Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2007 18:00:23 -0700 From: David Andrew Subject: Bondage balls pain & pleasure Part 16 One winter the airline chartered a 747 to a South American carrier who flew 767s and wanted to see if they could work up the traffic to justify the $100 million a pop to buy 747s. The operation worked in well with our JFK flights which arrived in the afternoon and evening because the same crew operated the leg to Miami next morning and another crew flew on south. Amongst the ads in the Ball Club Quarterly were a couple that sounded interesting. One simply said something like, "Safe, sane Master would like to meet with Bottoms who are prepared for rough fun..." The other was similar but added, "I have a purpose built dungeon and a totally secluded yard if you want to play naked in the sun." There were phone numbers too, but I'd never tried to make contact because these tops lived in cities that were 30 and 50 miles from Miami. We had less than 24 hours in Miami, arriving early evening, pick-up next afternoon, so there was no way I could head off that far to play sexual games. Well when this charter came along that changed everything. After bringing the flight down from JFK we were off for 44 hours, a whole day clear in Miami, plenty of time to play. Now 50 miles didn't seem far at all! I called both numbers on the trip before I was scheduled for the charter flight. There were answering machines on both lines, I left messages asking them to call back. They didn't. Before pick-up next day I called again, got the answering machines, left rather more detailed messages and gave them the number of the hotel in Miami. Only the three of us in the cockpit were slipping in Miami, the cabin crew who worked for the South American carrier worked straight through. I must admit that had those gorgeous girls been staying with us in the hotel I'd have been torn between trying to get one of them into bed and submitting to S&M sex with a man. On checking-in in Miami I asked if there were any messages for me. There were none. Well both guys could have been on vacation, or at work, so I decided to try again in the evening. That day I spent with the other two pilots, but in the back of my mind there was always the thought, 'What would they think if they knew what I was hoping to get up to?' To cover my tracks I told them that the following day I'd be renting a car and driving up north (kept it vague) to look up and old Navy friend. Naturally I asked if they'd be interested in coming along for the ride, and as I hoped, and expected, they declined. They had plans for renting a car too and driving along the Tamiami Trail confidently expecting to see alligators swarming across the road. I'd done that, seen not a single alligator, but didn't dissuade them! That evening I called both numbers again. At the first there was the now familiar voice on the machine. The second guy picked up. I decided not to mention the previous calls, just start over. I explained who I was and where I'd seen his ad. I'd have to say that I sensed a deep wariness, suspicion even. I pretended not to notice and to ease his tension suggested that he look at the BCQ, the Ball Club quarterly magazine, where he'd see my ad. He did that but seemed only slightly less reserved. Anyway I told him that I was in Miami and free all the next day and asked if he'd like to meet. "Oh I don't live in Miami..." he said. "I know, but I could easily rent a car and drive up..." "Well... Oh, it's a long drive..." I'd looked at a map, I knew it was 50 miles give or take. "It's not too far for a bit of fun..." I countered, but in truth by this time I was beginning to think I was flogging a dead horse and wondering whether I should back out gracefully or just hang up. Then as a last attempt to get the guy to open up I decided to use the same tactic I'd used with Thomas in Manhattan. "If you want to know more about me you could call Ken Schein, ask him about me. (Ken ran the Ball Club.) "Oh! If you know Ken then of course I'd like you to come... Oh yes...That would be great... What time do you think you'd be able to get here!" Suddenly the whole atmosphere had changed. He gave me the street address, instructions as to where to come off the Interstate, and agreed that I'd be there at around noon. At noon next day I was in his street, all single story, ranch style homes. From some way off I saw two men and woman chatting in what had to be his driveway. Not knowing who these people were, or how he'd explain my arrival, I sat in the car until they drove off before I pulled in. Max (not his real name because he lived in a small community and might too easily be recognized if I used his real, and rather unusual name) was about 60, maybe a bit more, mostly gray hair, short, trim guy. He was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. After the introductions he suggested we go get a bite to eat before getting going. I agreed, not that I was hungry, but clearly it would help to get to know each other a bit better. Naturally we had to get past the airline horror stories, but then I managed to get back to the matter in hand, and the things I hoped he was going to have in his hands. He asked me about my experiences, seemed enthusiastic. I asked him what he liked to do to bottoms, almost everything it seemed. Things were going very well, then he added something that got my attention. "One thing that really fascinates me is castration..." Well I guess I did the proverbial double-take! Is there a triple-take? Clearly he noticed, he'd have had to be blind to miss it. "Oh I don't mean I'd like to castrate anyone... No, no, that's not what I meant! No...I'd like to be castrated. I'd like to find someone who do it to me!" I was still looking at him in amazement. "I don't mean I'd like just anyone to do it, it would have to be a doctor...or someone with some medical expertise...a paramedic maybe..." I suppose he'd added this to make it seem more reasonable, more normal, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Why on earth would you want that?" I asked incredulously. Ands I may say I was very glad I was having this