Krishnansh stayed frozen in the lifted position, chest pressed flat to the padded table, hips up on his knees, quads tensed and trembling slightly from holding the posture. His glutes were spread just enough from the lift, the clean pink hole fully exposed under the bright clinic light. His semi-erect cock hung down between his thick thighs, swaying gently with each uneven breath. The cuffs at his wrists and ankles kept him locked in place — no way to lower his hips, no way to pull away.Arham stood behind him, finger still buried to the first knuckle inside the tight ring. He felt the heat, the clench, the way the muscle fluttered around him. Krishnansh’s body was shaking now — small tremors running through his quads and glutes.With a slow, deliberate push, Arham slid the finger in to the full length — all the way past the second knuckle until his palm pressed flat against the smooth skin between the cheeks.Krishnansh’s hips collapsed instantly. He tried to drop his ass down to escape the intrusion, but the ankle cuffs held his knees bent and elevated. A raw scream tore from his throat — loud, broken, echoing off the walls of the small room.“Stop! Please — take it out — it hurts — stop!”His voice cracked on the last word. Tears stung his eyes. His body jerked hard against the restraints, wrists pulling at the cuffs, but they didn’t give. His cock slapped against his abs from the sudden drop, now fully hard and leaking steadily.Arham didn’t remove the finger. Instead he curled it deeper, searching for the firm walnut of the prostate. He found it — pressed once, firm and steady.Krishnansh’s scream turned into a choked moan. His hips bucked involuntarily, ass pushing back onto the finger despite the pain.“Shhh,” Arham said firmly, voice low and commanding. “You need to be obedient during the test. If you drop your hips again it will ruin the readings. I’m checking nerve response and deep muscle release. Stay in position.”
Before Krishnansh could protest, Arham reached underneath with his free hand. His fingers wrapped around Krishnansh’s semi-erect cock — warm, firm grip right at the base, thumb brushing the sensitive glans on the underside.Krishnansh moaned sharply at the touch — the glans was swollen and slick, every nerve on fire from the earlier teasing and the finger inside him.Arham used the cock like a handle — pulling upward gently but firmly, forcing Krishnansh’s hips to lift back into the elevated position. The motion dragged Krishnansh’s ass up again, driving the finger even deeper inside.“Ahh—!” Krishnansh gasped, voice high and desperate. The pull on his cock sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him. His hips trembled, trying to resist but unable to lower because of the cuffs and Arham’s grip.“Stay up,” Arham ordered softly. “Good. Just like that.”He kept holding Krishnansh’s cock back like a leash — not stroking, just maintaining the upward pull to keep the ass lifted and open. With his other hand he started to slowly probe — sliding the finger in and out in shallow thrusts, curling it each time to brush the prostate.Krishnansh’s moans grew louder, broken. “Please… stop… it’s too much…”Arham ignored the plea. He kept the rhythm steady — slow, deep probes, each one hitting the prostate on the way in. Krishnansh’s cock throbbed in Arham’s grip, quickly going from semi-erect to rock-hard. Pre-cum dripped steadily from the tip, falling in long strings onto the sheet below.“See?” Arham said quietly, almost soothing. “This is just the prostate being stimulated. It’s a normal response during this kind of deep assessment. Your body is reacting to the pressure. Nothing to worry about.”He curled the finger harder on the next thrust, pressing directly on the prostate and holding it there.Krishnansh’s whole body jerked. A long, broken moan tore from his throat. His cock pulsed in Arham’s hand, leaking even more.“Please… mercy…” he whispered, voice shaking. “I can’t… take it out…”Arham didn’t remove the finger. He kept the slow probing going, each stroke deliberate, each curl targeted. His grip on Krishnansh’s cock stayed firm — not stroking, just holding it back like a handle to keep the ass lifted and open for the examination.
Arham slowly withdrew his finger from Krishnansh’s hole, sliding it out inch by inch until it left with a soft, wet sound. The tight ring clenched reflexively around nothing, the slick lube and spit glistening on the smooth pink skin. Krishnansh’s body sagged slightly in the restraints, hips dropping a fraction before the ankle cuffs caught him and held him in the elevated position. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving against the table, semi-erect cock still hanging down between his thick thighs, dripping pre-cum in long, slow strings onto the sheet below.Arham wiped his finger clean on a small cloth from the tray, then stood up straight. He looked down at Krishnansh — bound, exposed, trembling — and let the silence stretch for a long moment.“You’re doing well,” Arham said finally, voice calm and measured. “But the test isn’t finished. The piriformis and deep glutes need full assessment for activation and release. If we stop now, I can’t complete the report.”He paused, letting the words sink in.“I can sign your fitness certificate right now if you want. You’re free to leave. No one will force you to stay.”Krishnansh’s face was flushed, eyes glassy with confusion and shame. His mind was spinning. The intrusion had hurt, but the pressure on his prostate had sent confusing jolts of pleasure through him. His cock was still half-hard, betraying him even as his body screamed to get away. He thought about the tournament, the team counting on him, the certificate sitting unsigned on Arham’s desk. If he left now, he might not get cleared in time. He thought about explaining to the coach why he couldn’t play. He thought about Prerna asking why he missed the tournament. He thought about how ridiculous it would sound if he tried to tell anyone what was happening here.“I…” Krishnansh’s voice cracked. “I need the certificate.”Arham nodded slowly, as if this was exactly what he expected.
“Then we continue,” he said simply. “Stay in position. Breathe deep. This next part will help release the tension completely.”He stepped closer again. One hand rested on Krishnansh’s lower back — steady, grounding. The other hand reached underneath and wrapped around Krishnansh’s semi-erect cock once more. This time he didn’t just hold it. He gave a slow, firm stroke from base to tip, thumb brushing over the sensitive glans.Krishnansh moaned low — involuntary, surprised. The touch sent a fresh jolt of pleasure straight up his spine.“See?” Arham said softly. “Your body is responding well. The prostate stimulation is normal. It often causes erection and pre-ejaculate. It’s a sign the nerves are healthy.”He kept stroking — slow, steady, not fast enough to bring release, but enough to keep Krishnansh hard and leaking. With every upstroke his thumb circled the head, spreading the slick pre-cum, making the glans swell even more.Krishnansh’s hips jerked forward into the grip, then back against the table. The cuffs rattled softly with the movement.“Please…” he whispered. “This is… I don’t…”“Shhh,” Arham said gently. “Just let your body do what it needs to. This is part of the release protocol. The more you relax, the quicker it will be.”He kept the slow strokes going, hand gliding smoothly over the shaft, occasionally twisting at the head to make Krishnansh gasp. Krishnansh’s moans grew louder, more broken. His cock was rock-hard now, veins standing out, pre-cum dripping steadily.Arham watched every reaction — the way Krishnansh’s quads flexed, the way his glutes clenched around nothing, the way his hole twitched with each stroke. In his mind he was already planning the next step, but he kept his voice calm.“You’re doing very well,” Arham said. “Just a little more. Let it happen.”Krishnansh’s head dropped forward, forehead pressing into the table. His body was on fire — shame, confusion, unwanted pleasure crashing together. He hated how good it felt. He hated that he couldn’t stop his hips from rocking slightly into Arham’s hand.
