by Christopher Trevor and (as Consultant) Timmy Backman himself...
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“Good evening Mr. Backman, Sir,” Rick, the bald, muscular, well-toned, thirty something year old African American janitor said in surprise as he entered Timmy’s office that evening at 9:30PM, wheeling his small supply cart of cleaning equipment and implements with him. “You sure are here late tonight. Burning the midnight oil as the saying goes Mr. Backman?”
With his navy blue suit jacket hung on the back of his office chair, his tie pulled down more than a couple of notches and the first two buttons of his white button down shirt undone Timmy Backman looked up from the piles of paperwork strewn on his desk. The look on his handsome boyish face told of a day of stress and nothing but work issues.
“Oh, hi Rich, yes, I suppose you could call it that, burning the midnight oil,” Timmy replied and looked at the small digital clock on his desk. “But I sure am danged glad that it’s not exactly midnight, at least not yet. My wife would wonder what in all heck happened to me if I weren’t home at that point.”
As Rich closed Timmy’s office door behind him Timmy leaned back in his desk chair, laced his hands behind his head, stretched his back a bit and took a few deep breaths.
“Vice President Bradshaw has me on a deadline I suppose it can be said, that’s why I’m still here,” Timmy explained as Rich began his duties by emptying the wastebasket that was on the side of Timmy’s big desk. “It’s nearly month end and all the big accounts; both payable and purchase have to be cleared for the new month.”
“But I thought you were a banking lawyer Mr. Backman, not an accountant,” Rich said as he took a carpet sweeper from his supply cart and began cleaning scraps of paper, stray staples and other office debris off the plush rug of Timmy’s luxurious office.
“You’re right on that Rich,” Timmy said, stretching his long legs out under his desk and crossing his feet at the ankles. “But Bradshaw wants to make sure that all the invoices and all the purchases are on the up and up. The way the economy is nowadays every dollar counts. And who better than a banking lawyer to make sure that everything adds up the way it should?”
“That makes sense, or c-e-n-t-s, as in money cents,” Rich said and the two men grinned at each other and laughed softly.
“I’ll only be another half hour or so, if I’m in your way just let me know, I can always go to the vending machine or the men’s room or something,” Timmy said.
“Not in my way at all Mr. Backman,” Rich said. “As a matter of fact, if you want me to come back after you’re gone I can do that. Everyone else is gone, so I can clean the other offices…”
“No, no, its fine Rich, you’re not in my way at all,” Timmy said, leaning forward in his desk chair and unlacing his fingers from behind his head. “I can finish this up while you do what you have to do.”
“Thank you Mr. Backman, I appreciate that,” Rich said and as he put away his carpet sweeper he suddenly took note of the most strange looking device that was set up in a far corner of Timmy’s office. “Uh, Mr. Backman, Sir, not to be nosy or anything such as that, but what is that thing over there and do you want it dusted along with the other furniture in your office?”
Timmy looked up and when he saw what Rich was talking about his heart skipped a beat or two and his big cock, although it was soft and relaxed at the moment in his suit pants churned a bit, along with his big sweaty balls that were nestled in his trademark kangaroo pouch underpants.
“Oh that, that uh, that’s a party device that my sometimes friend and business associate Valerie Levi had delivered here for the time being,” Timmy explained, tugging a bit on his tie as he spoke, his ever-present nervous tic coming into play at that moment. “She uh, was going to have it delivered to another associate of hers who had ordered it but they’re out of town, and Ms. Levi didn’t have ample space in her warehouse at the moment, so she asked if I would keep it here until her associate returns. You see uh, Ms. Levi owns an import and export business, and that there device is one of her, her uh, danged specialties.”
“So she had it delivered here, to your office?” Rich asked.
“Yeah, I and my wife Stephanie, we uh, we already have one in our house and I could not fit another one, even temporarily, so being the good friend that I am I permitted Ms. Levi to store it here in my office, temporarily.”
“Well, at the risk of being nosy again Mr. Backman, can I ask what in all hell this thing is?” Rich asked, running a big palmed hand, a rough and calloused hand actually, that had no doubt seen more than its share of heavy-duty weight lifting exercises, over the polished wood side of the round device.
“It’s uh, it’s called a “Spinning Chinaman”, Timmy replied, standing up and still tugging nervously at his tie. “It’s a party device called a “Spinning Chainman.”
“A spinning Chinaman?” Rich asked. “I never heard of such a thing.”
Rich took in the sight of the huge round device, a large wheel actually that was mounted within a strong wooden frame. On four corners of the wheel were short leather shackles and in the center of it was a longer leather strap dangling down.
“Well, it uh, it was created in the Orient a long time ago,” Timmy said, stepping over to Rich on the other side of the device. “Basically it’s used at parties and social gatherings as a game of sorts.”
“A game, of sorts?” Rich asked, placing a hand on one of the wooden spokes of the wheel and trying to give it a turn.