conversation across a table in a diner rather than when I was strapped to a bed! "Well I know it must sound strange to you at your age. I mean your balls are your pride and joy, they give you so much pleasure, they pump out all that semen, and those hormones that get you aroused. No, I wouldn't want to lose them when they're pumping all that good stuff. But as a man gets older they lose their potency, they still look the same, but the jewels lose their luster, and eventually they're just little bits of meat dangling between a man's legs...quite useless!" Well I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead! "So," he continued, "I'd like to experience the ultimate in S&M. Literally offer my balls to another man. Not when they've become useless bits of meat, but while they're still functional, still testicles, because once they're dead...well who cares? What difference would it make then?" I swallowed hard! But thinking about what he had said I could almost understand what he was getting at...maybe...! Perhaps he sensed that I was now uneasy because once more he emphasized that he wasn't interested in castrating anyone, this was something that he hoped would be done to himself. And he seemed such a nice guy...! I guess Dahmer seemed like a "real nice guy" too! So we went back to his place. In the lounge he told me to strip off. I wasn't wearing much, and he watched with undisguised interest which brought my cock up fast. He came close, fondled the goodies, then said he'd have to get "some things." When he came back he was naked too, and what a sight! No, he didn't have the biggest dick I'd ever seen, it was his body, it was a mass of swirling, multi-coloured tattoos. Starting about 3 inches above his knees right up to his neckline, and down his arms to about three inches above his elbows. I guess I didn't manage to disguise my surprise. "What do you think?" he asked. I hadn't even formed a reply when he started to explain. "You see my neighbours are good folk, I don't like to rub my lifestyle in their faces. So I had the tattoos only where they wouldn't be visible when I'm dressed." Well put that way it wasn't so much bizarre as thoughtful. "Do you like the serpent?" he asked as I stood there with my mouth open. On closer inspection I saw that amongst the swirling vines and floral motifs there was a indeed a serpent, it appeared to be coming out of his ass, wound its way around one leg, then around his waist before twisting down to his penis, the head of his penis was the head of the snake. I have to admit that it was indeed a work of art. I have never had a tattoo, but somehow I imagine that having your cock-head tattooed must be extremely painful. When I asked Max he brushed it off. "Oh well if you really want something it's not that painful." (Anyone want to tell me about tattoos? I'd love to know just how painful it is, especially on one's penis!) Max was carrying cuffs, ankle and wrist, with four long, heavy-duty chains attached. By the time he had put these on I was dripping. He let the chains fall on the floor. "Come..." he said heading for the open French windows that led to the garden. As I followed the heavy metal dragged with suitably mediaeval noises, definitely a turn-on as a prelude to an S&M session! I guess I must have hesitated at the door. "Come on out," he said. "No one can see into the yard...no problems..." I stepped out into the bright sunshine. The heat of the sun, especially on my cock and balls, made me feel even more naked. On the side of the house Max had built an extra room, not big, maybe 15 feet square. He opened the door, it creaked and groaned as though the hinges were ancient. "Do you like that?" he asked cheerfully. "Took quite a while to get those hinges fucked up enough to get that sound right!" Talk about attention to detail! The interior of the "dungeon" had also showed attention to detail. On every side there were chains, whips, cats, black leather hoods, gags, straps and shining steel things, rings clamps, clips, ball presses, everything you ever saw in a sex-toy shop, but by the hundred, uncountable. I stopped dead in the doorway, not out of fear, I was simply awestruck! Max noticed, and he looked pleased. Against the back wall stood a big, black diagonal cross made from six inch square timber. This too showed attention to detail. The wood had been so "distressed" that it looked ancient, mediaeval, could easily have been taken from a museum of the torturer's art. Extending from the wall to our right was what I'd call a padded torture table. It was in the form of a stick-man, a narrow central bench with "arms" that extended at right angles, and "legs" that spread out in a Vee at the end. The whole thing was covered in black leather with broad leather straps, two for each arm, two for each leg, one at the waistline, another that would cross the chest. This was one impressive piece of gear! "Why don't you get up," Max said pointing at the padded table. I noticed that he wasn't calling me "boy," or "slave," so I took that to mean that we weren't going to be playing the usual "Master'/Slave" role. Strangely, in spite of the "fearsome" look of the dungeon, and this table in particular, I didn't feel apprehensive at all, I can only say that Max had put me totally at ease as we'd chatted over lunch. I climbed up and lay down. Now I saw another detail, a big mirror mounted above the table, and at just the right angle for the "torture victim" to be able to see himself in the reflection! Max had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make this one hot dungeon! The strapping down limb by limb took a while, and still I was relaxed which I cannot explain because with two straps on each limb I really was at his mercy, and after the waist and chest straps had been tightened I could shake my head, but nothing else! I very soon realized that Max was a ball man. He did put clamps on my tits, and hung weights on them, but this was only by way of decoration because he didn't torture them. And he liked to use his hands! Oh my did he know how to ring the best sensations from a pair of balls! He had me straining against the straps in no