Three men hung by their feet from a cable. Naked. Hands bound behind their backs. Several other men stood around them. Caressing, slapping, poking and pinching the helpless men.
“Damn, they’re beautiful.”
“So smooth. So muscular.”
“I like his foreskin. I wanna chew it off.”
“I’m gonna shove my fist so far up this one’s ass, I’ll be in his belly.”
They continued slapping at the helpless bodies. Biting into smooth skin. Blood dribbled down to their shoulders and on to the floor. Punches were thrown. Into guts, gluts, thighs, backs. A boot rammed into a face.
“Hey, guys. Look at this one. Is he getting hard? Jesus! He is! His fucking dick is rock hard! He likes it!”
Sure enough. The more they punched, the harder the dick got. “Let’s set him aside for later.”
Oh, Fuck. I tried to stay soft, but the pleasure of the pain and hanging by my ankles was too much. It turned me on and now my cock is standing at full attention for these jerks to see. This isn’t going to end well.
That’s all I could write. The beginning of one of my stories for CDG. But I ran into Writer’s Block. It happens from time to time and when it does, I just set the story aside for a few days or weeks and let thoughts percolate in my brain. Then, when I come back, the words flow and I’ve got a story to post. Not this time. It’s been six months and …… nothing.
Too bad. I was getting turned on by the new story because (1) I love being hung by my feet, (2) I love being beaten, (3) I love beating naked men, (4) bloody mutilation and painful death fantasies have always turned me on. Why can’t I finish this story?
“Damn, they’re beautiful.”
“So smooth. So muscular.”
“I like his foreskin. I wanna chew it off.”
“I’m gonna shove my fist so far up this one’s ass, I’ll be in his belly.”
They continued slapping at the helpless bodies. Biting into smooth skin. Blood dribbled down to their shoulders and on to the floor. Punches were thrown. Into guts, gluts, thighs, backs. A boot rammed into a face.
“Hey, guys. Look at this one. Is he getting hard? Jesus! He is! His fucking dick is rock hard! He likes it!”
Sure enough. The more they punched, the harder the dick got. “Let’s set him aside for later.”
Oh, Fuck. I tried to stay soft, but the pleasure of the pain and hanging by my ankles was too much. It turned me on and now my cock is standing at full attention for these jerks to see. This isn’t going to end well.
That’s all I could write. The beginning of one of my stories for CDG. But I ran into Writer’s Block. It happens from time to time and when it does, I just set the story aside for a few days or weeks and let thoughts percolate in my brain. Then, when I come back, the words flow and I’ve got a story to post. Not this time. It’s been six months and …… nothing.
Too bad. I was getting turned on by the new story because (1) I love being hung by my feet, (2) I love being beaten, (3) I love beating naked men, (4) bloody mutilation and painful death fantasies have always turned me on. Why can’t I finish this story?
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