Exotic Tours

A man hires an exotic tours company to explore the city’s exotic sights and sounds but finds himself forced to endure humiliation, teasing and denial.

Author’s Name: pigdog (the_pigfarm@hotmail.com)

About the author: Pigdog (alias) is a minor writer of erotic fiction who liked to weave adventures of culture and eroticism into her stories.

Story codes: F+/m, m-self, cbt, exhibition, toys, voyeurism, D/s, bondage, real, slow, reluctant, mc, humiliation, blackmail, nc, serious.

Exotic Tours

The advertisement was simple enough. It said take an ‘Exotic Tour’ of the city and included the telephone number to call. What better way to spend an evening? In any event, it would be at least as interesting as sitting in the lounge at the hotel and I might get to meet some interesting people. I dialed the number.

“Exotic Tours.” The voice that answered the call sounded like it belonged to an older woman but nevertheless seemed pleasant and cheerful.

“Yes, I would like more information on your tour in your advertisement”, I replied.

“Of course. Who am I speaking to?”

“Bob.”

“Well, Bob. We offer one of the most exotic tours in the city. It is completely different from any other tours you may see advertised. In fact, what makes our tour exotic is that it is like a treasure hunt. As you complete each step, you get new instructions. You don’t know where you’ll be going next, but as long as you follow the instructions carefully you will have a good time.”

“That sounds interesting,” I replied. “When does the tour begin?”

After exchanging some details, I began to get excited about the tour.

“I will send a driver to pick you up at 7:00. You are to wait at a bus stop about 2 blocks from your hotel. Just ask for ‘Exotic Tours’ and introduce yourself. After you pay your fee, the driver will explain everything.”

“OK.”

“There is just one more thing to remember.”

“Yes. What’s that?”

“The driver will give you an envelope when you are picked up at the bus stop. It will contain some unusual instructions. It is very important for the success of your tour that you follow the instructions carefully.”

“I’ll be sure to read the instructions carefully.”

I was at the bus stop a few minutes early. There were a couple of other people waiting for the bus but they paid no attention to me. As promised, at exactly 7:00 a small, black car pulled up. The driver was a woman dressed in a shiny leather outfit who, from behind the wheel, enquired “Hello, are you Bob?”

“Yes, that’s me”, I replied. “Is this Exotic Tours?”

“Yes. Get in the back seat, please.”

I climbed into the car. The woman behind the wheel looked very sexy in her leather clothing. I could see she was wearing tall leather boots and a short leather skirt. Her leather jacket barely concealed her ample breasts. Each item of clothing had the look and sheen of exotic leather. I guessed that was in conformity with the theme of ‘Exotic Tours” and I began to wonder just what kind of tour I would have as I climbed into the back seat.

“Do you have your payment?” she enquired.

I quickly extracted my payment from my pocket and handed it over. As the driver checked my payment, I began to notice other details. Her long fingers finished in well manicured, polished nails. She wore leather wrist cuffs, the kind I had seen in exotic boutiques, and a thin leather collar around her neck. This was going to be an exotic tour, I thought, if the driver was any indication.

After quickly counting and stashing my payment in a bag lying on the front passenger seat, the driver withdrew an envelope and a black, plastic garbage bag.

“Read and follow the instructions in the envelope”, she said, handing the items to me. She then put the car into drive and merged into the traffic as we sped away from the bus stop.

I opened the envelope. I removed a page on which some instructions had been printed. I carefully read the instructions:

“Welcome to Exotic Tours. Your tour will begin by asking you to exchange your clothing for more exotic clothing you will wear for the rest of your tour. Place all of your clothes in the black plastic bag. Please remove ALL your clothes, including your underwear. Don’t worry about your clothes. We will keep your clothes safe during your tour and they will be returned to you at the end of the tour. Once you have finished, hand the bag to the driver in order to receive your next instructions”.

I looked up from the page. This was a very unusual request. Obviously, some sort of outfit, but what would replace my clothes? Now I was curious. The request seemed harmless enough. There was no reason to doubt that I would, in exchange for my clothes, be given my outfit for the tour. There was just one problem. Removing my clothes would leave me naked in the back seat of the car. Anyone who looked into the car would see a naked man, at least for a few minutes, until I got my tour outfit. I decided that a temporary embarrassment was a small risk to take.

Glancing at the traffic outside, I realized that other drivers paid no attention to the occupants of other vehicles as they concentrated on driving. I unbuttoned my shirt and managed to pull it off. I stuffed it into the black plastic bag. Next, I removed my shoes and socks and placed them also inside the bag. Next, I undid my trousers and, raising myself slightly from my seat, managed to pull them down around my knees. Pulling them off my ankles proved more challenging but after a few moments I managed to remove them and placed them with the other items of clothing in the bag.

