Loosening Therapy

Paul had my shirt open and he was stroking one of my nipples with his hand. He reached over with the other hand and pulled the curtains open, and I let out a shocked gasp.

We were looking through a wide, full-length two-way mirror into another small room, almost identical to the one we were in. Hung by his wrists from straps only about two and half feet away and facing us on the other side of the window was a young man of only nineteen or twenty, with a thin, twinkish, boyish build. He had a mop of curly red hair that almost came down into his eyes as his head hung down, and, as he was stark naked, I could see a patch of red pubic hair surrounding a smallish, pert cock hanging down between his legs. Despite his thinness, he had good muscle tone and was a handsome lad. He looked like a lad, but I vaguely remembered him from one of my college classes, so I’d say he couldn’t be much younger than I was. The pads of his feet barely touched the tiled floor.

I started to say something to Paul, but he told me to hush and just to closely observe what was happening in the other room. One of his hands was still massaging my chest, and the other had moved to undoing my belt buckle.

I heard a hollow sound and looked toward its origin, which was the speakers at the top edge of the window on our side. These were conveying the sound from the other side of the glass. A door had opened in the other room—behind where the young man was hanging—and I let out another gasp when I saw the men who had entered the room. He was massive, but not in any way fat. He was heavily muscled, and sharply defined in every respect. He seemed about the same age as Paul, but he obviously was a fanatical bodybuilder. He was dark to the point of swarthy, with salt and pepper-colored hair that covered his body in short ringlets that kept him from being defined as more than borderline bear. He had a short-cropped beard and mustache and a buzz cut hairstyle. Gold rings gleamed at his left ear and in both of his nipples, and there were barbed-wire tattoos encircling both of his arms across the biceps. The only thing he was wearing was a black leather, studded harness across his chest and leather over-the-ankle boots. What had made me gasp, however, was the horse-hung cock and tennis-ball-sized balls swaying back and forth between his legs as he approached the bound young redhead from the rear.