The screen had resumed showing porn as soon as Christie left, and this time, want it or not, I was far more receptacle to it.


The scene currently showing – the fourth since Christie had left a while ago – showed a busty Asian girl giving a very tender, very hot titjob in a pool, the surface of the water rippling with the bouncing of her boobs on the cock nestled in the cleavage.

My own cock was bouncing with anticipation, pre-cum already wetting the tip, and watching the screen with my legs spread wide, I was mesmerized by what they were showing me. Whilst I still feared for myself and plotted brutal revenge the second I got loose, my sudden realization of my exposed pose, with my throbbing cock begging for attention, and the rowdy images on the TV made me actually want to cum more and more. In fact, cumming on Christie sounded incredible at the moment, and the mere thought made my cock jump in expectant joy.

The next scene – of course filmed from the “eyes” of the male lead – showed a pretty brunette with gorgeous, sparkling green eyes giving a very wet, very tender blowjob. She didn’t speak a word, content to maintain eye-contact as she orally caressed the cock. At times, she used one hand sliding on her own spit for added stimulation, other times she took the cock deep into her mouth. Being sexy and looking like she was enjoying herself, the sweet-faced girl inevitably made the man cum. Stroking his load directly into her vacuum of a mouth, the girl smiled as she sucked out every last drop, swallowing with delight, the climax transitioning straight into another movie.

Trying to shut my eyes, trying to force myself not to pay attention was impossible, for even were the actresses not being vocal, the slippery sound of whatever it was they were doing always succeeded in forcing me to take another look. It was the porn equivalent of the often-used car crash metaphor; you just couldn’t help yourself from watching.

After the current scene ended and the actor had hosed the girl’s ass and back with his jutting male essence after pounding her doggy-style, the image died for a few seconds, just long enough for me to feel relieved that the boner-maintaining material was over.

Then the image came back, this time of a room structurally identical to the one I was in. The text “Playroom 10” was written in digital green in the top right corner. Had I not been watching the screen as this began – secretly hoping for more porn despite myself – the very loud whimpering groans would have immediately snapped my attention to it.

Surprised and alarmed, I saw the moaning was emanating from a relatively young girl, perhaps in her early twenties with a sweet looking face with big, green eyes. She had red, fiery hair that when loose probably would hang down to the small of her back, but right now it was set in an attractive ponytail which hung down between her shoulder blades. She had fair, soft looking skin, big breasts and a flat, toned belly. Complete with a shapely ass as well as wide hips and thighs, she had a spectacular body all around.

                Also, and perhaps more importantly once one got over the fact that she was a total babe, she was suspended in the air, her wrists and ankles tied to a big metal ring that hung from the ceiling, giving her body a rough U-shape where she hung with her butt as the lowest point. There was a fat red ball-gag in her mouth, and the nipples on her big breasts had clamps with vibrating eggs attached to them.

                Next to her stood a woman, possibly in her early thirties, clad only in black thigh-highs, black elbow-gloves and a scant pair of black panties. Her wardrobe matched her raven-tresses hanging just past the nape of her neck. Ice-blue eyes were set in her attractive face, and like the redhead she had a gorgeous body, with even bigger breasts, perky despite their obvious weight. She held a magic wand vibrator between the redhead’s strung-up legs, pressing it against her wet clit, the other hand groping the suspended captive’s breasts, and her smile betrayed her relish at her captive’s gagged moans as she was forced to orgasm repeatedly.

                The image came from a perfectly static camera, and one didn’t have to be any kind of intelligent to understand that I was watching the unfolding events through a security camera, mounted in the same corner of that room as the camera in mine, as I could see the bottom half of the door towards the top right corner.

                The initial surprise of what I was seeing – and my harder-than-ever cock seemed to enjoy the proceedings – gave way to horror and despair when it dawned on me that the redhead was, like me, a captive of this place. Tears of overstimulation stained her cute face, her eyes looking at her captor, begging for mercy, being met with only haughty laughter and more vibrations. The high definition of both the camera and the TV let me pick out additional details as well, like the dark red spots all over the redhead’s butt cheeks, thighs, belly and breasts, like she had been whipped all over.

                Whimpering and pleading, drool coating her chin and chest, the poor girl was forced to yet another climax to her captor’s relish just before the image on the screen changed.

                Now it said “Playroom 08” in the top right corner, and I had a pristine look of myself.

                Spread wide, naked on the bed, prominent erection drawing the gaze straight to my crotch, I had to look away embarrassed. Nevertheless, even now my gaze kept stealing glances at the TV, until I found myself watching again.

