Photo Strip
Chapter 13 Comings and Goings
We arrived back at the studio, and Harold frogmarched me straight to the Punishment Room. "What about lunch?" I protested. "Never mind lunch. Disrobe and get into your restraint bands at once," he snapped, and walked off. I could tell he was cross. I'd hardly stripped down to my trainers, and buckled on all my straps, when he returned with Irene. He'd obviously told her what had happened - she had a look of thunder on her face, and caught me one on my bare backside with her riding crop as she unlocked the door. Ominously, I noticed she was carrying a rack of four test tubes. "Fasten him down to the punishment bench!" she ordered Harold. "Strap his legs up in the air, so I can get at his arse. We'll plug that first, then we'll see if the bastard's still randy after we've administered four punishment masturbations!"
Harold roughly pushed me down on to a low wooden table some nine feet long and three feet wide. At strategic positions on the legs and along the edges of the surface, were rings for securing the clips on my leather restraints. Harold pushed me into a lying position, fastened my wristlets to rings so my hands were well out of the way above my head, unable to defend myself. He fixed my ankles to the edge of the table in such a position that my knees were bent, and up in the air. Then he tied a cord round each of my knees, and secured each one to a ring in the wall, tightening the cords so that my knees were forced about three feet apart.
Irene came to the head end and held what looked like a largish solid rubber thimble towards me. "Ever seen one of these?" "Er, looks like a thimble," I faltered. "Wrong! It's a butt-plug. I'm going to stick it up your arse." She applied a thick layer of Vaseline to it, and walked around to the other end of the table. "This will ensure it goes right up," she sneered. So saying, Harold held my cheeks wide apart, while Irene poked her finger up my arse, liberally greasing it. Then she inserted the plug further than I thought possible.
Next Irene produced a gold cock ring, and passed it to Harold to put on me. It was a good fit, no doubt chosen with my previously taken measurements in mind. "My!" exclaimed Irene, mockingly. "Doesn't he look a sight! Gold jewellert aand no fur!"
With the metal ring encircling my testicles and the base of my penis, Irene started to work me up. With Harold twiddling my nipples at the same time as Irene was concentrating at the other end, it didn't take them long for me to achieve yet another erection. "Aha!" said Irene. "We've got you hard, and with that cock ring on, that's the way you're going to stay for some time!"
She then brought over a box of electronics, from which trailed two wires with crocodile clips on the ends. One of these she clipped to the base of the cock ring, underneath my balls. The other she attached to a hand held wand, with a fine wire tassel at the end.
Irene looked me straight in the eyes. "You're all connected up now!" she whispered. "And you're going to pay for wasting our $250 worth of your semen, by coming when you feel like it. You'll soon discover what $250 worth of electricity feels like!"
"Switch on!" she commanded Harold, and the box of electronics started buzzing. Then she teasingly played the wire tassel gently up and down the shaft of my cock. It tingled, bitingly. Every now and again she would brush it over my balls. Occasionally the tassel would come into contact with the cock ring, and there would be a crackling sound.
"More volts, Harold!" she snapped. Harold turned a knob on the box, and Irene laid the tassel on my balls. "Ouch!" I winced. That did sting! She removed it. "Just a couple more," she told Harold, and he upped the voltage again.
Irene played the tassel up and down, and had my back arching and my arse wriggling, trying to avoid it. Then she started to whip me with the tassel.
Every lash carried a shock as well as the blow. And all the time my prick was an erect, hard target for her, and was beginning to ache.
Thwack! Another belt and lash to my balls. Thwack! That one wrapped itself round my shaft, and hung on frying my prick.
"OK!" announced Irene. "Switch off, Harold!" But they weren't ready to release me, yet. "Start ejaculation routine!" she said, and Harold passed her a new pair of surgical gloves, and a test tube. He removed my cock ring, and started fondling my cock, which was soon oozing.
"Hang on a minute, Harold!" Irene interrupted, suddenly. "What's on his agenda for tomorrow?" Harold pulled out the synopsis of the Dog Story shoot. They both pored over it. "Hmm," mused Irene. "We'd better not undermine his capabilities for the shoot, or we'll be in trouble." I noticed they deliberately weren't giving away what I had to do.
"If we punish-masturbate him four times now, plus give him his scheduled Physical Optimisation session this evening, he won't be able to perform properly tomorrow," she observed. "Then Jane we'll not only lose the $2000 hire fee for him, she'll charge us her costs for an abortive photo shoot, which will be even more." "How about skipping the PO session?" asked Harold, eager to spend the whole afternoon masturbating me into the four test tubes. "No good!" rejoined Irene. "Clive and Jane want to be present to observe this evening's session."
So they released me, removed the plug from my arsehole, and sent me packing with a couple of quick lashes of the riding crop. I left the punishment room, and replaced my shorts and T-shirt.
I went along to the food room, to see what chef had on offer. "My, we're all dressed up this afternoon, aren't we?" he smiled. I don't think he'd ever seen me with any clothes on before. After I'd eaten, I made for the Recovery Room, and lay down on my bed. I'd hardly been dozing for ten minutes, when I became aware that Irene and Harold were standing over my bed. The minute it was clear to Irene that I was awake, she shouted "Strip off!"
