Kyle Pissing & Stroking in the Kitchen
Some guys have it all going on, and Kyle definitely does. This handsome and incredibly fit straight guy not only has a great body and a hot ass, he has a real gorgeous 8.5″ cock to show off too. He’s just getting used to being on camera, but although he doesn’t understand the whole pissing thing he’s enjoying the liberating feeling of it all.
Watch more of this scene here.
I never thought I would write story for Eunuch Archive, let alone a mostly true story (characters and events have been condensed). It all happened so fast. I was a middle aged divorced male, white, 5’8’, 165 lbs. I have two wonderful children. I raised them alone after my wife left because she decided she didn’t want to be married. Before I was married I had many girlfriends and a few after I was divorced. I though being gay was repulsive.
That suddenly changed within the last eighteen months. It started with the Internet, as many things do today. I was always a fan of porn and the Internet made it readily available. Never went to any web pages that you had to pay for though. I loved to look at pictures but especially loved to read the stories. Cannibalism stories fascinated me, and I read as many as I could find. Somewhere along that time I found the Eunuch Archive. These stories truly turned me on. I fantasized about being a eunuch or nullo. In one bulletin entry I found a reference to the Extreme Genital Modification Page. This was great. I was becoming more and more turned on by looking at men. I was also becoming obsessed with always being naked while at home. I began completely shaving my body except head hair.
I then became so bold as to put pictures of my body on the Extreme web page with a profile that I wished to be a nullo or castrated. Then it started to get serious. I found myself thinking about what it would be like to be screwed my another man, what it would be like to suck another man’s dick and swallow. When I jacked off I often ate my own come. I decided I wasn’t ready to be castrated and became interested in the large balls and dicks the pumpers had modified. I sent messages to several and one responded. This was the beginning.
We switched to meeting online privately. He showed me how to use a web cam and for the first time I was showing my naked body to another man in live action. This led to him leading me through ordering pumping supplies and starting to pump my dick and balls. I was now obsessed with having huge balls and a huge dick and was getting there. My balls were large and I loved it. Something else was happening at this time, he asked me to jack-off for him and I did. I kept jacking off whenever he asked me. He led me to the pumper’s page, where the chat room has a live cam feed. Now I was showing my package to a chat room of total strangers. It was fantastic; I had never felt so turned on.
The conversation started to be more about gay sex. I found my self-asking to be fucked. I wanted my balls to be pumped large and then I wanted to be fucked. I could just feel those big dicks fucking me. He invited me to his town. He said we could pump and he would help with saline injections, which would make my balls really huge. I wanted this and I wanted to put pictures on the web page so others could see me. I was following a path that would change me forever.
My new friend showed me dildo’s he had on hand. He said we could try these. One was shaped like a large dogs dick. This I found very interesting. I looked up bestiality stories on the net and became turned on by the idea. My friend mentioned slave master relationship and having read many stories in the Archives I was turned on with the though of being a slave. Things were escalating. I dreamed of being in a dog collar and leash and nothing else. I dreamed of being fucked and sucking dick. And really strange I dreamed of being held by a large dog and fucked by a dog. These dreams were closer than I could imagine.
My friend invited me to his city and amazingly I accepted. Me the straight stud who never even thought about gay things until the last year. I made arrangements for a suite and took some vacation time. I brought my pumping equipment and lots of rubbers. I was finally going to get fucked. How much and by how many I could not have guessed.
I arrived and we met at a restaurant. We had dinner then we went to his condo. He had a partner who was not home at the time. After some conversation we got down to the nitty gritty. We both had seen each other naked many times on the web cam but this was up close and personal. He was hairy but not too much as compared to my totally smooth look. After we were naked we immediately set our pump session. I was totally hard and could barely fit in the pumping tube. We pumped for a few hours till we were pretty large. It was great to have someone besides myself massage my balls during the breaks.
I was harder than I have ever been. At one point we were very close, as need be, when he leaned over and kissed me. A man had never kissed me before it was frightening but I began to love it. For the first time in my life I was the passive party, I was the bitch. Our tongues intertwined, it was wonderful. The next thing I knew he was pushing me gently down his chest, I licked and sucked his nipples, he groaned as I moved on down. Then it was there, my first dick up close. I licked it, the taste was not gross. I took it in my mouth; it was so smooth and silky. I liked the pre-come and tasted it on my tongue. Finally I sucked it; I took as much as I could in my mouth. I did the things I know I like. I licked the under side right behind the head. Slowly I sucked and licked until, again for the first time, another man came in my mouth. I swallowed it all, it tasted great. I felt this was right for me.
I stood up and we kissed more. His hairy body against mine felt wonderful. We went back to pumping until we were both huge. The rest of the evening we relaxed and talked. He said tomorrow things would get serious. I arrived early the next day. He took me to the living room and said take off all your clothes, which I love to do anyway. After I was naked he walked behind me and placed leather studded dog collar around my neck. This would be all I would wear that day and many other days. A leash was hooked and I was led to the bedroom where we pumped up for the day to come.
It was that afternoon, after we pumped, he hugged and kissed me again and gently led me to the bed. On the nightstand was plenty of lube. He laid me on my back on the bed. He lifted my legs and lubed my ass. I had never had anyone’s fingers up my ass before, it felt good. He placed my legs on his shoulders and his dick at my ass hole. Ever so slowly he entered my ass. It was a little painful at first but it felt so good I quickly became adjusted. Slowly he pumped me, I came on my stomach without being touched. I know this was right for me. He picked up speed as I became more comfortable. We both were moaning as I began to feel his cock swell, when I realized he hadn’t put on a condom. I didn’t care at this point. Then he moaned loudly, thrust hard and he came in me. I was amazed I could feel him coming in me. He stayed in me and held me for a while. I loved the feel of his hairy body on mine.
His partner was coming home that evening and I was in for more new experiences. I was naked all day except for my collar and leash. My friend helped me shave my body, reaching places I could never get to, my back and ass hole. It was a great feeling, I was hard constantly. My huge balls hanging out bouncing against my thighs was so great. I found it very erotic that my friend was dressed while I stayed naked. His partner came home to find me naked and leashed. While he wasn’t as interested in me as my friend, he was very nice. After dinner we went on-line to the Pumpers page with the live cams.
There we showed ourselves and pumped along with others. Many liked my smooth look and when during a pump break some noticed I was semi hard asked me to jerk off. I was too shy but my friend took charge and much to the delight of everyone watching he jerked me off, another first for me. I though my dick would burst it was so hard. We signed off and moved to the bed. My friend again gently pushed me downward, I took the hint and moved to his dick and began to suck. As I was doing this my ass was naturally in the air and soon I felt lube being applied as his partner slowly eased his dick into my ass hole. I was being fucked at both ends and loving it.
