The Golden Coin - Part I

[ErosWired]

In half an hour our plane would land and I would be home. Too bad, I thought. I enjoy flying. At least, I enjoyed it when I could get a window seat and look out at the cloud tops. They always made me feel free and completely unbound. This had been a particularly good flight for that – a front moving between Dallas and here had set an army of clouds in motion.

Had I known what else had been set in motion, I might have enjoyed the sense of freedom more.

As we approached the last leg of the flight, I turned my attention away from the window to the passenger seated next to me, a slightly older man with a hint of grey in his sideburns. He wore a dark suit and a silver ring on his right hand, with a striking stone set in it, a swirling mix of translucent gold and amber that transfixed my eye.

I seldom spoke to other travelers, but this time I asked, “Pardon me, but what is that stone?”

He looked away from the portfolio he was inspecting and glanced at me, then the ring.

“It is pietersite,” he said, “also known as 'tempest stone'. It is symbolic of control.”

“Ah. I see. Very nice.” His voice was deep and foundational. I caught a glimpse of the contents of the folio, which had spread open as he spoke. In it were photographs of naked men, taken in sexually vulnerable poses. I looked up quickly, and found him staring at me intently.

“Does this offend you?” he asked, opening the folio so I could see it plainly.

“Um... no,” I said, not looking at it. “I guess I just never quite understood how anyone could have something like that open on an airplane.”

The man was silent for a few moments, considering. Then he said, “I've met many men like you. All too common. Men whose lives are stifled by needless constraint, self-imposed limitation, pointless morality, or simple fear of the unfamiliar. Men whose potential goes unrealized, or worse, wasted.” He closed the folio. “I, on the other hand, seize life. I enjoy the things I want to the full. I experience no frustration or anger, but simply employ my strengths without hesitation and act upon my desires.”

He leaned toward me, and his voice dropped. “You do not have to be as you are. You do not have to live a small, uncertain life. You can experience what it is for a man to have exactly what he wants.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

He reached into the jacket of his suit and pulled out a card. “Come for dinner at my home. I will explain. Shall we say Wednesday next, 7:00? Please be punctual.” Then he turned away as if I were not there at all. Shortly we landed, and in the bustle of bags and disembarking, he disappeared.

His card bore no name. It simply said ANDROS MANOR and gave the address of a very upscale area on the outer reaches of the city, on the banks of the river.

*

I would have been made to accept such an invitation. The man didn't sound normal, after all, and the material he was looking at certainly wasn't something the average Christian missionary would be carrying around (well, you never know).

Yet somehow he had plucked a string inside me that resonated – I had been aimless for so long, wanting something more in life. Maybe everybody does sometime or other, wonder whether he's failing to grab the brass ring in his life. Anyway, something he said intrigued me. So, on the following Wednesday, I called an Uber and found myself at the gate of Andros Manor.

“Dude...” said the Uber driver when he saw my destination. “Posh. Should I wait?”

“Nah. I'm going to have dinner before I go home. Thanks for the ride.” I paid him and he drove off, then I pressed the button at the gate. A camera moved on its mounting to point at me, then the gate swung open, allowing me access to the long path to the front doors.

A butler – of sorts – greeted me at the door. He was a handsome man, short-haired, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt with a cantonese collar, a black vest, and black pants, but bare feet. He gestured inward with a muscled arm, but did not speak.

Andros Manor boasted masculine architecture; robust stone columns supporting spacious interiors with angular, not curved, beams of solid oak. Ample outside light shone through broad windows of stained glass in colors of light yellow to rich red-gold. Rugged oak furnishings occupied flagstone floors among relatively spartan walls, decorated only with only isolated paintings, strategically placed to catch the light – but each painting seemed inspired by something from the likes of the pages of the grey man's folio.

By this time I half expected to be led into a massive dining hall with a twenty-foot-long banquet table with a seat at one end and a seat all the way at the other, and four different forks next to the plate. When the butler escorted me in, however, I found my host seated at a modest round oak table with four chairs, ordinary if quality settings, and a roast beef steaming in the center.

