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Rings -- A Short Story

by z119z

Rings -- A Short Story



© 2009 by the author.

The nipple rings were circles of heavy gauge wire with a steel bead at the bottom of each. They pierced the base of the nipples, with the beads centered directly below them. They forced the nipple to stand erect. The aureoles surrounding the nipples were large for a man, and dark. The rings gleamed against them, and the beads caught the light as the dancer flowed from one movement to the next on the stage. As his arms rose and fell, his pecs flexed and relaxed. The rings moved—closer together, further apart, up, down. Undulations of flesh and light.

The dancer’s exertions on the stage had no apparent impact on him. His gaze was inward, away from the crowd surrounding the platform on which he danced. He was distant, in a separate place. Each scallop of his abs stood out, and his thighs and calves were full and rounded. His biceps bunched and rose and fell with every movement of his arms. As he rotated on the platform, his back and ass came into view. Jarod waited impatiently until the dancer again faced him. His eyes focused on the chest. The dancer’s pecs were sharply defined, with the nipples close to the edges of the outer curves. The steel beads dangled below them, accentuating every movement of the dancer’s body.

“Look at the nipples on that one.”

“Nice. Bet you’d love to get your hands on those.”

“My mouth is more like it.”

The voices came from directly behind Jarod. Soft voices, barely audible above the noise of the crowd, almost as if the conversation was taking place in his mind. The two men had to be standing right next to him. The dancer stopped turning and moved in place facing Jarod.

“Look at the way the bead shines in the light. It’s like it’s the only thing in the room.”

“It’s hard to focus on it. He’s moving about so much.”

“Just let your gaze soften. Don’t try to stare directly at it. Just let it fill your vision.”

“Don’t think about it. Let your mind empty of all thought except the ring and the light on the bead.”

“Just relax your eyes. Enjoy the light. Experience the light.”

“It feels so good to relax. You feel so good when you relax. It feels so good to watch the ring and the light on the bead and just relax.”

The voices droned on in Jarod’s mind, repeating the same messages over and over. Relax. Enjoy. Feels good. Experience the light. Relax.

The noise and heat of the crowd faded away. People walked around Jarod, occasionally bumping into him. His gaze never waivered. There was only the dancer. Only the voices. Someone handed him a drink. He absent-mindedly raised it to his lips and sipped at it. It was sweet but there was a slight bitter, medicinal taste beneath that. He lowered the glass, his eyes and mind still focused on the nipple rings. “All of it. Drink all of it,” insisted the voices. Jarod tilted the glass back and drained the contents. He didn’t even notice when the glass was removed from his hand. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dancer.

“Your nipples are so sensitive. When we touch your nipples, you feel so much pleasure. More pleasure than you have ever felt in your life.” One of the men standing behind him wrapped his arms around Jarod’s chest and began gently stroking his nipples with his fingertips. “Focus on your nipples. Only on your nipples.”

The man holding Jarod began to sway gently, matching his movements to those of the dancer on the stage. Jarod relaxed into the circle of the man’s arms and let himself be moved back and forth. It felt so warm and safe and comfortable to be held in those strong arms, to be pulled back against the man’s body, to feel the man’s breath against his neck as he spoke.

The man’s fingers stroked Jarod’s nipples through the thin fabric of the T-shirt. The other people in the room disappeared from Jarod’s consciousness. There was only the man whispering in his ear, guiding him closer to the dancer, his hard body pressed against Jarod’s back. There was only the dancer, only his nipple rings gleaming in the dark room. There was only the pleasure that began at Jarod’s nipples and spread outward through his body. The warm, languid pleasure that made his arms and legs feel so tired and heavy, the warm, languid pleasure that made his mind feel so open and relaxed. He didn’t want to think any more, he couldn’t think any more. All he could do was listen to the man’s voice inside his head and focus on the dancer’s nipples as the dancer backed away, offstage, and the man and Jarod followed him down the corridor and into the room at the end.


