 1.25 inches long, so it will easily snap around the exposed part of his sack above my fingers. Once it snaps closed I resume tugging with my right hand while my left thumb is operating the extension flange of the stretcher so that as I tug on his nuts the stretcher is lengthening to include the extra sack. Needless to say, by now Greg is feeling the pressure on his balls and is protesting as best he can with the gag still in his mouth. No matter, I have a goal now and I intend to go the full three inch reach of the stretcher.
His attempts to scream are a hideous noise but music to my ears. I know what I'm doing and I know this will not cause him injury, just pain, and giving ball pain is exactly what I intend. It takes time to do it right, time and screams and tears and sobs. Yes, he is sobbing by the time I have extended his balls by three inches, and is face is drenched with tears. But I have created a thing of absolute beauty. A shiny three inch cylinder filled with tormented ball flesh and below it two huge eggs with skin stretched so tightly over them that it nearly outshines the stainless steel stretcher. The follicles of every hair on the stretched skin are clearly visible creating ridges I can feel as I admiringly run my finger over them.
Soon I will have the pleasure of smoothing this surface by removing those ridges, one at a time. From my bag I extract two foil sealed alcohol wipes. I tear open the first one and use it to bathe the entire area of exposed skin that hug his balls. The alcohol's cold touch evokes another scream. Stupid man, I think to myself, it's only cold... I haven't even started yet. I open the second wipe and hold it in the fingers of my left hand while I use my right hand to retrieve the tweezers from the bag. I hold the tweezers up so he can see them. More hideous screaming sounds, more pleading from his tearful eyes. I very slowly move the tweezers toward his balls, intentionally taking my time to extend his terror. I survey the beautiful landscape of his sack to choose the first hair to remove. Ah yes, that one there, on the left. I use the tweezers to firmly grasp the hair near its base and with one sharp pull extract it along with its entire root. I dab the area with the alcohol wipe at once but it does not distract me from enjoying his pitiful scream. Oh, if he only could see how much smoother and prettier he looks with that offending ridge removed, he would thank me. Hhhhmmmmm. I know he will thank me before this night ends. And so I go on, taking my time to select the next hair to extract, then the next and the next, dabbing each spot with alcohol after the extraction and savoring the lovely sound of his sobbing and allowing myself the luxury between each one to watch the tears flowing endlessly from his eyes.
It wasn't that long until I had the bulging orbs hairless and smooth. With his ball sack stretched that tight, there wasn't that much skin to exfoliate. By the time I finished, Greg's screams were gradually reduced to sobs, then moans and were now just constant whimpering. I was gratified to see that the flow of tears didn't diminish even though the noise had subsided.
It was time for me to take a break and get some more beer. I pitched the tweezers back into the bag, gave his bulging balls one last swipe with alcohol... more for the pleasure of seeing them shine than for sanitation. Damn, they looked so great when they were wet and shiny. I was more than pleased with the sight, my jock was bulging and damp. When I headed for the stairs and he realized I was leaving him he made some kind of loud noise of... what was it? Fear, complaint, begging, pain... who cares? I needed some beer and a break before I started the next phase of his ball torture. And fuck, I was feeling very pleased with myself.