He rose.

“Welcome, my friend. I had so hoped you would join us. I knew you would, from the moment I saw your eyes. You have the look of exactly the sort of man who can hear the truth when it's spoken to him. It's a rare man who can learn simply from being told something, don't you find? Most have to learn the hard way, but I could tell you are a man of intelligence. Please! Join us at table.”

The “us” he referred to included two other men, slightly younger than myself, I thought, one Asian, one black, both uncommonly good-looking and well-proportioned. They were both dressed in the same way as the butler. I sat opposite my host. The two at my right and left observed me intently, with peculiar smiles.

“These are Samuel and Jamail,” the Grey Man said, “dear friends of mine whom I have asked to join us for dinner. They are gentlemen who share my philosophy of life. You have met my butler, John, of course. John, would you mind?”

John came around and set glasses of wine in front of each of us, mine last, which gave me a moment of surprise; I don't drink, but it seemed like a very bad time to mention it, so I decided to just go with it.

“John, one for yourself as well; please join us. A toast, gentlemen!” said the Gray Man, raising his glass. “To Men – To their power and desire, and to those who fulfill it body and soul! Now drain your cups!”

I have no idea what tastes good or bad in wine, because it all tastes bad to me, but I managed to get it all down. Then we sat to eat.

“I'm sorry,” I said to my host, “I didn't catch your name.”

“You may recall my saying to you on the plane,” he replied, “that you can experience what it is for a man to be exactly what he wants. The question is, how does a man know exactly what he wants? Can you say that you know?”

“Ah – well - “ I fumbled for an answer.

“I doubt you can. There, you see, is where most fail. The map is useless without the destination. There is no purchase without the coin.”

The smell of the roast beef swept over me strongly; it seemed unusually fragrant. The bare foot of one of the other men, Samuel, bumped into my calf. He smiled at me.

The Gray Man continued, “I have learned, now that I am a man of means, that the greatest gift that I can bestow on another man is not material goods, or influence, but to give him knowledge of himself. I make it my business to find those capable of receiving the gift of understanding who they truly are and what they are truly meant to become. Once they receive that knowledge, I then use my power to ensure that they reach that potential.”

My hands began to feel numb. I dropped my fork. Jamail, to my right, picked it up and used it to raised a bite of wild rice to my lips. In a growing daze, I allowed him to feed it to me. Samuel, I noted, had begun rubbing my left thigh.

“You,” the Gray Man said, “are the raw clay of ambition. I doubt you have any driving goal of your own, but you are still young enough that the desire to become something of great worth burns like a fire within you. Yes. You will become something of very great value to many men. You made the decision yourself, this day, when you chose to come to this place. No one chose that for you. Everything that happens from this moment forward is the result of your own choice. Remember that. This is what you have chosen for your life. I warmly congratulate you, and I will ensure your success.”

My vision began to swim. The room seemed to swelter. “Some water... please?” I said (I think). Then Jamail pulled back my chair and began unbuttoning my shirt, and Samuel positioned himself between my legs and deftly released my belt and unzipped my pants. Between them they alternately pushed and lifted me so they could remove both articles, leaving me in my briefs, while John handed me a small glass of water.

The air on my body felt better, but the water tasted odd. It did not help my twirling head. Then someone held something under my nose and told me to breathe very deeply. After a moment my consciousness became aware only of the sensations of my body and the instructions of the man telling me to breathe even more deeply again.

The last thing I knew was that someone... Jamail... was cutting my briefs off my body with a steak knife, and I heard Samuel whisper in my ear, ”You are soooo fucked.”

Then hands, all over my body, and I saw black.

[Petereater]

Oh, don't stop now!...

[ErosWired]

[@Petereater - Sorry - I'm a novelist. I suck at short stories. This is likely to go on for a little while. (: ] 

 

The Golden Coin - Part II

“What is your name?” asked a voice, deep and foundational.

“Benjamin... Ben.” Darkness surrounded him, and when he tried to move, his body did not seem to obey him. “Why can't I see? Where am I?”