Now I paused. Here I was, sitting in the back seat of a car on a busy street, dressed only in my underwear. Removing this last item would leave me totally naked. I remembered the instructions. I was to remove every article of clothing. I guessed that I wouldn’t get my next set of instructions until I had completed the first set. With another quick glance at the passing traffic and street scene, just to be sure no one was paying any attention, I hooked my thumbs in my last remaining item of clothing and removed it, placing it in the bag with the rest of my clothes.

I lifted the bag and tied off the open end. When the car came to a stop at the next intersection, I hoisted the bag into the front seat beside the driver and sat back waiting to receive my next instructions. The driver adjusted the bag on the seat but otherwise offered no further instructions. She had been glancing at me as I undressed but had made no further comment since we left the bus stop a few minutes ago. When the light changed, we continued driving through the evening traffic. Rather than start a conversation, I decided to wait for my next instructions.

I began to consider what sort of exotic tour I had taken. When would I be given my outfit to wear and what would it be? My mind began to wander to the sexily clad woman driving the car. She seemed to be unconcerned with the fact there was a naked man in the rear seat.

At the next set of lights, the driver pulled alongside another vehicle carrying several young women. One of the passengers in the other vehicle glanced over and noticed something odd. Here was a car with a man riding nude in the back seat. As she pointed it out to her friends, they all shifted to get a better look. There was little I could do other than stare straight ahead, hoping to avoid their inquisitive looks. However, the attention of several young women had the effect of causing my cock to begin to stiffen. Where was my outfit, I started to ask, but fell silent again.

Just beyond the next intersection, my driver suddenly pulled into a parking garage. After grabbing the ticket, the gate lifted and we entered. The driver ignored several open spots near the entrance and instead navigated between several rows of parked vehicles until we reached a level where there were few other vehicles. I was thankful to find a more isolated part of the garage. This was to avoid attracting attention, I thought, so that I could get dressed in whatever exotic outfit I was about to receive.

My driver pulled into an open spot and killed the engine. Without a word, she removed the keys and, grabbing the black bag containing my clothes, stepped out of the car. She went immediately to the rear trunk, opened it, and deposited the bag of clothes. Of course I could not see what she was doing but a moment later the lid was closed and the driver opened the door to the rear seat and climbed in beside me. In her hand she held a small bag, too small to contain a large item of clothing.

“Let’s get you dressed,” she said, using a rather authoritative tone. She pulled a leather strap from the small bag. “This is a neck strap,” she said, as if there was any confusion as to the nature of the item. “Lean forward.”

The leather strap featured a buckle and strap design with several rings inset into the leather on all sides. Finally, I thought, I’m getting something to wear, after having the humiliation of riding nude in the back seat of the car for several minutes. I leaned forward while my driver placed the strap snugly around my neck. This gave me my first chance to look at her legs and bosom. If the sight before me was any indication, this exotic tour would be one to remember. My cock once again began to stir as she made some final adjustments to the strap and I sat up in the seat.

“Next are the wrist straps,’ she announced and I held out my arms while she deftly attached the pair to my wrists. All this time she paid no attention to my growing erection, rather concentrating on the task at hand. As she attached the straps, I again reflected upon my predicament. I had voluntarily undressed for this woman and my clothes were now locked away. The only way to get to them would be to open the trunk of the car and, assuming that I could even get the keys, I would have to momentarily be exposed nude in the parking garage. I was certainly being prepared for some exotic adventure and thoughts of various possibilities began to play in my mind. Where was the rest of my outfit, I began to wonder, as my state of arousal steadily increased.

Next, my driver removed two short lengths of light chain from the small bag. Each end of both chains featured a spring clasp that she attached to a ring the wrist cuffs. Then the chains were looped through rings inset in my neck strap under my chin, with the clasps on both ends clipped to the rings in the wrist straps, making them impossible to read yet effectively securing my arms and pulling my wrists up to my neck.

“Good,” the driver confirmed. “Now lower your hands.” I tried to lower my arms but the short chain made it impossible for me to move my wrists more than about 6 inches. I began to realize just how vulnerable my condition was. This was going to be no ordinary exotic tour. With my wrists chained to my neck I now had no way to cover my genitals or prevent their manipulation in any way she wanted. I realized that I had naively allowed myself to be captured. I would now also be at the mercy of this exotic woman. And I didn’t even know her name!

