Imagine yourself chained to the cross.

You can't help it and the thought comes out of nowhere, but you immediatly wonder if there are similar places where men are chained to the x-cross. The vision is frightening and arousing at the same time. You imagine yourself there, blindfolded, naked and chained. How utterly embarrassing. How humiliating. The fact that you would not be able to see anything sends shivers down your spine. Anybody could gather and watch you. Co-workers, people you might know, strangers... And you wouldn't even know. Also, while you can assume from certain movements and moans of the blonde in front of you that she must be at least partly aroused, the arousal of a man would be undeniable. Everybody could see your erection. Everybody could judge your cock, comment on the size, the shape, the performance.

Worse, people could, of course, stimulate you with those feathers. You are sure that the touch of the swaying, soft feather must be at once highly irritable and tickling but yet still quite powerful if directed at the right spots. If people would concentrate on your balls, your shaft and your head... you are almost certain that your cock would get rock hard in no time. People could even play with you: Watch you getting hard and then withdraw, leaving you helpless, gyrating your hips in the search of stimulation, until the erection slowly fades, and is promptly stimulated again. What a ****!

You imagine the audience laughing and giggling at this display. You imagine yourself whimpering in frustration, feeling your cock getting hard, showing it off like a spear into the face of an audience you don't see, and then feeling it softening again. You imagine the arousal building up in your balls, pumping blood and pressure into your shaft, yet being denied again and again, until your balls hurt from being edged over and over. The thought alone has your cock rock hard in your pants, as you stare at the woman chained to the cross, but not really seeing her. You are suddenly very happy that the people around you can't read your mind. It would be too embarrassing. Then again... you somehow wish that you could actually live and feel this moment. You wonder if they would make you cum on stage, chained to the cross, while your cock spurts its splashes of jizz, giggling, cheering and laughing, or if they would deny you until the end, leaving you a blabbering mass of arousal, unfulfilled and humiliated.

You take a deep breath and decide to leave the scenery. You need to calm down. The throbbing erection in your pants makes it a bit uncomfortable to walk, but you stumble along the corridor nevertheless.