“This is the Adjustment Layer,” said the voice. “This is the place you've chosen for us to have our conversations. You chose this place because it is warm, and you are safe here. It is a good place. We have been enjoying our talks, you and I.”

The Gray Man. The voice was his. “Why can't I move?”

“There is no need to move. You are completely relaxed. We are in the Adjustment Layer, and you are safe here, just where you chose to be. How old are you, Ben?”

“I'm 34.”

“Are you married, Ben?”

“No.”

“No. I remember. that is what you told me before.”

When? Ben thought. When did he ask me before? Yet he had a strange sense that this conversation had already taken place... more than once, even.

“The beauty of women is not to every man's taste,” the Gray Man said. “I believe you are a man with varied tastes, as befits a man who is meant to live an unfettered life. What do you think of my butler, John? How does he look to you?”

Suddenly a light came on in front of him, a spotlight shining downward on John, who stood naked facing him. John's arms were raised, his hands clasped behind his head, creating a classic V physique. The arrow of muscle terminated in a large penis, hanging turgid, pointing eight inches toward the ground. The light went out.

“What about Samuel?”

Another spotlight to his left illuminated Samuel, also nude, posed sidelong to Ben's view, his belly taut and chiseled, his fully erect cock pointed skyward and throbbing up and down with each beat of Samuel's heart. The light went out.

“What do you think of Jamail?”

To Ben's right, a spotlight reflected off Jamail's rounded biceps and bunched chest muscles, as he gripped a nine-inch cock with both hands and pointed it it at Ben, and tilted his head back in passion. The light went out.

“These are images from your own deepest desire, Ben. We are in the Adjustment Layer, where everything is what you desire. This is where you learn the truth about yourself, from the one who knows you best... you.

“It has been remarkable to have these conversations with you – to witness such drive, such motivation to become something new, to see a man reach deep within himself to convert his innermost desires into fuel for permanent change.

“I have hardly ever seen a man with such focus on a calling, but each time we speak of this, you summon up the same images – images of superior men who could value you. Such men will value you. You yourself have revealed your purpose, through the images embedded deep within your own subconscious – you are meant to serve superior men, and you will be excellent.”

As the Gray Man spoke, his voice seemed to surround Ben, to pass over and through him. Was it actually the Gray Man speaking, or Ben's own mind explaining itself to him in a voice he found filled with authority? Those men – Samuel, John, Jamail – had he really been having thoughts of them naked? Really, deep down, and not realized it? Ben had never done anything with a guy before... he was just... awkward around other people.

“Ben, this has been a very interesting conversation. I think we have made excellent progress today. We can return to the Adjustment Layer any time you wish. All I have to do is say the words, “Adjustment Layer,” and we'll be back here again, warm and safe, just as you have chosen. For now, though, it is time for you to wake up. When I say the word “arise”, you will count slowly to ten, and then you will find yourself fully awake and refreshed, and sexually aroused like a healthy male. Ben, arise.”

Ben counted, “One, two, three, four... “ and everything around him seemed to gradually brighten. When he reached ten, his eyes opened to a fully lit room with a simple couch and a chair, adjacent to a large tiled bathroom. He found himself wearing only a towel around his waist. He was alone. He felt a familiar need, and his cock began to stir.

The glass door to the bathroom then opened, and Samuel, also towel-clad, entered and beckoned to him.

“Time to clean,” he said.

Samuel's body looked exactly as Ben had seen it in his mind. Ben couldn't stop himself from wondering if Samuel's member also looked the same under his towel.

The bathroom had a spacious showering area with multiple shower heads connected to extensions so that they could be lifted off to shower different parts of the body. Samuel started a shower and adjusted the temperature. As he did so, Jamail and John both entered, both in towels.

“Is he ready for cleaning?” Jamail asked Samuel.

“As ready as he'll ever be.”

The three of them removed their towels and set them aside. Ben's eyes moved from one crotch to the next, confirming that the images he had seen had been real. John lifted the shower head of its hook, and Ben noticed that the head seemed unusual – very narrow, streamlined, and smooth.