“Let’s go,” my driver suddenly announced, after observing my futile efforts to free my arms from the short chains. Opening the door, she stepped out of the car. I realized that my exotic tour would now continue but rather than riding naked in the back seat, I would have the additional challenge of not being able to use my hands to cover my genitals.

My driver stood, expectantly holding the door open. “Get out,” she commanded. It was obvious she wanted me to leave the relative protection and comfort of the back seat of the car. I hesitated, not sure I had heard correctly. “Get out,” she repeated, more insistent this time. I shuffled sideways and stepped out of the car, not wanting to be left alone, naked and vulnerable in the car but equally hesitant to stand naked in the parking garage. As soon as I stood outside the car, my driver quickly thrust the door shut, pointed the remote door lock at the car and locked the doors. The car emitted at short ‘beep’ to indicate that the doors were indeed locked.

I looked around the garage and noted that there were only a few vehicles on this level. There were no other people around. At least for the moment, we had this parking level to ourselves.

“Follow me,” my driver instructed, and started off at a brisk pace toward the pedestrian exit. I stumbled along behind her, acutely conscious of my nakedness and unable to cover myself, occasionally stepping on small stones that hurt my feet but I managing to keep up. The exit was some distance from where we had parked. As we approached, the door suddenly opened and two women, well dressed in business suits, emerged, with one of them carrying a briefcase. I froze in my spot and desperately searched for somewhere to hide but there was nowhere to go!

My driver stopped to speak with the women by the exit door. Then, all three women turned to face me, as I stood there motionless, naked and unsure what to do. One of the women produced a camera and pointed it toward me. A bright flash suggested that she had taken a picture of me, as I stood there ready to flee. The photographer then checked the image on the camera and stepped toward me.

As she approached, I could see that she was smartly dressed in a business suit and heels. She came right up to me and without warning reached between my legs and grabbed my balls firmly in her right hand. Her unexpected actions caught me completely off guard.

“Look at me,” she said in a commanding voice, holding my balls in her hand.

She was about the same height as myself, but my knees had bent slightly when she grabbed my balls. I now straightened up and looked directly into her eyes. With her free hand, she reached into the pocket of her business suit and withdrew a short length of rope, looping it around my cock and balls and tightening the loop. She then threaded the remaining length of rope through a ring in my neck collar beneath my chin. When she then pulled on the rope, my genitals were pulled forward and upward toward my chin.

“Let’s go for a little tour,” she suggested, grasping the loose end of the rope and turning around. The rope acted as a sort of leash on my cock and balls, threaded through the neck strap ring. A brief tug on the rope alerted me to the fact I was to follow, my genitals thrust out in front of me as I struggled to walk with my back stiffened.

As we approached the exit stairwell, I realized that my driver was leaving me. She carried the briefcase that I had noticed before in the grip of the second businesswoman. As she departed, she grabbed my cock briefly, whispered, “Have a nice tour,” and began to briskly walk back in the direction of her car. It dawned on me that this was some sort of transaction, exchanging a naked man for whatever was in the briefcase. Another tug on the rope, however, returned my attention to my current predicament.

We entered the stairwell, and began to descend the first flight of stairs. When we reached the first landing, my new companions positioned me with my ass to the railing. The leash rope was threaded between my legs and, after tugging tightly on it, tied to the railing behind me. My cock and balls we lewdly presented in front of me, pulled upward by the rope through the ring on my neck strap before being tied off on the railing. The rope also pulled be slightly forward and prevented me from standing erect.

I tried to thrust forward against the rope but this simply had the effect of pulling my genitals upward toward my chin. Behind me was the railing, limiting my backward movement. I realized my movements were very restricted.

“We’ll wait here for you,” said the woman who had led me to this position. The other woman descended the stairwell. Then, facing me directly, she withdrew a bottle of clear liquid from a pocket in her business suit and held it up to my face. She made a show of depositing a handful of the liquid in the palm of her left hand. A wicked smile appeared on her face as she held the handful of liquid in front of my face before slowly dropping from view. Reaching under me she grasped my bulging balls and began to cover them with the clear liquid. Able to thrust neither forward nor backward, I was only able to slide from side to side as she began to gently but firmly massage the liquid into my balls.