Krishnansh stayed bound in place — wrists cuffed forward, ankles chained to the table legs, chest flat against the padded surface, hips lifted high on his knees. His powerful quads trembled from holding the position. His glutes were spread slightly, the smooth, hairless pink hole still slick from lube and spit, twitching faintly with every ragged breath. His cock hung down between his thick thighs — fully erect now, thick and veiny, pre-cum dripping in steady strings onto the sheet below. His face was flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath.Arham stepped back for a moment, letting the silence stretch. He watched Krishnansh’s body — the way the massive pecs rose and fell rapidly, the way the quads flexed involuntarily, the way the cock throbbed untouched. He smiled to himself, then walked to the side cabinet again.When he returned, he held a small black case. He opened it on the tray beside the table. Inside were several smooth, curved prostate massagers — medical-grade silicone, different sizes, one with a gentle vibration setting.Krishnansh’s eyes widened when he saw them. “Doc… what are those?”Arham picked up the smallest one — sleek, black, about five inches long with a flared base and a slight upward curve. He held it up so Krishnansh could see it clearly.“These are therapeutic tools,” Arham said, voice low and steady. “They’re designed for targeted prostate release. Your piriformis is very tight, and the prostate is part of the same nerve pathway. Stimulating it directly will help relax the deep glutes and lower back. It’s a very effective method for athletes with your kind of overuse stiffness.”He paused, letting Krishnansh process the words.“But it requires complete obedience,” Arham continued. “You need to stay relaxed and in position. If you tense up or fight it, the test won’t work and we’ll have to start over. Do you want the certificate or not?”Krishnansh’s mind was a mess. His body was on fire — shame, confusion, unwanted arousal crashing together. He hated how hard he was. He hated the way his hole twitched when Arham spoke. He hated that part of him didn’t want to leave without the clearance. The tournament. The team. Prerna asking why he couldn’t play. He told himself it was just medical. Just one more thing.“I… I need the certificate,” he whispered.Arham smiled faintly. “Good boy.”He squeezed more lube onto the toy, coating it generously. Then he stepped behind Krishnansh again. One hand rested on Krishnansh’s lower back — steady, grounding.
“Breathe deep,” Arham said. “Relax your glutes. Let it happen.”He pressed the rounded tip of the toy against the slick hole. Krishnansh tensed immediately.“Relax,” Arham repeated, voice firmer now. “If you clench it will hurt more. Let me in.”He pushed slowly — gentle but insistent. The toy breached the rim, sliding in inch by inch. Krishnansh moaned — low, broken, a mix of pain and strange pleasure.“That’s it,” Arham murmured. “Good. Take it all.”He kept pushing until the toy was fully seated, the flared base resting flush against Krishnansh’s smooth skin. The curve pressed directly against the prostate.Krishnansh’s cock jerked hard, pre-cum dripping faster. His hips rocked involuntarily, trying to escape and chase the pressure at the same time.“Look at that,” Arham said softly, almost admiringly. “Your cock is leaking so much. It likes the prostate stimulation, doesn’t it? Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind is fighting it.”He reached underneath with his other hand and wrapped his fingers around Krishnansh’s rock-hard shaft — slow, firm grip. He didn’t stroke yet. Just held it, letting Krishnansh feel the warmth, the pressure.“You’re so hard for this,” Arham continued, voice low and commanding. “All that teasing on Instagram, showing off your body, making people drool over your pecs and quads. But right now, you’re the one leaking like a needy slut. Your cock is telling me everything your mouth won’t.”Krishnansh moaned again — louder this time. “Please… stop… this isn’t right…”Arham tightened his grip on the cock slightly. “Shhh. Be quiet. Good boys stay obedient during the test. You want the certificate, don’t you? Then let me finish.”He started a slow, deliberate stroke — base to tip, thumb brushing the sensitive glans on every upstroke. At the same time he gently rocked the toy inside Krishnansh — small thrusts, each one pressing the curve directly against the prostate.Krishnansh’s moans turned desperate. His hips jerked forward into Arham’s hand, then back onto the toy. The cuffs rattled with each movement.“That’s it,” Arham whispered. “Feel how your cock throbs every time I hit your prostate. Your body loves it. You’re dripping all over my hand. Such a good little toy.”He kept the rhythm — slow strokes on the cock, small thrusts with the toy. Krishnansh’s moans grew louder, more broken. His cock was leaking steadily now, pre-cum pooling on the sheet.“You’re going to stay hard for me,” Arham said firmly. “No cumming until I say. This is the edging phase — it trains the nerves to release properly. If you cum too soon, we have to start the whole test over.”Krishnansh whimpered. “Please… I can’t hold it… mercy…”Arham slowed his strokes even more — torturously slow, just enough to keep him on the edge.“You will hold it,” Arham said. “Because good boys obey. And you’re going to be a very good boy for me.”Krishnansh’s body shook. His cock throbbed in Arham’s hand, prostate pulsing around the toy. He was trapped — bound, exposed, edged, completely at Arham’s mercy.Arham stood behind him, one hand gently rocking the toy — small, deliberate thrusts, each one curling the curve right against that sensitive spot. His other hand held Krishnansh’s cock in a loose, torturous grip — not stroking fast enough to let him cum, just slow, teasing glides from base to tip, thumb occasionally brushing the slick glans to make it jump.Krishnansh’s moans had turned desperate long ago — low, broken, ragged. His hips jerked forward into Arham’s hand, then back onto the toy, chasing both sensations at once. The cuffs rattled with every useless pull. Sweat rolled down his back, pooling in the dip above his ass. His breathing was shallow, frantic.“Please…” he gasped again, voice cracking. “I can’t… it’s too much…”Arham slowed the toy even more — tiny, maddening rocks that kept the pressure on his prostate without giving enough to push him over. His hand on the cock matched the pace — feather-light strokes, barely enough friction.“You can,” Arham said softly, voice low and commanding. “You’re doing so well. Look how hard you are. Your cock is dripping for this. It loves being edged. It loves being controlled.”Krishnansh whimpered. His whole body shook. The constant prostate pressure was building an unbearable ache deep inside — a full, heavy need that had nowhere to go. His balls felt tight, drawn up, aching. Pre-cum leaked in thick drops now, pooling on the sheet.“I can’t hold it anymore…” he begged, voice small and broken. “Please… milk me out… I can’t bear it… please…”Arham smiled faintly. He let go of the cock completely, leaving it throbbing untouched. Krishnansh moaned in frustration, hips bucking uselessly into empty air.“You want to be milked?” Arham asked, voice calm but edged with control. “You want release?”“Yes… please… anything…” Krishnansh whispered, tears pricking his eyes. “I’ll do anything… just let me cum… please…”
