The Sperm Bank

John thought it would be easy cash. Walk in, jerk off into a cup, walk out. But his dick only works when he sees women hurting men, so he pulled up his usual feed right there in the exam room—high-def footage of mean bitches in latex breaking guys down. The two nurses caught him red-handed, straps already in their hands. They didn’t waste time. One pinned his wrists above his head with leather cuffs bolted to the table; the other ripped his pants down and strapped his thighs wide. Athletic bodies flexed under tight white uniforms, heavy tits straining against buttons as they climbed on. The dark-haired one grabbed his balls in a crushing grip, twisted until his eyes watered, then slid a cold metal sleeve down his shaft and started pumping—slow, mean, relentless. Every time he tried to look away she slapped his face back to the screen and told him to keep watching the torment while they worked. They rode his trapped cock like it owed them money, riding crops flicking across his chest whenever he flagged. He came hard, thick ropes sucked straight into the collection tube while they laughed and kept milking, draining every drop until his balls ached and his vision blurred. They left him strapped down, cum still leaking, already cueing up the next video for round two.