Part 3: His Highly-Strung Lordship
Jason was a leading light in the University Medieval Society. He was one of those who just loved clanking about in armour and taking part in tournaments, jousts and re-enactments of ancient battles. But for the Medieval Dungeon Party we had outlawed suits of armour, swords, spears and other bits of ironware. So Jason came along splendidly bedecked in a fine doublet and hose plus a velvet cap with a long feather in it. He looked every bit one of the gentry of those ancient times. Other members from the Uni conned him into volunteering to sample a bit of what it must have been like in a medieval dungeon. After the experience, perhaps he thought that he should not have been so rash – but I bet he’ll never forget that night!
“Come on Jason, give it a go - you’re always telling us we should really get stuck into your battles.”
Jason was not really sure that he wanted to volunteer but he did not want to lose face and be seen not to be taking an active role. So rather reluctantly, he agreed. He didn’t have to say yes twice before the others, led by his girlfriend Liz, descended upon him and led him over to where the Chief Torturer was just finishing lashing a victim to the whipping post.
“Your next customer,” said Liz. “He should be punished for all the times he has made us charge about muddy fields trying to win battles that were lost centuries ago.”
“Ah, I know just the punishment for him,” replied the Chief Torturer. “Follow me – and bring his Lordship.”
The next thing Jason knew was that a broomstick was being pushed up the sleeve of his doublet. With a bit of judicious wriggling it passed across his shoulder blades and found its way down his other sleeve. Four leather straps were then buckled round each arm from his wrists to his armpits. He was now pretty well helpless and there was no way that he was going to get out of the bind he found himself in without some outside assistance. His situation got even worse when a neck corset was wrapped round his neck and laced tight. The neck corset stretched from his collarbones to his chin and covered the bottom half of his face up to his nose. It not only held his head so that he could not move it but as the part that covered his mouth was padded it also effectively muzzled him.
The Chief Torturer then pushed him over to where two ropes dangled from pulleys hanging from a beam in the ceiling. He tied a rope to each end of the broomstick and then went over to the wall and started turning the handle of a winch. Slowly Jason was lifted into the air until he was swinging with his arms outstretched and his feet about eighteen inches off the floor.
“Now we can’t just leave him like that can we?” said the Chief Torturer stepping back to admire his handiwork. “We’ve got to do something about his legs – he could kick folk. Come on help me get him pants off. I’ll hold his legs while you undo them and pull them down”
The thought of his pants being removed in front of this crowd was too much for Jason. But his struggles were in vain and a fine pair of knee-length velvet pants was soon lying on the floor. These were followed by his underpants, his buckle shoes and knee-high stockings.
“Could one of you pass that spreader bar over?” The Chief Torturer pointed at a collection of evil-looking devices on a nearby table. “No, not that one, the longer one.”
Jason’s ankles were soon spread three feet apart. The Chief Torturer then tied the end of a short length of rope to one end on the spreader bar, passed the other end through two rings set in the floor and pulled it tight before tying it off at the other end of the bar.
“His Lordship’s certainly not going to kick anybody like that!” exclaimed the lovely and rather regally dressed Liz. “But can’t you do something about those things dangling between his thighs?”
The Chief Torturer needed no further prompting. Again he went over to the table and came back with a leather parachute and a brass bell. Ignoring Jason’s increasing but muffled protests he grabbed his balls and pulled them away from his body so he could buckle the parachute round the top of his scrotum. Next he attached the brass bell so that it swung from the end of about a foot of thin cord.
Turning to Liz and another girl who was standing nearby the Chief Torturer asked if they wanted to hear the bell ring. Of course both girls said yes. So again he went over to the table and, after rummaging through the drawers, he came back with a bottle of Tabasco sauce. “Ladies if you want the hear that bell ring, apply a liberal coating of this Tabasco sauce to his cock and his balls – the more you rub on the more the bell will ring.” With that he unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to Liz. She poured a little on to her fingers and gently rubbed it on the target area.
“More than that woman, put a real dollop in your hand and really work it in. Here, hold out your hand.” He tipped up the bottle and poured ‘a real dollop’ into her palm. “Now rub that in well. All over now – and don’t forget under the foreskin.” By now Liz had overcome her inhibitions and really got into the swing of things.
The Chief Torturer turned to the other girl and suggested that she applied some to his ass hole. “There’s some rubber gloves over there if you want them,” he added. The girl took him up on his suggestion and soon she too was applying ‘a real dollop’ of the sauce to his nether end.
By now the Tabasco sauce was having its effect and Jason’s cock, balls and ass hole were on fire – and the brass bell was ringing out loud and clear.
The sound of the bell plus Jason’s muffled cries attracted a crowd all eager to find out what all the noise was about. When the bell stopped ringing, or even when the ringing slowed a bit, there were always volunteers to apply more sauce. With all the attention his cock and balls were getting from the girls in the room Jason soon had one enormous hard on. The girl’s focus of attention now switched to the possibility of milking him – and half an hour ago these girls from MedSoc seemed such a demure lot! It was not long before he shot his load, much to the consternation of Liz who now had semen all down the front of her dress.
“Let’s see how many times we can make him cum,” suggested a tall girl appropriately dressed as a milkmaid. I’m not sure how many times they succeeded but the bell kept on ringing for quite while. By now Liz had learnt to stand to one side so as to avoid copping another lot of semen – but I don’t think one of the other girls was so lucky.
When they had milked him dry one of the girls who earlier had watched another girl getting her ass whipped reckoned that they should whip his ass too. It was a too good an opportunity to miss. They took up this task with all the enthusiasm that they applied to milking him. They were not satisfied with using just one whip; they tried the lot: a riding crop, a tawse, a cane plus the whip and a number of different paddles – often two of the girls applying different types at the same time.
I began to feel a bit sorry for Jason, first he was strung up, then he found himself naked from the waist down with his cock and balls on fire, next the girls milked him dry and now they were whipping his ass which was rapidly turning cherry red.
I’m not sure when his ordeal was finally over but it was not until well past midnight. I reckon that the girls had worked on him for a couple of hours at least before they got bored and moved on to other sources of entertainment.
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story continues in Medieval Dungeon Party Part 4: Trouble for a Little Plucker