They both picked up speed and finally thrust into me and held me tight as they both came in me seconds apart. Again we forgot the condoms but who cared it felt so good. I could feel and taste the come. I spent the next day naked with my collar while we pumped till our dicks and balls were so big we couldn’t have fit them in any of our underwear. In one weekend I went from a heterosexual man with children and some fantasies to a naked, gay, bottom, that had been fucked from both ends and loved it. I couldn’t wait to get back the next weekend. My friend had some new things in store.
Finally the next weekend rolled around and I drove to my friend’s city. I didn’t bother with a hotel room this time. As soon as I entered the door off came my clothes and on went the collar. After dinner he said he had a big surprise for me. We were going out! Since I was naked it might be a problem. My friend had this solved. He put a graduation type gown on me. The collar and leash still showed as he led me to the car. We pulled up in front of a gay bar. My first time in a gay bar and I was basically naked and being led around on a leash. I should have said naked because as soon as we entered the gown came off. I was totally naked in a roomful of gay men. I was also totally erect, almost painful I was so hard. With my pumped up balls I was freakish. I was also very popular. Everyone was touching me as my friend, or should I now say it “Master” led me through the crowd. God I was turned on. We sat a table in the back as my Master talked quietly to many of the patrons. After a while he pulled my leash and we went to a special room in the back. It had a padded table in the middle with some towels and a bottle of lube. I was laid on the table and my Master rubbed me down then lubed my ass.
Then men started entering the room four and five at a time. I was fucked on my back flipped over and fucked on my stomach doggie style (which I liked the best). While I was being fucked dicks were stuck in my mouth and I sucked till my jaw hurt, swallowing loads of come in all flavors. Of the dicks in my ass some had condoms some did not. All I knew was come was running out all over my ass. I came several times by men jerking me off while they fucked me. I have no idea how many men fucked or I sucked that night but I was very sore. My Master, in anticipation, was thoughtful enough to have brought a diaper since I no longer could hold anything in my stretched ass hole. We went back to his house where he cleaned me in the shower gave me a big kiss and put me to bed.
The next day since my ass hole was already stretched my Master tried the dog dildo on me. It was very long but the knot just would not go in, it was too big even for my used ass hole. The length and strange shape did feel good. We pumped again, I can’t get over my huge balls, and I returned home sore but satisfied. I couldn’t wait to get back the next weekend.
The weekend started the same, enter strip, collar. After dinner the gown was put on and in the car we went. This time we drove out into the countryside. We pulled into a long drive leading to a secluded house. This was a friend of my Master, we left the robe in the car and I was led naked to the house. We entered and sat for some small talk. After a while my Master’s friend said let’s get started and I was led into a large den type room where I saw him. Him was a large dog. I don’t think he was a pure bred anything just a large dog like a Rotweiler or something. Buster was his name. I was placed over a small padded bench in the middle of the room, resting on my stomach my ass sticking out. The Master’s friend rubbed something on my balls and ass. As soon as he opened the jar the dog perked up and smelled the air. “Buster” moves to me and began to lick my balls and ass. I was rock hard at the thought of what was going to happen. My master slipped his hand between the dog and me and lubed my ass hole. It was going to happen, after all the stories I read and videos I watched on the Internet that turned me on so much I was about to fucked by a dog.
You cannot imagine how good it feels when the dog lays on your back with his very warm and furry body. It is like a living blanket. My own dick was about to explode when the dog’s owner lined the dog’s dick up with my ass. I want to tell you it is not very easy to be fucked by a dog. Their dick keeps slipping out as they hump very fast. With a little help from the dog’s owner he managed to keep the dog’s dick pumping in me pretty well. It is a fantastic feeling because the dog moves so fast and generates so much heat. My ass hole kept trying to suck the dog dick in me and keep it. Remember I could not take the canine dildo’s knot so I thought no way a real dogs knot would fit. However with the owners pushing and the knot being slightly smaller combined with plenty of lube the knot went in me.
You might not know this but after it enters the bitch it sort of turns sideways to stay in. It didn’t hurt for it to do this but there was no way it would come out without ripping me apart. Just after the knot turned and locked the dog in me, the dog began to come. It was more than I could have dreamed, it thinner that people come, and it just kept squirting. I felt so full. The dog then turned around swiveling his dick in me till we were ass to ass. I had to stay this way for about thirty minutes till the knot turned around and the dog could break lose out of my ass. The dog come then gushed out of my ass for about a minute and a half. I was so satisfied and happy. I hoped to do this again many times. It was especially great when the dog licked my dick and ass clean.
We alternated situations like these for several months, it was great. I had huge balls, was regularly fucked and I loved sucking dicks. But things were about to change and this is why this story is in the Eunuch Archive. It started a few months ago; I was living a regular life in my town and my weekends in my Masters city getting fucked and pumping. I began to feel soreness in my balls. They became very sensitive. I finally had to see an urologist. I chose to find a doctor in another city since my new lifestyle may have factored in to my problem. As luck would have it the doctor turned out to be gay and was very understanding.
The catch was my sore balls had nothing to do with my life style. It was a congenial birth defect something about my cords being tensioned. He said it was amazing that it didn’t bother me before. My balls were not getting enough circulation and constant pain would be the result. It would be like being kicked in the balls all the time. The remedies are heavy use of pain killing drugs with their side effects or double orchiectomy (take out my balls). They could put fake balls back in my sack so I would not look different and I could take testosterone to keep my masculinity. I thought about this and discussed it with my Master. Remember at the beginning of my saga reading about castration was a turn on for me. Now I had to make a choice give up the huge balls I get from pumping or constant pain. I decided to give up my balls.
Now the decision was how, when and where. The doctor was great he understood my dilemma and would help in anyway. The only way he was allowed to operate was thru the abdomen and besides that was the only way to remove my cords which were the real problem anyway. The doctor helped big time in two ways. First, he agreed to save my balls and return them to me even though it is against medical rules. He also contacted a plastic surgeon in the gay community to remove my sack and make me smooth below my dick. It helped that the urologist owned his own clinic with a surgical suite. I scheduled the surgery and took a months vacation and sick leave. Another handy thing was since it was a medical necessity to remove my balls my insurance was paying for it. The doctors agree to manage the plastic surgeons fees in the bill to insurance. My Master agreed to help me recover. My children thought it was hernia surgery.
