Shoot his load

The stinging pain volleying up Alasdair's ass did nothing to abate the growing tension in his balls.

Sweat exuded his pores, his stimulated body heating as he neared the inevitable. He could only cringe. The boyish woman highlighted another of his deep insecurities. His lack of sexual endurance had always been clear to him, barely lasting a minute wanking to pornography. But now, Martina planned on using this information for further humiliation and degradation. He mustn't blow his load, at least not as she disciplined him like a child.

But how?

Even now his sac tautened and thickened, readying the upcoming pleasures climbing his shaft. Taking deep breaths did well for managing his reflex. But each attempt at doing so had been met with Martina's sudden thrashes at his backside and pumps along his straining erection. Gradually more of his pre-ejaculate gushed from him, the intensity of her slapping, wet grip on his dick pitting a firmness in his stomach. He closed his eyes, his mind venturing further and further from his predicament in hopes of a saving grace.

"Alis, aren't you going to come for me?"

His body shook, eyes shooting open, now observing warm, slender ivory arms pumping his hard shaft. The woman's comparable breast rubbed against his back, their softness easing the stress throughout his frame, making his insides tingle and flutter. Her equally delicate fingers cast him further into euphoria. Her right hand made smooth his rigid cock, silken by his copious leakage. Her left teased his ass cheeks, warming them with rubs and caresses before tapping away with light smacks more gratifying than painful.

This was not Martina. He knew that for a fact, but this 'new' woman was someone he known for years. Someone he once thought he would spend his entire life.

Someone he still loved.

"J-Joselyn. What are you doing here?" Alasdair questioned his old lover with haggard breath.

"Disciplining you baby. You have been quite the wicked boy. When we were together, you always treated me like a queen, but I presume little boys misbehave now and again."

His cock twitched in her grip, invoking her sweet, melodic laughter.

"To think I almost hung about a little todger like yours. I suppose this was the reason you were never intimate with me."

Alasdair's entire body flushed, appealing to more of her mirth.

"Such a selfish little boy aren't you. Always thinking of yourself and your needs, not considering that even a petite woman like myself wouldn't be satisfied with such a tiddly piece."

She laboured at his cock and ass, his ascending balls, primed with his unrelenting decadence, drawing tight towards his stiff shaft. His body pulsed, his muscles involuntarily contracting, flushing more torridity about him. Perspiration dotted the burning furnace that was his form, coating him red. Joselyn placed her lips against Alasdair's ears, one hand pushing against his buttocks as he humped her tightened grip.

"Have you been a selfish and wicked boy Alis?"

"Joselyn…please…"

She tapped again at his beefy cheeks, making him flinch.

"Answer me. Have you been a selfish, wicked boy?"

"…yes."

"Is it because of your little dick?"

Alasdair shook his head, but Joselyn spanked him once more. The pressure ballooned in his groin, making him pant.

"Is it because of your little dick?"

"…yes…please Joselyn. I'm…I'm."

Her strokes precipitated along his pole, which had deepened into a rankled red, its measured pulses emerging more violent and resolute. This, coupled with Alasdair's loud grunts, brought a smile on her lips.

"Say it. You are a selfish, wicked boy because of your tiny dick."

"…Joselyn…”

"Say it Alis."

He clinched the bed sheets, pushing himself deeper and deeper into the mattress. He was so close. He would not last.

"…I…I'm a selfish, wicked boy because of my tiny dick."

"Again."

"…I'm a selfish, wicked boy because of my tiny dick."

"Again Alis."

"I'm a selfish, wicked boy because of my tiny…my tiny…ungh!"

Brusque rumbles scarpered Alasdair's lungs, accentuating his surmount over his sensual threshold; the point of no return. Never-ending pulses of elated bliss pulled from his swollen balls, barraging out his redden shaft like bullets. Grand satisfaction tickled his skin and slurred his words while cord after cord of his abundant semen coated Joselyn's hands and the bed linen. After a dozen pulses, he diminished in flow. Deep pleasure settled in his thighs as his cock slackened. While taking his breath, he jerked at the cruel laughter of his superior.

"I knew you wouldn't last," spoke Martina. "With such a pubescent, trigger-happy willy, no wonder you are still single. The only person you could satisfy is yourself."

She rose from the mattress, patting Alasdair's ass. The man winced; his buttocks still sore from corporal chastisement.

"…Fuck you bitch…"

Martina's eyes widened, her gaze on Alasdair.

"Sorry…could you repeat? I did not hear."

"…I said…fuck you bitch," he responded, his voice still deep though clearer than before despite his exhaustion.

Martina shook her head, slapping his ass once more. As he screeched, a white flash caught his view. Though dazed, he made out the mobile phone in Martina's hands, which she looked at with unrestrained smiles. She hummed briefly, before laughing softly while approaching him. She shoved the device in his face, the corner of her lips rising upon Alasdair’s growing shock. In the photo, his stark-naked body laid prone on the mattress aside from his curved back and arched head and neck. Memorialised were his cries at the sky—his eyes pinched and strained; his flexed, straightened arms showcasing the ample strength at which he gripped the sheets beneath him, and, at last, the rosy skin of his bubble ass which made him look more baboon than man. A comparison not lost on Martina.

"A primate in his natural habitat. You should interview at the zoo Alasdair because after this photo gets out at the company, you will need a new career."

Martina laughed, removing the phone from his face. He struggled against his restraints, shouting various frustrations and expletives at Martina, however the youthful woman paid them no mind. She merely primped herself before one of the full-body mirrors within the room before making her way to the entrance.

"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Alasdair, but it was to no avail.

Martina had already drawn the door to a close.