time. "Too much?" he asked. "Oh no! Please don't stop..." I gasped. He didn't. But soon I knew I was going to come, I didn't want to, not yet, not for a long time. "I'm going to come..." I said. "I'll take care of that," he said looking around the walls. "Here it is..." He reached for a paddle, a heavy one, I don't like paddling. He pulled my cock up to lift my balls form between my legs so that the could get at them from all sides. I knew it was going to hurt. He didn't just use it on my balls, that might have brought me off, no, he used it on the insides of my thighs. Oh God it hurt! And took my mind right off coming that's for sure. "Boy," he said, "I just love working a man's balls...any balls! But hairless ones are the best... They're beautiful... I'm really going to beat them hard." I tried to thank him for the compliment, but the words came out all mangled as he laid the paddle on hard and fast. I just held my breath, couldn't breathe as I concentrated furiously on forcing them down so that they could swing with the hits. Next came the ball press, what can I say? Tenderized testicles react oh so strongly when they're crushed before they've had any time to recover from a beating. Very soon I was struggling to suppress a strangled roar. "Can't have that," Max said. "No one can see in, but they sure as hell can hear!" With that he reached for a gag. It was in the form of a short, fat, black phallus. I didn't object, we had all day to play and I didn't want him to cut it short because of the neighbours. With my mouth firmly plugged I had something that I could sink my teeth into when Max turned to screw on the crusher again. I whimpered, he spoke soothingly; I sweated, he was thrilled. After an eternity he released the press. If the pain had been bad as my balls had been crushed, now as the blood rushed back in I wrenched wildly at the straps, wrenched but didn't move. "So..." he said as I calmed down, "How about we take a break? Lie out in the garden for a while?" It sure sounded good to me. But before releasing me Max put a stretcher on my balls, one with a ring sewn into the leather, and attached another 10 or 12 foot length of heavy chain to it. As we walked back out into the brilliant sunshine, me dragging the chains from my ankles, wrists and scrotum which jingled and clinked over the tiles around a small pool. He told me to lie on one of the loungers while he got us a couple of beers. I have to say it was a very strange sensation to be lying naked in a suburban garden. There was a seven foot fence of over-lapping wooden planks, but I could see the roof-line of the house next door, and hear the neighbour's kids jumping into the pool, and here was I lying with my aching balls beginning to relax in the warmth of the sun! Of course as my scrotum stretched in the heat the chain dragged my balls down, keeping me acutely conscious of my nakedness. When Max joined me he too lay on a chaise, it could have been any suburban scene anywhere in the world, but with two naked men? One of whom wanted his balls beaten? The other wanting to beat them? As we lay in his secluded back yard we talked about my previous experiences. At some point I told him about Paul and the ball piercing. "You know Paul?" Max asked. "You know him too?" I was surprised, I knew that Paul traveled a lot, but I only knew of his overseas trips. "Oh yes I know Paul..." I could see from his eyes that he was thinking back on fun times. "I'm the only one who ever topped Paul you know. I was even more surprised and said so. "Every top has someone who is his top...if he's any good that is. How else would he know just how much pressure to apply? How hard to hit? Where to place the needles?" It made perfect sense...in a bizarre way!, "Paul always told me that he did nothing that hadn't been done to him. I just assumed that these things had been done long ago. That he'd once been a bottom and had then "graduated" to being a top," I said. "No...Paul and I meet up about once a year...I make sure he can take what he likes to dish out." I sensed a certain amount of satisfaction in his voice. "Of course Paul isn't his real name...you know that don't you?" I didn't, and suddenly all those letters from Paul saying, "If you trust me..." came to mind. "If you trust me?" I'd told him my real name, I had to otherwise the hotel wouldn't have been able to put him through to my room. So how the fuck could he come up with that crap? Why in all our meetings did he never trust me enough to tell me his real name? Luckily before I got all pissed off Max changed the subject. "You said you like being whipped...can I whip you now?" "Oh yes...Please Sir!" I really needed a whipping to wipe away the trust issue. Max picked up the chain attached to my balls and led the way back to the dungeon. "On the bench or the cross?" he asked. There was no doubt in my mind, I wanted the cross, but Max was the top and I told him I'd accept his choice. To my delight he went over to the cross. "Here, give me a hand with this..." he said. Between us we pulled it out three or four feet from the wall. It was heavy, massive, and was supported by steel brackets that swung out from the base of each leg to prevent it from toppling. He tied my arms and legs to the blackened wood, a rope at each elbow and wrist, others at my ankle and just below the knees. Again I could have come as I was being secured, so close that I considered asking Max to paddle my legs again. "A cat or a whip?" he asked. "A cat wouldn't leave marks Sir... Marks would be a problem...Sir." "I won't leave marks, don't worry about that." "Then both Sir," I said. I don't know why I said 'Sir' at this stage, maybe the cross had made it seem more like a real torture scene. Max removed the stretcher from my scrotum, fondled my balls for a minute or so, it was so good know that he was about to inflict real pain on those soft little jewels. He started with the cat. When he worked on my upper body and shoulders he had me twisting against the bonds. The position gave him access to my rib cage, both sides, that was a first for me, and it stung! When he went for my butt it felt better, and then it was hard again