Arham stepped to the side table and picked up Krishnansh’s own mobile phone — the one he’d left on the tray when he undressed. He unlocked it with Krishnansh’s face (the camera lifted briefly to scan him), then opened the camera app and switched to video mode.He held the phone in front of Krishnansh’s face — close enough that the lens captured his flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, parted lips, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead.“Look at the camera,” Arham said quietly. “Tell me what you’re willing to do to be milked out.”Krishnansh stared at the lens. Shame burned through him — hot, humiliating — but the ache in his prostate and balls was worse. He couldn’t think straight anymore.“I… I’ll do anything…” he whispered, voice shaking. “Please… milk me… I can’t take it… I’ll be good… anything you want…”Arham started recording. The red light blinked on.“Say it clearly,” Arham ordered softly. “Tell the camera what you are right now. Tell it how badly you need to be milked.”Krishnansh’s voice cracked. “I’m… I’m bound… I’m leaking… I need to cum so bad… please milk me out… I’ll do anything… I’m begging…”Arham kept the phone steady, capturing every word, every tremble, every drop of pre-cum falling from his cock.“Good boy,” Arham said. “Keep looking at the camera.”He set the phone down on the tray — propped so it still recorded Krishnansh’s face and bound body — then moved behind him again.He took the cock back in his hand — firm grip this time — and started stroking slow but steady, matching the rhythm of the toy thrusts. Each stroke dragged from base to tip, thumb swirling over the glans on every upstroke. Each thrust of the toy pressed the curve hard against the prostate.Krishnansh moaned loud — long, broken sounds that filled the room. His hips rocked desperately between the hand and the toy.“That’s it,” Arham whispered. “Let it build. You’re so close. Your cock is throbbing for me. Your hole is clenching around the toy. You’re such a good little slut for this.”Krishnansh’s moans turned into pleas. “Please… let me cum… I can’t… I need it… please…”Arham slowed both hands — torturously slow strokes, tiny rocks of the toy — keeping him right on the edge.“Not yet,” Arham said firmly. “You cum when I say. You’re mine to edge now. You’ll beg until I’m satisfied.”Krishnansh sobbed softly, body shaking, cock pulsing in Arham’s hand, prostate aching with every tiny press.
Suddenly Krishnansh’s cock pulsed hard — a thick drop of pre-cum welled up at the slit and fell in a long, slow string.Arham caught it on his finger before it hit the sheet. He lifted the glistening drop to Krishnansh’s face — close to his lips — while still holding the phone steady with his other hand, recording everything.“Open,” Arham said quietly.Krishnansh’s eyes were glassy, tears already streaking his cheeks. He parted his lips without thinking — shame burning through him — and Arham slid the finger inside, making him taste the salty drop of his own pre-cum.“Suck it clean,” Arham ordered softly. “Taste how much your cock is leaking for this.”Krishnansh closed his lips around the finger, sucking weakly, tears falling faster. The taste was humiliating — his own arousal forced back into his mouth while the camera captured every second.Arham pulled his finger out with a soft pop.“Good boy,” he murmured. “But you leaked without permission.”Before Krishnansh could respond, Arham’s free hand came down hard on his lifted ass — a sharp, stinging slap that echoed in the small room.Krishnansh yelped — loud, surprised. The impact made his glutes clench around the toy, driving it harder against his prostate. His cock jerked violently, another thick drop falling.Arham spanked him again — harder this time, the crack ringing out. Then again. And again. Five sharp slaps in quick succession, each one landing on the round, firm cheek, turning the smooth skin bright red.Krishnansh cried out with every hit, body jerking against the cuffs. Tears streamed down his face now, mixing with sweat. His ass burned, the sting spreading deep into the muscle.“You don’t leak until I say,” Arham said firmly. “You cum when I allow it. Understand?”Krishnansh sobbed. “Yes… please… I’m sorry… I can’t hold it anymore…”
His voice was wrecked — high, desperate, broken.Arham set the phone down on the tray — still recording, lens angled to capture Krishnansh’s tear-streaked face, bound body, red ass, and dripping cock.He reached to the side table and picked up a small clear glass collection cup — the kind used for medical samples. He held it under Krishnansh’s cock, just below the swollen head.“You’ve earned your first load,” Arham said softly. “I’m going to milk you out now. But you look at the camera while you cum. You tell it thank you when you finish.”Krishnansh whimpered, nodding frantically. “Please… yes… milk me… I need it…”Arham wrapped his hand around the shaft again — firm this time — and started stroking fast and steady. At the same time he rocked the toy harder — deep, deliberate thrusts that slammed the curve against Krishnansh’s prostate over and over.Krishnansh’s moans turned into cries — loud, desperate, broken. His hips bucked wildly between the hand and the toy, cuffs rattling.“That’s it,” Arham said. “Give it to me. Cum for the camera. Show everyone how much you need to be milked.”Krishnansh’s whole body locked up. His back arched as far as the restraints allowed. A raw, guttural scream tore from his throat as he came hard — thick ropes shooting into the glass cup Arham held steady under him. Spurt after spurt, his cock pulsing violently, load after load filling the cup while Arham milked him through every wave.Krishnansh kept moaning — high, broken sounds — until the last drops were squeezed out. His body collapsed forward as much as the cuffs allowed, shaking, spent.Arham lifted the cup, showing it to the camera — the glass half-full of thick, white cum.“Good boy,” Arham said softly. “You did so well.”He set the cup aside and leaned down close to Krishnansh’s ear.“We’re not done yet,” he whispered. “There’s more testing to do.”