Now I come to today, two months later. I am officially a eunuch. My stitches are gone and were my balls used to be is a fine little scar with still a little redness. My Master and I decided no hormones. My dick has already shrunk to the size of a big clit, no more fucking for me (like the look however, just a little button at the top of my groin). My hips are rounder and easier for my Master and others (including the dog) to grip. And another part I really, really like is my little breasts. They are so pretty. My nipples have gotten much bigger and I get so turned on when they are sucked. It is much easier to keep hair off my body since it has stopped growing dark and coarse. My whole body seems more sensitive. My weight has dropped to about 140 lbs. If I wear something tight I have the body of a girl.
I still live and go to work in my city. Nobody knows my secret, they think I was sick and lost weight. I wear baggy clothes to work. On the weekends I go to my masters. I am still naked and collared as soon as I enter. He still likes to fuck me and I like to suck him. We go to the gay bar about once a month, where they really like to feel me up. I don’t think as many want to fuck me as before. I must look too much like a girl now. I would like to dress like a girl but my Master pretty much keeps me naked so clothes aren’t necessary. I really love more than ever being fucked by the dog (or dogs I should say there have been more since the first). I do sometimes miss my pumped up dick. I can come rubbing my nubbin dick but it’s not the same. I don’t get that feeling when the come shoots out. But other sensations make up for it.
So that’s my story up to now. I started out being turned on by eunuch stories, moved to pumping and big balls and being fucked. Then in a round about way ended up a real gay eunuch and loving it. I want to get pictures posted on some web page soon so everyone can enjoy me.
Oh by the way, my Master brought my balls home in a jar and prepared them, then sautéed them and I ate one the he ate the other. Tasted good had the consistency of liver but was a delight anyway. I only regret I could only eat them once.
Thanks for sharing my saga.
The night after castrating and sending my former slave off to his fate, I slept well, knowing that I had done the right thing. Now, however, I was without a slave. Good slaves, the kind one keeps, are difficult to find. I resolved to select very carefully this time.
My search began on the ‘Net. Using my access to the highly secure “Masters Only” website, I posted a “Slave Wanted” notice. After a few weeks of no replies, I decided to check the usual haunts in the city – a none too enticing prospect. However, to my good fortune, I was greeted with the sight of a slight young Asian man moving into my building. He looked to be perfect slave material. He was in his early twenties, slender and very feminine in his movements and gestures. His attitude suggested a wealthy upbringing. Often, wealthy Asian families “exile” their gay offspring to New York City, where they fit into the culture readily. At home, they would be an embarrassment, causing loss of face and scandal. This young man was just moving in. It was mildly amusing watching him order the moving company personnel around with his effeminate gestures and high-pitched voice.
Later, I asked the doorman which apartment he had taken. I was told “11C,” in a tone that indicated displeasure, probably over an insufficient gratuity, certainly not over his sexual orientation.
I let my candidate settle in for a few days, and then prepared a note which read “If you want a good master, be in the lobby on Friday at noon wearing a red kerchief around your neck.” This, I slipped under his door after I had seen him leave the building with his dog. I waited the few days until Friday, then went down to the lobby at noon. He was there, a blazing red scarf wrapped around his slim neck. I walked over, smiling. His face lit up. “I was hoping it would be you,” he said. “Come with me. Now,” I told him firmly. Obediently, he followed me into the elevator and, after the ride up, into the foyer of my apartment. I explained the necessity of a blood test before he was initiated. This he understood and agreed to. I tied off his right arm, painted the inside of his elbow with antiseptic, punctured one of his veins and withdrew several tubes of blood for testing. He let me do all this without resistance. I packaged the tubes, called the lab for pickup, then had the doorman come fetch the package from outside my apartment. The results, which I hoped would be negative, would be phoned to me tomorrow morning. That out of the way, I began to explain what was expected of him. Absolute obedience without any discussion was the first requirement. No matter how unpleasant the task seemed, he was to undertake it immediately and without argument. As my slave, he would be well cared for but his unwavering devotion was expected at all times. Displeasing me would result in long, painful punishments the like of which he couldn’t even imagine. I explained to him what I had done with my previous slave. He understood. I also explained that I would be removing his balls as soon as the test results came back. At first, a little fear blossomed in his eyes, but that was soon swept away by a look of complete submission.
Ordered to strip, he did so quickly. He pirouetted, spread his butt cheeks for my examination. His balls were medium sized, hung in a small sac just below his uncut penis, which was none too large in length or diameter. His body was slender and firm, his skin was healthy. His hair was a bit too long for my taste. The overall impression was one of a restrained urge to please in any way possible. I approved. If the tests worked out, he would make an excellent slave.
To my question about how he had come to move into my building, he answered that one afternoon his father had caught him in the throes of passionate lovemaking with a boy from his school. He and the other boy had been beaten unmercifully. Because his partner was of the lower classes, his punishment had been less severe. To avoid embarrassment to his wealthy family, he had been taught English by a female tutor and had not been allowed in the presence of any other male, except his Father, while he was being educated for his exile to our country. He told me that he had missed his friend, but that he realized that there was no way for him to have any such relationship in his country. His family had set up a trust fund to cover his needs, purchased an apartment for him to live in and told him never to try to get in touch with them again. His father was looking forward to being notified of his death from AIDS. He went on to say that he had long dreamed of being subjected to the will of a strong male and that he hated his testicles and wanted them removed. In all, he seemed the perfect slave candidate.
I explained to him that he was always to address me as “master” and that I would always address him as “slave,” since I would have only one slave at a time. He accepted this with a “Yes, Master.” We retired to separate rooms for the night.
The lab called the following day to let me know that he was negative for HIV and other venereals tested for. It was time to get to work.
Several years ago, I had had a soundproof room constructed in my apartment for the purpose of disciplining slaves without disturbing my neighbors. The room had an adjustable restraining table, a small surgical sterilizing facility, a video camera, TV and VCR for recording, a microwave and other equipment, such as ceiling and wall hooks. The room had its own plumbing. It was painted in white enamel and all the hardware was of stainless steel. Clean and efficient. Over time, I had castrated a number of other masters’ slaves as well as two of my own.
In preparation for harvesting his glands, I had my slave bathe in hot water to soften and loosen his scrotal skin. Using antiseptic soap, I washed off his entire body and carefully depilated his scrotum. He enjoyed this prepping and became fully erect as I escorted him into my special room. Forbidden to speak, he had given several gasps of pleasure while bathing and being cleaned. At the sight of the table, he let his towel fall to the floor and turned to me with a questioning look. Without a word, I turned him around to face the table, adjusted it to his height, inserted his erection into the hole provided and strapped his legs down firmly, spread apart so that his sac hung down and was easily accessible.