                Nude, gagged and restrained, spread out and vulnerable, it really did for the first time truly sink in just what kind of situation I was in. And as I felt the uncomfortable sensations start to churn in my chest, speeding up the beating of my heart, the door to the room opened, and the TV switched off.

                “Sorry about that taking so long!” Christie chirped merrily, jumping into bed with me, settling on her knees between my thighs. “But the good news is you are completely healthy! Yay, right?”

                I could have told her that, had they shown any interest in letting me speak.

                I didn’t see what it was, but she put something down behind her on the mattress, something straight and pink.

                “That means I can finally do this,” she continued, leaning close, putting her hands on me, her thumbs and forefingers forming a triangle with my cock between them, the thumbs holding up my scrotum from the underside.

                With a hushed groan, Christie put her tongue on my shaft, close to the balls, then dragged it all the way to the tip, leaving a trail of saliva and making me unwillingly groan. Giving the cockhead a quick suck and a kiss, she raised her upper body again and leered down at me, smiling wide.

                “Tastes nice. I hope you enjoyed that, because I won’t be treating your dick to my mouth very often.”

                She grabbed my cock with one hand, the other cradling my ball sack. She started stroking, delighting in my feeble struggles, feeling me shiver at her touch.

                “You see, like the rules stated, as the property of our little company, unless you are with a client, you are not allowed to orgasm without my permission. And let me tell you something right now,” she increased the speed of her strokes, keeping her touches light, teasing me from top to bottom.

                “I will not let you cum today. Not a lot in general. Only if you are really obedient as a pet should be. Maybe, and only maybe then will I reward you with an orgasm. For that is what orgasms are for you, now, rewards, not idle pleasures for you to get whenever you feel like it.”

                She leaned her face closer, now tickling my balls as well, being rewarded by another frail moan from me. “And if you think clients will be your saving grace, let me assure you that most of our clients do not give their slaves many climaxes. Most of them like little boys to be frustrated and obedient, just like me. Girls like us love to hear your pleading groans. As long as you think we might give you an orgasm, you will do whatever we say to get one.”

                She sat back up, taking her hands off my cock – which had just started to feel really good from her tender touches – and put them on my inner thighs, stroking them with her thumbs.

                “You may not think it is a big deal now, but just you wait after a few days of constant stimulation without orgasms. You will discover just how much of a slave to your own burning desires we can make you.”

                She reached for the thing she had put down behind her, the other hand nudging her glasses back up her nose. “And if you are silly enough to think you’ll be able to get yourself off when confined to your cell, you have another thing coming. Like you aren’t allowed to cum without permission, you aren’t allowed to touch your boy-bits anymore either.”

                She held out the pink item, and seeing what it was, it became immediately clear why she had measured my cock all over. I hadn’t seen one in real life, but from the usual curious excursions on the world wide web, I knew what she was holding to be a chastity device.
                “Had this made especially for you just now.”

                It was a straight plastic tube, barely longer and wider than my erect cock, which would slip over my length and connect to a circular bit that would go around my cock and balls. Once locked in place, I wouldn’t be able to get it off without the key, or without risking severe injury to myself. At least – I thought, if there was any relief to find in this – this device would allow me to be fully erect within it. Most models of male chastity devices I had seen online slipped onto limp cocks. Such things I had always thought must feel extremely unpleasant on you if you tried to get an erection whilst locked inside it. The tip of the tube had an open slit, presumably to allow the wearer to go to the toilet whilst wearing it.

                 The tube and the ring would lock in three places, judging by the keyholes, around the base of the cock, keeping the sheath fastened to the ring that would go around my cock and balls. In one of the keyholes there was a small gold ring with a heart shaped bow.

                Christie opened the three locks with the key, each lock snapping open to separate the tube from the ring. She put the two pieces down between us and slipped the ring into her gold necklace, the key hanging by the heart bow right above her cleavage.

                Unheeding of my half angry, half pleading gagged gibberish, she brought the ring up to her chest and used the key on a whole in it. With a click the plastic circle split into two, which she then slipped around my cock and behind the balls. With another clicking sound, she pushed the two ends together to complete the circle.

                “Almost like a cock ring,” she giggled. Next, she slipped the sheath over my erection, and then secured the locking parts by simply pushing the tube into the three slots of the ring.

                It was a snug fit. I could feel the insides of the tube touch my manhood all around, but at least it wasn’t chafing or uncomfortable. I was able to be at full hardness within it.