I gasped and groaned as the woman gently massaged my balls. From her facial expressions I realized that she was testing me while she tormented my balls, apparently attempting to rub the oily liquid into every pore of my ball sac. Then, she started to tease me, with her fingertips gently rubbing and then pinching and pulling at my ball sack. Then she would enclose my balls in her hand, rubbing and massaging and then pulling on my balls, forcing me to thrust forward, before allowing my balls to slide between her fingers. She allowed her fingernails to scratch my balls, now completely at her mercy, before grasping the base of my scrotum between her fingers and allowing her thumb to rub my balls. Her manipulations were having quite the effect on my cock that was by now turgid and stiff but she gave it scant attention.

As I responded to her manipulations, groaning and gasping and desperately squiggling to escape her delicious torments, she whispered “So, you like that” and “Does that feel good?” as she applied each new technique and torment. I was developing a severe case of blue balls, as the woman continued her manipulations, sometimes gently pulling, sometimes sensuously massaging my balls, and clearly enjoying my reactions to her tormenting fingers. With each new torment, she seemed to be gauging my reaction, as if trying to decide which one elicited the most interesting response.

“Please…..don’t ……. please, please,” I mumbled, barely able to blurt out the words between gasps and groans. I felt like shouting for help but at the same time I was afraid to make much noise for fear of attracting attention. I was afraid of being caught in this compromising position on the stairwell landing, naked and tied by my genitals to the railing.

After several minutes of tormenting my balls, my tormentress abruptly ceased her manipulations and stepped back to observe the results of her work. Although I could not see them myself, I imagined that my balls were glistening and shiny with the liquid she had applied while I could feel the throbbing in my cock  as it stood at full attention. My wrists, still attached to the neck strap, prevented me from lowering my arms or in any way reaching my genitals.

Then, she turned and began to descend the stairwell. She was going to leave me in this vulnerable position!

“Please don’t leave me here!” I blurted out, the first words I had spoken in several minutes. “Please don’t leave me here like this. I can’t get loose. Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t leave me tied up here.”

She ignored my pleadings and exited the stairwell at the next level below. I stood there tied by my genitals to the railing in the stairwell landing unable to free myself. Anyone who entered the stairwell would find me naked and vulnerable. It would be very humiliating and I would be unable to prevent further torment to my exposed genitals. While I had been left in a very humiliating position I was also very aroused from my recent torment. I stood silent and still, not wanting to bring attention to my condition.

Exotic Tours

Chapter 2

To be left standing naked and exposed in a stairwell, tied and teased, was not envisioned in the sort of exotic tour I had expected when I first called the number in the advertisement. I had expected to tour some of the city’s more exotic locales, perhaps see some risqué shows and visit some unusual shops. Things had not turned out at all as I had expected.

I took stock of my situation. Neck straps on my wrists and around my neck were my only items of clothing or adornment. Connecting my wrists to the neck strap were short 6-inch chains with clasps on each end that I could neither see nor reach. Consequently, I could cover my ears with my hands and I could barely bring my hands together behind my head. However, it was impossible to lower my arms in front of me. It would be easy for anyone to grasp either of my nipples and give them a pinch since I could just barely reach them with the tips of my elbows. While my arms were secured and out of the way, even more troubling were the other elements of my current bondage.

A thin rope encircled the base of my genitals, passing under and behind my ball sac and tightening around the base of my cock. A simple knot kept the rope tight. An eight-inch length of the rope dangled between my legs while the other end of the rope which I estimated to be about two meters long pulled my genitals upward by passing through a ring in the front of my neck collar and then back down my chest and through my legs before being tied off on the stairwell railing behind me. When I attempted to stand fully vertical, this longer length of rope stretched even tighter, causing my cock and balls to be pulled in the direction of my neck strap. I could ease the tension somewhat by leaning forward but with my hands and arms also secured to my neck it was not possible to reach the knot binding my genitals. I was tied simply and effectively to the stairwell railing.

My legs were free to move and I could shuffle from side to side a short distance and even lift each leg off of the floor a few inches but I was afraid to struggle too vigorously in case I lost my balance and found myself dangling by my balls.

I had encountered no one since the woman who had tied me in this position disappeared down the first flight of stairs and through the exit door. I had no idea how long I would be left in this compromising position. I didn’t even know whether she would return. Perhaps I was to be left here until some stranger discovered me. My imagination tormented me with possibilities. Anyone who found me here would have the opportunity to do what they wanted with me, even taking me away if they chose to keep me for their amusement. Pulling me along by means of the short length of rope dangling between my legs, any resistance I might offer would be met with a sharp tug. I shuddered to think of what might happen if I was discovered by a group of girls or young women who might inflict all sorts of torments on my cock and balls and I would be unable to avoid their manipulations.