Arham set the cum-filled cup aside on the tray and stepped closer. He didn’t remove the toy. Instead, he gave it a slow, deliberate twist — just enough to grind the tip against the tender gland.Krishnansh’s whole body jerked. A high, broken whimper escaped his throat.“Too much… please… take it out…” he gasped, voice raw and trembling.Arham ignored the plea. He started rocking the toy again — small, shallow thrusts, each one pressing directly on the prostate that had just been emptied. The sensation was overwhelming — sharp, electric, almost painful now that he’d cum.Krishnansh squirmed hard against the restraints. His hips tried to drop, but the ankle cuffs held him high. His wrists pulled uselessly at the padded straps. His cock — still hard, still leaking — slapped against his abs with every involuntary buck.“Stop… please… it hurts… I can’t take anymore…” he begged, tears falling freely now.Arham leaned down close to his ear, voice low and dark.“Body like this doesn’t deserve mercy,” he said slowly. “Look at you — massive pecs, thick quads, perfect ass. All those fans drooling over your reels, begging to touch you, to own you. They’d do anything to have you like this — bound, leaking, begging. I’m just giving your body what it was made for.”He twisted the toy again, grinding it harder against the prostate. Krishnansh screamed — a raw, desperate sound — his cock throbbing painfully, pre-cum dripping steadily once more.Arham reached underneath and wrapped his fingers around the oversensitive shaft. He didn’t stroke — just held it firmly, letting Krishnansh feel the warmth of his palm against the tender skin.“You’re hard again already,” Arham said, almost amused. “Your cock loves this. It loves being tortured after cumming. Look how it twitches every time I press your prostate.”He started rocking the toy faster — deeper now, each thrust slamming against the gland. Krishnansh’s moans turned into sobs. His body writhed, muscles straining against the cuffs, but he couldn’t escape.“Please… mercy… I can’t… I’m gonna cum again… it hurts…”Arham’s hand tightened slightly on the cock — not stroking, just squeezing the base to keep him on edge.“Not yet,” he said firmly. “You don’t cum until I say. This is post-orgasm torture. It trains your body to handle more. Your fans would pay to see this — their favorite influencer bound and milked until he breaks.”
He reached to the side tray and picked up a larger toy from the case — black, eight inches long, thicker, with a more pronounced curve and a slight bulb at the tip for deeper pressure.Krishnansh’s eyes widened when he saw it.“No… please… that’s too big… I can’t take it…”Arham lubed the new toy generously, coating it thickly. He slowly withdrew the smaller one — Krishnansh whimpering at the sudden emptiness — then pressed the larger head against the slick, puffy hole.“Breathe,” Arham said. “Relax. Your body can take it.”He pushed slowly — the thicker head stretching the rim wider than before. Krishnansh screamed again — loud, pained — his hips trying to drop but the cuffs holding him open.“Stop! Please — it’s too much — it hurts!”Arham kept pushing — slow, relentless — until the toy was halfway in. He paused, letting Krishnansh adjust, then thrust deeper in one steady motion, burying it to the base. The bulb at the tip pressed hard against the prostate, deeper than anything before.Krishnansh’s scream turned into a long, broken moan. His cock throbbed violently, pre-cum pouring out in thick drops.Arham started rocking the larger toy — slow, deep thrusts that slammed the bulb against the prostate over and over. At the same time he wrapped his hand around Krishnansh’s cock again and stroked — slow, firm, matching the rhythm of the toy.“Look at you,” Arham said, voice low and commanding. “Screaming, begging, leaking like a desperate slut. Your body loves being filled. Your cock is rock-hard again. You’re going to cum for me again — but only when I allow it.”Krishnansh sobbed openly now. “Please… I can’t… it’s too deep… I’m gonna cum… please let me…”Arham sped up the strokes on his cock — fast, tight, thumb grinding the glans on every upstroke. The toy thrust deeper, harder, the bulb battering the prostate relentlessly.“Beg harder,” Arham ordered. “Tell me how much you need it. Tell me you’ll do anything.”Krishnansh broke completely.“Please… milk me… I’ll do anything… please let me cum… I can’t bear it… I’m yours… please…”Arham smiled darkly.“Good boy.”He kept the rhythm — fast strokes, deep thrusts — pushing Krishnansh right to the edge again.
Krishnansh’s body was a wreck of overstimulation. The toy stayed buried deep, its curve grinding relentlessly against his prostate with every tiny rock Arham gave it. His cock throbbed painfully — rock-hard, swollen, veins bulging, the head dark and slick with endless pre-cum. The edging had gone on so long that every stroke, every press felt like fire. His balls ached, tight and heavy, begging for release. Sweat poured off him, dripping from his brow onto the table. Tears streaked his cheeks. His moans had turned into constant, broken whimpers.“Please…” he gasped again, voice raw and shattered. “I can’t… I need to cum… please let me cum… I’ll do anything…”Arham slowed both the toy and his hand to almost nothing — just enough to keep Krishnansh hovering right on the edge, never enough to push him over. He leaned down close to Krishnansh’s ear, voice low and commanding.“You want release again?” Arham asked softly. “You think you deserve it?”Krishnansh sobbed. “Yes… please… I can’t take it… milk me… I’m begging…”Arham let go of the cock completely. It slapped against Krishnansh’s abs, throbbing angrily. He picked up the half-full glass cup from the tray — the one already containing Krishnansh’s first thick load — and held it under the dripping head again.“Then you earn it,” Arham said. “This cup isn’t full yet. Your next load goes in here — every drop. And I’m keeping it. I’ll store it. Sell it to the fans who drool over your reels, who obsess over your pecs and quads. They’ll pay good money to own a piece of you. That’s the condition. Agree on camera, or I stop right now and you leave without your certificate.”Krishnansh’s mind was blank with need. The ache in his prostate was unbearable. His cock pulsed desperately. He thought about the tournament, the team, Prerna, his life. But right now none of it mattered. All he could feel was the desperate, painful need to cum.He looked at the phone camera — red light still blinking, capturing his tear-streaked face, bound body, dripping cock.
Arham slowly withdrew the toy from Krishnansh’s hole, letting it slide out with a soft, wet sound. The tight ring clenched reflexively around nothing, still slick and puffy from the long session. Krishnansh’s body sagged instantly — hips dropping as far as the ankle cuffs allowed, ass finally falling flat against the table with a soft thud. He lay there trembling, chest heaving, sweat-soaked, tears still wet on his cheeks. His cock, spent and softening, rested against his lower abs, a final thin string of cum connecting the tip to the sheet below.Arham stepped back, wiping the toy clean with a cloth. He looked down at Krishnansh — bound, exhausted, completely broken — and let a small smile curve his lips.“Don’t worry,” Arham said softly, almost soothing. “We’re done. No more tests now.”Krishnansh let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him like cool water. His muscles ached from the strain, his mind numb. He just wanted to get out, get dressed, go home to Prerna, pretend none of this happened.Arham moved behind him again. Without warning, he raised his hand and brought it down hard — one single, sharp slap across Krishnansh’s perfect, round ass.The crack echoed in the room like a whip. Krishnansh yelped — high and surprised — his glutes clenching reflexively, the red handprint blooming instantly on the smooth skin.“That’s for being such a good boy,” Arham said quietly.
