The Pleasure Giver Chronicles

I arrived at my motel room a little early, wondering who I'd be pleasuring today. On the bed was a blindfold and a pair of black thigh high stockings. A bucket of wooden clothespins sat on the nightstand. It looked like today's fun was going to be kinky. The note on the desk read: "PG, Prepare in the usual way and wait in the standard position. Remain naked and do not blindfold yourself or put on the stockings."

I took off my clothes and put them in the dresser drawer, then went to the bathroom area to clean up for my client. The usual razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash were there. The enemas were not. It seemed I would be spared that indignity today.

I took a quick shower, then shaved my face, underarms and pubes. Just to be on the safe side, I ran the blade in my ass crack to remove any stray hairs there. After a final look in the mirror, I took my place on the love seat with my legs tucked beneath me, toes pointed out, my feet making a smooth line with my calves. I took several cleansing breaths to calm myself and closed my eyes, waiting for his arrival.

I didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later, the door opened and my client entered. He was a distinguished looking gentlemen in his 50s, with silver hair and a slightly pudgy frame: the typical middle age professional. Surprisingly for this area, he was wearing a suit and tie. I took him to be an out of town consultant.

I slid my feet off the love seat, stood and walked over to him.

"Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Soma. How may I serve you?"

He took off his jacket and held it out. I took the coat and put it on a hanger.

"Undress me, please," he said in a pleasant baritone, loosening his tie and taking it off.

"Of course, Sir," I replied, unbuttoning his shirt and smelling his aftershave. I was a little surprised to see he wasn't wearing an undershirt, but, given the temperature outside, I understood. His chest was moderately hairy, but I could see his nipples peeking out from the curls. They were large and erect, and I wondered how they would feel on my tongue. I slid the shirt off his arms, feeling the smooth hair on them and lightly touching my fingers on his palms as I pulled off the sleeves. I put the shirt on another hanger as he took my place on the love seat. I wondered why I was reacting this way to him. He wasn't exactly Adonis, but he had an air about him that showed he understood I was here to serve him, and that gave me a thrill. I also realized I would have to be careful not to let my growing cock stain his clothes with precum.

I knelt before him with my legs spread on either side of his feet and unlaced his dress shoes, removing them carefully. His black dress socks were next. I put the socks in their respective shoes and, on impulse, lifted each foot and kissed it gently. He murmured appreciatively, but unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to let me know to continue the disrobing.

Still on my knees, I pulled his trousers down past his buttocks as he raised himself in the chair. Then, careful not to let them touch the floor, I lowered the pants and removed each leg, holding them up off the floor. Feeling change and a wallet in the pockets, I didn't put them on a hanger. Instead, I folded them over the desk chair so the contents wouldn't fall out. Then returned to my position kneeling before him.

He now stood, clad only in his briefs. I slid my hands up his legs, feeling the smoothness beneath the hair. When I reached the cloth, I could see the outline of his cock through the cotton, and started to pull them down. He stopped me, saying, "Leave them on and don't touch my cock."

I looked up at him, and saw the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He looked down at me with a hint of amusement and something else I didn't recognize. Remembering my place, I looked down and said, "Yes, Sir." I put my hands on my knees, palms up, and asked, "How may I please you, Sir?"

"Get on the bed and put on your stockings," he answered. I crawled onto the bed and turned to face him. I sat on the edge of the bed and took the stockings in my hands. I was surprised as how soft and smooth they felt; they must have been silk. I wondered when Mr. King started supplying such high quality items.

I rolled one of the stockings down and pulled my leg up until my foot was flat on the bed, toes pointed toward the chair in which the man sat. I slipped my foot into the stocking and started to unroll it slowly over my foot. As soon as it crossed my ankle, I lifted my foot from the bed and pointed my foot toward my lover of the hour. I unrolled the stocking slowly, gradually straightening my leg and letting my foot move closer to his crotch. He watched impassively, but I could see a bulge growing in his briefs and knew I was pleasing him. When I reached the top of the stocking, I smoothed it up my leg and moved my foot back to the bed.