Because I like to operate in silence, there was an inflatable heavy rubber gag supplied by a hose near the table. This I took and placed into my slave’s mouth, on top of his tongue, then turned a stopcock to allow compressed air to inflate the gag. The valve allowed air to flow into the gag. Deflating it was accomplished by unscrewing another valve in the gag. Shortly, the gag filled his mouth. He couldn’t cry out and could breathe only through his nose. I applied the arm and head restraints. I moved the TV in front of the table and opened up the eye slot so that he could see the screen. Next, I positioned the video camera so that an image of his hanging balls appeared on the screen. Completely gagged and tightly restrained, he could watch his own castration.
From the way he was suggestively moving his butt, I could tell that he wanted me to fuck him. I decided to fuck him until he came, holding my own orgasm until he was fully my slave. Using jojoba oil as a lubricant, I inserted myself into his tight butt hole, slowly working my way in. It felt good. It took a lot of pressure to make his sphincter give way, and the slave gave a muffled cry as I suddenly advanced my full length up into him. With willpower, I held myself back, using my prod to massage his prostate until I felt it pulse repeatedly against my cockhead. Although I couldn’t see, I knew that his dick had jetted his last sperm-bearing load out onto the floor under the table. Pulling out immediately, I washed off my cock with antiseptic solution, then painted his dangling sac with antiseptic all the way up and back to his butt hole. Now he was ready. A hair dryer set at maximum heat provided the stream of hot air that loosened his sac and made his balls dangle far from his body. I made a small cut parallel to where his scrotum joined his body. With a small pair of surgical scissors, I snipped carefully around the sac where it joined his body, being careful to cut only the sac skin. When the circle was complete, I tugged his scrotum free, leaving his small balls dangling by their cords from his body. They looked like pinkish-gray cherries hanging there, waiting to be picked. Using my electrocautery needle, I sealed up the bleeders in the circular sac wound. To simplify his nutting, I twirled his balls around each other until the cords formed a single braid. This I sutured off as close to his body as possible. “Are you ready to give up your balls, slave?” He nodded his head. With a single swipe of the scalpel, I harvested his manhood. Working quickly, I cauterized the ends of the cords, then ran a suture in and out of the skin all the way around the open cut where his sac had been. With one finger, I pushed the cords back up into his body, then drew the suture very tight, closing the sac wound like a purse. I tied off the suture and spent a few minutes cauterizing any spots that looked as if they might bleed. When the wound healed, my slave would have a small roseate scar just below the base of his penis instead of a sac containing balls. A big improvement for a slave, believe me. I painted the area with antiseptic again. Now it was my turn. First, I loosened the straps that were immobilizing his legs. After painting my sac with antiseptic to avoid spreading infection, I inserted myself into his backside again and took my pleasure as the first man to have this eunuch slave. My pleasure was enhanced by his rapid movements, and, after a few minutes I emptied my balls up his ass with a great cry of release. A fully satisfying orgasm, one I would not soon forget.
I deflated his gag and freed him from the restraints. He stood up and looked at me expectantly. “Clean up the room. When you are finished, bring me your severed parts,” I ordered. After about twenty minutes, he presented me with his severed balls in a small stainless steel bowl.. My inspection revealed that he had done an excellent job cleaning up. Everything was sterilized and back where it belonged. An excellent job. This slave would serve me well. I picked up his dead balls. “Open your mouth, slave!” I placed his balls into his open mouth and closed it. “Now, chew and swallow.” He did so. So began his life as my eunuch slave.
The door to my room is closed as I lay on my bed, touching my naked body.
My chest is hairless, except for a few wisps around my nipples, which are pinker and larger than they used to be.
I trail my hand down to my stomach, which has lost most of its definition. My penis lies flat and soft, a tiny version of the dick that once was my pride and joy.
And underneath the base of my penis is a small pouch, a flap of skin really. I touch the thin scar that shows where my scrotum was split, my testicles removed.
I stroke my dick with one hand, playing with my tender nipples with the other. My penis swells slightly, expanding to perhaps 3 inches in length. This is as close to an erection as I get these days.
I work my dick furiously, pinching my tits harder and harder. After 20 minutes, I feel a release building as the shaft barely expands. Then a weak spasm of pleasure signals orgasm. I look down and see a small pool of clear fluid, no larger than a quarter, under the tip of my wilting cock.
I weep into my pillow, remembering my proud, firm shaft that used to spray copious jets of white cum all over my chest. Next week I turn 20 years old, beginning my first full year as a eunuch.
It was only six months ago that I answered the personal ad that changed my life forever. I’ve always been attracted to older men, so when I saw he was 42, it caught my eye. The ad said he was fit and attractive, and interested in topping an 18+ boy. It also said he liked ball play.
As soon as I met him for coffee, I knew that Greg certainly didn’t lie in his ad. He looked like he was in his early 30s, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time at the gym. His bright blue eyes and wide smile won my heart right away. When he suggested that we head back to his apartment, I almost jumped out of my chair.
Greg had a beautiful house, very nicely furnished. It sure was a step up from the dumpy apartment I was living in. His bedroom was amazing, with a gorgeous king-sized bed with four posters. Greg came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms around me. I almost melted as he pulled my shirt up and began playing with my tits.
The sex was amazing. Greg was a dynamo, and before I knew it I was on my back with my feet in the air, and his cock buried deep inside my ass. I was so turned on feeling him pump me and hearing him groan in pleasure, that I shot my wad without even touching myself!
He followed a few seconds later. “Here Mark, swallow it all,” he said smiling, as he pulled his condom off and held it over my mouth, letting his semen drip onto my tongue. It was such a turn-on that my cock sprung back to life. Greg laughed and suggested we sit in his hot tub before beginning round two.
I enjoyed the feeling of the water surging around my naked body, but seeing this gorgeous man sitting next to me was more than I could take. After a few minutes, I bobbed my head under the water and began sucking his cock, which quickly hardened to its 7-inch length.
After we got back to his bedroom, Greg went to his dresser and retrieved a leather strap from the top drawer. “It’s time those balls of yours learned their place,” he said, smiling. He pushed me down on the bed and spread my legs, and wrapped the strap around my ballsack. It felt a little tight, but my cock got hard as I saw my purple sack tied up in a little pouch, my balls straining against its sides.
This time he fucked me from behind, with me on my hands and knees. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, ramming his prick in and out of my hole. Just before he shot his load, he grabbed my bound sack and squeezed it real hard. I shouted in pain just as he cried out in pleasure.