He unlocked the ankle cuffs first, then the wrist ones. Krishnansh’s limbs fell limp. He didn’t move right away — just lay there, face pressed to the table, breathing hard. His ass stung, the burn spreading deep into the muscle.Arham walked to his desk, picked up his own phone, and tapped the screen a few times. He had already sent the video — the full recording — to Krishnansh’s mobile while Krishnansh was still recovering. A soft ping came from Krishnansh’s phone on the tray.Krishnansh didn’t notice. He was too exhausted.Arham returned with the signed fitness certificate — crisp, official, everything Krishnansh had endured for.“Here,” Arham said, holding it up so Krishnansh could see it clearly while he still lay on the table. “You’re cleared. Tournament ready.”Krishnansh lifted his head slowly. His chest heaved with each breath, pecs rising and falling. He pushed himself up on trembling arms, abdomen contracting as he sat upright on the edge of the table. His legs dangled off the side, quads still quivering. He stared at the paper in Arham’s hand like it was the only thing that mattered.Finally, he thought. After all this… I got it.He reached for his clothes — scattered on the chair nearby — and started dressing. Compression shirt first, then track pants. When he reached for his black boxer briefs, Arham picked them up from the floor and held them out of reach.“Leave these,” Arham said calmly. “Wear the rest and go. You don’t need them.”Krishnansh stared at him, face burning. “But…”“Doctor’s orders,” Arham said simply. “You’ll be fine. Go home. Rest.”Krishnansh swallowed hard. He pulled on the track pants without underwear — the fabric rubbing directly against his still-sensitive skin. The shirt clung to his sweaty chest. He took the certificate with shaking hands, folded it carefully, and shoved it into his pocket.He didn’t look at Arham again. Just walked — legs unsteady — to the door.As he left, Arham’s voice followed him softly.“See you for the follow-up next week. We’ll finish what we started.”Krishnansh didn’t reply. He stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him.The certificate was in his pocket.But his underwear was still on Arham’s desk.And his phone now held a video he didn’t know about yet.The day felt colder as he walked to his auto.
Krishnansh leaned his head against the side window. The glass was cool against his temple. His mind was a storm.What the hell just happened?He kept replaying it — the cuffs clicking shut, the toy sliding in, the finger, the stroking, the way his body betrayed him twice, shooting thick loads into that glass while he begged. The video. Arham’s calm voice saying “good boy.” The handprint on his ass. The missing underwear.He felt sick. Ashamed. Confused. His cock — still half-sensitive — twitched faintly in his pants at the memory of the edging, the prostate pressure, the way he had broken and agreed to everything on camera. He hated himself for it. He was straight. He loved Prerna. He was the guy with 1.2 million followers, the one who flexed shirtless on reels and got thousands of “bro goals” comments. He wasn’t supposed to be the one begging to be milked.But the ache between his legs wouldn’t lie. His body had responded. Hard. Twice. Even now, just thinking about it, he felt a faint throb. He clenched his thighs together, trying to stop it.The auto hit a pothole. The jolt made his sore ass bounce on the seat. He winced, biting his lip so the driver wouldn’t hear.By the time he reached home it was almost 5 PM. He paid the driver, walked up the stairs slowly, and opened the door.Prerna was in the living room, wearing a loose crop top and shorts, hair tied in a messy bun. She looked up from her phone and smiled brightly.“Hey baby! You’re back early. How was the checkup?”Krishnansh forced a tired smile. “Fine. Got the certificate.”He dropped his gym bag by the door and walked straight to the bedroom without elaborating. Prerna followed, barefoot, curious.
“You look exhausted,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “Was the doctor strict or something?”Krishnansh sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Just… long day. Lots of tests.”Prerna stepped closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, then down his neck, over his shoulders. Her touch was gentle, familiar.“You’re all sweaty,” she murmured. “And tense. Want me to help you relax?”She slid her hand lower, tracing the outline of his pecs through the damp shirt. Her other hand drifted to his waist, slipping under the hem of the shirt to touch bare skin.Krishnansh tensed. His body was spent — two massive loads, hours of edging, the prostate torment. His cock barely stirred. But Prerna’s fingers were already teasing the waistband of his track pants.She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all day… how hot you looked in that last reel, shirtless, running on the field, pecs bouncing… makes me so wet.”She tugged at his pants playfully. “Come on… take these off. Let me take care of you.”Krishnansh caught her wrist gently. “Prerna… I’m really tired. Can we just… sleep? I had a long day.”She pouted, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re never too tired for me.” She slid her hand lower, cupping the front of his pants. Her fingers felt… nothing hard. No bulge. Just soft, sensitive skin under the fabric.Her brows furrowed. “Wait… are you… not wearing underwear?”Krishnansh’s face burned. “I… forgot them at the gym,” he lied quickly. “Changed fast. Didn’t think about it.”Prerna tilted her head. “You? Forgetting underwear?” She laughed softly. “That’s hot, actually. Easy access.”She tugged at the waistband again, trying to slide her hand inside. “Come on… let me feel you. I’ll make you hard again. You know I can.”Krishnansh caught her hand again, firmer this time. “Baby… seriously. I’m exhausted. My whole body hurts. I just need to sleep. Please.”Prerna searched his face. She saw the tiredness in his eyes, the faint redness around them, the way his shoulders slumped. She softened.“Okay,” she said quietly. “No pressure. Come here.”She helped him lie back. Krishnansh peeled off the compression shirt — tossing it aside — and stayed in just the track pants. No underwear. The fabric rubbed against his sensitive cock and balls every time he shifted. He didn’t care. He was too drained.Prerna curled up beside him, head on his bare chest, one leg thrown over his thigh. “Sleep, love. I’m right here.”Krishnansh wrapped an arm around her. His eyes closed almost immediately. Exhaustion pulled him under like a tide.He slept bare-chested, only the loose track pants covering him, no underwear beneath.The next morning — February 28, 2026 — he woke slowly. Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Prerna was already up, probably making coffee. His body felt heavy, sore in places he didn’t want to think about. His ass still stung faintly from the slap. His cock felt tender, used. His mind flashed to the clinic — the cuffs, the toy, the cup, the video.He sat up, wincing. The track pants had slipped low during the night. He pulled them up, heart racing.His phone buzzed on the nightstand.A message from an unknown number.He opened it.A single video file.No text. Just the attachment.He stared at the thumbnail — his own tear-streaked face, mouth open in a moan, bound on the table.His stomach dropped.The nightmare wasn’t over.