when he moved on down to my legs. Occasionally he swung the cat up between my legs to rake my cock and balls, but there really wasn't enough space between my butt and the floor for him to get a good swing at them. He did go around the back of the cross to get at them, but my cock was rigid and immediately below the join in the cross and even though I pressed my body hard against the wood only my cock-head stuck out the far side so even from the back he couldn't really get a good shot at it. "Now Boy I think you're warmed up... You want to be whipped?" he asked. Want it? I was almost begging for it. Again the whip stung my back, ribs, buns and legs, but my cock and balls were still not taking real good hits. I did push my butt back as far as I could to spread the cheeks and let him in, but I couldn't move much, and he certainly didn't get at my hole. Eventually Max turned me around. Now my cock was way out front, a perfect target, but my balls were still between my legs and not being as badly treated as I'd hoped. I was wondering how I could ask, Max after all was the top and I was the bottom. My dilemma was solved for the time being when he suggested another break in the garden. Before we lay on the chaise with beers Max checked my body for bruises. "Some slight marks... They'll fade, not going to be a problem..." "Does that mean we can do some more?" I asked hopefully. "You want more?" My look told him the answer to that question. "Oh yes...I'll whip you some more boy. On the cross?" "I loved the feeling of being tied like that...the feel of the wood against my body...but..." Could I really ask for what I wanted? I decided to go for it. "But you can't get at my hole...and you can't really lay it on my balls." There, I'd asked. Max's face lit up "Oh I can arrange that," he said smiling broadly. "You want it right on your hole?" My stomach really tightened up, I nodded. "And right on your balls?" "Yes." I could hardly get it out. Then I thought, 'What the heck...I've taken plenty and never had a problem,' so I added, "There's no way to see marks in my butt crack, and my cock and balls recover very quickly..." "Oh boy! You want to feel it eh? Yes, I'll give you what you want...It's what I want, but I wasn't sure that you would take it. There's no hurry," he said gesturing with his beer can. "we'll enjoy this first, then when we're done...you'll get what you need." When we did go back into the dungeon he took me to the bench. "First," he said, "I'm going to rake your ass... Get up...face down." Getting up on the bench with the Y-shape legs was oh so good. Max clipped the ankle cuffs to the frame, then the wrist cuffs too. "Now I'm going to lift this neat ass of yours." With that he pushed a bolster under my hips. It was a firm one, padded but very firm. Now my butt was well up, legs wide apart, ass hole very much the target. He used the cat for a while, that stung, but I wanted the whip. I was beginning to wonder if he'd not understood that I really wanted the whip, but I was wrong. "Okay...that's got your attention...and I can see your cock leaking so you're ready for more!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reach for the whip so to make sure he knew what I needed I lifted my butt just as far as I could. I was still a little anxious about marks on my buns when I got home, but Max concentrated on the crease, and the sphincter in particular. Oh yes I writhed my shoulders, I squirmed, my arms strained against the restraints, but I tried to hold my butt still, the more hits I could take down the centre line the fewer marks there'd be on my buns. After a goodly whipping my little pucker was on fire, my balls too had taken a number of hits, but only on the back of the scrotum. Now I wanted the real thing! Max judged it just right, he released me, had me turn over, and re-secured me with the bolster under my butt. My but my buns were hot against the pillow, felt like I was lying on a heated pad! When he started whipping again Max switched back to the cat. Again this was a warm-up, but now that I was lying on my back I could see my cock and balls, I could see the cat, and watching made it twice as good! When he decided that I was ready he reached for the whip. It didn't take long to have me struggling again, this time my whole body was writhing as the hits rained down on my cock and balls. I have no idea as to how many strokes I took, but all too soon I knew I was going to come. "Please Sir! I've got to come Sir!" I gasped as the hits continued. "No! Not yet!" "Yes Sir...I've got to...I can't stop it!" I knew I was about to spurt no matter what he did. "Then come for my whip boy! Come on...let me see you shoot..." And he speeded up the strokes, the pain built up to a crescendo, and then the release! Max went on hitting my balls even as they pumped the semen out over my whole body. When I was all done he threw down the whip and lay down on top of me. He was a lot smaller than me, shorter and lighter, and he rubber his body up and down, side to side. I'd pumped a good load so we slipped and slithered in the jism. God it felt so good! As Max was releasing my limbs I noticed for the first time that there were five of six boards about a foot square hanging up high on one of the walls, right up next to the ceiling. These boards were made out of thin plywood, or they could have been hardboard (MDF). Each had a circular hole roughly in the centre, maybe two and a half inches across, and each was stained, dirty brown stains. I don't know why but those things grabbed my attention, I had to know what they were, and why Max had them hanging way up there. "Those boards..." I asked as he released my ankle. "What are they?" He smiled. "Did you ever hear of the butterfly?" he asked. Butterfly? It meant nothing to me. I shook my head, baffled. "Well it's maybe a bit extreme..." It looked like he wasn't going to explain any further so I asked again, for some reason I just had to know more. "Well..." Max was clearly searching for a way to tell me about the butterfly. "Once you've got a guy spread-eagled...what you do is you pull his cock and balls through the hole. Then you use needles