First one hand, slowly followed by its partner. Then a third and fourth together.

 

Sixteen fingers and four thumbs. Their owner's unknown but intentions, against my bound, naked flesh, clear as day in the pitch-black of a white, leather blindfold.

 

Soft and kind, paradoxical caresses from rough, strong fingers and wide, weathered palms. My pleasure, their aim.

 

Every nerve of my being firing crackling bolts as massaging tips and thumbs kneaded muscles and smoothed my practically flawless teenage skin.

 

A thin smear of scentless body oil pumped from an unknown source ensuring a slick, scintillating warmth. The sounds of excited mouths and bodies the only constant below gentle, sporadic chimes of taut metal chains. Long, thankful breaths and smacking lips a record-like crackle to my heightened senses.

 

The first pair of hands enjoyed my arms, pulled above me. Every finger took its time, exploring my biceps, triceps, forearms and armpits. Tracing my veins with wide yet adept tips.

 

Slowly and considered. Careful not to tickle. Just the right pressure to make goosepimples burst across my body; every tiny hair stretching like a Mexican wave.

 

Squeezing here, painless pinching there. Their owner's breath warm and sweet against my neck as he kissed and tasted me. His fresh, ball-throbbing scent familiar yet insufficient to materialise a face in my preoccupied mind.

 

Nelson, perhaps? Steve? Jason?

 

The second pair of hands was firmer and from behind. Definitely one of the skinhead couple.

 

Two strong, large hands on dominating arms around my waist. Long, thick thumbs meeting over my lower back. Eight strict fingers locked against the base of my abs, reaching and curling under my thigh where my balls hung and my Viagra-reinforced cock jutted out like a devastating, fleshy spear.

 

A second man-scented heat crashed against me as a stubbled chin and thick pair of lips kissed my shoulders and back. Then, with a single, effortless pull, I was forced backwards, against his wide, hairy chest and seemingly endless, chiselled stomach.

 

My bare arse against his groin. His thick cock pushing against my lower back. The first pair of hands now over my flanks as their owner's lips and teeth played with my nipples.

 

A voice, from a third man, boomed. Deep and gruff, yet unrecognisable in the surge of sensory and chemical white noise, it pierced the fuzz.

 

Not that I cared who was who. After what Laurie had fed, told and done to me up to this point, I was on the brink of victory. So close I could relax. Didn't need to worry about what to say or how to act. Who to impress and who to ignore.

 

In that moment, surrounded seven-fold, there was no ulterior motive. These men were simply men, and all that mattered was living my life, and filling my holes, to the fullest.

 

As long as I make it out of this dungeon alive, Laurie's mine.

 

`Having fun?' the voice said, a little more familiar to my accustoming ears.

 

I nodded as fingers continued to explore; my chains jangling as my arms twitched in time to the growing moans and appreciative grunts of men twice my age.

 

`Good,' it said again.

 

Then, as the second pair of hands moved down and dominating thumbs pushed open my arse, I realised who was doing the talking.

 

Not Laurie. Daddy Dick.

 

`You look good in chains,' he said. `Very good.'

 

But, before I could speak, my neck snapped back and a body-shaking groan flew unabashed: the second man's tongue pushed deep inside my hole, his stubbled chin scratched against my crack and the first man wrapped his lips around my cock.

 

`Fuck!'

 

I wanted to reach down and hold their heads closer. Force them deeper against me but I couldn't. All I could do was submit to the cluster of hot, wet shockwaves exploding through me from both sides; unrelenting, fizzing electricity spasming any muscle that would take it.

 

The intensity building as the man from behind buried his animal tongue, pushing me further into the hungry mouth in front. My legs weaker and weaker.

 

Caught between the two like a rock between two, very hard places, I began to shake and shudder; MDMA fireworks quivering my eyelids as kaleidoscopic hormones sparked through my system.

 

Then my arms, shoulders, pecs and back muscles tightened, and with a clunk-clunk-clunk my feet left the ground.

 

`Let's take you even higher,' Richard said in the dark; his voice further away; his big hands no doubt turning the well-oiled wheel against the wall; my vertebrae cracking into place as gravity worked its wonders.

 

The almost silent sound of the four other spectators pulling on themselves, crowded together naked shoulder to naked shoulder, suddenly clearer and more beautifully sordid as the chains fell still again.

 

But I didn't hang long. Being a foot or so in the air gave the first two more wriggle room. My hole suddenly flashed cool as the guy behind, no doubt on his knees, placed his hands under my thighs and lifted me higher.

 

A groan shot from my lungs as I slotted further down the throat in front, followed by a frothy gag from his still sucking mouth. Then I felt the man from behind shift forward. Keeping his hands under my thighs, he tilted his head back and placed me down, back onto his tongue.

 

Like I was the king and his mouth my throne.

 

Perfectly suspended, I wrapped my fingers around the chain, held tight and began to grind. Grinded my hole against the hungry mouth and rolled my body to thrust deeper and faster in front; my biceps no doubt bulging like hairless, creamy hills; my six-pack shimmering under a fine layer of oil.

 

Every vein, line and muscle in my body tensing and relaxing to the ravenous tempo.

 

For who knows how many minutes of unadulterated pleasure the evening continued like this, deep below Laurie's manor house on the outskirts of the city. Down in his dungeon, all I could do was surrender to the primary goal of Room 1: use the surplus of willing and able muscle at my disposal.