In one quick move, Samuel pulled of Ben's towel, and Jamail quickly brought him to a kneeling position, then forced his chest to the floor.

“Wait, what - “

“We're helping you clean,” Jamail said. “Don't struggle. It's gonna take a while.”

Ben felt a finger touch his anus with some slick substance, then slowly force its way in.

“Mm,” said John. “Verrry tight. He'll definitely have to be loosened up... you know, before.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Jamail. “He'll get split in two otherwise.”

A moment later, hard metal replaced the finger as the shower head made its way inside Ben's hole. He felt the warmth of the water begin to fill him inside, and he started to wriggle in Jamail's hold, but the black man clamped down.

“Let it in, baby. Let it in. We're gonna fill you up and rinse you out til you're hollow.”

Samuel gradually increased the water flow, and Ben felt his belly swell. The current ran across his prostate, stiffening his erection. After a few minutes, he gasped and began to breathe heavily, and Jamail pulled him up.

John ran strong hands over Ben's taut and bulging gut. “Hold it in until I tell you,” he said. He went behind Ben and brought his hands around Ben's front and began massaging his abdomen. Ben could feel John's cock pressing against him from behind. Samuel reached down casually and ran a thumb up the underside of Ben's cock, teasing out a long thread of precum. He smirked.

“Okay, go to that toilet and let all the water out,” John said. Ben hobbled quickly over and released his bowels, embarrassed, as the others watched intently. After the first release, John came over and massaged his gut again to prompt him to release twice more.

“Right,” he finally said. “Let's go again.”

“What!”

“Til you're hollow,” repeated Jamail.

 

By the third time, Ben didn't think any part of his insides could get any wetter.

By the fifth time, Ben began to feel violated. The other three men had started to use their fingers to spread his hole open to peer inside, and explore.

After the seventh filling, the water from Ben's ass had all come out clear.

“Is he hollow yet?” asked Samuel.

“Almost,” said Jamail. Jamail bent Ben over and and Samuel took hold of Ben's cock by the root, behind his balls. Then Jamail inserted two of his long, strong fingers into Ben's waterlogged hole, sought out ben's swollen prostate, and pressed hard.

“AH!” cried Ben. “Oh, no!” Ben felt a gush of cum rise up from the depths of him and flow like a stream out his rigid cock. He wasn't cumming – they had just milked him, like an animal. Jamail pressed even harder, and another pulse of white liquid gushed out. Ben felt a wave of shame begin to wash over him... but then he saw their eyes – shining with excitement, with triumph at what they'd been able to make him do.

“Now he's hollow,” said Jamail.

“Yeah," said Samuel, "but that's wasteful.”

“True,” said Jamail, and Jamail reached over and held Ben's mouth open while Samuel, who had caught Ben's cum in the cup of his hand, emptied what he held onto Ben's astonished tongue. Jamail then held his mouth closed, and Samuel stroked Ben's throat until he swallowed.

“Now everything's cleaned up,” Samuel said. He, Jamail and John tidied the shower area, gathered their towels, and left Ben on his knees on the tiles, water still dripping out his ass, and the taste of his own semen lingering on his tongue.

Ben knew he would never forget that taste. It tasted of something he had done, he himself, with his own body, that had pleased those powerful men. He had excited them. They had been interested in his body, explored his body. What if he could always...

He stopped, and shook his head. What was he thinking? What the hell just happened? He shivered suddenly, found his towel and wrapped it around him. How long had he been in this bizarre mansion, anyway? It was time to find the door...

“Benjamin,” said a voice over an intercom, deep and foundational. “Adjustment Layer.”

[Jimmi]

Magnificent start.

[Jimmi]

If your novels are as good as this tale i want to read them. 

[ErosWired]

The Golden Coin - Part III

 

Ben lost track of time in Andros Manor. When he asked how long he had been there, no one would give him an answer. Ben had endured “cleaning” twice now, and the Gray May would only say how much he had enjoyed their “conversations” - though Ben could not recall what any of them had been about.

