Loys Medina (author)

Loys medina

We left the apartment building and turned down the sidewalk. One or two people stared at two disproportionately aged guys, one wearing a collar, but most didn’t notice.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, we reached our destination…a Porn Shop. We both entered the store and began looking around. The obviously gay guy at the counter nodded a curt hello. We quickly found ourselves in the BDSM aisle in the back of the store. There wasn’t a whole lot there that was inexpensive, or couldn’t be improvised with something else. 

The cashier came over to us a few minutes later as we were the only ones in the store. "Can I help you with something…maybe you want to try something out?"

John paused for a moment, he looked a little out of place. "Maybe you could make a recommendation…something fairly cheap, but fun."

The guy didn’t even stop to think, he grabbed what looked like a pair of leather cuffs and walked around behind me. John gave a nod of permission, and he strapped them on me. They held my wrists tight together behind my back, nothing new there, then all of a sudden my shorts were around my ankles. He ran another leather strap down my ass crack, and tightened it around my balls.

"It’s adjustable too," he said, giving a demonstration. My wrists were pulled farther down, forcing me to arch my back and jut out my chest. My face turned red from the uncomfortability of the position, and the embarrassment of being exposed to a stranger.

"I’ll take it," John said, leaving it on and pulling my shorts up to cover me. The strap still ran from my hands down them, but they covered all the important parts. John picked up a ring gag too and we left the store. The two things set him back about $50, but were more than worth it. Now more passersby stopped and stared at the bound kid walking down the street, and I once again felt the red of humiliation.

Finally we returned to his apartment. He removed his new toy, and stripped me naked once more. Rather than return me to its confines, he brought me to the kitchen table. It was small, when over my head, my arms hung off at the elbow, and legs at the knee. He bound them all tightly to the center post of the table in a spread eagle position, like an ‘X’ with each leg chopped in half because of my bent limbs.

Then he went into the bedroom and returned with a whip. Standing on a chair, he began to paint red stripes on my exposed belly, softly stroking his rehardened dick with his other hand while I twitched and grunted with pain. When I was good and red, he tossed the whip aside and knelt over my face. I tried to pick my head up and get a part of my mouth on his dick, but came inches short. Frustrated, I lay back on the table.

To my dismay, he never even let me taste him as be brought himself to a climax, cumming on my face, being sure to make sure I couldn’t reach any with my tongue. He grinned at me while climbing off the table, then left the room.

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