Dan - Chapter 2

Author: lithium500mg
Title: Dan - Chapter 2
Date: 23 February 2016

Dan - Chapter 2

My last notes concluded with Dan leaving me naked and tightly bound in Ming the Merciless’s chair, and going to his 18:00 to 04:00 LAPD shift. I was on Wi-Fi video, and a smartphone app controlled the electrodes superglued to my balls.

I had been immobilized for about 50 minutes and already my body had started to hurt. It was partly from the tension and fear. After a few minutes and after my head cleared a little, I took stock of my situation, that is, my physical situation. If I relaxed I was reasonably comfortable although immobility is by itself tiring. I didn’t know how long Dan’s shift would last, but I figured eight hours at least. It might be eleven or so if it were a ten-hour shift. I tried not to dwell on what might happen when he got back.

When I first looked at the TV after Dan was gone, I got a wave of fear from seeing my helplessness, and seeing the scary wires between my legs. It looked like there were four wires on each testicle, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I could barely move my head, so it was a strain to focus on the flat screen. After a while, though, I thought, well, I looked pretty good. Like a captured superhero. I would resist! I would be brave. I would endure. I wouldn’t be a pussy. I tried unsuccessfully to stick out my chest in hero fashion.

More than an hour and a half after I had been left alone, I heard the first sounds and felt the first tingle. Dan and his partner were doing traffic duty in the squad car, and began amusing themselves with the electrodes. “What did he try to steal?” the partner asked. I had clear audio. “The flat screen. I was out back and heard him. He offered to blow me if I didn’t turn him in.”

I was listening to this stuff and getting anxious. Then I felt the electrical tingle. It was enough to shift my focus to the groin. Horny is horny, and the swelling started. All I could think about was Dan’s hand on my junk. When I was fully “up” I proudly displayed my superhero manhood. “Fuck these guys,” I thought. I may not be overly big, but big enough, and I’m perfectly symmetrical.

I mentioned that the electrodes had multiple wires to each yarble. I think it was four each, meaning that there were at least four circuits. I was never sure. Gerry, Dan’s current partner, mumbled something and then started playing with the smartphone app. I felt a shock first on one ball, then the other, then both. It wasn’t too painful, but it was unpleasant enough, perhaps just confusing enough, to make me soft. It was obvious that the app had more controls than just amplitude.

The stimulation of my balls stopped and the audio got quiet although I could hear the traffic background. Dan and his partner, whose name is really Gerhart, did a little police business and then came back to the squad car. “Hey Flash, you awake?” It was Gerry, who used my real name, but I won’t mention that here. Dan always called me Flash.

I had my eyes closed when they came back to the car, but Gerry’s voice made me alert, as I might have to gird for jolts to my yarblockos. “We’ll have fun with you when we get to the Station. Will you wait for us?” I heard them laugh, and then only traffic noise as more police business was conducted. I heard a fraction of Dan-and-Gerry banter, “…if I find out, he won’t have any teeth.” A few seconds later, “…natural teeth.”

It was probably another 90 minutes or so when Dan and Gerry circled back to the Station. I won’t mention its name except that this station is notorious for racial profiling and other intolerances. After they settled in, the whole Station was viewing Dan’s prisoner. They started playing with the Smartphone app, and my balls were dancing. Right, right; left, left; right, left, right, left; RIGHT, right, LEFT, left. One sequence they had a lot of fun with was the Beethoven 5th – right, right, right, LE…EFT; right, right, right, LE…EFT.

This action was highly stressful. I had to tense my whole body to withstand the bigger shocks. When the electricity was steady and at a lower and stimulating level, I could not avoid the erection. Eventually I would get a jolt or a disturbing rhythm that would deflate my manhood. Dan’s TV showed all of the action, but my eyes were usually focused on nothing but surviving the ordeal. The Station joined in the fun as well as discussions of how long my sentence for breaking and entering an LAPD crib should be.

Towards the end of the shift Dan took over. The electricity moved from disturbing to erotic. The muscles around my groin were tired from the testicle dancing, and I just let everything relax. Dan used the Smartphone app to send rhythmic pulses that sometimes alternated between the balls. Pretty soon I got hard as I could see on the flat screen, then I felt the pain of fluids coursing through my lower body, and my eyes glazed over.

The next thing I saw was three jets of cum in front of my face as my body shook uncontrollably. Walt Whitman may have said “limpid jets of love,” but there was nothing limpid about the rest of my tightly restrained body. Dan upped the electricity for what seemed like eternity. Even after the limpid jets, my genitals kept trying, and failing, to expel more and more seed. Finally, the electricity stopped, and I confess, I started sobbing. Flash had been broken.

As the time approached the end of shift, the action stopped and I dropped off to a deep sleep. About 05:00, Dan showed up with a big haul from McDonald’s and fed me three Egg McMuffins. He was kind enough to remove the waist and chest belts, and, of course, the gag. While I was feeding, Dan cleaned me up from my genital, nasal and oral emissions of the night. Threats of nipple clamps kept me quiet.

During this “quiet time” he played back the videos of the last night plus video, secretly taken, of me in the shower. It was apparent from the latter that I had almost jerked off in the shower, but had thought better of it. Perhaps I was playing with myself more than I should have. I would have shot if I had known what was coming. Dan enjoyed watching the jumping testicles, but, for me, it only reminded me of the stress and discomfort.

After I had time to get my stomach settled, Dan pushed an oxygen mask in my face, fed it nitrous oxide, and I was out-of-order. I vaguely remember the restraints being removed although I didn’t remember the removal of the Chair’s wrist and ankle restraints. In the movies these usually roll off instantaneously, with a “clang.” I remember being helped up and being led outside and my bare feet on grass. I was led, probably by Dan, down some narrow stairs and helped down on a bed. As soon as I went horizontal, the dark came over me.

I woke up in a cell, naked on a narrow bed. My hands and feet were loosely cuffed in a narrow spread eagle either end of the bed. A heavy steel collar was bolted around my neck with a long medium-sized chain attached, the other end locked at the cell door. By “medium sized” I mean it could lift a Fiat 500, not a Ford F-250.

Dan was sleeping on the floor outside the cell on what looked to me like a very thick and comfortable pad. He was naked on his back, and apparently he was having an erotic dream. I didn’t wake him. He had an unusual tattoo near the base of his dick, on the shaft. I later found out that the design represented something different when its carrier was either flaccid or erect.

The only sound I could hear was from the ventilation system. There were no car sounds or televisions. When the HVAC switched off it was dead silent. Wherever I was, sound did not get in, and likely did not get out. The room, or perhaps I should call it a “facility,” had another smaller cell that I would inhabit later, and describe later. On an otherwise empty wall were shackles and various attachment points, low – medium – high. There were stairs leading up to a door, the only entrance and implying that we were underground. The facility was small enough that I could view all of it from my bondage bed.

Several hours had passed, and it occurred to me that the Egg McMuffins might have contained something to keep me asleep after the nitrous wore off. Or maybe it was in the orange juice. I had time to review the past 16 hours, remembered the painful shoot, and noted that I had been cleaned up including spillage from the Dan-fed breakfast-in-Ming’s-chair.

Perhaps another hour passed before Dan woke up. He checked me out, and no doubt heard my pleas for freedom, mercy, or other pathetic groveling statements, all of which meant “please don’t hurt me.” He left the facility by the stairs, and returned about 30 minutes later freshly showered and wearing just a clean whitey tighty and a white tee-shirt with an LAPD insignia.

You need a circumcision, boy.