“I hope you’ll get used to having your nuts mistreated,” he said, unsnapping the strap and freeing my balls. “I’ve got big plans for those little guys.” I smiled as I felt the blood rushing back into my sack. I had to admit that the combination of pain and pleasure was a big turn-on.
A few weeks later, I moved my belongings into Greg’s house. The same day, he asked me to stay naked whenever I was home. The idea appealed to me, so I agreed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said, and I tossed my clothes onto the couch.
“I want you to always wear this around the house,” he said, holding up a leather device. “This is a ball stretcher. I think you’ll like it.” It took him a few minutes, but Greg managed to squeeze my sack into the stretcher, which separated my balls and pulled them down and away from my body. My cock responded instantly, pointing straight up. “Excellent,” he grinned, taking my swollen dick in his hand and stroking it.
As the weeks went on, Greg became more extreme about my balls. He wanted me to sleep in the ball stretcher, and then to wear it when I left the house too. The only time I could take it off was during a shower or bath.
He became rougher during our ball play, too. He loved to squeeze and slap my tied-up nuts until I begged him to stop. Then we began bondage play, where he would tie my hands and feet to the bedposts. One time, he made me lie down so my balls dangled off the end of the bed. Then he attached weights to my sack.
“Fuck, that’s really starting to hurt!” I yelled, tugging at my restraints. “Relax, Mark,” he said. “You’ll get used to it soon. It always hurts in the beginning. You have to work up to the really heavy stuff.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but there wasn’t anything I could do. My balls were killing me as the weights pulled them toward the floor. He left them on for a half hour, then released me from my torment.
That night I began thinking about leaving Greg. But deep down I knew I couldn’t. I was strongly attracted to him, and we were having the best sex of our lives. And honestly, I enjoyed having my nuts mistreated, even though Greg seemed to go a little far sometimes.
Then I started noticing something that really bothered me. I began having problems during sex. It took me longer to get erect, and my dick wasn’t getting as hard as before. It was harder to keep it up, too.
When I told Greg I was worried about it, a smile came over his face. “Don’t worry hon. Every guy goes through that at some point. It won’t last.”
But it didn’t get any better. Sometimes I didn’t get hard at all as he fucked me, which never happened before. So, Greg got me a prescription for Viagra. That seemed to work, at least for the moment.
Then came the night Greg tried something new. He restrained me as usual, face up and arms and legs tied to the posts. Then he went to the dresser and brought out something I had never seen before. It was silver, with long handles. He had a box with green bands in it too.
“What is that?” I asked nervously, as Greg attached the band to the device and opened it wide. “Relax,” he smiled, moving between my legs. “You’ll love this.”
He grabbed my nuts and pushed them through the stretched band. Then he maneuvered the device until the band was released. Suddenly my sack was banded tighter than it had ever been. And it began hurting like a bitch!
“Jesus, take that off me!” I screamed, bucking and pulled on my restraints. “Mark, take it easy!” he said, kissing me on my sweaty forehead. “I’ll only leave it on for a few minutes. I wanted you to feel what it was like.”
After awhile, my balls were aching less, but my stomach started hurting. That’s when Greg took some shears and cut my band off.
After releasing me, Greg explained that he used an elastrator on me. It was used to castrate farm animals. If you leave the band on long enough, it cuts off the blood supply and kills the balls. Then they just fall off after a few weeks.
“Don’t worry, hon. I would never let that happen to you,” he smiled.
By now, I was really starting to worry about my sex drive. Even with Viagra, I couldn’t seem to keep a good erection. I began wondering if all the ball play was damaging my sexual performance.
Then came the worst day of my life. Greg was out, and I was sitting at his computer looking at the Internet. I just happened to look at his bookmarks, and saw a strange one: The Eunuch Archive. What a shock I got! The site was all about guys getting castrated. And a lot of stories mentioned an elastrator!
“I was hoping you wouldn’t find that.”
I spun around and saw Greg behind me. I tried to get up but he pushed me back into the chair. Then he spun my chair around and threw his arms around me, pinning me down. I struggled, but Greg was much bigger and stronger than me.
It only took a few minutes before I was on the bed, with Greg tying my hands and feet to the posts. I screamed and swore, but he didn’t stop until I was tightly bound.
“Please Greg. Don’t hurt me,” I sobbed as he went to the dresser and pulled the elastrator from the drawer. “I hoped we could have done this an easier way, Mark,” he said, slipping the band over the metal device. “But you’ve forced my hand.”
I bucked and thrashed with all my might, but Greg ignored it. Soon he was sitting on the bed, forcing my sack through the band. Snap! It felt like someone kicked me in the balls. “Fuck!! Take it off! Please Greg!!”
But Greg was calmly putting another band on the elastrator. He pushed my aching sack through the hoop and attached another band to my scrotum.
“I wanted to do this differently, Mark,” he said, sitting down next to me as I squirmed and moaned from the pain. “You see, I was gradually castrating you, killing your balls. It was all carefully planned.
“You were slowly losing the ability to get hard. That was from all the ball play. Eventually, your balls would have been practically dead, and you would have gladly agreed to give them up when I suggested it.”
Greg said that since I was a complete bottom, I didn’t really need my balls. They only got in the way. “Take a look, hon. Your balls are in real trouble right now.”
I stretched my neck and was shocked at how my sack looked. It was a dark purple, almost black. The pain had spread to my abdomen. I never felt so awful.
“Now, it’s your choice,” Greg said. “I could leave the bands on, and your balls would die. But that will take another hour, and that’s a long time to be hurting so bad.”
“What’s my choice then?” I said, tears pouring from my eyes. “Well, I could remove your balls right now. It’s much faster, and in the end much cleaner. Just a few cuts and it’s over.”
It all seemed like a nightmare. But it was no dream. My sack was dying, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. So I nodded to Greg. He smiled and smoothed my sweat-soaked hair. “Good boy,” he said with a smile.
Greg put on a pair of surgical gloves, and got some towels from the bathroom. “Now, this might sting a little,” he said, showing me a small silver scalpel. I closed my eyes and awaited the first cut.
Greg sliced through the center of my scrotum, and pulled my two balls out of the sack. I saw him suturing the stalks holding my manhood in place. Then he quickly severed my left ball free. Dropping the bloody testicle onto the towel, he repeated the cut on my right ball. I was now a eunuch.
That was three months ago. Despite what he did to me, I didn’t leave Greg. I was still totally in his power. And after I healed, we resumed our sexual activities. I began to enjoy the stimulation his hard cock gave my prostate. Every once in awhile I’m able to get a semi-erection, and even cum a little. But Greg says that won’t last much longer.