As if being naked, tied and lewdly displayed was not enough, the woman who had left me in this predicament had ensured that I would remain in a state of sexual arousal for, at least, a few minutes. My testicles gleamed with a shiny liquid that had been generously applied to them. They still tingled from the intense tormenting I had endured. After applying the slick gel, she had spent several minutes massaging my balls while I gasped and groaned. She delighted in scratching my balls with her fingernails, at first lightly, and then more decisively as she observed my responses. She had threatened to squeeze my balls, forcing me to plead for her to be gentle, although it now appeared that she didn’t intend to inflict any pain. She was just testing my reactions. Similarly, she had pinched my ball sac and pulled on the skin and forced my testicles to slide between her fingers, slippery with the gel and deliciously warm, before enveloping my balls in her hand for another round of gentle massage. In my condition, she could have easily inflicted damage and one tug of her hand while grasping my ball sac would have caused excruciating pain. Instead, she had opted for teasing and tormenting me, as if she wanted my balls to swell with sexual excitement.

My cock was free of bonds and received almost no attention at all from my tormentress. Nevertheless, a few strokes on my stiff member would be sufficient to send me over the edge. I desperately needed to reach my cock to grasp it and relieve the sexual tension. How satisfying it would be to shoot a load of cum onto the stairwell landing but there was no possibility of that happening. The rope securing my genitals to my neck strap ensured that my cock would remain turgid and stiff for some time.

My struggles during the intense ball massage had caused me to exert some energy attempting to avoid the torment. I decided that, since I really couldn’t do anything to get free at the moment, I should just stand still. I convinced myself that my tormentress probably intended to return to retrieve me. Why go to all this trouble only to leave a naked man in a stairwell? I was sure that there were more events in store for me.

After what was probably only a couple of minutes, which seemed like much longer, the exit door on the landing below the one where I was tied suddenly burst open. I flinched and began to fear the worst. When I managed to turn slightly to see who was approaching, I was both greatly relieved and enormously concerned to see the same woman climbing the few stairs toward my landing.

“I’m happy to see you are still here,” she said, before uttering a short laugh. Of course she knew I couldn’t escape and I was certain that her laughing at me was deliberately calculated to add to my humiliation. “Is your cock still stiff?” she asked me, as she once again stood in front of me on the landing. I chose not to respond to this question verbally. My turgid cock spoke for itself.

Once again she grabbed my ball sac and began to gently massage my balls, but this time she stared into my eyes as she cupped my chin with her other hand. “I am putting these balls under lock and key. Once I am done, I will free your arms and remove your rope. Then, our tour will begin,” she informed me. I had completely forgotten that this was just the beginning of my exotic tour.

I gasped and groaned as the woman gently massaged my balls, staring at my facial contortions as she continued to torment my balls, apparently attempting to rub the oily liquid that covered them into every pore of my ball sac. Then, she again produced the slippery gel and, holding it in front of my face, squeezed a large dollop of the gel into her hand. I had barely noticed the brief respite from her torment before she slowly lowered her hand, filled with the gel, encouraging me to watch it disappear again out of my circle of vision. Grasping my balls with renewed enthusiasm, she started to tease me again, with her fingertips gently rubbing and then pinching and pulling at my ball sack. She would enclose my balls in her hand, rubbing and massaging and then pulling on my balls, forcing me to thrust forward, before allowing my balls to slide between her fingers. She allowed her fingernails to scratch my balls, now completely at her mercy, before grasping the base of my scrotum between her fingers and allowing her thumb to rub my balls. Her manipulations were having quite the effect on my cock that was becoming exceptionally turgid and stiff but she gave it no attention.

As I responded to her manipulations, groaning and gasping and desperately squiggling to escape her delicious torments, she whispered “So, you like that” and “Does that feel good?” as she applied each new technique and torment. I was developing a severe case of blue balls, as the woman continued her manipulations, sometimes gently pulling, sometimes sensuously massaging my balls, and clearly enjoying my reactions to her tormenting fingers. With each new torment, she seemed to be gauging my reaction, as if trying to decide which one elicited the most interesting response.

“Please…..don’t ……. please, please,” I mumbled, barely able to blurt out the words between gasps and groans. I felt like shouting for help but at the same time I was afraid to make much noise for fear of attracting attention. I was afraid of being caught in this compromising position, yet it was intensely stimulating.

After several minutes of tormenting my balls, my tormentress abruptly ceased her manipulations and stepped back to observe the results of her work. My cock was hard and the head bulged. Although I could not see them myself, I imagined that my balls were glistening and shiny with the liquid she had applied while I could feel the throbbing in my cock as it stood at full attention. My wrists, still attached to the neck strap, prevented me from lowering my arms or in any way reaching my genitals.