                “Perfect!” Christie beamed, holding the tube between her thumb and index finger, wagging it around for fun.

                “See, one way I am going to tease you,” she said with a hint of sexual menace as she lowered her head towards my crotch. “Is to do things like this.”

                Lying down between my thighs on her belly, her large boobs pooling against the bedspread, she lifted her legs to let them hang in the air behind her. She held the cock-cage with one hand and started licking it all over. Softly moaning, changing between looking at me and having her eyes closed, like she was thoroughly enjoying herself, Christie coated the pink plastic with her saliva, looking and sounding like her one purpose in life was to bring pleasure to cocks.

                Of course, I couldn’t feel anything, asides from a growing sense of frustration. She was licking my cock all over, but locked up as it was in the cage, I was unable to feel her warm tongue massage its way up and down. The only thing I was treated to was the odd drop of hot drool when she passed her tongue over the hole at the tip.

                Locking her mouth around the tip, the tongue rubbing on the outside of it, Christie gave me a long, lustful look, and with a long groan she sucked the pink chastity device into her mouth, making slurping noises when she drew her sucking mouth back up.

                A moan escaped me – I couldn’t help it – seeing her lips drag over the plastic where my cock should be feeling them, feel the sweet suction and her spit. But I got nothing, and after taking my cock all the way into her mouth with only a few stops, gagging a little when she hit the base, Christie drew off the cage, giggling, strands of saliva bridging the chastity device and her wet lips. It made me groan again.

                “I like you,” she tittered. “I’m gonna love teasing you a lot.”

                She removed the key from her necklace and, thankfully, undid the cock-cage. Taking it off me, I felt more relief getting the tight ring from around my cock and balls off more than the tube being removed. She joined the two bits again and tossed it behind her on the bed, replacing the key back in her necklace.

                “In fact, I should teach you right now what teasing truly means when you are a captive of Hamilton Industries.”

                I did not like the positively wicked grin she gave me before slipping out of the bed, walking over to the cabinets, opening the double doors on the one on the left, rummaging for something.

                “We have so many great items here, all of which, if you paid attention to the initial brief, we make ourselves,” Christie huffed as she struggled to reach something on the top shelf. “Obviously we’ve been creating toys for men to sell as well, but until today we’ve not had any captives to use them on. Naturally I am going to use them all on you,” she giggled again, “and the way you respond is going to help the R&D ladies make even better stuff. Not to mention stuff and toys especially tailored to your body and your cock.”

                Having gotten everything she required, Christie walked back to the side of the bed, clutching a mess of items to her chest before plopping them down on the mattress.

                “You are going to be the gift to HI that just keeps on giving! Both to the company and to our clients.”

                She crawled back into bed, her soft boobs brushing against my thigh as she moved over me to sit between my legs. She tapped a finger to my cock, making a childish “boing” noise as she did, giggling as she watched it bounce.

                I hated this girl. Hated this place. My insides were a torrential mess of conflicting emotions, dismay, anger and confusion vying for dominance. Every time Christie turned her back on me, I tested my bonds, trying to subtly weaken them or even pull the restraints from their moorings around the frame of the bed, but they held me down firmly, like I was precious goods preparing to be shipped down a dirt road.

                Moreover, my damn pharmaceutically induced erection added to my worries by wanting stimulation, wanting to be properly inside Christie’s tight mouth, wanting to empty my balls down her tight throat.

                “Right!” Christie clapped her hands, then began selecting from the items she had brought. First of all was a metal rod with several joints that could be locked in place, enabling her to turn the rod into the letter S if she wanted. On one end it had a clamp and a short length of wire with a plug at the end of it. The other side of the rod had another plug with some kind of locking, swivelling mechanism with a quick-release lever, which was clearly supposed to fit into some kind of slot.

                Leaning over my right thigh, her bare, fit belly rubbing against me, Christie opened the clamp and attached it over the metal frame of the bed, tightening a screw to keep it in place. The loose plug on the wire she slid into a slot somewhere under the frame. Rising up, sitting on her knees, tongue-in-cheek she arranged the joints of the rod, locking them all at the desired angle, until the rod formed a slack arch towards my crotch. She left the final bit of the rod hanging loose for the moment.

                “Trust me, hon, this is gonna feel amazing when I’m done,” she winked, failing to convince me.

