ChrisWrestling's blog

We had met before but for whatever reason the boy seemed more nervous this time around than he had the first time. In our correspondence leading up to this play date he had been nothing but enthusiastic without a hint of reservation. Now that I was there the enthusiasm seemed to have vanished. He wasn't backing out but the list of things to do before we played seemed to be ever growing. I found the anxiety endearing , there was an intoxicating cuteness in the way he was trying to delay the inevitable torture.

"Excuse me, I need to put away my laptop," he said. He made somewhat quick work of it however the laptop wasn't really in the way of where we were going to play. "Would you mind if I brush my teeth?" came next and off he went. A moment later he returned and got back to the unnecessary tidying.

As he ran around like a chipmunk trying to get every last nut as the first snows hit the ground I casually changed into my singlet, making a bit of a show of dropping a lifting belt on top of my bag. I sat down on the hotel bed and quietly patted the spot next to me. He sat down sheepishly and we began our negotiations confirming that he actually did want to be made to beg.

"You do know that would require me to ignore a few taps?" I said as more of a statement of what he was getting himself into than a question.

I could see the gears working in his head, almost jamming like his rational brain wanted to say no but his dick was shouting over it, "oh GOD YES!"

He moved up on the bed timidly in nothing but briefs and I observed his small form, he couldn't have been more than 5'5 at 130lbs. I'm currently in the 190lb range just under 6 feet and found myself a little concerned for the guys safety. Of course I knew from our previous meeting that he was less fragile than he looks. Still, his apprehension was well justified.

I lifted him into a seated position so I could lay my left leg behind his back and he reclined back onto it. He was still visibly scared so I gave him a little warm up squeeze to remind him that I had no intention of.... damaging him. He let out a little moan and increased the pressure.

I don't know the exact moment but sometime within that first long but gentle squeeze I realized that I had become hard. I looked down to the boy's shorts and realized that he was getting hard as well. Perhaps that's what came over me or perhaps I was simply not content to be gentle, I wanted to see him not just hard but really scared.

I increased up to about 50% of my squeezing capacity and his eyes widened in surprise. I could feel my face muscles tighten into an involuntary grin which I'm sure was read as malicious. His hands flew down to my top leg and started to push in protest and every time he did I gave him a threatening pulse of power. When his pressure backed off so did mine but only back to that 50%.

After a little torment I decided that I needed to pace myself so I released my legs and came on top, wrapping my arms around him and then drove my weight into him as I squeezed. This wasn't as satisfying on the hotel bed as it had been on my mats but he complained none the less.

Feeling that the ground bearhug wasn't quite doing what I wanted it to I went for my signature body triangle from the back and grabbed his legs and hugging them toward me pulling my calf deeper and deeper into his diaphragm. The loudest moan of the night so far escaped and faded into a choked exhalation. This was the first moment of real panic. His arms flailed a bit and I held out for a moment longer so that he would know that I was indeed in charge.

I switched to another cross body scissor and threw my arms around my legs in a cross body variant of a scorpion crunch. His eyes went as wide as they could go and his head rolled over to face me. His eyes had watered and looked doe-eyed and desperate. It took great effort but he managed to let out a pitiful, "please". My heart melted but my grip didn't let up even for a second, the boy wanted to be made to beg afterall, didn't he? I let off a touch to acknowledge his request but then I gave him 15% more power than before inspiring him to once again push against my legs in panic.

There were more please of sweet release but they only inspired a deeper sadism. After the third or fifth plea I moved my legs onto his chest causing him to moan, to beg to be released but I was lost in love with that look of pitiful terror, getting harder with each request for mercy.

That was exactly what he asked for next, mercy. The kind version of me returned a bit but the dark hulk was still smashing in my mind. I hesitated a bit longer before granting him a break.

In that pause he said that he was really enjoying that pulsing I was doing earlier. I made a note of that and committed to incorporating it once we started again. I too needed a moments break so I lay across him sideways, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my ribs into his side. I locked my grip and squeezed. I changed my footing so that most of my weight was bearing into him as my arms pulled him deeper into my body.

When I felt good and recovered I went to my bag and grabbed the lifting belt. I wrapped it around his chest as tight as I could, brushing off the complaints of pulled chest hair (should have worn a singlet damn it) and secured it down. I returned to squeezing his guts, not having to work so hard as the pressure could no longer diffuse into his chest cavity. I pulsed as requested but every time I did I increased my pressure by 10 lbs but only released back 5, constantly making him take more and more. My knees popped and I could feel my peroneals cramping and tearing a bit from trying to maintain my ankle grip. The sadistic beast in my head didn't care. Suffer suffer SUFFER was all I could think of.

His cock had become noticeably hard and mine was creating an undeniable wet spot on the front of my singlet. He looked at me again with those watery eyes and asked, "Please" this time barely a whisper. I pulsed in reply. "Please" again and I responded with pure evil. "Please" now almost too faint to hear and I gave him a very long, hard squeeze in reply.

I don't know if he was even aware at how much his hands were pointlessly pressing against my legs, slipping over my quads, unable to move the solid steel from his gut. He wriggled and squirmed aimlessly.

"Please...."

Squeeze...

"Please..."

Squeeze...

"Please..." this time almost a sigh.

His hands grew slower and weaker, now more just lightly brushing my quads. My legs very slowly straightened till all my tendons popped in protest. I heard the slow rush of air from the boy but there were no more words to say. What little breath he could catch was shallow and probably didn't offer him any relief. He was giving up on getting any air, he knew he wasn't going to. The little gaspy breaths were more of a habit than anything. He was trapped and sinking off into darkness.