Reaching into a pocket in her conservative business suit, she produced a rubber band that she first twisted into a figure 8 and deftly wrapped it around the base of my balls. While the band was not too tight so as to restrict circulation, it was sufficiently tight to cause my balls to bulge as the skin of my sack tightened and stretched. Once the band was in place, she began to scratch my balls with her fingernails. My immediate reaction was all she needed to see. With my balls straining, their skin covering enhanced and heightened their sensitivity.

Satisfied that my balls were now even more sensitive to her manipulations, she drew a small leather cinch strap from her jacket pocket and held it up to my face for inspection.

I could see that the strap could be adjusted to any circumference. Several rings were inset into the leather cinch. By tightening the cinch, successive rings along the length of the strap could be brought together. There was also a leather-covered bulge in the middle of the strap.

“Once I have this cinched around your balls,” my tormentress whispered to me, “we will continue your exotic tour. It will be a constant reminder of me.”

With an evil smile, she dropped down onto one knee in front of me and fitted the strap around the base of my ball sac. Several short tugs on my balls confirmed that the strap was in place. Then, glancing up at me she retrieved one last item from her jacket pocket and made a show of pretending to carefully examine it, certain that I was able to see it glistening in her hand. It was a small, simple padlock. Grasping my bulging balls with one hand, she slipped the open end of the lock through two of the rings in the cinch strap and an almost inaudible click confirmed that the lock was closed. She had placed the lock behind my ball sac and it would not be visible to anyone facing me from the front. In fact, only a small stretch of the cinch strap, I would later discover, could be seen from a frontal viewpoint.

“The strap locked around your balls cannot be removed without a key. It will ensure that you do exactly as I please,” my tormentress explained to me while again rising to stand in front of me.

Her next move was a surprise. Grabbing the rope that had held me captive to the railing, she untied it, pulled it through the ring in my neck strap and released the loop from around the base of my genitals. I was now standing free of the stairwell railing but my wrists remained attached to my neck strap. She then wrapped the rope around my waist, finally tying it off.

Grabbing my wrists, she unclasped both wrist straps from the chains that held them attached to my neck strap. I was able to lower my arms to my sides. She then stood back, observing my reaction.

Although my hands were now free, I realized that my balls were under lock and key. I could easily just run away but how would I remove the cinch strap locked around the base of my balls even if I did manage to escape? A naked man in a parking garage would certainly draw attention. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, but curiosity overtook my thoughts. I reached for my balls, feeling the cinch strap encircling the base and causing them to bulge. I could feel the small lock, tucked neatly behind the ball sac, dangling against my testicles. It was obvious to me that it would be impossible to remove the cinch strap. I was literally captured by my balls.

“Masturbate yourself,” she commanded. I looked at her with what must have been an expression of horror on my face. “I love to watch men masturbate. But do not allow yourself to come or I will leave you here like this.”

Seeing no alternative, and acutely conscious of the locked strap around my balls, I slowly reached for my cock and began to masturbate. After watching me for a few moments, she reached over and again grasped my balls. “Masturbate hard enough to make these move up and down. I want to see your balls moving.”

I tightened my grip and continued, not wanting to stimulate myself excessively but still wanting to please this woman who had so effortlessly placed me in this situation.

“Masturbate until I tell you to stop,” she said. “Make sure you don’t come.”

Then, releasing her grip on my balls, she started down stairwell toward the next level. Gripping the rail with one hand while masturbating myself with the other, I descended the stairwell after the woman who had made me her captive.

As she reached the next level in the stairwell, she opened the door and held it open, motioning me to step through the door and again into the parking garage. Parked immediately beyond the exit door was a car. The front passenger side door of the vehicle was open and standing beside it was the other woman I had earlier encountered. I had nearly forgotten that there were two women who had taken me into the stairwell earlier.

I stopped in the doorway of the stairwell exit, hesitating to leave the relative privacy of the stairwell, masturbating myself vigorously, and conscious of my nakedness in the company of these two women who were themselves dressed in conservative business attire. A gentle nudge from the woman behind me, however, caused me to stumble out toward the waiting car.

“Now, stop masturbating yourself and get into the car,” one of the women commanded. I was only too happy to oblige. The privacy of an automobile was certainly preferable to standing naked, aroused and exposed in a parking garage. I quickly climbed into the passenger seat and the women entered the car, one of them in the back seat. After instructing me to fasten my seatbelt, I was again commanded to resume masturbating.

