I groan, the relative comfort of the bed beneath me doing little to alleviate the ache in my taut muscles, the stretch of my joints or the lightly burning tightness at my wrists and ankles.
I am naked and secured widely spread-eagled to our large bed. I have been like this for.. Actually I have no idea how long. I cannot see a clock, and the drawn blinds prevent me from gauging the passing of the day. Probably less than an hour?
I groan again. Or moan perhaps? The pain in my limbs is not the only, or even main, source of the inarticulate noises that issue unbidden from my mouth.
The tight constriction of plastic and metal around my cock and balls, restraining my penis in its efforts to grow to a full erection, is definitely adding to my discomfort. My inability to move, as well as the crushing of my cock, combining to reduce me to a thing. No control. No agency. Helpless.
None of the aforementioned, however, are the cause of the gasps and strained, heavy panting that now break from my lips. Nor are they the source of the beads of sweat covering my skin, the lines of spittle that drool from my lips or the quivering and writhing of my body. Such as my tight bondage allows at least. The cause of my reactions are the vibrations running through my insides, as they have done every few minutes for my time in bondage. Relentlessly stimulating me for a time before shutting off for an agonisingly unpredictable period.
Even when there are no vibrations, the thick, eight-inch dildo upon which I am impaled highlights every internal muscle twitch and contraction of my stretched asshole. There is no respite. No relief from constant and varied stimulation. I am tied so tight that I can barely slide an inch on the massive fake cock. I can no more escape the anal intrusion than a butterfly can the pin that holds it to the page.
The only other visible sign of my frantic but tightly constrained twitching and writhing is the obscene quivering and waving of the equally large, bigger even perhaps, faux cock mounted around my hips, just above my caged cock, and secured with thin but strong leather harness straps.
So lost am I, so reduced to a mindlessly twitching, agonisedly experiencing piece of helpless meat, that I almost scream as fingertips run lightly up the tight muscles of my inner thigh. I whimper as the fingertips drift further up my body. Passing close to, but not touching my genitals, the nails scratch ohh so slowly over my stomach and up to my hard nipples, where they pause to play.
My shuddering increases and my head lolls to the side as those blood-red nails toy and then torture my sensitive buds. The pain of the pinching just adds another deeper, humiliating level to the waves of sensation possessing my body. Just as I think I am going mad, I hear a familiar voice.
"Let's turn this off for a moment shall we"
It takes me a few seconds for my body to even be able to register that the maddening vibrations have ceased, even then the aftershocks continue unabated.
My wife, Kate, leans down and kisses my tear-streaked face with lips that match her nails. Her breath is warm and wet in my ear.
"My turn for fun"
I feel as much as see Kate climb astride my torso, her knees either side of my chest and tucked up close to my shoulders. Through blinked back tears I look up her magnificent body.
Her face is in shadow and framed by her long red hair. Her breasts jut out, nipples rock hard and shiny with something wet. As my eyes take in the gentle curve of her belly she speaks again
"See how excited I have become watching you for the last hour"
