To Wank or not to Wank: That is the question!!

Jul 5, 2013

For how many hours can one slave's cock survive on my wanking machines? That was the vital question I tried to answer in a lengthy, bound-and-hooded, wank-fest of tease and denial for one Viagra-fed lucky sub in my dungeon recently. As a special treat this wretch was asked to select the five scariest and most claustrophobic hoods from the multiplicity of rubber and leather masks in my collection and then wear them in turn as he was wanked continuously: first by the incessant pumping and sucking of my 'Serious Kit' milker and later by the variable speeds of my all-enveloping Venus machine. To complete his mix of pleasure, pain and discomfort I had, of course, inserted a suitably sized electro-butt plug and at various times suctioned and electrified his nipples, took away his air supply in what must, for him, have seemed an endless game of breath-control, and constantly teased his balls with squeezing and stretching and painful pinwheel procedures.
 

The first and most (relatively) gentle hood was laced into place whilst my sub was suspended in a leather harness from a central beam in my upstairs dungeon at Hanwell Towers. The new milker, identical to the one many of you will know and love from my medical clinic, was called into action and set to a speed which would constantly arouse, but never satisfy! Under his hood I had strapped my fun video-specs, attached to a camera mounted so as to give him an overview of me going about my business of making him suffer. He was thus still able to see, under his hood, my rubber-clad body as it twisted and turned collecting and tidying all the bits of equipment that I thought might be needed for his hours of confinement. Many of my slaves have said how dis-orienting it can be to be hooded in total darkness and yet still have the vision of me before their eyes. Watching a close-up television picture your own balls being stretched and separated or your cock being wanked can be a powerful 'out-of-body' experience.
 

The second and third hoods increased my slave's fear levels as they became more and more constricting around his face and the collar around his neck was tightened to ensure that air was available only when I chose that it should be. Now, I have to admit that the plastic bag I put over the top of the heaviest rubber hood was perhaps a little unnecessary but I thought it was fun, even if my slave freaked out a little when he discovered that the only air-hole around his mouth was suddenly sucking in plastic. At least he could hear me counting which gave him some clue that I might finally remove the bag at some point.
Our games continued for hours with only the quiet tick-tock of the milking machine to disturb our fun. Switching to the Venus machine with a new holdfast waist strap, gave me the chance to move him around the dungeon whilst maintaining a wanking action on his by now desperately frustrated cock. By the time the final hood went in place, my slave found himself kneeling over my whipping bench with his arsehole greased-up and ready to receive a thorough fucking from several of my strap-ons. The finale was a fisting up to my watch with some hard prostate milking to try and relieve the pressure on his poor, tormented balls. What a kind Mistress I am sometimes!
Finally, after a surprising and probably record-breaking wank-fest, it was time to remove the wanking tubes and see what effect the experience had had on his cock. I was delighted to see that even after hours of incessant rubbing there were few marks to be seen: not a blister in sight. Although I say so myself, it was a tribute to my skill and to my equipment. The big question, however, was would his cock still perform and produce a sample for further testing? I got out my magic wand vibrator and started to see if I had killed or cured his spurting ability. The answer? Well that shall remain between me and my special slave.  How dreadful it would have been if he had been left unsatisfied and wanting after so many hours of delight!

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