I hesitated to again resume my self-stimulation. I wasn’t at all certain that I would be able to keep myself from what would surely be a most gratifying orgasm. It would be extremely easy for me to bring on the needed release. However, I was certain that shooting my load while seated in the front passenger seat would result in consequences I was not prepared to even contemplate. How was I to masturbate for these women yet restrain myself from the ultimate release?

My hesitation had not gone unnoticed. A sharp prickling sensation emanating from the cinch strap around my balls certainly focused my attention. I reached for my balls, attempting to remove the strap and ease the sensation. I pulled at the strap encircling the base of my scrotum but it was impossible to remove.

My female companions laughed at my feeble efforts. “Try all you want but you can’t get that strap off without the key,” one of them reminded me. “And that tingling sensation is an electric current. Feel the bulge in the strap. That bulge contains a battery. It can deliver a strong shock to your balls any time we choose and we can vary the charge with a remote.”

The tingling sensation suddenly stopped. She paused to see what effect her explanation would have. I glanced at the woman seated in the rear compartment. She held a small remote device in her hand which she extended in my direction. As I stared at the remote she pressed one of the buttons. Immediately the tingling sensation emanating from the cinch strap around my balls resumed and I again reached for my balls in an effort to remove the dastardly device. Then, the sensation again suddenly stopped.

“That was lowest setting,” she explained. “No damage has been done. Your balls are OK. The next setting will give you a mild shock. I am sure you don’t want that so listen carefully. You will follow our instructions and do as we please. Any non-compliance with our demands and your balls will receive a shock. We simply have to increase the current level until you comply with our instructions. You will do as we say or we will make you very uncomfortable. Do you understand?”

I immediately nodded my acknowledgement. The tingling sensation had been mildly uncomfortable. I was not willing to risk going to the next level. I could only imagine what a shock to my balls would be like but I was certain that it would be more painful than the mild tingling I had already experienced. At least for the immediate future, my balls would be secure from shock provided that I complied with whatever demands were made of me.

“Now that you understand your balls belong to us, you are not to allow yourself to come without permission. If you come, your balls will receive a shock. It could be very painful so you should make every effort to do as you are told. Now, start masturbating yourself again.”

I was certain from the tone of voice of the woman in the rear passenger compartment that she wouldn’t hesitate to apply a shock to my balls at the slightest evidence that I was resisting compliance with her instructions. It was impossible to reach into the back or to retrieve the remote from her. I also realized that attempting to escape from the car would be foolish. All she had to do was hit a button on the remote and my compliance would be assured.

I reached for my cock and, gripping the shaft with my fingertips, began to masturbate myself. My captors laughed and giggled as they watched, focusing on my wrist movements for a few moments, as if they were fascinated at watching my already over stimulated cock throbbing and bulging with desire.

The driver set the car in motion and we headed for the exit, the woman driver glancing occasionally at my bouncing balls and laughing at my predicament. As we approached the exit, I realized that when we pulled up to the payment kiosk, the attendant would be able to see me masturbating in the passenger seat. There was nothing I could do to prevent that, especially with my genitals secured and locked. The parking garage attendant would not be able to see the cinch strap locked about the base of my bouncing balls and would think I was some kind of pervert traveling in the company of two well-dressed women. I continued to masturbate myself as the car neared the exit, fearing that I might be forced to get out of the car if I stopped masturbating but afraid of exposing myself in such a compromising position at the garage exit kiosk.

As we pulled up beside the kiosk, I could see that the parking attendant was a young woman, probably a local university student working part time. I stared straight-ahead, avoiding eye contact as I continue to pump my cock. My driver handed the ticket to the garage attendant who, by this time, had noticed the naked man masturbating in the passenger seat. She took a few extra moments to grasp the ticket as she tried to comprehend the scene before her. As she examined the ticket to ascertain the elapsed parking time, she repeatedly glanced into the car, evidently enjoying the vision of the masturbating man. Presently, she announced the charge.

“Stop masturbating and open the compartment,” my driver suddenly commanded. I flinched when she spoke to me, too embarrassed that my masturbating had suddenly become so public. Her words caused my cock to throb as the combination of physical manipulation and my now public exposure nearly caused me to ejaculate. However, since I had to release my grip on my cock to open the compartment in response to my driver’s command, my cock stood turgid and stiff, twitching in the hope of further manipulation. My driver reached into the compartment for some small notes, and handed them to the parking attendant.

“Why is he masturbating himself?” asked the pretty, young attendant, before accepting the payment.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” my driver explained. “He will do anything I ask him to do.” Then, turning toward me, she said, in a firm tone, “Lean toward me so she can see your stiff cock.” Now that my masturbating had become public knowledge, I could think of no other action, so I leaned toward the driver’s side and thrust my erect cock forward.