KrKrishnansh sat on the edge of the bed, phone in his hand, staring at the unknown number’s message. The thumbnail showed his own face — tear-streaked, mouth open in a moan, eyes glassy, the clinic table and cuffs visible in the background. His stomach twisted so hard he almost gagged.He tapped play before he could stop himself.The video started. His own voice filled the quiet bedroom — muffled pleas, broken moans, the wet sounds of stroking and thrusting. The camera captured everything: his bound wrists pulling at the cuffs, his lifted hips, his massive pecs heaving with each breath, his thick cock dripping pre-cum onto the sheet, the moment he begged “milk me… I’ll do anything” on camera, the two explosive loads shooting into the glass cup. The red recording light blinked in the corner the whole time.He watched for thirty seconds before his thumb froze the screen. His chest tightened. Tears burned his eyes again.What the fuck have I got into?The thought hit him like a punch. He was Krishnansh Arora — 1.2 million followers, football player, gym beast, straight guy with a beautiful girlfriend. Not… this. Not the guy who got tied down in a clinic, edged for hours, and begged to be milked while his face was recorded. His cock — still tender from yesterday — gave a faint, traitorous twitch at the memory. He hated it. Hated himself.He opened the chat and typed fast, fingers shaking.“Please delete this video. I’ll give you money. Whatever you want. Just delete it. Please.”He hit send.No reply.He stared at the screen. One tick. Two ticks. Nothing.He refreshed. Nothing.He threw the phone on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Helplessness crashed over him. The video had his face. Clear audio. His begging. His cumshots. If this got out… Instagram. Prerna. His family. His teammates. His life would be over.He spent the next hour checking the chat every thirty seconds. Nothing.Prerna came home around 6 PM. She found him in the bedroom, still in the same track pants, shirtless, staring at his phone.“Hey baby,” she said, smiling. “You look like you saw a ghost. Rough day?”
Krishnansh forced a weak smile. “Yeah… just tired.”She walked over, slid her arms around his neck from behind. “You sure? You’ve been weird since yesterday. Want me to make you feel better?”Her hands slid down his bare chest, fingers tracing his pecs. She kissed his neck softly.Krishnansh tensed. His body was exhausted — two massive loads yesterday had drained him completely. His cock didn’t even stir. The thought of sex made him feel sick.“Prerna… not now,” he said quietly. “I just want to sleep.”She pulled back, frowning. “You’re really not yourself. Everything okay?”“Yeah,” he lied. “Just need rest.”She kissed his cheek. “Okay. Sleep then. I’ll make dinner.”He lay back on the bed, still shirtless, still in the track pants with no underwear underneath. The fabric rubbed against his sensitive skin every time he shifted. He closed his eyes.Sleep came fast — deep, dreamless, exhausted.The next two days passed in a haze.February 28: He woke up sore, checked his phone first thing. No reply from the unknown number. He refreshed the chat ten times before breakfast. Nothing. He went to the gym — light workout, no heavy lifts — but every time he looked at his phone, his stomach dropped. No message. He filmed a quick reel — shirtless pull-ups — but his smile looked forced. Comments flooded in as usual: “Pecs insane bro ” “Those tits tho ” He felt sick reading them.February 29: Same thing. Wake up, check phone. Nothing. Refresh. Nothing. He avoided Prerna’s touches — told her he was still sore from training. She looked worried but didn’t push. He kept his phone on silent but checked it every hour — during meals, in the bathroom, while Prerna watched TV. Nothing. He started jumping at every notification, heart racing, terrified it would be the video being sent somewhere.He barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the clinic — the cuffs, the toy, the glass cup, Arham’s calm voice saying “good boy.” His cock would twitch traitorously at the memory, and he hated himself more.He felt trapped. Helpless. The video was out there. Someone had it. And he had no idea what they would do with it.
By March 1, 2026, he was a wreck. Prerna noticed — asked why he was quiet, why he flinched when she touched his chest, why he kept checking his phone like it might explode. He lied. Said he was stressed about the tournament. She hugged him, kissed his forehead, told him to rest. But rest wouldn’t come.He had to go back.He told Prerna he had a quick errand and left around 11 AM. The clinic wasn’t far. He walked this time — the air felt heavy, his track pants rubbing against his bare cock and balls again (he still hadn’t replaced the missing underwear). Every step reminded him of yesterday.The receptionist looked surprised when she saw him.“Mr. Arora? You’re back already?”Krishnansh’s voice was low. “I need to see Dr. Arham. It’s urgent.”She nodded. “He’s free. Go right in.”He walked down the hallway, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. He knocked once and opened the door.Dr. Arham was at his desk, writing something. He looked up. His face showed real surprise, then a slow, pleased smile spread across it.“Krishnansh,” he said warmly. “I didn’t expect you back this soon. Come in. Close the door.”Krishnansh shut the door behind him. His hands were shaking. He stayed near the entrance.“Please…” he started, voice cracking. “Delete the video. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Just delete it. Please.”Arham leaned back in his chair, studying him like he was a specimen. “Video?”Krishnansh’s throat tightened. “The one you recorded. Me… tied… begging. Please. I can’t… my life will be over if it gets out.”Arham stood up slowly. He walked around the desk, coming closer. Close enough that Krishnansh could smell his cologne again.
“That video is proof,” Arham said quietly. “Proof that the cum in the glass belongs to you. Otherwise how would anyone trust it’s real? People pay for authenticity. They want to know it’s Krishnansh Arora’s load — the guy they drool over in every shirtless football reel. The one with the massive pecs bouncing while he runs. Without the face, it’s just another anonymous clip. With your face… it’s priceless.”Krishnansh’s legs felt weak. “Please… I can’t… I have a girlfriend. A life. My followers… they’ll destroy me…”Arham stepped right in front of him. Close enough that Krishnansh could feel his breath.He reached out and grabbed both of Krishnansh’s pecs through his t-shirt — firm, possessive squeeze.Krishnansh gasped. He wanted to push him away, to yell, to run. But his body froze. Helplessness washed over him again. The memory of the clinic table, the cuffs, the toy, the two loads… it all came rushing back. He stood there, trembling, as Arham kneaded his pecs slowly.Arham lifted Krishnansh’s t-shirt up to his neck in one smooth motion. The fabric bunched under his chin, exposing his bare chest completely. The massive pecs bounced slightly from the movement. The light hair across the upper part caught the light. Nipples already tightening from the cool air and the memory of yesterday.Arham leaned in. His mouth closed over the left nipple — warm, wet, tongue swirling around the dark bud. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Krishnansh’s knees buckled. A low moan escaped him before he could stop it.“Doc… please…” Krishnansh whispered. “The video…”Arham switched to the right nipple, sucking even harder, tongue flicking rapidly while his hands squeezed and lifted the heavy pecs. He relished them — licking, biting, sucking, leaving faint red marks around the areolas. Krishnansh’s cock hardened in his pants despite everything. He hated it. He wanted to talk, to beg, to fight — but the sensation was too much. His head fell back, eyes closing.Arham finally pulled away, lips shiny, breathing heavier. He tugged Krishnansh’s t-shirt back down.“Come to my house tonight,” Arham said softly. “I’ll text you the location. Wear something tight — compression shirt, shorts, no underwear. I want to see that body again.”Krishnansh stared at him. His chest heaved. His nipples throbbed under the shirt. His cock strained against the track pants.He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no.He just nodded once, turned, and left.The door clicked shut behind him.He had no choice.