“There’s a metal pin in the center of the wheel,” Timmy said, pointing. “You take the pin out and that frees up the wheel so it can be spun, and in this case the wheel can be spun either manually or electronically, seeing as this is an updated version of the “Spinning Chinaman.”
Timmy stepped over to his desk and picked up a remote control device as Rich took the long metal pin out of the center of the “Spinning Chinaman.” Timmy came back over to the device with the remote control, pointed it at the “Spinning Chinaman” and pressed a button on it. The wheel started spinning in a slow motion. Timmy pressed another button on the remote control and the wheel sped up a bit.
“It has various speeds on it, depending on just how fast or slow you want it to spin,” Timmy explained.
“You said it was a party device Mr. Backman,” Rich said, watching in awe as the wheel spun in a clockwise direction. “How is something like this used at parties?”
“Well, it’s essentially used as a game of questions and answers,” Timmy explained further but Rich’s expression turned even more befuddled looking. “Okay, let me get down to the nitty gritty of this thing. I suppose you can say it’s a “Trivial Pursuit” game with a twist, or more precisely in this case, with a spin.’
“Okay…” Rich said and Timmy pushed a button on the remote control device, turning the “Spinning Chinaman” off, stopping it spinning.
As the wheel stopped spinning Timmy saw that Rich had placed the long metal pin in his workpants pocket, no problem at the moment, seeing as the curious guy would probably like to see that the device spun in a counter clockwise direction as well.
“Basically the way it works at a party is this, a party guest is somehow chosen to be strapped into the “Spinning Chinaman”, Timmy began and Rich’s dark eyes opened nearly as wide as saucers.
“How are they chosen? And can this thing really support the weight of a person?” Rich asked.
“Well, usually the person to be strapped into the device is chosen by a draw of cards, he or she who draws the lowest value card becomes the spin recipient, or some other fair method,” Timmy replied. “And yes, just look at the size of this thing. It can hold a person even as big as me or you Rich. The straps at the ankles, calves, wrists and the one that goes around the waist are very secure.”
“Amazing, and once the person who is selected is strapped into it what happens next?” Rich asked, reaching up and fingering the leather wrist strap at the side of the device where he was standing.
“Well, then like I said it becomes like Trivial Pursuit, the person strapped into the device is asked a question,” Timmy went on. “The question can be based on whatever subject matter has been agreed upon. If they answer the question correctly they don’t get spun. However, if they answer the question incorrectly they get spun, for as long and as fast or slow as the person asking the questions decides.”
“Holy crap, what a great game,” the janitor said almost breathlessly.
“Yeah, and uh, while they’re being spun, the person spinning them and the party participants can also make the spinning person’s life even more miserable by uh, tickling them,” Timmy said, sounding woeful. “While they’re being tickled it can cause them to become distracted and they perhaps won’t be able to answer the question correctly, thus, they get spun and tickled some more, so it becomes all the more harrowing for the poor person shackled into the device, you see.”
“T-tickling them, did you say tickling them???” Rich asked, sounding incredulous at that point.
“Yeah, tickling them,” Timmy said, beginning to sweat at that point and trying to remember how he had been shanghaied into this conversation, once again tugging at his tie. “And if you really want to humiliate the person being tickled it’s always fun to strip them down to their underwear. Of course it would have to be THAT kind of party gathering with THAT kind of people at the party, I think you get my drift.”
“Hell yeah, I was already on that part of it,” Rich said gleefully, his pearly white teeth making his grin look all the more villainous.
“I’m thinking that maybe I’ll have you put me in touch with your associate Valerie Levi and see just how much she wants for one of these babies. I can see myself really getting into this game with some sexy broads. Fuck, tickling some sexy ladies pussies would be beyond fun, wouldn’t you say Mr. Backman?”
“I, uh, I wouldn’t know,” Timmy replied, letting go of his tie and Rich saw the look of anguish on the banker’s handsome face.
“Did I say something wrong Mr. Backman?” Rich asked.
“No, no, it’s just that you see, well, of all the parties I’ve been to where this danged “Spinning Chinaman” device is concerned, well, I’ve always somehow wound up as the poor slob who winds up strapped into it, and not only am I strapped in and stripped and tickled, but my so called good buddies see fit to blindfold me as well, dang, which makes it all the more intense, and of course difficult to answer questions,” Timmy said. “And believe it or not, even my wife has been present when I’ve been strapped into this thing at parties. And instead of supporting her husband she also joins in the fun of having me stripped and tickled, jeez, that Stephanie is a handful let me tell you Rich. So, anyway, uh, when you do play “Spinning Chinaman” someday remember that you may not just be tickling women, but men as well, or God forbid Rich, you yourself could wind up as the victim in the “Chinaman.”
“Men, women, who cares, tickling is tickling,” Rich said. “But I doubt I would wind up in this thing, seeing as my luck always seems to be on my side.”