He was certain, however, that at least a week had passed since he arrived. He had eaten at least that many meals, and Jamail had been escorting him to a room with workout equipment and instructing him to lift weights – Ben had apparently told the Gray Man he had been wanting to build up his body but had never had the opportunity. Ben did not remember saying this, but Jamail pushed him hard, and his body felt sore as a consequence.

One day after lunch, John informed Ben that he was called for. The Gray Man met him at the foot of the broad main stairwell.

"Benjamin,” he said. “Please go upstairs to the first room on the left. I will be there in a moment."

As Ben climbed the carpeted stairs, he could hear no sound except the ticking of a clock somewhere, as though all sound in the house were muffled. At the top he found the room and entered. The room contained only four items, the most prominent of which looked something like an elaborate exercise machine; next to it, a small table, a stool, and nearby along the wall, a cupboard of some kind.

Ben heard the door close, and saw that the Gray Man had entered. "Please go over to the frame," the Gray Man instructed him.

“Look,” said Ben, “I figure I've been here almost a week. People are going to be wondering where I am. I could lose my job.”

“You are still thinking like a man with limitations,” said the Gray Man. “Everything is in order. Your employer was quite satisfied – one might say ecstatic – with the compensation he received in lieu of your extended absence, and your job – whatever it might have been – will be waiting for you should you ever choose to return to it. You have no dependents, and your extended family understands that you are recuperating from a sudden illness at an exclusive health resort, with the best of care. Your bills are paid, your debts are in hand, your cat is with your sister. As I said, I guarantee that you will succeed on the course you have chosen. Now please, go over to the frame.”

Ben numbly approached the metal framework and the Gray Man positioned him in front of it. The man attached a leather cuff with a metal ring to each of Ben's ankles, and his wrists, then attached the rings to points on the framework. He shifted a lever, which tilted the framework backward, raising Ben nearly horizontal to the other man's hip level.

Moving to Ben's head, he placed a blindfold over Ben's eyes. Ben then felt him wrap something around his head, securing the blindfold in place and blocking the slightest ray of light. From that point, every sound seemed amplified, every touch magnified. Ben tried to determine by sound what the Grey Man was doing, but the room seemed to fall silent. As minutes passed into more minutes, Ben's anxiety began to build.

An unexpected tug on the hem of Ben's pants was followed by the metallic snip of shears, and the rip of fibers as the sheaers cut through the leg of his pants all the way to his knee. A hand silently ran along the exposed flesh, then did the same with the opposite leg. Bit by bit, moving from leg to arm to the neck of Ben's shirt, the shears continued cutting and ripping his clothing – the hands testing, kneading, caressing each part of his body as it was revealed.

Pulling the cloth away from Ben's chest, fingers lingered over his nipples, one at a time, thumbing and flicking them until they became tense and hard. The shears slowly cut downward, exposing Ben's belly, and with equal deliberation the scissors crept up the inside of his thighs. They snipped and pared with precision, until only Ben's fresh pair of tight briefs remained, then two slices along his hipbones left only loose fabric covering his most private areas.

For interminable minutes the hands did nothing, touched nothing, until at last they snatched away the last vestige of modesty and Ben's cock felt the cool of the open air, and, as Ben imagined in his humiliation, the intensity of the Gray Man's gaze.

Though Ben saw nothing from beginning to end of the ordeal, his mind's eye displayed crystal-clear images of what the hands did to him from then forward, though he could only guess at the tools. The hands gathered his balls and pushed them through a tight metal cockring, then pulled his cock through behind, and then strokked his penis to an unwilling firmness in the slightly tight ring. They pulled his scrotum taut so that his balls stood out like tight, shiny orbs.

Some narrow implement next was traced down the lines of his body, now down his inner thighs, now across the contours of his belly, now up the length of his bobbing shaft - then, SNAP! Something whipped painfully across the end of his cock, directly across the frenulum. Ben gasped in pain and surprise.

THWAP! He gasped again, this time for the dull impact across his straining testicles.