From high school wrestling star to pathetic piss-bitch, it’s been quite a rapid descent for Card Stevens. In less than a year, he’s gone from big man on campus to a human urinal who spends his weekends in the bathrooms of a gay bar, sitting naked in his own piss while downing load after load of stinking bladder wastes from dudes he used to scorn as disgusting perverts. And even though he’s already swallowed enough pee in the last six months to float a battleship, he still blushes like a little girl every time a dude he knew in high school steps up, unzips, and unloads his stinking urine down Card’s frantically gulping throat. He’s an honest-to-God piss-bitch now but that sure as hell wasn’t the future he saw laid out in front of him when he first ran into his Master, when he first met Jackson Anders.
He didn’t know that the dude sticking his hand out and introducing himself as his new roommate was going to be his Master. No, Card didn’t have a clue what the larger boy had in store for him. He took Jackson Anders for what he purported to be, a fellow wrestler, another scholarship student destined to help out State’s fabled wrestling team win another National championship. Little did he realize that behind the placid demeanor Anders presented to the world lurked a brutal sadist who took particular pleasure in sexually abusing and degrading other jocks, turning them into cowering, pathetic fuck-toys who would submit to any sick perversion Anders’ mind could devise. But Card’s epiphany was not long in coming.
They’d only been roommates two weeks before Anders made his move. The two of them had gone out after classes were over on Friday for a few brews. Card was surprised at what seemed to Anders unlimited capacity, but he tried to keep up with the bigger boy. By the time they called it quits, Card was finding it difficult to focus and he never would have made it back to the dorm if Anders hadn’t been there to help him.
And Anders continued to help him once they got back to their room, helping Card doff his clothes, though at times it seemed that his lands lingered a little too long on the smaller wrestler’s body. However, it wasn’t until Card was completely naked that the true nature of his roommate’s interest in Card’s body became apparent. Card felt Anders’ fingers running up and down the cleft of his ass. “Dude,” Card asked, trying to shake Anders’ hand off his butt, “what are you doing?”
But instead of removing his hand, Anders fingers stopped at Card’s puckered sphincter and began pressing a rigid digit against it. A second later, Card was shocked to hear Anders ask, “You cherry, Card? You ever been fucked?”
“What the fuck you talking about, dude?” Card exclaimed, trying to move away from his roommate. In just seconds, the two of them were grappling with each other, tumbling onto Card’s bed. Even sober, Card was no real match for his larger roommate but in his inebriated state, the fight was over in less than two minutes. Card was still struggling underneath his roommate when Anders ripped off his own briefs and jammed them into Card’s mouth, muffling the smaller boy’s screams and protests. And there, on Card’s own bed, Anders raped his smaller teammate, destroying the boy’s asshole, turning it into his own personal fuck-cunt.
Anders kept fucking him the whole night. Or at least it seemed that way to Card, who passed out around three in the morning while Anders was plowing away at his hole for the third time only to wake up hours later just as his roommate’s creamed the boy’s aching pussy-hole yet again. By the time Anders finally yanked his cock out of the ruins of Card’s sodden asshole, it felt to the smaller boy like his roommate had fucked him with a blowtorch, his ass burned and hurt so much.
Card was lying on the bed utterly exhausted by the ordeal he’d just gone through. But even though he’d spent the better part of the night coring out Card’s no-longer-virgin boycunt, Anders didn’t seem tired in the least. Instead, he reached down and grabbed a shock of Card’s hair and yanked the boy to his feet. “Come with me, bitch,” he said imperiously, “we need to get you cleaned up.” The next thing Card knew, he was being pulled out of his dorm room and led, by his hair, into the dorm-suite’s showers. And there, as two of his suite-mates watched in stunned disbelief, Anders proceeded to shave Card’s ass, his pubes, and his pit-hair, explaining to the other two boys that, “I like my bitches nice and smooth where it matters.”
In retrospect, Card realized that then was the time he should have protested, should have told his suite-mates that Anders had forcibly raped him, that Card wasn’t a willing party to what was happening. But whether it was the shock of having been violently and repeatedly raped the night before or the sheer humiliation that overwhelmed him as his pubes and other body hair were publicly shaved off, Card failed to make any objection. It was therefore not surprising that when Anders, having finished shaving Card’s most private parts, proceeded to violently fuck the boy again, right in front of his two suite-mates, neither of them made any attempt to intervene even when Card began squealing and shrieking in pain. And when, after he had finished fucking Card, loudly screaming as he shot a fresh load of Man-cum up the teenager’s aching shitter, Anders pulled the boy by his hair back to their shared bedroom, it took less that five minutes for the rest of Card’s suite-mates to learn that Card was a faggot who was serving as his roommate’s fuck-bitch.
Anders kept Card naked, in their bedroom, for the rest of that first weekend. And when he wasn’t brutally fucking the boy’s ‘cunt,’ he was training the boy in his new role as the bigger boy’s fuck-whore. “The rules are simple, bitch,” Anders told him, “you do whatever I tell you to do and you do it without any hesitation or any backtalk. And understand, failure to do so will result in immediate and severe punishment. Do you understand, bitch?”
Card was kneeling before his roommate, a fresh load of Man-scuzz dripping out of his battered boy-bung. “Yes…yes, sir,” he replied, now terrified of his roommate, not wanting to do or say anything that might set him off. But all his meek acquiescence gained him was a sharp slap to his face. “You will address me as ‘Master Jackson,’ bitch, because that’s what I am – your Master.”
“Yes, Master,” Card quickly amended, his face flaring both from the slap and the profound humiliation he felt at his abject submission to the bigger boy. But even his immediate submission did not serve to keep Master Jackson from roughly hauling the boy over his lap and administering a brutal ass-spanking that left Card’s ass-cheeks a fiery red and left him sobbing just like any little boy who’d recently been punished for his misdeeds. And it was merely the first of many ass-thrashings that Card had to endure that first weekend.
And it wasn’t only Card’s ass that was the focal point for Master Jackson’s discipline. Card’s balls and cock – his boyvaries and boy-clit as he was instructed to call them – were squeezed, twisted, and pummeled so much that Card began to view them as merely a source of pain and agony rather than one of pleasure. But even the way Card’s boy-junk was manhandled paled when compared to the mistreatment his poor nipples – his boy-tits – suffered.