Krishnansh stood in front of the mirror for a long time that evening. March 1, 2026. The house was quiet; Prerna was out with friends. He had told her he had a late gym session with a trainer. She believed him. He hated lying to her.He finally dressed exactly as Arham had asked. Tight black compression shirt — the one that hugged his pecs so tightly they looked even bigger, nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric. Tight grey shorts that ended mid-thigh, showing off the full thickness of his quads. No underwear underneath — the shorts clung to his cock and balls, outlining everything. He felt exposed even before leaving the house. Every step made the fabric shift against his sensitive skin.He took an auto to the address Arham had texted — a quiet residential society in DLF Phase 4. The building looked normal from outside. Modern. Clean. No one would suspect anything.He rang the bell at the ground-floor flat. The door opened almost immediately.Dr. Arham stood there in casual clothes — black t-shirt, jeans, barefoot. His smile was warm, almost friendly.“Krishnansh,” he said. “Right on time. Come in.”Krishnansh stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him. The flat was spacious — open-plan living area, dim warm lighting, expensive furniture. But something felt off. Too quiet. Too controlled.Arham’s eyes moved over him slowly — taking in the compression shirt stretched over his massive pecs, the way the fabric outlined every curve of muscle, the tight shorts hugging his quads and the obvious bulge in front.“You look perfect,” Arham said quietly. “Exactly how I wanted.”Krishnansh swallowed. “The video… please delete it. I came like you asked.”Arham didn’t answer right away. He placed a hand lightly on Krishnansh’s lower back and guided him forward.“Come. I have something to show you.”He led Krishnansh down a short hallway to a closed door at the end. When he opened it, Krishnansh froze.
The room was not a bedroom or office. It was a dedicated play space — dimly lit with red and amber lights, soundproofed walls, thick black mats on the floor. In the center hung a full suspension rig — heavy-duty chains and padded leather cuffs dangling from the ceiling, designed to lift and hold a person in the air. Nearby stood a BDSM chair — black leather, with adjustable restraints for wrists, ankles, thighs, and neck. On the walls and side tables: ropes, paddles, floggers, blindfolds, gags, vibrators, plugs in different sizes, lube bottles, and a few things Krishnansh didn’t even recognize.His heart slammed against his ribs. His legs felt weak.“No…” he whispered. “What is this?”Arham closed the door behind them. The lock clicked.“Don’t be scared,” Arham said softly. “As long as you’re a good bull, nothing bad will happen.”Krishnansh backed up until his back hit the wall. “I… I just came to beg you to delete the video. Please. I’ll pay. I’ll do anything. Just delete it.”Arham stepped closer. “You already agreed to come here. You’re wearing what I asked. No underwear. Tight clothes. You’re already obeying.”Krishnansh shook his head. “I didn’t know… this… please…”Arham reached out and placed a hand on Krishnansh’s chest — right over his left pec. He squeezed gently.“You’re shaking,” Arham said. “But look at you. Already getting hard again. Your body knows what it wants.”Krishnansh looked down. His cock was thickening in the tight shorts, the outline clear against the fabric.“I don’t… I’m not…” he stammered.Arham guided him gently but firmly toward the suspension rig.“Lie on your back here,” Arham said. “The harness will support you. Legs and body stretched in the air. It’s very safe. I’ve done this many times.”Krishnansh’s legs wouldn’t move. “No… please… don’t…”Arham’s voice stayed calm. “You want the video gone? You want to be free? Then be a good bull for me tonight. Cooperate. Let me enjoy what all your fans dream about.”Krishnansh’s knees buckled. He let Arham guide him onto the padded harness. Arham worked quickly — soft leather cuffs around his ankles, thighs, wrists, and upper arms. Chains tightened. Slowly, Krishnansh’s body was lifted — legs spread wide, knees bent slightly, hips suspended a foot off the table, chest arched, arms pulled back above his head.He hung there — clothed, but completely helpless. The compression shirt rode up slightly, exposing the bottom curve of his pecs. The shorts stretched tight across his quads and the growing bulge in front.Arham stepped back and admired him. Krishnansh’s breathing was fast and shallow.“Perfect,” Arham whispered. “Just like I pictured.”He walked around Krishnansh slowly, eyes drinking in every inch — the massive pecs straining against the shirt, the thick quads spread wide, the ass slightly lifted and exposed in the harness, the outline of his hardening cock pressing against the shorts.Krishnansh’s voice was small. “Please… let me go…”Arham reached out and squeezed one pec through the shirt. “Not yet. We’re just getting started.”He stepped closer, fingers tracing the outline of Krishnansh’s cock through the fabric.“You’re already hard again,” Arham said. “Your body loves being displayed like this. All those fans who comment on your reels… they’d kill to see you hanging like this, helpless, leaking for me.”Krishnansh whimpered. “Please… don’t…”Arham’s hand slid under the shirt, pushing it up to his neck again. The massive pecs bounced free. He leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth — sucking hard, tongue flicking, teeth grazing. Krishnansh moaned despite himself.Arham switched to the other nipple, sucking even harder, while his hand palmed Krishnansh’s cock through the shorts.“You’re mine tonight,” Arham whispered against his skin. “Good bull. Perfect bull. And I’m going to enjoy every inch of you.”Krishnansh’s body trembled — caught between fear, shame, and the unwanted heat building low in his belly.He was trapped.And Arham was only beginning.
