Parking Lot -- Part Six -- Shish Kabob

Soon, both men were flat on their backs in the middle of the bed, Gary on the mattress with Jack on top of his torso. Jack’s 5'7" frame was a perfect fit, as his head rested just below Gary’s neck. G-man looked quite comfortable, lying flat with his arms flattened and parallel with the head of the mattress. 

“Can you breathe?”

“Everything’s fine.”

Jack had moved his feet off the surface and draped his legs outside of Gary’s. I could see his thick cock pulsating on the belly, raising up each time he clinched his ass muscles to squeeze the pole inside him.

I took Jack’s left wrist and slowly moved it towards the railing. Stretching his arm tight, I guided his hand to the appropriate rail, where he obediently latched on. This pattern was repeated with the right arm and Jack groaned, as his chest rose higher into the air. 

Now I forced both of his hands down to the mattress, stretching him tighter and causing his mighty chest to expand upwards even higher. As it did, his powerful belly flattened and lines of muscle were highlighted, defining his incredible strength.

Exiting the bed, I moved to the end of it and clasped my hands onto Jack’s ankles. I pulled our prisoner’s legs towards the end of the bed, ruthlessly stretching him lengthwise. Now he was prepared.

I walked to the left side of the bed and absorbed the enticing scene before me. This compact little powder keg was a sight to behold, stretched spread eagle with his powerful torso thrust into the air, every muscle was well-defined and at my mercy.

What really got my attention was the area from the rib cage to the pelvic bone. For some reason, this seemed to be the biggest part of Jack’s body. His legs were short and chest average, but the length of his abdominal cavity seemed almost out of proportion, which was a major turn on.

How do you think it looked to me now? With his body stretched lengthwise and from below, Jack’s stomach dropped from the end of his rib cage like a cliff. Here was the only part of the man’s body unprotected by bone - only muscle could defend it, but in this torture rack position, his belly was exposed and vulnerable.

Parked in the lower middle of this was possibly the most beautiful navel I have ever seen. It truly was a belly button, as the perfectly oval shape held in the middle the knot, plainly visible a fraction of an inch below the skin’s surface. This glorious little hole melded with the rest of his belly to form a masterpiece of design, compactly powerful and totally masculine.

Jack looked up to catch me staring at his middle section. Lowering his head, he sucked in the abdomen and thrust his chest higher, inviting me to punish his helpless belly. I reached down to form a claw around the navel’s perimeter and buried my fingers into the muscle.

“You must suffer for defiling my home.”

Jack played his part well, straining his arms by pulling on the rails, slowly turning his head side to side in pretend agony, flexing his chest and belly muscles, helplessly awaiting his fate. For close to six hours his penis had waited. It tantalizingly throbbed, dripping pre-cum onto his fur trail, pitifully begging for release. It was time for his ordeal to begin.

“Look into the mirror. See how you suffer?”

Jack turned his head to the right, gazing at his tortured image.

“I told you to be careful with my belongings, but you disobeyed. Now the price must be paid.”

As Jack continued to writhe, I released the claw and started collecting plates from under my weight bench, placing them on the bed to the left of Jack’s thigh. I disassembled one of the barbells and brought those weights along with the bar itself, adding those to my collection. Now standing beside the bed, I looked to Gary, who gave me a reassuring nod that his throbbing cock was still in the hole.

I climbed onto the bed to the left of the men’s hips. Taking Jack’s cock in my left hand and securing it with a manual cock ring, I lifted it off of him and held it at the base, keeping it stationary and horizontal.

Then, I took the 14-inch bar in my right hand, placed one end onto Jack’s navel and held it standing horizontal, while clasping the metal pole in the middle.

Jack turned his head to the right and groaned.

“Can you see your impalement? Can you feel the power of the man beneath you, driving his mighty cock completely through your body?”

This was the image I had created. It appeared as though Gary’s dick had run completely through the man. Entering the rectum and exiting his navel, the mighty pole rose 14 inches above our tortured victim, while in the middle, his flattened belly was skewered like shish kabob. To increase the drama, Jack’s own fat dick pulsated in perfect alignment with the pole of impalement. 

Jack began to emit manly groans and grunts, writhing and flexing from his pretend agony. 
Holding both poles into the air, I leaned down to attack the stricken man with my tongue, working all around the rod protruding from his navel. All the while, I taunted him.

“Why do you make me punish you so? What will it take to make you obey?”

I resumed my tongue attack, working up under his rib cage, before taking a long, torturous journey back to the belly and beyond. My tongue continued southward, until I reached the man’s fur trail, where I saturated and highlighted it with my spit. Soon, I had reached the gorgeous, curly pubes and began to drench them, changing the color from a golden brown to dark. 

Jack’s cock was surging in my hand, the incredible thickness nearly breaking open my manual cock ring. 

My choice was a difficult one. Should I look at my victim in the mirror and absorb the flexing of his powerful, stretched muscles, as he undulated in agony? Or, should I look directly at his skin and worship the powerful lines of strength underneath my tongue? I alternated between both.

Still kneeling to Jack’s left, I let go of his cock and reached for the plates. I lifted up three weights, one at a time, and placed them onto the pole of impalement, slowly allowing them to rest on Jack’s flattened belly surrounding the navel. Then, I reclaimed his massive penis, returning it into the bondage of my hand-made cock ring and aligning it with the shish kabob skewer. 

Jack was nearly driven to madness - not to mention what the sight of him was doing to me. He raised his powerful chest high into the air, while sucking in his already flattened belly, gallantly resisting the weight bearing down onto him. That fat, enticing unit ballooned to even greater mass, the head turning a dark red from my cock ring torture. Then, as only Jack could do, he brought us into the fantasy.

“Torture me all you want. I will never break.”

I looked to Gary and he to me. Again, our prisoner had thrown us a curve. What the hell happened to the groveling slave?

Apparently, he now was some sort of manly hero standing up to ungodly torture and challenging his antagonists to make him talk. And honestly, I found this much more exciting than his previous persona and was more than ready to accommodate him.
I continued holding the cock and pole in my hands, then raised my right knee and ground it into his brick wall stomach.

“You are very strong, but we will break you. Your torture has only begun.”

“Do what you must, you bastards.”

Another manly expression of defiance. This was so much more appropriate to Jack’s physique than some subservient bitch. I was ready to work him over good.

Removing my knee from his gut, I shifted down to kneel between his thighs. Transferring his throbbing meat from my hand to the mouth, I secured another plate and placed it on the pole, bringing 40 pounds of weight down to further crush his tight belly muscles. 
He groaned and flexed, arching his back and raising the powerful chest cavity, as I shifted the penis back to my hand. 

“Will you talk?”

“Never.”

My lips engulfed his throbbing cock. The massive meat inside me widened even more, as I slowly began to suck on it. My lips met his pubes and I lessened the size of his mushroom with the back of my throat. After I crushed every inch of his dick, I slowly worked my lips back toward the end of the head, wrapping my tongue on the underside of the shaft and scraping his swollen sausage.