I leapt off the bed, and removed all my clothes. Noticing that I hadn't got a hard on, I followed the rules, put my hands on my head, spread my legs, and said to Irene: "Make me hard, please." Irene stood behind me, slipped a hand between my legs, and viciously gripped my balls. Her other hand crept round in front of me, grasped my prick, and started pumping it vigorously. Before long I was hard, but it wasn't a pleasant experience after the strenuous session earlier in the Punishment Room. Irene stopped, and walked round in front of me, surveying her handiwork. "Dress!" she commanded, and left the room.
Twice more they plagued me in this way, before I had to make my way to the Physical Optimisation session. At the appointed time I knocked on the door. "Enter!" intoned Irene. This time there were no soft lights, no music, no waterfall, no bar. Just a small room with a kitchen type sink and work surface, with some wall mounted cupboards, and a hydraulically operated massage table. Clive and Jane were standing by the table.
"Strip off!" commanded Irene. "Make me hard, please!" I requested when I had shed my clothes. "All yours," offered Irene, looking at Jane and gesturing towards my prick. "On the massage table, Ian," smiled Jane, "and place your legs apart!" As I climbed on the table, she removed the jacket of her smart suit, and rolled the sleeves of her blouse up. Soon she was rippling her fingers lightly and randomly between my knees and my navel, but studiously avoiding my genitals. It took less than a minute before I was hard.
Jane then turned away towards Irene. They started talking about me as if I were livestock. "He erects quite quickly," observed Jane. "What ejaculation level do you have him on at present?" she asked. "We're getting him used to two a day to start with," Irene replied. "Unfortunately, he had a little accident whilst being shaved at the hairdressers this morning, so he's already had two today, and not yet had his evening masturbation."
"Hmm ..." said Jane, stroking her chin. "With the erection recovery rate he's displaying, I reckon you could push him up to three a day straight away, and still allow for accidents! He looks as if he's good for one now, anyway."
She turned towards me, and kept me on the boil by stroking me gently a few times, every now and again, while she continued her conversation with Irene.. "Have you started him on his exercise programme yet?" she asked. "Not yet," replied Irene. "We thought we'd get him through this important Dog Story shoot first, then get him into his proper routine."
"Sensible," observed Jane, casually stroking my prick again. "Clive and I would like to personally test his initial performance before he starts the exercises, so we can judge the value added by your training. There could be a good bonus in it for you if he does well. How's his co-operation co-efficient?" "Quite co-operative so far," commented Irene to Jane, still talking as if I wasn't there. "I'd like to observe his cooperation under a severe punishment regime," said Jane.
"In that case, I could offer you a special punishment session by bringing in a Consultant," suggested Irene. "There would be an extra fee, of course." Of course there would, I thought. "Who have you in mind?" asked Jane. "A very experienced consultant with a D.P.A. to his name," Irene replied. "Sorry, a D.P.A?" asked Jane. "Yes, Diploma in Punishment Administration ," explained Irene. "An evil fellow by the name of Captain Flint." "Aha! A military type! Sound good to me! I'll pay up to an extra $1000 for the morning session. Let's say Monday morning, when Ian's routine has had time to settle down over the weekend. We'll meet in the exercise room at seven thirty, benchmark his performances, and then move on to his PO session. After that we'll pack him off for the rest of the morning to the Punishment Room and put him under the complete control of your Captain Flint, D.P.A."
"Fine!" beamed Irene. "Now, do you wish to stay to watch this evening's ejaculation?" she asked. "Watch?" Jane laughed. "Clive can't wait to administer it!"
I noticed that Clive was slavering, looking at my straining cock, glistening and devoid of hair. Irene explained to Clive that he was free to go to work on me, provided he informed Irene just as I was on the verge of coming, at which point he must stand back and watch. She took a test tube, a wipe, and a pair of the thin rubber surgical gloves, out of the cupboard, and put the gloves on.
Clive removed his jacket, and decided to continue and strip to the waist, to ensure he didn't get any sticky juices on his smart designer clothes. Then he went to work on me, and I must say, he had the touch for it. I had become something of a connoisseur of masturbation techniques, and there was no doubt Clive knew what he was doing. He must have had plenty of practice.
First he lowered the table, and then he took my cock in his hand, and inserted it in his mouth, licking away expertly, whilst gently stroking my balls with his finger tips. After a while, he told me to lay down whilst he administered the final strokes by hand.
It wasn't long before he stood back and said "Here it comes!" Irene moved fast - she wasn't going to lose this one! My cock head was quickly cleaned with a disinfected wipe, and then she held my prick just below the head, guiding it and kneading it with her gloved thumb and forefinger. Her timing was perfect, and she collected another $250 worth as I into her test tube.
"Shower and bed!" Irene commanded, and soon, relaxed after the hot shower, I was lying on my bed, wondering what I had lined up for me the next day that was so demanding they had been careful not to drain me today ....
To be continued ....