to pin the skin to the board...all the way around..." He was looking at me for a reaction; I was trying to hide the shock. It was now obvious what the stains were! "See you take hold of the skin like this..." He pulled my bruised scrotum to one side, "Then the needle goes in like this," he said pointing down at 45 degrees to show how the needle would be angled to hold the skin out to the side. "Then you do the same on the other side...and you keep pulling out the skin and pinning it down all the way round." He paused looking at me. "And then?" I had to know. "Then you do the same to his cock...pull the skin...pin it to the board." I was wondering if I really wanted to know more, but... "And once he's all pinned down?" "Well then you can do pretty much anything you want to his cock and balls! Stick more needles in...the penis is real sensitive...especially the head." By this time I almost had my legs crossed. I don't know why, I'd had my balls pierced, that hadn't been particularly painful. One time when I'd commented to Paul about how surprising it was that there was no blood he'd said, "Blood? You want to see blood? If I pierce your penis you'll see plenty. Will you let me do it one day?" Well my answer was no! Not MY penis! And that's the way I still felt. Max and I showered together, then lay for a while in the garden, still naked of course By now the sun was setting, but it was still warm, and I was feeling totally relaxed. He fondled my balls, sure they were blotchy and bruised, but hanging loose in the warm evening air he certainly seemed to enjoy them. After a while he said, "You can feel mine if you like..." I reached over to take them, but there was so much metal in his sac that I wasn't sure if I'd hurt him. "Don't worry," he said sensing my dilemma, 'they taken so many beatings there's nothing you can do to hurt them." Now you know I'm sure a lot of guys who read this will have rings and other ornaments in the cocks and balls, and there's no way I can know what it feels like to them, but I can't say that a heavily "decorated" sac feels as good as the plain, naked, and preferably hairless ones. We eventually dressed and went out for a meal after which I set off for Miami. I slept very well that night! But there's a sequel! Well of course there's a sequel, isn't this Part 16? Even Rocky didn't run to 16 iterations. For some reason the memory of those boards and what they'd been used for kept coming back. Usually at night, sitting over an ocean when there's nothing to do between position reports every 40 minutes or so, I'd find myself thinking about the butterfly. I can't say why, it wasn't the worst torture imaginable, my balls had been slapped, whipped, bruised and pierced, yet I'd survived unharmed. The pictures of the two men who had been encased in Plaster of Paris that Brian had brought to the beach, those were worse than the butterfly. I can't imagine anything worse than being entombed totally unable to move so much as a muscle when your balls are being tortured, let alone having them destroyed with a baseball bat! Yet, although I could remember the details in those pictures very clearly, they didn't prey on my mind. Perhaps it was because they were so extreme as to be almost unbelievable whereas the butterfly...well I could believe that, and I'd seen the blood stains! Yes, I could visualize every detail of the boards, and at some point I began to wonder why they were so badly made. They had clearly been sawn with a handsaw, the edges weren't exactly straight, and the holes too had been roughly cut. The edges of the hole had little splinters of wood that had lifted, cut with a blunt hole-saw I'd say. I thought about those little splinters around the hole. The thought of getting a splinter in one's scrotum! Or in the soft skin of one's penis! Oh that was so much worse than a needle! Why wouldn't someone have rubbed it down with sandpaper? No expertise needed, could have been done in a minute, yet it was rough, and that roughness had been rubbing against some guy's cock and ball sac! These thoughts pushed the actual "butterflying" from front and centre of my imagination. Over the next few weeks I began thinking about how I would have made one of those boards. I have every woodworking tool known to DIY so I knew that I could have done a much better job. Not that I was about to let Max butterfly me! Anyway the charter only had a few weeks to run so there really wasn't any chance that I'd be meeting him again. I could have requested to operate one of the flights, but I never put in a request just to have sex. It wasn't moral scruples, when the roster was published there would be an R beside requested flights. If my wife saw the roster she might very well have wondered why I wanted to be on that particular flight on that particular day. Even if I didn't bring home a copy she might very well see one in one of my colleagues homes when she was making plans with other airline wives. And Miami? She knew I did not like Miami! But still I thought about how I'd have made a board, not for use, more as an exercise in craftsmanship. Then one day when I was home a neighbour came over to ask if I'd give him a hand with a project for his children's school. He needed to cut shapes out of a large sheet of 3mm plywood, squares, triangles, circles etc. It didn't take long, and with all the shapes cut there were several pieces of the wood left over. He had no use for it so them and they were left on the radial-arm saw table. Now isn't that just the way fate puts temptation in our way? And I can resist anything but temptation! My wife was out, was going to be out all day, fate again. So inevitably I looked at these pieces of plywood in a different light. I sliced off a small piece, maybe 6 inches by 8. I had a selection of hole saws, 3 inches looked about right. As I expected the hole was much smoother than those in the boards in Max's dungeon, and that was even before I sanded it lightly. Well by this time I had an erection in my jeans, they had to come off. The hole was too big...or I was too small. Okay, at 7 inches and average nuts I'm not heroically endowed, but with my gear through