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“Please, Jen, I’m not ready for this!” I gasped.

Jen smiled wickedly. “I’m ready for it, Scotty. That’s all that matters.”

I was naked and bound spread-eagled to an upright black metal bondage frame. I loved this thing, I truly did. But what my girlfriend held so commandingly in those beautifully fair hands of hers was sending unbroken waves of fear up and down my immobile body.

It was called Mike’s Spikes and was designed to torment the private parts of a male sufferer in an exquisite manner. A round stainless steel collar circled the base of the shaft, while retractable metal spikes inserted in the collar could be employed to cause deliciously sharp pain in varying degrees. The device could also be used as a ball tormenter in much the same way.

“Before I put this on you- oh yes, it’s going on, whether you want it to or not- I’m going to make sure you don’t protest again.”

She walked over to the table, set Mike’s Spikes down, and picked up a black colored ball gag. 

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I think pink is a better color tonight, don’t you? Just so you know that I’m in control.”

I looked pointedly at my various limbs, made immobile by her doing, then back into her rich brown eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, baby,” she clarified, shaking her head and laying the black gag on the table. “I won’t hurt you more than you can handle. I won’t go too far. But I will put you in pain. It’s my choice of how much pain I put you through. Okay?” 

Jen took up the pink ball gag and walked back to me. “Any last words?”

I nodded. “Do what you will with me, lady.”

She laughed softly. “Done.” Thirty seconds later, I was fully bound and gagged, completely at her mercy. Not that that was any deviation from the usual.

I watched with silent, fearful anticipation as she went back to the table and picked up Mike’s Spikes and the Allen wrench that had come with the set.  

She returned to my side. Some of the screws were already inserted. She slowly began to slide the metal collar up my member. I felt tiny pinpricks of pain on every square centimeter, digging into the skin of my member at every point. More gently than I had anticipated, she slid the metal collar up and around my member toward the base. Lines of pain burned all the way up to my groin. Taking the padlock, Jen snapped it in place, effectively putting me in total bondage. 

Taking the allen wrench, she pushed one end of another screw into an open hole in the collar. I felt a pinprick of sharp pain on the underside of my shaft. Jen raised her eyes to look into mine. “I’m using the sharp spikes tonight instead of the blunt ones. I think we will both get more out of this the harder it is for you to keep from screaming.”

She was so beautiful. Dirty blond hair fell about her angel- shaped face in natural waves of beauty and reached down to just above the backs of her knees. Her medium tanned skin was mesmerizing. Looking into those consuming, rich brown eyes as she began my session of pleasurable pain as promised, I was nearly overwhelmed by the understanding that I had effectively placed my life in her capable hands. She could do what she would with me, as I had said.

I felt another pinprick of sharpest pain, directly opposite the first, on the top of my member.

“How does that feel, baby? Too much for you?” she asked sardonically. I gave the gagged equivalent of “no” in response.

The third pinprick seemed sharper than the first two had been; I was trying to focus on keeping my breaths even and slow.

“Let me know if it gets too much for you. I might just let off some of the pressure if you get lucky.”

The fourth made even breathing much more difficult. The fifth, sixth, and seventh likewise.

“Scream, Scotty…” 

I chose not to scream, though I knew I would pay for it. That was the point of this whole thing, right? To see how much pain I could take?

Five minutes further into our session found all the screws in place. I would be sending an email to the makers of Mike’s Spikes in the morning. They were not messing around when they had designed this thing. 

Jen squatted down on her stiletto heels and began to tighten the screws in further, knowing that I would swallow the scream building in my throat, over and over again, until I had no choice but to scream. I knew that I would be screaming eventually, muffled though it would be. I knew as she did that the ball gag she had inserted in my mouth would do its job masterfully.

I also knew she would go all the way. I was her boyfriend, it was true. But for this night, I was her slave. I have a challenge, normally, with staying in the present moment. Somehow I felt that that would not be an issue this evening.

She continued to tighten.

I continued keeping my breath even. It was getting more difficult.

“You’re really strong, baby. But there is no way you can take everything I’m going to put you through without screaming. How do the Spikes feel now?” she queried. 

I gave a muted groan.

“I think you need more, baby.” She crouched again before me, still talking. “I bet you’ll scream when I slap you,” she giggled wickedly. I shook my head back and forth, violently.

“Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mmm!”

Jen looked up into my eyes and slapped me harshly. I screamed as I went partially numb in some areas and felt the greatest pain in others. I saw a few stars. 

The pain inflicted on a man’s privates is felt deep within the groin and even deeper into the body, for modern-day knowledge of the male anatomy makes clear that the sex muscle extends nearly to the opposite side from which it protrudes.

She slapped me again. I inhaled sharply; before I could give vent to my second scream, she slapped me again: a backhanded blow coming right off the one preceding it.

And again. 

And yet again. 

I had enough air to scream with the fourth slap, the muffled protestation increased greatly in volume and desperation from the first slap. By the time she ceased her ministrations, I was seeing more than stars; I was seeing universes and galaxies in an exceptional quality of color and clarity. The visuals were stunning. Of necessity, I tried to remain present, but it was becoming more difficult; the journey she had sent me on was all-consuming. Mike’s Spikes, however, did a good job of keeping me present as much as was possible.

“Now,” Jen said primly, “I think other areas of your body need attending to. It’s time I put the gloves on.”

I gave a tired moan. She laughed at me, almost putting me over the edge. Though I was in more pain than I had ever been in before, I was likewise more swollen. Mike’s Spikes were doing an insane work on my not-so-private privates. Jen pulled on the gloves with a relish that made me tingle all over with some nameless heightened emotion. She was still gazing intently into my eyes; they held a hunger I had seen before, but never as much as I did now. It was the hunger to inflict pain in another, namely, me. And that look only intensified as she saw the fear in my eyes grow. 

The gloves had a name. Cat’s Claws. They were a sturdy, shiny, black latex. Around each digit was a simple work of stainless steel in the shape of a clear, curved claw that protruded out three-quarters of an inch from the digit’s tip. Jen looked into my eyes once more, then went to work. Laying the palm of her left hand on the skin of my right collarbone, she tapped each claw down upon my flesh. Then slowly, slowly, slowly- and with as light a touch as possible- she drew the claws down over my right pectoral and still further downward, raking me luxuriously down to my right knee. 

Oh YEAH. 

I moaned in appreciation of her talents. Jen’s face lit up as it did whenever she used these gloves. She repeated the same action with her right hand, ending at my left knee. I shivered with sensation. Again with her left hand. Again with her right. And a third time. My breath was coming out in gasps.  

Jen walked around behind me. Burning pain erupted on my posterior. She had grasped each buttock with the claws of the corresponding hand. She dug in harshly; I moaned, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. I felt her as she came up close behind me.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, Scotty.” I felt her breath as she whispered in my ear.

She proceeded to spank me, twenty repetitions each hand, digging the Cat’s Claws into each buttock every time.

I was dragging in the air by the time she paused.

She reached up and ruffled my hair. I felt the Claws as they scratched my scalp.

“You know how awesome you are, Scotty? You take absolutely everything I dish out. If you take what’s up next like a man, I will give you a treat. Deal?”

What else could I do but give an affirming moan?

Back to the table. She picked up a cat-o-nine-tails. 

A whimper escaped me. I couldn’t stop it.

“Careful, baby. I might take back my offer.”

She walked back toward me, smiling that wicked smile.

“Brace yourself, Scotty.”

Jen walked around behind me and began.

HoolaHoopMan from Slave Selection

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