Card’s little nips had always been particularly sensitive and, sitting the way they did on Card’s well-developed pectorals, it wasn’t long that weekend before they came in for their own abuse at Master Jackson’s hands. And once his new Master discovered how sensitive they were to pain, they became his favorite way to inflict pain on his bitch, something he seemed to enjoy even more than fucking the boy. Master Jackson squeezed and twisted and pinched Card’s boy-tits mercilessly, bit them voraciously, adorned them with weighted alligator clips until Card was shrieking in agony. And when Card, almost insensate from the pain shooting throughout his body from his tortured boy-tits, was reduced to begging and pleading with his Master for mercy, Master Jackson would laugh at him and add more weights to the tit-clamps. And those hated tit-clamps were all Card was allowed to wear when, on Sunday afternoon, at his Master’s direction, the boy went door to door in his suite, telling his suite-mates to please feel free to fuck his ‘faggot cunt’ whenever they got the urge. Two did, right then and there, and it didn’t take more than a week later before all of his suite-mates had come round to routinely fucking Card’s pussy whenever they got the urge.
But if Master Jackson was definitely aroused by the pain he could inflict on his new bitch, he was even more excited by humiliating the boy, particularly when he could do so in public. Master Jackson forced Card to dress in the most revealing clothes for his classes – cut-off tank-tops that barely covered his perky and swollen boy-tits, shorts so tight they looked they had been sprayed on. And Card was never permitted to leave the apartment without wearing a stainless-steel chastity cage complete with a multi-balled butt-plug that forced him to groan in discomfort every time he sat down.
Master Jackson even made Card wear his chastity cage to wrestling practices, forcing Card to out himself as a pathetic fuck-bitch in front of all of his fellow-jocks. Card’s entire body was blushing a brilliant scarlet that first day as he lowered his shorts in the crowded locker room to reveal the metal cage encasing his boyhood and then, as he’d been instructed, go over to Master Jackson and ask his Master to ‘please remove my clit-cage so that I can put on my wrestling singlet.’ The initial round of shocked gasps from the other wrestlers soon gave way to derisive jeers and insults as Master Jackson unlocked the cage and removed it to expose not only Card’s pubeless groin but the large butt-plug that had been wedged up the boy’s fuck-twat. And when, a few seconds later, a large effusion of Master Jackson’s ball-scuzz began trickling past the boy’s swollen cunt-lips, absolute bedlam ensued. “Get that faggot out of here,” one teammate shouted while another, calling Card a ‘disgusting piece of homo-shit,’ literally spit on the boy’s face.
Card thought he’d die of shame the way they ragged on him, throwing one obscene epithet after another at him, and it wasn’t until two of the coaches came into the locker room that some semblance of order was restored. The coaches looked at Card with undisguised contempt, shaking their heads. Finally, Rock Stranger, the head wrestling coach, spoke up. “Get dressed, boy,” he roughly ordered Card, “we got a practice we need to get to. I’ll deal with you, later.”
It was a practice unlike any Card had ever experienced before. None of his opponents held back in the slightest and while most of them seemed to go out of their way to squeeze and molest his junk in ways that would never be permitted in an actual match, the coaches never called any of them on it. It wasn’t surprising, considering the constant mauling it was undergoing, that Card’s boy-clit was totally boned up during the entire practice, actually dribbling pre-cum that was staining the front of his singlet, which, of course, generated no end of slurs and caustic comments from his fellow-wrestlers. Card was sure the was going to be cut from the team and, by the time the practice ended, even he thought that might be the best resolution possible.
During the practice session, Card had noticed that Master Jackson in frequent conversation with Coach Stranger. He had no idea what was going on, though things became perfectly clear once the practice ended and they all trooped back into the locker room. Once they were all inside, Coach Stranger told the wrestlers to gather around him. When they did, the coach turned to Master Jackson and said, “go ahead, Anders, tell them what you’ve already told me.”
Master Jackson look around for a moment and then stared directly at Card. “Okay, bitch,” he ordered with a smirk, “strip.” His whole body once again flushing a bright red, Card did as directed, having already learned what failure to do exactly what his Master told him would result in. Card couldn’t believe how humiliating it was, stripping while everyone else snickered at him. And it didn’t help matters that his boy-clit was still fully erect. Once he was totally naked, he looked at Master Jackson and waited for his Master to continue forcing himself not to try to cover up his embarrassing erection, knowing that Master Jackson would be furious if he did so.
Master Jackson was grinning as he took in his bitch’s obvious embarrassment. Then, he turned to speak to his fellow wrestlers. “As most of you already know, I discovered this weekend that my roommate, Card Stevens, was a pathetic little faggot fuck-whore. I’d had practice dealing with fags before, so I knew exactly what to do – I fucked the living crap out of his faggot-pussy and started training him up to be a respectful faggot-bitch for Real Men to use and enjoy.”
At this point, Jackson Anders paused and looked around the room. “Now I know a lot of you have never fucked fag-pussy and some of you may be put off by the idea of it. But let me assure you that once you try it – and please feel free to fuck the bitch’s pussy whenever you want – you will enjoy it. As they say, a pussy is a pussy. And the thing about fag-pussy is that you don’t have to worry about the fag. You can fuck his pussy as hard as you want. And, if it hurts him, so what? He’s a fucking fag. Who gives a shit? I sure don’t. And you shouldn’t either. So please, all you guys, feel free to fuck my new bitch after every practice. Just like I’m gonna do right now.”
And with that, Master Jackson began shrugging off his singlet and in just seconds his big cock was buried balls-deep in Card’s still-sore boy-cunt, as Card squealed in renewed pain as the bigger boy began jackhammering his tender hole. By the time his Master had once again creamed his tortured cunt, a line of horny wrestlers had formed up behind him.
Over half his teammates fucked his pussy that first afternoon, and by the third practice session every one of Card’s teammate had tried out his ass-cunt at least once. They all pretty much still treated him like shit when they weren’t fucking him, which wasn’t surprising since that’s exactly how they treated him while they were fucking him. He wasn’t their teammate anymore – he was the team’s faggot fuck-bitch. And Card, who before had always looked forward to these practice sessions where he got to pit himself against his fellow wrestlers quickly learned to dread them.
But as bad as being bitched out to all of his teammates was, it wasn’t the worst thing Master Jackson did to Card. Not even close. Because as Master Jackson had discovered early on in his training of his fag-bitch, the one thing that Card hated the most was being forced to drink his Master’s pungent urine. At least when he was being used as the team’s cum-dump, Card could appreciate the sexual pleasure his teammates were experiencing as they pounded away at his boycunt. It was incredibly demeaning lying there as one dude after another jammed his cock up Card’s back-hole and used his pussy to get a nut, but Card could at least understand the pleasure they felt when they used him that way. But to serve as another dude’s urinal, his piss-hole, seemed to have no purpose other than to humiliate Card, to degrade him, to emphasize how far away from being a Real Man Card really was. The pleasure a man felt in pissing down Card;s throat didn’t come from his own sexual release but in Card’s total degradation and humiliation. There was nothing else that Master Jackson did to him that disgusted and embarrassed him nearly as much, nothing that Card hated more. And, unfortunately for Card, Master Jackson understood this. And so, sadist that he was, Master Jackson determined to turn Card into a groveling piss-bitch.