As I prepared the second stocking. I glanced down at my cock and saw it was fully erect and dripping precum. I collected the juice with two fingers and placed them in my mouth, licking them off seductively and looking at him with unbridled lust. I wanted this man...I wanted him to take me. I wanted to run my hands through his chest hair and play with his nipples.. Wait a minute! Where did that thought come from?

Clear your head, Soma, and focus on your role. Roll the other stocking up your leg. That's right, smooth and sexy for your man. Now, point your toes at him...stretch out your legs...prop yourself up on your forearms and let him see how much you desire him...

"Put on the blindfold."

"Yes, Sir," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. I wanted to see his cock, to watch it enter my mouth. Alas, that was not to be. Instead, I found myself on my back as he took my ankles and pulled me down until my knees were dangling over the end of the bed. I heard him take the bowl of clothespins, rummage through them, and place them on the bed next to my thighs. I sighed as I felt his cock brush against my legs. It felt warm and thick, even though it was still only semi-erect.

He lifted my stocking clad feet to his lips and licked each sole, then moved them down over each nipple. His chest hair caressed my feet and I curled my toes over his nipples, feeling them harden.

"Keep your feet where they are," he said, "and don't move them off my chest, no matter what."

"With pleasure, Sir." He chuckled at that and leaned over, forcing my legs toward my chest. I purred as I felt his chest hairs start to poke through the nylons and tickle my soles. The purring turned to moans of pleasure as he stroked my cock, bringing it to a full erection. He brought it next to his; I could tell he was thicker and longer. Both cocks were starting to drip precum. And then...

...a gasp as I felt a stinging pinch on the base of my scrotum. He had put a clothespin on it, followed by another, close to it. The familiar sensations of pleasure/pain grew with each clothespin he added. I tried counting them to stay focused, but lost count around 15...or was it 20? Or was it 50? I really couldn't tell.

I kept my feet pressed against his chest as he moved back and forth adding to my oh-so-wonderful suffering. My toes were doing their best to capture his large, firm nipples in their grip. My tush raised off the bed when he started putting clips on the shaft of my cock. He pulled the skin on the front of my shaft out as he managed another four clothespins there. I was groaning with pleasure/pain as the endorphins were rushing to my brain as quickly as the precum was flowing from my twitching cock...

And then I felt the bite of a smaller clip on my cock head and cried out in pure pain. The sensation was much sharper than I had felt; he couldn't be using those evil plastic mini clothespins, could he? My feet pushed hard against his chest to push him away, to no avail. He leaned forward and forced my legs toward my chest. I felt another jaw of hell bite into the soft skin of my cock head, then another, then another. I could tell they were smaller than the others, but, given their location, provided even more pain. I mewled in agony and took several cleansing breaths to stay focused and dissipate some of the pain. Where had the endorphins gone?

He grabbed my ankles again and raised himself back up. He then slid my feet down his chest until they reached his crotch. He pressed each sole against his cock, with my toes just below the cock head. I could feel his foreskin, and the liquid that was already starting to soak through my stockings.

He rubbed the clothespins gently, causing me to gasp with pain. "Are they starting to hurt? It's easy enough to remedy that. Start rubbing my cock with your feet. When I cum, I'll take them off you. But don't take too long: circulation starts to cut off after 15 minutes." The words were solicitous; the tone was anything but. I could hear his smile and knew he was enjoying my suffering.

And, in that moment, the endorphins returned with a vengeance. I returned my focus to the pain. This was my service to him: I was giving him pleasure by my suffering. I had always had a high pain tolerance; now I knew why. I may not be able to fill a woman to the depths of her cervix or to deep throat a monster cock, but I could take pain. It's not like in BDSM porn: I wasn't going to orgasm from the pain. But I

was

going to be sexually satisfied from it. The pain itself was my sexual satisfaction, not from my cock, but from the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, from whence the strongest orgasms arise.

This had become an intensely erotic moment for me. I felt my cock twitch on its own, causing the clothespins to sway. With each new sensation of pleasure/pain, I tightened my grip on his cock and rubbed his foreskin up and down, over the head and back down. On the upstroke, I would squeeze the base of his cock. On the downstroke, as the head was exposed, I would play with it with my toes, coating them in his abundant precum.

