Total By Tuckamore

Smelling. Her smell. Musty. A little sweet, a little sour. Swirling around him. Her smell everywhere. In the air, on his body. Pervasive. Penetrating. Not his nostrils, but his body.

Vertigo. Also swirling. He felt himself spinning. His entire body, swirling in the sensations. His feet were not on the ground. His body was horizontal. He was dizzy with it all. He had been spun through the maelstrom of sweet pain and been lost in her control.

Everything melded. The smell of her sex, and his. The memories. The knitting needle. That was the strongest. Her lips on his manhood. Making it rise, making it swell. The tips of her fingers, first on his balls, teasing. Then on his nipples until he was ready to burst.

The knitting needle. Slowly. Painfullyl? (He didn't know.) Reamed slowly, carefully into his cock. Too big really. But the skill with which she did it. His own precum lubricating. The tickling, the deep, painful kisses as she bit his tongue, bit his nipples. His erection was enormous, the pain, the power and control, only adding to it. Slowly she penetrated. Removing it. Touching her own wetness and rubbing the needle. Again inserting. Over and over, becoming easier. Gradually penetrating to his depths, stopping as the needle reached the base of his throbbing cock.

His arms had been carefully bound behind him. Beautifully bound. Starting at the elbows. Wrapped. Smooth, soft rope. Artfully done. No knots. Seamless. From the elbows to the wrists. The ropes were around his neck, coiled to the post behind him. Smoothly, gently applied. Tight, holding him motionless, but causing no pain or discomfort. He was on his knees.

Now the ropes were wrapped around his torso. His erect cock and the protruding needle were bound to his stomach. All the while she played him. Caresssing. Talking softly. Her sweet voice hypnotizing him. His balls caressed. His nipples first bitten, then kissed. His lips bleeding. His tongue swelling. Every part of him was throbbing. He felt no pain. Everything was absorbed in the euphoria.

He felt his prostate urging, his balls exploding. The semen flowing to the base of his penis where it met the tip of the needle.

He screamed. She reached down, as she was biting his lower lip and squeezed his balls. Twisting.

He came deep into himself. He felt the warmth of his semen warm his belly. He felt it quiver. He felt everything spasm, his buttocks clench, his hips rise to receive himself. She laughed. Again. And she came. And the smell started.

She kicked him viciously. Then released the ropes from around his neck. She left.

He slumped to the floor.

The swirling started. He did not know where he was. But it was the penetrating smell of her, of him, that made him swirl. Made the vertigo. Spinning and black. Dizzy. Spinning faster and faster. He felt the blackness descending. He felt the horror of it. Now he was screaming for real. No more doubt about whether it was pain or pleasure. It was pure psychic pain. She had left him.

Swirling. Darkness. He knew it would end. It always did.

"I've never seen anyone bound like this," the medical examiner said, looking at the still erect cock and the needle, the first traces of semen seeping out. "Jesus, that must have been painful."

"Any witnesses?"

"That little stump of a lady over there swears he was just wandering on the roof and as he came near the edge, this lady in black ran and grabbed at him and they both fell. He looks like he's probably better off. But her? WOW! What a waste."