Partner-Swapped Estim: Part Two – The Warmup

The chair groaned faintly as he shifted, but the straps didn’t give an inch. Every breath was shallow now, anticipation mingling with the low hum of the power box at his side.

One Domme crouched at the controls, her fingers playing over the knobs like a pianist teasing a first melody. The other leaned lazily against the chair, one hand resting just at the base of his throat, feeling every swallow of his nerves.

The next pulse came sharper, steadier — Channel A wrapping his cockhead in a buzzing halo that made him gasp. Then Channel B came alive deep inside him, a rolling throb through the plug that made his hips jerk helplessly against the restraints.

“Mmm,” the first Domme smiled, watching the monitor light flicker in time with the pulses. “Just above threshold… let’s see how quickly his body betrays him.”

The second adjusted a dial upward by a single notch. The buzz on his cock sharpened into a rhythmic bite — not painful, not yet, but enough to make his shaft twitch and thicken. The ring at his base locked every swell of blood in place, trapping him in a growing ache of hardness.

His breath came quicker. Within minutes, a bead of precum gathered at the slit, trembling as the current made his body spasm.

“There,” the second Domme cooed, brushing her thumb across the slick drop before he could lose it. “See? He’s already leaking for us. Such a sensitive toy.”

The woman at the controls gave a low laugh and nudged the pulse width higher. Now the current didn’t just tease — it gripped. A steady surge, followed by a slow fade, like a fist clenching and releasing around his cockhead. The muscles in his thighs quivered as the anal channel joined in, a low, rolling contraction that made him groan through clenched teeth.

They worked in tandem — one watching his reactions, the other refining the symphony of voltage. Every few minutes, the pattern shifted: a staccato flutter that made his hips buck, a longer hold that sent shivers rippling up his spine. The Dommes were meticulous, feeding him sensation in precise increments, keeping him hovering on the edge of comfort and overload.

By the time they paused, his cock was steel-hard, veins throbbing, the tip glossy with precum.

“Beautiful,” one whispered, leaning close enough for her hair to tickle his cheek. “And this is just the warmup. Do you know what’s coming next?”

He tried to shake his head, but the strap across his chest held him firm.

Both women laughed softly, conspirators again.

“Oh, he’ll find out,” the other murmured, tightening her grip on the control box. “Let’s see how long he can last when we start to compete.”

And with that, she flicked the switch that doubled the frequency on Channel A, making him cry out as his cock jolted against the restraints, a fresh spurt of precum smearing his shaft.

The warmup was over.