the hole the board could move about way too much...not that I was going to use the board you understand. So I tried another bit of wood and a two inch saw. I could get my balls through alright, or my cock and one testicle, but basically this hole was too small. I didn't have a two and a half inch saw, although if I had had any real expectation of using a board I suspect that I'd have jumped in the car and bought one. However, I didn't expect to get back to Max's dungeon, nor would I have let him pin my gear to a board either, so I left it at that. And that's how things would have remained, except for those long night flights over the oceans. Thinking back on the holes I'd cut I realized that the ideal shape isn't a circle, it should have been more egg-shaped, the smaller diameter at the top around the base of the penis, the bigger one at the bottom under the scrotum. I don't have to spell it out, I had to try it if only to see what it felt like. So on my next days off I waited until my wife was out visiting girlfriends, then back to the workshop. I started again with a two inch hole, then used a small drum-sander to change the shape trying at intervals to see how the fit was coming along. Didn't take long, and I ended up with a hole that trapped my cock and balls perfectly. However, another surprise. After a minute or two I realized that although the edges of the hole were pretty smooth, it wasn't really comfortable...as though comfort was on the minds of the guys who'd been pinned to boards! I decided that what I had to do was to round off the edge so that there wasn't a right-angle around the rim of the hole. Again the little drum-sander came into play. The part of the circle that was around my balls didn't need to be chamfered much, but when I pressed my cock down against the wood, the way it would be IF it was being pinned down, still wasn't right. I had to take away a lot more to make it just right. By this time I was really taken with the little board I'd made, and although I say so myself my cock and balls looked good sticking out through the hole. In fact I was beginning to wonder about the butterfly, or at any rate I wasn't thinking of it the way I had after leaving Max, not that it mattered since I wasn't going to meet him again. And that's as far as I'd have gone...except that when I picked up my next roster I saw that I was scheduled for the last of the charter flights...44 hours in Miami!!!!!!! I cut another board, full size this time, about 12 inches by 10. Once more I cut the hole and modified it, and when I tried it on I can tell you that my heart was pounding. However, at this stage I realized that the full-sized board had a distinct drawback. When I pulled my cock and balls though it pressed against my hips which kept it clear of my body unless I pressed down hard. So I did a further bit of modification, took away a curved piece from each side so that it now sat between my hips, much better. And while I was at it I rounded off all corners, and then went over it with a radial sander. My, but it was smooth, like silk! My next trip was to Chicago, feeling very guilty I slipped the board between my clothes in my suitcase, and prayed hard that the bag wouldn't be mis-handled! It wasn't, see prayers are answered...but not often! We were there for two days, I sent it to Max over-night by Express mail as a surprise. Just before sealing the envelope in the Post Office I wrote my name on the board, and the date that I was scheduled to be in Miami. When I called him next day I had a serious knot in my stomach as I dialed his number; he had received it. "Yes," he said, "I got it... It's very nice..." Then more hesitantly, "Does this mean what I think it means?" "Oh yes..." I gulped hard, "I'm going to be in Miami next week...Any chance we could meet?" "There sure is!" he said happily. "Come hell or high water..." So, two weeks later I was in a rental car heading north. Max looked really pleased to see me, the broadest grin I'd seen in a long time. When we got inside the house he knelt down and kissed the head of my cock. "Are you really going to let me do it?" he asked. I just nodded, couldn't speak. "And will you let me play with them a while first? Like last time...only a bit harder maybe?" "Oh yes..." I said, "Definitely harder." When Max put on the cuffs and attached the chains he was gentle and I began to wonder why. But when he put on the stretcher he was very much rougher, wonderfully painful. And as he attached the heavy chain to the stretcher he really had me groaning...with pleasure of course. We went through the house to the back garden and into the dungeon, I must admit that my stomach tightened up as I stepped through the door. When I lay back on the bench I realized that max had repositioned the mirror, it was much lower now giving me a closer view of my crotch, and the board Id sent was hanging from one edge right over my head. He gave my balls a really good work-out which completely took my mind off the butterfly. I spent an hour or more writhing in ecstasy before Max decided it was time for a break. Again we went out into the garden, lay naked in the sun. One part of my mind wanted to keep doing this all day, torture... sunbathe... torture... sunbathe. But I also wanted to be "done"! Yes, by this time whatever doubts I'd had, well they were much more than doubts, I had been repulsed by the idea when Max had explained the significance of the boards, but now I wanted it! Weird? Absolutely! We chatted casually; he asked about places I'd been since our last meeting, I asked about men he'd had in his dungeon. All the while I was wondering when he was going to say it was time to do the butterfly thing. Eventually he reached over and slapped my balls, "Come..." he said. 