“Give yourself a few jerks, just to show her how you do it,” my driver advised. With my free hand, I again grabbed my cock and resumed masturbating for the viewing enjoyment of the parking attendant. It was extremely embarrassing, not to mention arousing, to be jerking off for three women I had just met. I decided to give the parking attendant a good show, hoping that my performance would sit well with my captors. After a few moments, my driver instructed me to stop and I collapsed back into my seat, my cock bouncing and throbbing with excitement. I was desperate to cum but I didn’t dare allow myself that luxury. I certainly didn’t want to be left at the parking garage exit, either, but my balls were tingling so strongly that I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to endure much more humiliation like this.

When the parking gate lifted, the car moved forward just beyond the gate and then the woman driving again stopped. “Oh! I almost forgot,” she said. “I need a receipt. Would you mind running back and asking her for a receipt?” The tone of her voice indicated that this was more of a command than a request.

It took me only a moment to respond. I didn’t want to hesitate too long for fear of incurring a shock to my balls. Still, getting out of the car would mean I would be naked and exposed.

“Start masturbating and don’t stop until you get the receipt and return. If you come, we’ll leave you here,” the woman in the back commanded.

I realized that once I got out of the car, my female captors could easily take off, leaving me standing at the exit. “OK,” was all I could manage to say. I released the seat belt, opened the door and stepped out of the car. I reached for my cock and began pumping my cock as I began moving toward the parking garage kiosk. The girl attendant stared at me. Undoubtedly, she had never been approached by a masturbating man before.

It was difficult to masturbate while walking toward the kiosk. It was also more humiliating and embarrassing than anything I had ever done. There I was, naked and masturbating as I approached the pretty girl in the parking kiosk, certain that if I stopped masturbating I would receive a very unpleasant shock. I was on the edge of blowing my wad, my cock throbbing with excitement and my balls desperate for relief. Yet, if I allowed myself to come I would not only endure the humiliation of coming in front of this pretty attendant. I risked a shock to my balls and, worse, my captors would leave me. There would be no way for me to remove the ring around the base of my scrotum without enduring even more humiliation.

“I … need… a …. receipt,” I blurted out to the female attendant as I approached the kiosk window, my fingers gripping my cock and pumping it as I approached. The attendant stared at me for a few moments before punching some keys to manufacture the parking receipt.

I stood still, masturbating myself as the receipt was printed. It occurred to me that I should face the car so that my female captors could watch from the car. It would also confirm for them that I was complying with their command and might prevent me from receiving the dreaded shock.  It seemed to take forever for the printer to print the receipt.

The attendant could not see the cinch ring around the base of my scrotum nor the lock hidden behind my balls. All she could see was a naked man standing before her pumping his cock and waiting for a receipt to be printed. A bemused smile formed on her lips as if she was thinking of what she would do with such a submissive male if she could have this kind of control. It was impossible for me to explain my condition; how could I tell her that the ring locked around the base of my scrotum was behind my lewd actions.

As she leaned out of the kiosk window to hand me the receipt, she smiled at me. I grabbed the receipt and headed back toward the car, never missing a stroke on my rock-hard cock. As I again climbed into the passenger seat, I handed the receipt to the driver.

“Thank you. Now stop masturbating yourself. We don’t want any accidents, do we?” she said.

I closed the door, relieved to again be in the relative safety of the car. I was also relieved that I had not been left naked and masturbating at a parking garage. Most importantly, I had avoided receiving a dreadful shock to my balls. I was humiliated and embarrassed by what I had just done. My female captors seemed pleased with my humiliation. I realized how powerless and vulnerable I was to do whatever they chose to demand from me. They would be able to make me do almost anything they wanted. After all, they had forced me to masturbate myself in front of another young woman in a public place.

The cinch strap around my balls caused my testicles to bulge in their sac. My balls throbbed in unison with my cock for much needed release. It would be most embarrassing to come under such circumstances but, somehow, I had managed to stave off a pending orgasm out of fear of having my balls zapped by the diabolical strap that encircled them.

My exotic tour had indeed started, I realized. I would be the focus of the tour myself. I had no idea what was in store for me next. I would just have to go wherever my captors desired. In the presence of two fully-clothed women, susceptible to whatever manipulations and plans they had for me, I desperately needed to come and would soon need to beg them to allow me some sort of release, especially if they insisted upon any more masturbation for their viewing pleasure.