“Lucky you,” Timmy whispered.
“And I got to tell you Mr. Backman, you make it sound like it would be so awful to wind up as the recipient of the “Spinning Chinaman”, Rich said, giving Timmy’s tie a tug himself this time. “And from the sound of things where your wife is concerned, well, all I can say is that you are one lucky so and so. I doubt that my wife would EVER go for a kinky sort of party like what you described a few minutes ago.”
“Hmm, yeah, sure, you can’t imagine how very ticklish I am,” Timmy said to himself and stepped to the leather wrist restraint that was on his side of the device where he was standing.
“Anyway, as you can see there are very strong leather restraints on all the corners of this device,” Timmy said, gripping the restraint in his fist.
“Yeah, so I see, and they look like they’re real easy to use when fastening a person into this thing,” Rich said, stepping next to Timmy and gripping the restraint that Timmy was holding onto as well.
“Yeah, they’re like miniature belts in a way, all you have to do is slip it around a person’s wrist…” Timmy said and then seeming to be in a trance as Rich was undoing the restraint, stretching it out and then it was wound about Timmy’s wrist, scant inches away from his rolled up shirt sleeve.
“You mean like this huh Mr. Backman?” Rich asked and Timmy’s eyes opened wide when he saw that the leather restraint was now curled tightly about his wrist.
“Yeah, uh, yeah, something like that uh, Rich,” Timmy said and suddenly found himself sweating and felt his cock engorging in his suit pants. “Just uh, just like that…I suppose…”
Seconds later Timmy found himself standing mounted in the “Spinning Chinaman” with one of his wrists shackled tightly, his other hand still at his side.
“Wow, that sure must make one hell of a party game Mr. Backman,” Rich said, standing in front of Timmy as the banker/lawyer seemed to be squirming, wondering HOW he had wound up as the demonstrator for the janitor, and wondering HOW in all hell he had allowed the infamous Valerie Levi to talk him into having the device delivered to his office of all places, to be temporarily stored there at that.
“Yes, as I said, it does make a great party game,” Timmy agreed, his head arched back a bit and his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat. “But in my case it has made for a lot of time spent strapped in here, tickled, stripped to my danged socks of all things and even edged while in this thing, if you can believe that,” Timmy said miserably.
“Stripped to your socks Mr. Backman?” Rich asked and as Timmy reached up with his free hand to undo the restraint around his shackled wrist the janitor gently, but swiftly took Timmy’s free hand into his hands, holding it tightly and moving it away from the banker/lawyer’s restrained hand, massaging Timmy’s hand as he did so. “Damn, who in all hell would strip a guy like you to his socks of all things? And edge him of all things? Damn, that is a mean thing to do to a worked up sex crazed guy.”
“Well, obviously you’ve never met any of my buddies who seem to wallow seeing me in such a fashion,” Timmy responded.
As Rich spoke he chuckled a bit and when Timmy looked down for a moment he saw the tent in the janitor’s work pants… All this talk of tickling, humiliation and edging had obviously affected the guy, in a very potent way at that, as Timmy could tell that Rich was VERY, very well endowed in the area of his manhood.
Then, Timmy heard himself suddenly pleading as Rich raised his other hand toward the other leather restraint.
“Uh Rich, that uh, that’s enough of a demonstration I would think here,” Timmy sputtered, his sexy Southern accent suddenly sounding VERY paramount, as it always did when he was nervous or as he was in this case, suddenly feeling very panicked. “There’s uh, no need to go any further…would you agree?”
But it seemed as if the janitor had gone temporarily deaf, or he was just plain ignoring what Timmy was saying at that moment, as he slowly raised Timmy’s hand closer to the leather restraint.
“Uh Rich, oh my word, what all are you up to here Sir?” Timmy bantered then, the soles of his shoed feet sliding a bit haphazardly as he balanced himself in the “Spinning Chinaman”, pressing his waist against the back of it at the same time.
As Timmy tried to pull his still free hand out of Rich’s grasp Rich gripped Timmy’s wrist all the tighter in his mammoth-sized hand, undoing the restraint at the same time with his other hand.
“Oh God no, Rich, please, not what I’m thinking here, please man,” Timmy pleaded now in a high-pitched tone of voice.
In what seemed like a micro-second later Timmy found himself shackled at the wrists and once more trapped in the device known as “The Spinning Chinaman.”
Timmy pursed his lips together in misery, realizing he had been had yet again and was again in the clutches of someone who wanted to have some “Spinning Chinaman” fun with him…
As Timmy stood balanced and totally helpless in the device he watched as his cock pounded in his suit pants as Rich slowly undid his tie, sliding it out from the collar of his white dress shirt.
“What, what…” Timmy began as Rich held up his red silk power tie.
“Coming up Mr. Backman, your power blindfold,” Rich laughed evilly then.
To be continued