'He wants to do it!' I thought. "I want to whip you...Do you want it on the cross? Or will let you let me lay it straight on your balls?" Naturally I wanted both, but I let him choose. When he took me back in he tied me to the cross. There was something incredibly exciting about that cross, can't say exactly what made it so hot, my cock and balls were not as exposed when I was facing it, but pressing my body against the rough wood was a real turn-on. Max raked me from my shoulders to my thighs, the turned me around and worked my chest and genitals. My cock took a lot of punishment, but I try as I might I couldn't get my balls right out in the line of fire. That was taken care of when Max released me from the cross and tied me to the bench, face up. Then my balls got it! And it was so good. Once Max was satisfied we went back out to the garden for another break. This time I was sure that he'd butterfly my cock and balls when we'd finished our drinks. We lay there soaking up the warmth, drinking beer, could have been any two guys shooting the breeze, except that we were naked...and for what was coming! Again max leaned over, but he didn't slap my balls, he took them gently in his fingers. "And are you ready to give these to me now?" Well I'd pretty much let him have them since I'd arrived, but I knew what he meant. I just nodded. When he had me strapped down back on the bench he reached for the board I'd made. By now I was beginning to wish I hadn't been so impetuous, but I consoled myself that I'd been through this before, I'd survived, so it wasn't going to be that bad. Max slipped the board over my cock then pulled one testicle up but to get the other one through he had to push it from beneath. It popped through, beautiful! But once Max's hands were clear of my crotch I got a clear look at them in the mirror. Oh they looked good, even though I say so myself, my balls were held up high, and my cock was good and stiff, but I couldn't help thinking that they looked like bits of meat on a carving board. Not a nice thought! And also for the first time I realized that I was going to have a front row seat for the piercing. With Paul I'd always been blindfolded, at least until he was through with inserting the needles although he insisted on me looking at his handiwork once they were all in place. But lying on Max's bench with the mirror just above me the view was going to be all too clear. I wondered if he'd mind if I asked him to swivel it, but decided against asking since he'd gone to the trouble of re-positioning it presumably so that I could in fact get a close-up view. I decided that I'd just shut my eyes and let it happen. "Are you okay?" Max asked. "Sure..." I tried to sound confident, don't think I succeeded. "Shall we do it?" 'Shall WE do it! He's going to DO it,' I thought. "Yeah...do it." I said with only the slightest quaver in my voice. I watched for a few moments. Max's fingers went for my scrotum, about the middle on the right side. With one hand he spread the skin down against the board and out to the side. Then with the skin trapped by his left hand he reached over to get a needle from a sort of bandoleer of needles. They were short ones, maybe three quarters of an inch long, somehow that seemed reassuring. (Isn't it amazing? No matter how small the straw we still clutch at it.) Since the needle looked so inoffensive I didn't close my eyes. However, with Max's hand right over my balls I couldn't actually see the needle. When he pressed it down and through my skin I felt it! The sting was actually worse than when Paul had pierced my balls. The only explanation that I can think of is that there were two layers of skin pierced almost simultaneously, as it went in and as it came out the other side. Still it wasn't real bad, I could handle it, my cock still looked good, and I felt better knowing that I didn't have to look away or shut my eyes since I couldn't actually see the needle as it went in. Now Max switched to the left side directly opposite the first needle. He pulled the skin out and down, I felt the skin on the other side pulling against the first needle. He reached for the bandoleer, then positioned his right hand on top of my balls. I realized too late that I could actually see the point, and exactly where it was going to pierce the skin. I know exactly what a bird feels like when it is staring into the eyes of a snake because I couldn't take my eyes off the shinning point. No the sting wasn't any worse than the first one, but seeing it go through did make me feel slightly sick. I told myself to get real, this wasn't any worse than getting injections. I breathed deeply a few times. "You still alright?" Max asked. I nodded. Max worked his way around my scrotum, alternating right side, left side. The needles were going in at an angle, like tent pegs, to hold the skin out and down. Pull... Pause... Hold my breath... Sting! Pull... Pause... Hold my breath...Sting! Six on each side. When he stood up to admire his work he wasn't satisfied. "Not symmetrical...I'm going to have to move a couple," he said. He pulled out the two nearest to the back of my scrotum. More pulling...Pause...hold my breath...Sting! "What do you think?" he asked. I said nothing. "Now just one more at the back..." From the way he pulled my scrotum down I knew that this last needle was going to be placed on the centreline. Pull... Pause... Oh My God!!!!! It was very much more painful than the others, way worse! " Not too bad was it?" Max said casually. "Not too bad..." I agreed. I managed to breathe easier, but I knew we weren't through yet, not by a long way. My scrotum was now spread out around the mound of my testicles. Looked like little hypodermic tops surrounding two fried eggs! Max reached over to one side and I saw that he had two lengths of quarter inch doweling in his hand. One he slipped under the board, the other he laid across my penis. He took used two strong rubber bands slipped over the ends of the rods to hold my cock down against the wood. 