Then, WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP, the feeling of my cockshaft being whipped without mercy, punctuated by strikes to his balls, his belly, his thighs, the insides of his arms, and his nipples, as rapid as an expert on a drum kit. Ben's breath came fast and shallow. The narrow implement was then applied to the bottoms of Ben's feet, repeatedly, and behind knees, but shortly returned to another round of cock-whipping.

After a few moments, the whipping suddenly stopped, and Ben sensed movement to his other side, where the table stood. The clink of metal caught ear. A hand deftly raised his cock upright, and Ben felt the cool of some thick liquid applied to its head, then the cooler sensation of some smooth metal touching the tip. In the next second his breath caught - the smooth metal had entered the end of his cock and had begun worming its way inside.

Before, when Jamail had used his fingers to milk him, he had not imagined being more intimately violated – now he realized how mild an intrusion that had been. This object, creeping deeply into his shaft, worked its way to the root of the most private sensation he could feel. It paused, impaling his rigid cock, and then by gravity invaded to his core. Ben couldn't hold back a moan… and he heard, from the other, a sound of satisfaction. A soft laugh? Perhaps.

Not content with this debasement, the hands removed the metal rod and substituted it with a thicker one, stretching the inside of Ben's shaft. The hands seemed to take pleasure in raising the rod up again and again and then releasing it, allowing gravity to draw it downward, deeper, each time overcoming the resistance of Ben's body a bit more, until it defeating him completely. At last the hands left the rod impaled at its deepest penetration within Ben's cock, and turned back to the table.

Ben heard now for the first time a sound he would later come to fear - a loud BZZZZZZZZZZ of some device, which without warning connected against the handle of the metal rod. An intense vibration passed along the rod and beat violently against Ben's prostate deep inside. He writhed in his restraints, crying out.

After minutes of this treatment that left Ben's chest heaving, the hand withdrew the rod. After a moment a new object was placed over his glans, circling around the head of my cock and entering a short distance into the slit. Ben felt his finger at my anus, touching it with cool, thick liquid, quickly followed by the cold feel of metal, but thicker. With a push the hand forced the steel plug into him, settling the base snugly in his hole.

Ben heard the click of buttons, and then his sphincter clenched involuntarily as a buzz of electricity shot through his pelvis, searching its way up the length of his cock to find its pole in the electrode placed on his cockhead. Pulse after pulse after pulse caused Ben's cock to spasm and bob involuntarily, in time with the clenching of his asshole. Ben began moaning, unaware of his own sounds. Soon he discovered that his tormentor could vary the pulse of the electricity, and its intensity, and with each new pattern of shocks Ben's body reacted on its own, in a new way.

The hands applied pads of some sort to Ben's inner thighs, to his lower belly, to his sac, each time forging new paths for the current, each time intensifying it. Ben's mouth hung open in silent cries of shock and pain. Finally all the electrodes were removed except the original ones at Ben's cockhead and ass, and the power began gradually ramping upward… up… and up… and up… until the surges of current felt as though they were convulsing Ben's entire pelvis.

At this point another sensation - WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP – the narrow switch began mercilessly whipping Ben's cockshaft again. Ben's mind rebelled - his eyes rolled in his head and he began to drift in a haze of pain, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

 

And then it all suddenly stopped.

 

Ben sucked in breath audibly, his chest heaving. In a moment, he heard again the BZZZZZZZZ of the device that had touched the rod in his cockshaft. This time, the hand planted its buzzing head squarely on his asshole.

"GAAHH!" Ben cried, from the intensity of the vibration, and again when it shifted it to his nutsac. The hands were testing, seeking those places where Ben's body would betray him, to reveal his sensitivity. In the next instant, they found their target.

They placed the thing - Ben could only think of it now as some evil Thing - underneath his cockhead, directly on his frenulum, pressed downward slightly, and BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

"Oh, GOD!" Ben shouted - he had never experienced a stimulation that intense in his life. "Stop! Please stop! Ohhhhhgggggg….. I'm going to…. "

The device stopped. Ben's body heaved in sweat and sexual frustration, drawing ragged breaths.

