TROY BOYThe nipple clamps fuckin' hurt.
Which is exactly why that bastard of an Aussie clipped them on every chance he got. "Shirt off, Orlando. Hands to the side, Orlando. Don't you fuckin' dare touch them, Orlando, or I will rip your bleedin' nipples off."
And Mister Bloom obeyed every order, very well acquainted with Eric’s sadistic ideas of punishment. Tied out in the sun as wet rawhide leather pulled his arms and legs apart until he screamed. The self-suck video was outselling Pamela’s *and* Paris’ by a wide margin, especially the extended version with the two black wrestlers who not only taught him the skill, bending his lithe body until his package was crammed in his face, but “encouraged” him to practice over and over. And if he never had to prance around in a speedo filled with Ben Gay it would be too soon.
Eric just laughed at his gyrations, ordering him to “get his tight little ass over here and ride this hard cock.” And there really wasn’t much of a question about which hard cock he meant. The first thing his new master did was strip him naked, tie him down and force his hard cock and full balls into a cage much too small. Rings bit into tender flesh and unforgiving metal squeezed his nuts.
All his shirts were tight cotton, relentlessly rubbing against his raw nipples, hard nubbins obviously on display. When Eric allowed him a shirt. Rough denim jeans and sharp zipper forever brushing against sensitive flesh, underwear forbidden, driving him mad with need. He throbbed constantly on the brink, never fulfilled, desperate and horny and willing to do anything for release Eric denied him. How stupid he had been to want this part so desperately.He’d mentioned to the casting director he’d do whatever was necessary to get the role of Paris. Quickly he found himself on his knees with a hard cock in his mouth, begging for it. Which is why he agreed to a special clause in his contract for this movie. Not only had he sold his soul to the devil for this part, he’d been whored out to entice the Aussie as well. He belonged to Eric, body and soul, for the duration of principle photography.
Which is why Eric F'n Bana got to put the fuckin' nipple clamps on him day in, day out.
“Kitten,” Master would croon in that sultry accent, and didn’t Orlando *hate* that nickname, and not just because it usually came with a tight, prickly posture collar and leash. “I like seeing you wince and moan. I adore thinking about you hard as a rock and panting like a bitch in heat and knowing those pretty little tits of yours hurt like hell. And I just love that you’re such a slut when you plead and moan and beg me to let you come.”And so Orlando spent an awful lot of time hard and aching, mostly naked, usually bound, on his knees with his smooth pecs thrust forward so that Master Fucking Eric might have a little mercy and take off the sadistic clamps.
Hell, he'd even agree to another night with the Pitt's.
Last time, he spent hours standing spread eagled at the foot of their canopy bed, as a well-hung Brad fucked him relentlessly in the ass while Mrs. Brad rode his harnessed, aching cock to multiple orgasms, leaving him horny and unfulfilled and nothing to do but hang there and watch them go after it with each other a third time.
Brad may treat him like a cheap rentboy whore, but he never used the clamps.
No, Eric was the one who likes his skin shiny with sweat, who's cock jerked each time he writhed and pleaded in painful bondage. Who forced the long, three inch deep penis gag in in his mouth and down his throat and locked it tight. Who hung weights from his balls and made him stand on the dildo pole in his trailer and just laughed when he pleaded for mercy. Who stood over him, smiling, holding up the taser. “Beg me, Orlando, beg me like the cocksucking whore you are.”And Eric was the one who whispered in his ear how he wasn't letting Orlando go next week after filming ended, who'd already shown him the crate and the rubber body suit and the plugs that would be shoved in him and the mean looking Arab who he would be sent to, who would finance Eric's directorial debut.
Mr. Arab had a fine set of nipple clamps, Eric told him, and then laughed.