 

It was amazing. Now and again they would slowly spin me, swapping their duties, or, as the tell-tale signs of blowing began to grip my muscles and droop my jaw, they would stop completely, edging me like they'd known my body and its habits for years.

 

I felt like a volcano on the brink of eruption. Each caress, kiss, suck and lick forcing up thrashing lava from deep inside. But, as tectonic-worthy pressure built, ready to fire my load up, out and everywhere, they would step back. Cool air would replace man and the quaking build would fall like a missed sneeze of epic proportions.

 

That's when Richard would step forward and wrap his arms around me. Kiss my neck and lips and tell me how beautiful I was. Then, my gasped convulsions calmed, the next pair would tap in.

 

A fresh tongue and a fresh mouth. Each with their own technique and style. Some hard and rough, like they were dying of starvation. Others deep and sensual, as if love making was on the cards.

 

Fat chance.

 

My own tongue free to loll and hang. My lips free to direct. Harder, faster, slower, deeper. Anything and anyhow I wanted, they gave.

 

My pleasure. Their aim.

 

Surprisingly, not one of us blew. There were a few points when I came dangerously close to pyroclastically flowing all over the room, but each of the seven knew exactly what they were doing.

 

They all knew that if one of them blew, he would lose their place in the clearly well-rehearsed performance. And, if I blew, it would mean far less fun all round.

 

Or at least a small delay in the already long-awaited free-for-all as my ball's refilled.

 

Besides, there were two more rooms before the main event. I wasn't about to waste this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have my mind and body blown well and truly away by wasting my load now.

 

No matter how huge and ready it is.

 

Especially after what Laurie had said on the elevator ride down to the dungeon; his dinner plate pupils black and intimidating:

 

`If you really want me, prove it.'

 

`How?' I said.

 

`The dungeon. Show me you can handle it all, and I'll know you're worth my time.'

 

`Piece of cake.'

 

A statement I still believed, as the last two to have their turn stepped back and my latest near-orgasm throbbed down back into my balls.

 

The chains above my head clunked again until cool tiles met my hot soles and every straining muscle in my body relaxed. But this time, Richard didn't step in with big, strong arms and kind, soothing words.

 

Someone else did.

 

Laurie. His stale alcohol scent so clearly discernible even after six others had marked me with saliva, sweat and musk. His smaller stature immediately apparent against my naked body. His thin lips against my ear whispering:

 

`Part one of four passed with flying colours.'

 

I smirked but said nothing as I felt him reach up and unbind me. My sweaty wrists flashed refreshingly cool as my aching arms fell to my sides.

 

`Want me to keep this on?' I said stretching before pointing at my blindfold still perfectly wrapped around my head.

 

`Up to you,' Steve said; voices now more easily placeable without tongues, lips and fingers distracting my mind; my MDMA high slightly subdued but still flowing.

 

Less torrent, more stream.

 

`Well,' Michael said from somewhere to Steve's right, `doesn't that depend on-'

 

`Which room's next,' Jason said, finishing Michael's sentence from somewhere to Steve's left.

 

`Because,' Nelson said, apparently behind me, `If Oscar here is up for doing it chronologically ... personally, I would take it off.'

 

`Me too,' Rob said, also behind me.

 

Then a pair of thick fingers and thumbs untied my blindfold before it was gently lifted from my face.

 

My lids slammed shut over unaccustomed eyes: an impulse against the light coming from the main room of the dungeon. A few seconds later, I tentatively opened them. Saw nothing but a rectangle of white, obscured by silhouettes of men in varying heights and muscled widths.

 

But soon, in the relative dim, vision returned. I saw Laurie, directly in front of me, with a smirk that said I was ticking every box and eyes that wanted much, much more.

 

To his right was Steve and Michael. To his left, Jason. Behind my right shoulder was Nelson and behind my left was Rob. Directly behind me, his large hands now holding my blindfold, was Richard.

 

All naked. All hard as rock. All with fire in their hungry eyes.

 

Kissing my neck, Richard said, `Me three. In that room, you'll want to watch ... but, don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to. You don't have to just because you're here.'

 

Yes, I do.

 

Taking the blindfold, I kissed him on the lips before dropping it on the ground with a soft clunk and jingle of leather and metal against stone. Said:

 

`There's nothing I want more in the world.'

 

`Are you sure?' Richard said, a wider smile pulling at his already pleased lips.

 

Falling backwards against Richard's chest so I could look at the rest of the group, but mainly Laurie, I locked my eyes on our host and said:

 

`What are we waiting for? Take me to Room 2.'

 

To be continued ...

 

Want more?

 

The first in my novel-length series of tales, Oscar Down Under: Part One, is available now.

 

A lush sensory experience exploring themes of self-development and morality, find it on Amazon US here, Amazon UK here and Amazon Australia here.

 

Also available on iBooks, Barnes & Noble and more.

 

Want a FREE book? Download my prequel novel, Oscar, for absolutely nothing here. Or head over to my website to learn more, including exclusive content on my series, Oscar Down Under.

 

Copyright Jack Ladd 2019

 

Please, please, please consider donating to Nifty. As a volunteer-run organisation, every penny/cent helps!

 

And thank you so much for reading. Fancy buying me a coffee to keep my fingers tapping out the next instalment? Support me here.