Arham stepped away from the suspension rig for a moment. Krishnansh hung there helplessly — back arched slightly, arms pulled back above his head in the cuffs, legs spread wide and lifted by the ankle restraints, hips suspended a foot off the table. The tight compression shirt clung to his massive pecs, the fabric stretched thin across the full, rounded muscle. The grey shorts hugged his quads and the growing bulge in front. Sweat already beaded on his skin from the strain and fear.Arham returned carrying a small tripod. He set it up a few feet away, angled perfectly to capture Krishnansh’s entire body — face, bound arms, lifted hips, spread legs, the outline of his hardening cock pressing against the shorts. He mounted his phone on the tripod, opened the camera app, and hit record. The red light blinked on.Krishnansh’s eyes widened. “No… please… don’t record this… turn it off…”Arham ignored him completely. He adjusted the angle once more to make sure Krishnansh’s face and body were both clearly visible, then stepped back into frame.“Perfect,” he murmured. “This will be even better than the clinic one.”Krishnansh’s voice cracked with panic. “Doc… please… I’m begging you… delete everything… don’t do this…”Arham didn’t reply. Instead he walked to the side and returned with a large metal bucket filled with ice-cold water.Krishnansh’s breathing hitched. “What… what are you—”Arham lifted the bucket and poured it slowly over Krishnansh’s chest and torso. The freezing water hit like a shock — splashing across his pecs, running down his abs, soaking the compression shirt instantly. The thin black fabric turned almost transparent, clinging to every curve of his massive pecs like a second skin. The dark nipples stood out sharply through the wet material, hardened from the cold. Water dripped down his abs, pooling in the deep V-lines, soaking into the waistband of his shorts.Krishnansh gasped, body jerking against the restraints. “Cold… fuck… stop…”Arham set the bucket down and stepped close again. He grabbed the soaked compression shirt at the collar and tore it downward in one hard yank. The fabric ripped open with a loud tear, exposing Krishnansh’s bare chest completely. The massive pecs bounced free — wet, glistening, nipples dark and erect from the cold water. Water droplets rolled down the deep center line between them.
Arham raised his hand and brought it down hard — a sharp, stinging slap across both pecs at once. The wet skin made the impact louder, the sound cracking through the room. Krishnansh cried out, body arching in the suspension.Another slap — harder this time — right across the left pec. Then the right. Arham alternated — left, right, left, right — five heavy smacks that turned the smooth skin bright red. Krishnansh’s pecs jiggled with each hit, the muscle rippling under the blows. His cock throbbed harder in the shorts, pre-cum soaking the front.Arham stopped. He admired the red handprints blooming across the full, heavy pecs. Then he reached to a side table and picked up a pair of chained nipple clamps — silver, adjustable, with small rubber tips and a short metal chain connecting them.Krishnansh’s eyes widened. “No… please… don’t…”Arham didn’t speak. He pinched Krishnansh’s left nipple between his fingers — rolling it until it hardened even more — then attached the clamp. The rubber tips bit down firmly. Krishnansh hissed in pain, body jerking.Arham attached the right one the same way — slow, deliberate. Krishnansh whimpered, tears pricking his eyes again.Arham grabbed the chain between the clamps and pulled it gently upward — stretching both nipples at once. Krishnansh cried out — a sharp, high sound — his pecs lifting with the pull, muscle straining.“Beautiful,” Arham whispered. “Look at them stretch. So sensitive. So perfect.”He tugged the chain again — harder this time — making Krishnansh’s pecs bounce and the clamps bite deeper. Krishnansh moaned in pain, body shaking in the suspension, cock now fully hard and leaking through the shorts.Arham let the chain drop, watching the clamps pull the nipples downward with their weight. Krishnansh gasped, chest heaving.“You’re going to stay like this for a while,” Arham said softly. “I want to enjoy the view.”He stepped back, admiring Krishnansh — suspended, shirt torn open, pecs red and clamped, nipples stretched, cock straining against the wet shorts, face flushed with shame and pain.
Krishnansh hung suspended in the rig, body stretched and helpless, the torn compression shirt bunched around his neck like a collar. His massive pecs were already red from the earlier slaps, nipples clamped and stretched by the chain that dangled between them, pulling with every shallow breath he took. His legs were spread wide, knees bent, hips lifted high — quads thick and trembling, glutes parted just enough to expose the smooth, hairless pink hole still slick from earlier. His cock stood painfully hard, thick and veiny, the uncut head flushed dark, pre-cum beading at the slit and dripping slowly down the shaft.Arham stepped in close again. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Krishnansh’s already rock-hard cock — right over the thin, wet fabric of the remaining compression shorts. The grip was tight, possessive. Krishnansh gasped sharply, hips jerking forward into the hold.“Look at this,” Arham said low, voice thick with control. “Still so hard. Even after cumming twice yesterday. Your cock never gets enough, does it?”He pulled the shaft upward slowly — stretching it toward Krishnansh’s abs — then let go. The cock snapped back down with a wet slap against his lower stomach. Krishnansh moaned — half pain, half unwanted pleasure — the sudden impact making his balls tighten.Arham did it again. Pulled up hard, stretching the sensitive length until the head almost touched the center line between his pecs, then released. Another sharp slap against his abs. Krishnansh’s whole body jolted in the chains. The nipple clamps tugged with the movement, sending fresh stings through his chest.Again. And again. Five times total — each pull slower, more deliberate, each release harder, the cock slapping wetly against his skin, leaving faint red marks on his abs.Krishnansh’s moans turned ragged. “Please… stop… it hurts…”Arham ignored him. He grabbed the waistband of the tight grey shorts with both hands and tore them downward in one brutal yank. The fabric ripped along the seams — loud, sudden — exposing Krishnansh completely. The shredded shorts fell away in pieces. His massive cock sprang free, slapping against his abs again, fully erect, uncut head slick and shining. Heavy balls hung low, skin smooth and tight. No hair anywhere — just clean, tanned skin, the entire lower body now bare and vulnerable.Krishnansh was totally exposed — suspended, legs spread, chest heaving, pecs clamped and red, cock throbbing upright against his stomach, hole twitching in the open air.Arham stepped in close once more. He wrapped one hand around Krishnansh’s balls — fingers closing tight, squeezing hard enough to make Krishnansh whimper and arch.“I hope you’ll be a good boy today,” Arham said quietly, voice dark and commanding. “Just like yesterday. You begged so nicely then. I want to hear it again.”He lifted his other hand and brought it down hard — a sharp, open-palmed slap directly across Krishnansh’s exposed cock.Krishnansh screamed — high and broken. The impact stung like fire across the sensitive shaft. His cock jerked violently, pre-cum flying from the slit.Arham slapped again — harder — right along the underside. Then the top. Then the head. Five quick, stinging hits, each one making Krishnansh’s body convulse in the restraints. His balls tightened in Arham’s grip, cock pulsing with every strike, pre-cum leaking in thick drops.
“Such a perfect cock,” Arham murmured. “So thick. So responsive. It loves being punished, doesn’t it?”Krishnansh sobbed openly now. “Please… stop… I can’t… it hurts…”Arham squeezed his balls tighter — just enough to make Krishnansh gasp — then released them slowly.“You’ll take what I give you,” Arham said. “And you’ll thank me for it.”He stepped back, admiring the sight: Krishnansh suspended, shirt torn open, pecs clamped and stretched, cock red and throbbing from the slaps, hole exposed and twitching, entire body trembling with pain and unwanted arousal.
To be continued..