                She grabbed a small black ring, the shine of the material reminiscent of latex. She put her fingers through it and, with a little effort, stretched it wider. When she started threading it over my cock I understood what it was she was doing. She slipped the cock ring all the way down my cock, then forced my balls through the tight opening – thankfully she did it gently, one testicle at a time. Letting go of the ring, it tightened even more, my balls being pushed up against the underside of the shaft, the veins running up surfacing to become more visible as the skin turned redder.

                “Cock rings are so sexy, don’t you think?” she gasped, running her hand up and down my shaft, apparently enjoying the feel of my veins against her palm. “And the best part is, when you tie a cock just the right way, so that it is comfortable and restrictive rather than too tight, it not only looks hot as hell. You also can’t, like, scientifically, go soft. Your erection will be permanent until the ring is removed. Isn’t that awesome?”

                Yeah it was fucking spectacular. The ring was indeed putting pressure around me, its tight presence making me very much aware of it. I wouldn’t say it was painful or uncomfortable, but it wasn’t particularly comfortable either. As for not being able to go soft, that made sense, as the ring restricted the blood flow out of my wang, but not the blood getting pumped into it.

                I was anxious about what it was she was setting up. Again, my mind ran through countless scenarios that ended with mutilation and/or a slow, painful death. The fact that everything I had been told so far did not as much as hint at dishing out hurt or pain, in my current situation, it was hard to think about much else.

                Only my cock – my poor, single-minded manhood – remained hopeful for more touches, especially now that the cock-cage was off, and the cock ring had gotten slipped on to help maintain its hard-as-steel erection when the shot Christie gave me wore off.

                Humming a gentle tune – her tone deceptively attractive and enthralling – Christie unwound a cord of clear plastic tubing, perhaps a quarter inch thick, a hard plastic bit on each end where the tube was supposed to connect to something. Leaning over me again, she pushed one end of the cord into a slot on the bed’s frame, close to where the rod was clamped down. Then she attached the cord to the rod, the cord slipping into small grooves on the side of the metal I had failed to notice before. The other end of the cord she let hang loose where the articulated steel rod ended above my crotch.

                “Now,” she said, gleeful, making a shiver race down my spine. Eying me, she lifted up a metal cylinder of smooth, shiny steel. It was flat on one end and bulbous at the other, with a large slot at the rounded top, and a smaller slot on the slope next to it. The tube was perhaps seven inches long, and the circumference was around eight inches.

                “For today’s main feature.”

                She turned the tube to show me the bottom, revealing a dark pink substance inside the cylinder with a very tight, puckered opening in the middle. With her free hand, Christie inserted the index and middle fingers into the tight hole, the material stretching and warping like flesh. Spreading her fingers, she revealed a tight canal with countless small bumps lining it.

                “This is one of our toys specifically engineered for men. It’ll feel unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced before, believe me.”

                Licking her lips at seeing the mixed emotions in my eyes – unbeknownst to me dampening her panties seeing me restrained and naked with the fat ball in my mouth – she clicked the metal rod into the tube, the swivelling bit allowing the tube to me rotated in any direction that did not conflict with the position of the rod itself. Next she put the hanging end of the plastic cord into the metal cylinder’s smaller slot.

                She turned the cylinder, now moving only when she didn’t lock the swivel, showing the fleshy interior again, tapping the opening as she looked and spoke to me like she was educating me.

                “Your cock goes in here. The fleshy sleeve, when activated, will pump, suck and rotate on your meat, following a program stored in a small computer in here,” she tapped somewhere close to the top of the rounded top.

                “It is actually quite astonishing, the level of tech driving this thing. I don’t understand half of it, but what I am giddy as fuck about is seeing what it’ll do to you.”

                She let go of the tube, the swivel allowing it to hang straight down as she grabbed the last of the things she had dumped into the bed, adjusting her glasses with her free hand. Holding them out, I saw they were flabby, white pads of some kind connected to slim wires. They reminded me of electrocardiogram electrodes they used in hospitals to monitor people’s life signs.

                Noticing the cognition in my eyes, Christie started explaining as she undid the coils of wire attached to each pad.

“While similar, these electrodes are not exactly like the kind doctors use,” she explained, placing the first sticky pad directly over my heart, gently pressing it down with the heel of her palm. “In addition to monitoring basic vital signs like your heart rate, they also work in unison to ‘chart’ your level of arousal and the amount of stimulation you are feeling, no matter the kind of stimulation. As such, with the current wireless programming between the electrodes and the suction tube, the computer can quite accurately predict when you are going to orgasm.