Suddenly, the blindfold and wrapping were pulled away, and he found himself blinking at the intent face of the Gray Man, who was holding something in front of Ben's face.

“Benjamin! Look carefully. Look very carefully at what I am holding. From this moment forward, this is the token of your future life. This is the call you must always answer. This is who you are. This is your body, and your soul. LOOK.”

He held before Ben's eyes a golden coin.

 

In the next second, the electricity surged again, igniting Ben's entire sexual being.

WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP went the switch onto his cock and balls.

BZZZZZZZZZZZ – the device assaulted his frenulum.

“Now,” said the Gray Man, “open your eyes and look upon this coin...”

Ben forced his frantic eyes to look at the shinging gold circle as every single aspect of his being shrunk to a single, inescapable conclusion.

 

“Benjamin,” said the Gray Man, “CUM.”

 

Ben's mind unspun. His back arched, his toes curled obscenely, he strained every restraint, and his cock pulsed against his will, shooting thick ropes of cum across my belly and chest in spite of the electrode blocking his slit. Each pulse of liquid cum increased the intensity of the electric charge coursing through his cock, causing it to contract with greater violence. This could not be called an orgasm – this had been ripped out of him. It could be described no other way.

When Ben's cock stopped convulsing, the Gray Man turned off the power and removed the electrodes, put away his tools, and stood up. Of the golden coin there was no sign. He wiped off his hands with a hand towel and left it on the chair. Ben still lay in the frame, his semen liquefying and running down his body onto the floor. Ben could smell it pungently. The Gray Man went to the door and opened it.

“You were superb,” he said, glancing back. “Good boy. I now have no doubt in the ultimate outcome of your training. I can scarcely wait to get underway.”

He exited the room, and the door closed behind him.

 

**As a little Easter Egg, for those of you kind enough to have read this far, I'll share a secret - a big chunk of this chapter is autobiographical. ?

[Jimmi]

Wow

[Petereater]

Intense, look forward to the next chapter...

[ErosWired]

{ There will be a brief intermission while the author gets brutally fucked by a series of strangers at CumUnion. The story will resume shortly. Thank you for your patience. Drinks, popcorn and lube are available in the concessions area. }

[mnbahr]

whimper.

[ErosWired]

Two days later, an hour after another cleaning out with Samuel and Jamail, the Gray Man came to Ben in his spartan room. He gestured for Ben to remain on his narrow bed. Ben wondered, with apprehension, what the demand would be this time - the shelf set into the wall next to the bed already held an array of phallic object of increasing size that had been used to penetrate his anus unannounced at random times of the day and night, sometimes without lubrication. Yet these had always been brought by the Gray Man's servants, never by the man himself.

"Hello, Benjamin," said the Gray Man. "You're looking well today. John tells me that you produced nearly 30 milliliters of semen during the milking exercise yesterday. That is very good, although I believe you can do better."

Ben shuddered slightly. The "exercise" had been excruciating - John had bound him to a web of ropes on a basement wall and masturbated him continuously without respite through five orgasms. Ben had thought he would lose his mind when John paid no heed to his pleas that his cock was too sensitive after cumming.

The Gray Man reached out and ran his hands over the tissue-like fabric of Ben's shorts and shirt, brushing across his cock underneath and finding it hard. Ben had found that his cock had been hardening unbidden lately whenever one of the other men approached; he did not understand why. Feeling it, the Gray Man grabbed hold of the fabric with both hands and ripped it, exposing him. He did the same with Ben's shirt, revealing taut nipples.

"Promising," the Grey Man said. "I think you will benefit from today's activity, which will be a tutorial on focus." He clapped twice, and Samuel and Jamail appeared through the doorway. The Gray Man nodded to them, and walked out, leaving them to raise Ben up, strip away the remnants of his clothing, and lead him to a new room on the second floor.