'Oh God!' I thought, 'What the fuck am I doing here?' The Almighty didn't immediately intervene. "You see," said Max in a conversational tone, "we need to keep your cock down and still. Believe me it's the best way to do it." Best? What can be 'best' about having your cock pinned to a board? I didn't care to think about it. However, if any of you are thinking of doing this to a bottom or slave take note, hold his cock down, trap it against the board! Max took a pinch of skin from very close to the base of my penis, pulled it down, held it there. I saw the glint and shut my eyes. The double sting was quite a lot sharper than with the scrotum. But I survived. "How you doing? Okay?" Max asked. I nodded. I tried to watch the second one, this was on the opposite side, still down at the base. When I looked I was surprised to see that only a very small blood stain, almost nothing. I felt better. Then worse when I saw the needle going through, these too at an angle. But still only a tiny drop of blood, I was definitely going to survive. His fingers worked up the length of my penis. Pinch... Pause... STING! Four each side were like that, then he reached the little ruff of skin just short of the head, at least that's what I have, I imagine it's where the foreskin was once attached but I was too young to remember! I didn't expected any difference. Pinch... Pause... And Oh my God it stung! Markedly different! Oh was I glad that he was so near the head, only space to put one more on the opposite side. I wasn't mistaken, the one on the opposite side STUNG like buggery too! But now Max removed the dowel that held my cock down against the board and I felt each of the needles dragging at the skin, stinging all along the length of the shaft. "Still doing okay?" Max asked again. "Yes..." I said tentatively. "Better now that that bit is over..." "Uh...there's one more..." Max sounded tentative now. My mind went into over-drive. One more? You didn't have to be a urologist to work out where the odd one would go. 'Piss slit! Shit but it's sensitive in there!' I think he must have read my face. "Oh you don't have to have it... I mean if you really don't want to experience..." His voice trailed away, but I knew that he meant, "If you want to chicken out..." He was kind enough not to put it into words. I admit it took me a minute or more to speak. "Yes, do it. I do want it...Really I do..." But I was feeling distinctly queezy. "Oh that's so good. This last one... This is the essence of the butterfly. This is what it's all about... This is what makes it beautiful." I didn't want to get into a discussion, just wanted to get through it, so I nodded. I felt his fingers on my cockhead, his left hand was spreading the piss slit wide. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't help myself, just a quick glance. He had the needle in his right hand, the gleaming point just above the pink skin, only a millimetre or so. 'Do it...DO it...DO IT!' I screamed silently. He thrust it through to the board in one swift stroke, I nearly lifted clear of the bench. That one needle was worse than all the others put together, much worse. I completely forgot about the stinging around my scrotum, and up the length of my penis. You've heard the expression, "Brought tears to my eyes?" Well it did! Everything was blotted out except for the exquisite pain in the tip. I was blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay, and as I blinked I saw the red stain spreading across the board. Somewhere, it seemed to come from a great distance, I could hear Max's voice. He was positively cooing. "Oh that's so sweet! Oh so beautiful. You are looking so good boy. You must look... You must." I did, it looked terrible! "Did you ever see anything so beautiful?" Max asked. I couldn't reply. 'Thank God it's over...' I thought. "Now...it's time to decorate the butterfly..." Max said cheerfully. I foolishly imagined felt-tip colouring pens until I saw him reach for another bandoleer. These needles were shorter even than the first ones, don't know what they'd be used for. He placed them in a symmetrical heart shape, each one of course went right into the trapped testicle. Strange as it may seem this was less painful than when he'd been pinning my sac to the board, and much less painful than the ones in my cock. After he was satisfied with the heart he placed two more lines in matching crescents, then a row right down the middle. "Take a look... You're not watching...It's beautiful!" I looked. The blood stain now covered more than half the board and I could feel wetness down on my thigh too. But my scrotum looked curiously attractive, curved rows of needle tops, and yes, it did look like a butterfly! "Now boy we'll do your cock!" That I did not want to hear. Again I was torn, could I call a halt without ruining the whole thing for Max? I decided that as I'd survived so far I should at least let him start, if it got too bad then I'd ask him to stop. "On the penis I prefer to use these..." Max said holding a thin straight two inch needle in front of my eyes. I recognized it as the sort that acupuncturists use. 'Surely he's not going to go right through!' I thought trying to control the rising panic. Max must have seen the look in my eyes again. "Of course these don't penetrate...just pierce the skin..." he said. Somehow that made me feel so much better! Just the skin...nothing to worry about! "If you want I can go right through..." He looked at me for my decision. I shook my head. "I think it's better myself, going right through does cause rather a lot of bleeding." 'Oh God...this is madness...' I thought. Then nodded to indicate that I entirely agreed with Max. As a crescendo I'd like to say that these needles were the very worst, but they weren't. Max held the needle in his left hand, the point just above the skin, then tapped this hand with his right one. This inserted the point just through the skin, I doubt that it went in more than a millimetre or so. He worked quickly up the length of the shaft, one row to the left, another to the right, and one right along the length of my urethra. The last ones, up near the head, I did feel, especially the three that were tucked in right at the rim. I looked again when he was through. Now the butterfly had a long body covered with shining steel hairs, weird, that's the only description I can come up with. But really the needles in my penis weren't the worst part of the butterfly, and since then I have wondered what it would have been like if I'd asked Max to go all the way through. However, wondering is one thing, it's easy to fantasize, doing is quite another. I have been butterflied, and that's enough for me.