With each new twist of the twine, Mike let out a small sound of protest. He couldn't help it. He was so sensitive, he could feel each individual fiber scratching at him. The loudest tore out of him as that one strand settled over the tip. His chest heaved against the ropes, making his nipples rub harder. He gave another valiant fight, trying to wrench himself free of the ropes, but he only managed to chafe himself.
Pure horror spread across Mike's face, color draining from it. Even if he weren't all stopped up by twine squeezing him shut from all angles, filling that thing up would take hours. How was he supposed to even get a drop out? Even if he could feel that pressure building with every passing moment.
"No! Please! I'll do anything, just...please. I've learned! I swear!"
His begging didn't last long, finding it difficult to keep talking with the way the ropes pressed into his chest. He thought the pressure was going to tear him apart from inside. But before that first touch, it built up enough to push past the several stages of twine. Only when it burst out, it met that final gate and spread in several directions. Only about half of it landed in the cup, the rest splattering on the desk. Perhaps most humiliation of all was that there was no orgasm with it, nothing but the constant leaking finally bursting out.
The periodic fondling didn't help matters. The pressure or the humiliation. But at least after that first little explosion, they happened a bit faster. Not nearly fast enough to fill the cup in any decent amount of time. Here and there, he'd try begging again. Strained offers to prove himself.
no subject
Pure horror spread across Mike's face, color draining from it. Even if he weren't all stopped up by twine squeezing him shut from all angles, filling that thing up would take hours. How was he supposed to even get a drop out? Even if he could feel that pressure building with every passing moment.
"No! Please! I'll do anything, just...please. I've learned! I swear!"
His begging didn't last long, finding it difficult to keep talking with the way the ropes pressed into his chest. He thought the pressure was going to tear him apart from inside. But before that first touch, it built up enough to push past the several stages of twine. Only when it burst out, it met that final gate and spread in several directions. Only about half of it landed in the cup, the rest splattering on the desk. Perhaps most humiliation of all was that there was no orgasm with it, nothing but the constant leaking finally bursting out.
The periodic fondling didn't help matters. The pressure or the humiliation. But at least after that first little explosion, they happened a bit faster. Not nearly fast enough to fill the cup in any decent amount of time. Here and there, he'd try begging again. Strained offers to prove himself.