This room contained nothing except two objects at the very center. The first was a stool. The stool had a round seat with a round hole in its center and metal rings halfway up the legs. The second object was a metal bar suspended from the ceiling above the stool. Dim red light illuminated the area, making Ben think of heat, of flesh, of blood, of carnality.

Jamail seized his arm with one hand and expertly inserted a lubed finger into Ben's anus, slicking up the hole. Samuel took each of Ben's wrists and ankles and snapped on a set of leather cuffs with metal rings. They then led Ben to the stool and had him sit on it. Once seated, they lifted his ankles to the rings on the stool legs and linked the rings with the rings on his cuffs so that his feet could not touch the ground. Then they lifted his arms to grab hold of the bar above his head, and attached his wrist cuffs to the bar so he could not lower them. Then they disappeared behind him where he could not see, and began working on something related to the stool.

After a time, Samuel and Jamail left the room, and everything went quiet. Within a few minutes, Ben noticed something lowering itself from the ceiling in front of him, spider like, in front of his eyes, where it stopped and hung, slowly turning.

A golden coin.

"You are to focus, Benjamin," said the voice of the Gray Man from some speaker, "on the golden coin before you. Let your eyes discover its every detail. Let your mind embrace it, become it. Let the golden coin become a surrogate for your body, suspended freely in space. Let nothing distract you. No matter what you may hear, or sense, or feel, remind yourself, 'I am the golden coin'. Focus."

Something clicked and began to whir, like a motor, at the base of the stool.

"Focus," said the voice. "Watch the coin. Do not lose focus for any reason."

Ben focused on the golden coin. It seemed to grow larger, to begin to fill his field of vision, to pulse with flashes of light.

Something touched his anus.

"Focus."

Something smooth, round, and... thick had begun pushing upward through the hole in the stool, attempting to penetrate him. Ben tensed his legs to raised up slightly.

"Nothing is happening. You are the coin. Say it aloud - 'I am the golden coin'".

"I am the golden coin," repeated Ben.

The thick object kept rising. Ben pulled himself upward a little using his arms by the hanging bar. The whirring underneath the stool grew more intense.

"Watch the golden coin, Benjamin. Watch its every move. It is the only thing that matters at all. Focus on it. Drive from your mind any distraction. Remember that you are a golden coin, turning and shining in the air."

Ben could raise himself no farther, and the thick object pushed past his ring, given easy entry by Jamail's lubricant.

"FOCUS! Focus on the golden coin!"

Ben tried to ignore the feeling of being invaded, the burn developing in his straining arms and legs, the stretch of his anal ring, and pay attention to the details of the golden coin. It had a raised edge around its circumference on both sides, and some lettering on...

The thick object crept inexorably into his body. He felt his arms begin to weaken. Gravity would soon force him down onto this invading spike against his will.

"DO NOT LOSE FOCUS. You are the golden coin."

"I am the golden coin. I am the golden coin. I am the... o-hhhhhhhhh...." Ben groaned as the object passed his second sphincter. His arms and legs shook from the strain of trying to keep himself lifted off the stool - he realized they would give out in seconds. In his mind he could see his body sink down onto the penetrator in utter defeat.

"FOCUS YOUR MIND. FOCUS ON THE GOLDEN COIN."

Ben's arms went slack, his legs could no longer hold him up, and as he sank downward, he felt each millimeter of invasion as the flexible phallic spike climbed inside him, claimed him, owned him. He flung his head back and moaned loudly. Then he felt an uncontrollable pulsing deep in his groin as his prostate succumbed to the pressure and stimulation, and his entire body clenched around that new foreign core and semen poured out of his cock into  pool on the floor. In the white haze of his climax, all he could see was the golden coin, turning slowly before him, and he imagined himself as that coin, spinning in the air.

He came down from his orgasm to the feeling of the motor reversing, pulling the long dildo out of his ass. Samuel and Jamail had reentered the room and began unlinking him from the stool.

Samuel said, "Looked like you lost focus there for a while." He gave a knowing smile. "Don't worry. You'll get to try again."

[north.mpls.guy]

Practice makes perfect!  ?