“But the truly great thing is, once the electrodes has ‘learned’ your body and fed all the information to the tube’s computer,” she tapped the cylinder again, “we won’t need the electrodes anymore; the machine will know what to look for just by monitoring the pulse in your cock. The things they can concoct in the lab, right?” she giggled.

Trepidation growing by the second, feeling cold sweat on my back starting to dampen the mattress, I nervously watched as Christie attached the other pads on my skin – at my temples, the sides of my chest, below the navel, the upper arms and at the soles of my feet. I could barely feel the small pads clinging to my skin, but the cool sticky substance making them actually stick to me would feel strange until my body heat warmed it up.

As she attached the pads to me, Christie threw the wires attached to them off the closest edge of the mattress, sometimes brushing her fingers over my still straining manhood, giggling if she managed to make me moan, making purring, hungry noises when she looked at it. When all the pads were in place, she climbed out of bed and squatted next to it, then began plugging the wires into something under the mattress. Finishing up on one side, she did the same on the opposite.

“Just one thing remaining,” she muttered, loud enough for me to hear, but I got the feeling she was talking to herself. I heard another, more defined clicking sound as something else was plugged into something under the bed, and then I saw her reach up with another plug that she inserted into the base of the arm holding the tube.

“Now that the electrodes are plugged into the computer and the tube itself has power, we’re all set!”

She walked over to the cabinets again, picking something up, before getting back into bed with me, sitting on her knees between my spread legs. She had a slim black item in her hands, about two inches long, and as she settled to get comfortable, I noticed buttons on one side, marking it as some kind of remote.

Pressing one of the buttons, I jumped – metaphorically, on edge as I was already – at the sound of a dull mechanical drone coming from the tube. The volume of the hum faded into a hushed whirr as whatever had started up within it fell into line, like the noises a home computer made when starting would fade when the computer finished booting up.

Following Christie’s gaze after she pressed another button, I saw a clear, thick liquid starting to travel up through the plastic tubing running up from beneath the bed and into the machine.

“Lube,” my jailor smiled when she noticed me following the substance up the tube with my eyes. “We need looooooots of lube. And it’s even been heated to body temperature for you.”

The lube soon entered the machine, pumped through the tubing by some perfectly quiet compressor under the bed. After a little while, drops of lube was starting to drip from the puckered hole of the metal cylinder, the warm liquid spilling on my thigh.

“Now that it’s all slick and ready for you,” Christie said gleefully, “let’s get this party started!”

Not wanting any more with these people, my situation feeling doubly real now as my cute but clearly mad captor lowered the lube-dripping cylinder towards my cock, I pulled on my restraints yet again, futilely trying to break free. With her other hand, she placed her index finger on the back of my straining shaft, and used it to point my cock straight up. At my efforts to escape, she only grinned as if to say “silly boy”.

Locking eyes with me – relishing the way I watched the descending tube – and breathing through her partially open mouth, she bit her lip when hearing me groan as the tip of my manhood slid into the machine.

It was tight, my God it was tight, and warm, lube coating every little bit of the canal. I couldn’t believe how good it felt. I was barely inside it and already the tight, fleshy walls with their countless little bumps made pleasure radiate from my crotch through my body to every toe and fingertip, increasing my breathing and making me moan anew.

Moving it slowly, making me feel every inch of the unbelievably pleasurable interior, Christie eventually moved the tube all the way down to my base. Locking the swivelling joint in place, the machine was now secure, pressing against my body with my throbbing cock all up inside it.
“That was so fucking hot I almost came,” she murmured quietly, both hands stroking my inner thighs as I watched, transfixed, at the metal cylinder that my straining fifth limb was impaling.

She brought the remote back up as the other hand kept sliding up and down my thigh, pressing another button as she spoke. “But it does so much more than feel good from penetration.”

As soon as she depressed the button, the machine – or rather, just the spongy, tight interior – started moving. At first, it tightened, a lot, not enough to hurt but more than enough to ensure that it was pressing against my cock, base to tip, enveloping it all over. Then, starting at the top of the cylinder, I felt the interior tighten even more, the tightness travelling down, like small sections of the interior was tightening then relaxing, the motion moving from top to bottom. This sensation of the interior walls tightening and slacking felt like a hand gripping my meat, stroking down, letting go once it got to the base, then grabbed hold at the top again for another downstroke.