I slid my feet slowly down his shaft, feeling it throb, and gently cocooned his scrotum between them. He drew in his breath sharply as I rubbed his balls with my soles and pulled his sac down with my toes. I could feel the hair on his scrotum and ran my toes through his bush. I had almost forgotten what an unshaved, untrimmed crotch felt like. Once again, I melted a little considering just how masculine he was and how it would feel to run my fingers through that thick patch of wiry hair and roll his large balls between my fingers.

Between these thoughts and the now constant swaying of the clothespins, I was moving toward subspace. I was moving there faster than I thought: I could feel the sting of the moving clothespins but was, apparently, too far gone to feel my cock twitching. That was strange; it had to be moving to cause the clothespins to sway as they were, intensifying the pain now coursing through my crotch. I moved my feet back to his cock to avoid doing damage to his balls as I was now squeezing his cock harder with the increase in the pain.

"Squeeze that cock, slut...rub it with your stockings...that's the way...faster...faster...tighter...oh, God..."

At the same moment he started pulsing his cum through my toes, I cried out as an immense pain ripped through my crotch. "Ripped through" was the right term, for in that moment, every single clothespin flew off me, renewing the sting in every spot at once. My cock bounced as the clothespins on the head resisted momentarily, then pulled away, scraping over the most sensitive areas and overwhelming the endorphins with a tsunami of pain/pain. I cried out in pain.

He threw his body against mine, mashing my legs against my stomach, and glued his lips to mine, swallowing my cries of pain and ravishing my mouth with his tongue. I could feel the tears starting to flow under the blindfold, as the pain, the sudden attack on my mouth and the feeling of the clothespins being ground into my stomach as he lay on top of me, all overwhelmed me.

How long we remained in that position, I don't know. Gradually, the pain started to subside and my cries lessened and, finally, stopped. I reached for the blindfold, but he took my wrists and held them above my head as he whispered in my ear, "Don't take it off until I tell you to. Keep your hands where they are."

Slowly, he raised himself off me and I was able to stretch out my legs. I could feel his cum on my feet, my legs and my aching crotch. I felt something wet and sticky touch my cheek and knew what he wanted. I turned my head and took his softening cock in my mouth, cleaning his cum off it with my tongue and enjoying the slightly bitter taste of the thick liquid. I inhaled deeply and enjoyed the slightly musky, manly odor, and wondered what it would be like to feel his body pressed against mine. I winced a bit as the blood was rushing back to my crotch, exacerbating the pain of the now gone clothespins.

Then he was gone. I lay back and focused on my body, feeling his cum sliding down my stockings and starting to dry on my feet. I heard my own breathing start to return to normal. Above all, I felt that terrible stinging in my crotch and wondered if any of the clothespins had broken the skin. The pain had been my gift of pleasure to him. Now, it was simply pain.

I concentrated on getting my breathing back to normal. I kept my hands over my head and the blindfold in place, as he has instructed. In the darkness, I could hear everything: the hum of the air conditioner; urine hitting the toilet; flushing; water running; the rattle of hangers; a zipper being pulled up. I realized that I wasn't going to get to see what must have been a magnificent cock...perhaps next time. I hoped he would want there to be a next time.

I heard the door open. "You can take off the blindfold now." Then the sound of the door closing.

I removed the blindfold and found myself alone in the room. On the floor lay a two piles of clothespins, one wooden and one the dreaded plastic mini-clips, each tied together with a single string running through the eyelets. No wonder the pain had been so intense, the removal so quick: he had used a zipper on me! Fortunately, there was no bleeding, though I saw a couple of places where the blood had been brought to the surface, but without breaking the skin. The shower was not going to be fun.

I took off my stockings and started processing what had happened, casually sucking his cum out of the toes of the stockings and remembering how his chest felt...how he smelled. I had finished one stocking and was putting the other one in my mouth when I caught myself: what was I doing? I may swallow cum fresh from a cock, but I didn't take sloppy seconds: that repulsed me. It's disgusting, I told myself, as I sucked his sloppy seconds cum out of the second stocking.

Not for the first time since my "recruitment" by Mr. King, my mind was troubled. What was happening to me? Why was I behaving like this? Where were these thoughts coming from? That's not how I think about men. That's not how I think about men...is it?