The man guides Jarod closer and closer to the dancer. He speaks, and Jarod’s mouth opens. Jarod brushes the tip of his tongue against one of the dancer’s nipples. He licks it, feeling the flesh of the nipple yield slightly and the steel ring press into his lips. He gradually draws the nipple into his mouth and lets his teeth rake gently over it, not enough to hurt, just enough to send a sharp electric thrill of pleasure running through his mind. The nipple stiffens, and he sucks it into his mouth, licking it now, harder and harder. He seeks out the other nipple with his fingers, rubbing it gently between them at first, and then tugging on it, arousing himself with the alternation of caresses and pinches. The man presses him into the dancer. The man and the dancer wrap their arms around each other, containing Jarod between the two of them, their nude bodies surrounding his naked flesh and heating it with their own heat. The dancer moves slowly, and slowly Jarod begins to move in time with him, matching his own movements to those of the dancer and the man, their sweat-lubricated bodies gliding over one another.

Jarod’s mind grows blank. His flesh is more alive than it has ever been. Each movement of the others against his body makes him feel weaker and weaker. His will has been taken away from him. The voice inside his head tells him what to do, and he does it. For him, there is nothing but the voice in his head and the bodies.

The man lowers Jarod onto the floor. The dancer kneels over Jarod’s hips. He takes Jarod’s cock into his hand and guides it behind his balls. He rubs the head of Jarod’s cock against his ball sack and his anus, gently contracting his buttocks and thighs around the head until Jarod’s cock is slippery with their sweat. The voice inside Jarod’s head focuses his attention on his cock, his hot stiff cock. There is nothing but the pleasure that spreads outward from his nipples, there is nothing but the heat the spreads outward from his cock, meeting and overlapping, engulfing his body, driving all thought from his mind, driving all resistance from his body. Jarod is nothing but desire, a desire to please the voice inside his head, a desire to please the dancer.

The dancer slowly lowers himself, impaling himself on Jarod’s cock. He continues to dance, rising and falling with the rhythm of the music, as he takes Jarod’s cock within himself.

“Focus on the nipple rings. There is nothing but the rings. Their motion is your motion. Submit to them. Follow them.” The nipple rings gleam in the dark room. The eyes of the man on the floor follow their every movement, as the pleasure swells within his body. Every movement of the dancer doubles the hot pleasure within his mind and fills him with submission.

The dancer holds out two rings, rings identical to the ones that pierce his own nipples. The man on the floor takes the dancer’s hands and guides them toward his own nipples. When the metal rings touch them, he moans with desire. Behind him, the third man holds up a gleaming needle and then gently pinches the right nipple until it stands erect. He inserts the needle, piercing the nipple, and threading a ring through it.

The man on the floor cries out as a hot bolt of pain and pleasure passes through his nipple. He groans again when the dancer screws the bead into place closing the ring. His gaze remains fixed on the dancer’s nipples. His mind is empty of all thought. He is nothing but desire, his body held just at orgasm, a tidal wave of pleasure reverberating in his mind and engulfing his body, destroying his old self.

When the needle pierces his left nipple, his body becomes rigid. The ring flows through his nipple and his mind. Only the rings matter to him now. The dancer slowly screws the bead into place. Each movement of the bead and the ring pulsate through the man’s body. When the circle is complete, his cock thrusts upward into the dancer and explodes in orgasm.


The two dancers on the small stage wear only thongs and nipple rings. The beat of the music makes the rings vibrate, and they automatically adjust their movements to match the vibrations of the rings. Their eyes are blank, and they seem oblivious to the audience. Yet the audience is not oblivious to them. They stare. The smell of their desire thickens the air in the bar. Their breathing becomes harsh. Groans rise from deep within their bodies. Their eyes focus on the gleaming beads beneath the nipples, following their every movement with their eyes. To the right, the left, up, down. The undulations of light drawing them in, arousing them, emptying their minds and filling them with longing. Their tongues flick out and lick their lips, each of them wanting to take a nipple in his mouth and feel the body-hot metal of the ring burning his lips.

(Please send any comments to z119z2000@yahoo.com.)


Re: Rings -- A Short Story - Ashley_H

Wonderful story, and properly constructed too!

A well deserved 5 star rating coming up

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