Mike stripped fast the second the door locked behind him. The basement room smelled like rubber, metal, and lube. The machine waited in the center, all black steel, padded restraints, and thick cables. His cock was already half hard just looking at it.
"Get on," said the guy who owned the place. No name, just a deep voice and thick arms. Mike climbed onto the padded bench and lay back. Heavy leather straps went around his wrists first, then his ankles, pulling his legs wide. A wide belt cinched across his chest. He tested the bonds and felt that perfect helpless pull.
The guy worked fast and rough. He smeared conductive gel over Mike’s balls, then pressed two large estim pads against them, taping them tight. Another pair went on the base of his cock. A thick rubber sleeve with metal contacts inside slid down over his shaft and locked in place. A smaller probe, already slick, pushed into his ass and seated against his prostate. Wires clipped on everywhere.
"Ready to get milked?" the guy asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. The power unit clicked on.
A low buzz started in Mike’s balls. It made them tighten and his cock jump inside the sleeve. The guy turned a dial and the buzz became a sharp pulse, riding up the shaft and back down. Mike’s hips tried to buck but the straps held him flat. The sleeve began to suck in a steady rhythm, warm and tight, pulling at his cock while the estim made every nerve fire.
"Fuck," Mike grunted. The pulse on his prostate kicked in next, deep and rhythmic, forcing his gland to swell and throb. Pre-cum leaked out almost immediately, sucked away by the machine. The guy watched the readouts and turned another knob. The pulses got stronger, sharper, almost painful in the best way. Mike’s cock swelled inside the sleeve until it felt like it might burst.
His balls drew up tight against the pads.
The machine kept milking. The suction increased, then eased, then increased again, timed with the electrical jolts. Mike’s first orgasm hit without warning. His cock pulsed hard inside the sleeve, shooting thick ropes that the machine swallowed greedily. The estim didn’t stop. It kept pulsing through the orgasm, turning the pleasure into something raw and almost too much. Mike shouted, body straining against every strap.
The guy just turned the intensity up another notch.
The second load came faster. The prostate probe hammered him now, forcing contractions even while his cock was still sensitive. Cum leaked steadily, then spurted again. The sleeve never let up its tight, wet pull. Mike’s thighs shook. Sweat ran down his chest. Every time he thought he was done, the machine found another setting, another rhythm, and dragged more out of him.
By the fourth orgasm his voice was hoarse. His cock stayed hard inside the sleeve, red and swollen, kept that way by the constant estim. The guy finally spoke again.
"One more. Make it count."
He flipped a switch. The pulses became a constant, vicious thrum that locked onto Mike’s prostate and wouldn’t let go. The sleeve sucked harder, faster, almost brutal. Mike’s whole body locked up. The orgasm felt like it was being ripped out of him. His cock jerked and pulsed for what felt like minutes, pumping until nothing else came out, then pulsing dry while the machine kept working.
When it finally powered down, Mike was shaking and soaked. The guy unclipped the wires one by one, pulled the sleeve off his spent cock, and wiped him down with rough efficiency. Mike’s balls ached in the best way, empty and heavy at the same time.
"Same time next week," the guy said, already coiling cables. Mike just nodded, still strapped down, breathing hard, already thinking about the next session.