Not ceasing this motion, the interior started rotating next. Very slowly, perhaps completing a full turn in six or seven seconds. Next, I felt suction, the vacuum at odds with the first pumping motion, the pumping motion feeling like a hand stroking down, the suction like a sucking mouth moving up.

Sliding on the warm lube being constantly fed into the machine – the amount so much the lube was spilling out of the bottom to slide over my balls and inner thighs – the machine worked me in three ways that felt like a hundred, massaging and slurping every inch of my cock better than I could ever have dreamt was possible.

I moaned. I had no choice. Despite my situation, despite the conflicting fear and anger, my cock was having the time of its life inside this thing. It was like being sucked by twenty mouths all at once, each one striving to make me feel as good as was humanly possible.

“Mmm, you like that, don’t you, hon?” Christie cooed. When I didn’t answer – instead forced to let out another pleasured whimper – she put the remote aside and settled on her knees between my legs, licking her lips as her hands still caressed my thighs.

The machine was going to make me cum in short order, that much was certain. Even trying – only half-hearted, it had to be said – to hold back, the impossibly awesome fleshy insides of the cylinder was slowly but methodically taking me towards orgasm, doing such a good job that for a moment I forgot about the fact that I was drooling from the gag and that Christie was nearly climaxing herself just by watching me.

I was nearing the point of no return. It was taking me there even faster than I had thought. It was just too good in its caresses; no man would be able to hold back for long. My head falling back, my arms and legs involuntarily tugging on the restraints as my eyes clenched shut, my teeth dug into the ball-gag and my back arched, I prepared for what was going to be one of the most powerful orgasms of my life.

When I was a half second away from bliss – forced or no – the machine switched off, the tightness of the interior loosening, as if withdrawing from my cock. Left hanging on the edge, I was first confused as to what was happening. When sensation in my cock started to recede, leaving me frustrated of not getting the orgasm that I didn’t want to be forced upon me in the first place, I lifted my head to look what was happening, and was met by Christie’s face twisting in borderline maniacal laughter.

“Aww, poor baby, did you forget already?” She was rocking back and forth, one hand covering her mouth as she cackled, her entire upper body shaking. “I told you I wouldn’t let you cum today! Remember rule five? You can’t have orgasms anymore without my permission.”

Flushed and sweating, my jaw aching from having the ball in it for so long, I watched her, puzzled, the orgasm I was so close to getting receding more and more with each passing second. I felt my cock throb in the machine, but the tight interior was no longer tight. Had it been, the throbbing motions might have been enough to finish me off when the machine had stopped. I tried thrusting into the machine, but my pose, the way my limbs were bound, and the way the machine was pressing down against me, held in place by the metal arm, didn’t let me love even a little inside the lube-overflowed tube.

She removed her glasses and wiped her eyes as though the laughter had brought a tear to her eye. Putting them back, she placed her hands back on my thighs, biting her lip as she leaned as close as the machine’s setup would allow.

“This is an edging machine. It will, using the information it learns about your body from the electrodes, take you as close as it can to orgasm, without actually letting you cum. And the best part is,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, full of ominous sensuality. “Every time it edges you, it will use the information it already has to keep you at the edge for as long as possible before shutting off. Then it will add that information to the next cycle, keeping you at the edge even longer. If you think this denied orgasm was bad…” she let the insinuation drift away.

She leaned back, dipping one hand inside her panties, apparently unable to restrain herself any more. She groaned, turned on beyond belief, the other hand finding a pierced nipple through her shirt to pinch.

“It’ll be able to make you hover right at the edge for minutes! Every second of it you will think orgasm is just another second away, but it’ll never let you cum! It will shut down every time you get too close, and start up again when you’ve calmed down. It’ll make you a desperate, blubbering, mad slave to your own cock, make it feel so good you think you can fill this room with your seed once you orgasm, but it will never, ever, ever, ever, ever let you cum!”

I was torn between worry and confusion. It seemed Christie was quite serious even though she was laughing whilst fingering herself, and if she was, given how much this first denied orgasm had sucked, I dreaded the thought of the machine “learning” me even better to keep me on edge for longer.

Not to mention minutes, as Christie had claimed.

As if on cue, the machine started up again without Christie pressing anything on the remote – which she had chucked behind her earlier – sucking, pumping and rotating on my cock.

After five seconds, I was already starting to crave an orgasm.

An orgasm Christie was being quite adamant about not giving me.

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Lucky for you guys, the artist formerly known as Silly Girl drew an image to go with this chapter!
https://sinnercomics.com/2016/06/22/the-hamilton-facility/#respond