Twice every day, Card was required to crawl naked, as he always was kept in the suite, from room to room and beg his suite-mates to be allowed to drink their pee. The looks of shock and contempt that greeted this request the first time he was forced to make it made Card literally shake with humiliation, but that was nothing compared to the shame that overwhelmed him when one of his suite-mates took him up on the offer and peed down his throat, literally snorting his disdain as he did so. As the days passed, one by one, his suite-mates took him up on his offer and, in less than two weeks, he had become the urinal of choice for all of his suite-mates.
It wasn’t long after that that Master Jackson made Card drink his pee in front of all his fellow-wrestlers, laughingly telling them that he hadn’t used the porcelain urinal in his dorm suite in three weeks. “Why bother?” he asked rhetorically, “when I’ve got a human piss-hole right at hand to take care of it whenever I want? And all you guys,” he added as he zipped up, “should feel free to use the little whore the same way whenever you need to take a leak.” Within days, the wasn’t a single teammate who wasn’t routinely using Card’s mouth whenever he needed to take a piss during practice and, by the time any practice ended, Card’s belly would be visibly bulging out his singlet with all his teammates’ bladder-wastes.
But the worst of it all started a couple months later. Card knew something was up the moment Master Jackson returned from the post office carrying a large cardboard box. He recognized the gleam in his Master’s eye as something that always presaged some new humiliation that was about to be inflicted on him. And the moment his Master began removing items from the box, beginning with the large metallic funnel, Card understood what it would be used for.
Card knelt in front of Master Jackson, blushing furiously, as his Master affixed the metal contraption to Card’s head. It had been cunningly designed to keep his head in an upright position that forced Card to look straight up at the funnel that led directly down to his mouth. And as Card watched in humiliated horror, no sooner had Master Jackson fitted the gag firmly over his mouth than he unzipped his pants and proceeded to aim a torrent of his rancid pee into the funnel and down into Card;s frantically gulping throat. The disgusting taste of his Master’s piss was still permeating his mouth when Master Jackson ordered Card to make the rounds of their suite so that their suite-mates might have their own opportunity to try out Card’s new piss-gag.
Card had been serving as his dorm suite’s piss-hole for a couple of months now, but even though he couldn’t even estimate how many gallons of his suite-mates’ piss he’d downed during that time, he still found it repulsively demeaning every time he did it. And his new piss-gag seemed to make it somehow even worse. It made Card feel not merely that he was serving as a urinal but that he actually WAS a urinal, that being their human piss-hole now defined him even more than being their faggot cum-dump. Before, as a practical matter, Card had served each of his suite-mates as a piss-pit individually, kneeling before each boy as he emptied his bladder into him. It was disgusting and demeaning to be sure, but there was still an element of a personal relationship to the act. But the funnel at the top of his piss-gag allowed multiple boys to simultaneously pee into it. And that’s exactly what they did – two or three boys standing up and pissing together into the funnel, laughing with each other, enjoying the bonding experience of mingling their piss into the same hole, while Card just knelt there almost ignored, desperately swallowing as fast as he could, watching his fellow suite-mates enjoy an experience that seemed to exclude him even though he was literally at the center of it. It made serving as their collective piss-hole more dehumanizing than it had ever been before.
But it wasn’t until that weekend that Master Jackson truly unveiled the full depths of the degradation he had planned for the boy. Card knew something special was up when Master Jackson fitted his thighs and calves with multiple metal straps and then affixed his ornate metal cock-cage/butt plug onto his boy-clit and up his pussy. From past experience, this only happened when Master Jackson was taking him to a wrestling team party, where he would serve as the group’s entertainment. When Master Jackson ordered him to bring the box containing the piss-gag with him, Card’s heart sank since he was sure that this meant that all of his fellow wrestlers would be using him as a urinal the same way his suite-mates now did – with the piss-gag fixed firmly on his head and in his mouth.
But it wasn’t a party Master Jackson was taking him to, it was The Last Stop, the most notorious gay leather bar in town. Just walking into that bar was an agony of embarrassment for Card, dressed the way he was. Heads turned, wolf-whistles and catcalls greeted him as he followed his Master into the back bar, barefoot and naked except for his metal cock-cage and the metal straps around his thighs and calves. Master Jackson walked right up to another man who was standing behind the bar.
“This is the bitch I told you about,” he said.
The dude looked Card over and then just shook his head. “I never would have figured a boy like him would be a piss-queen, but I guess it takes all types. Okay, get him set up in the bathroom. Just remember, he cleans up any mess that he’s made at the end of the night.”
“No problem,” Master Jackson replied. Then, turning to Card, he said, “C’mon, bitch. Let’s get you ready to show all these Real Men what you’re really good for,” and then headed off towards the bathroom, leaving Card to follow behind.
Once inside the bathroom, Master Jackson directed Card to kneel between the two urinals. Then he took the box from the boy and began fastening the piss-gag onto the boy’s head. “Oh, please, Master, please,” Card started begging. “Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this. Please, Master, I’m begging you.” But Master Jackson just ignored Card’s plaintive pleas and they were soon cut off as the gag was jammed into his mouth. Once the gag was properly in place, Master Jackson ordered Card to sit his naked ass down on the floor and to spread his legs apart, blocking access to the other two urinals. That way, bar patrons would have no choice but to use his funnel when they needed to relieve their bladders.
“You’re here for the duration, bitch,” Master Jackson advised as he unzipped his pants and began whizzing into Card’s piss-funnel. “And remember, any mess you make, you’re gonna be cleaning up.” Card was still gulping down his Master’s accumulated piss when the Man zipped up and headed towards the door. “Have fun, bitch,” Master Jackson sarcastically added, as walked out.
Master Jackson hadn’t been gone thirty seconds before the door banged open and in walked a biker wanting to take a piss. “Holy Fuck!” he exclaimed when he saw Card on the floor with the funnel from the piss-gag sticking into the air. He looked around for a few seconds, uncertain as to how to proceed, but finally just shrugged his shoulders and walked up to Card, pulled his cock out and started pissing. “Drink up, faggot,” he sneered, as Card began swallowing convulsively. The biker hadn’t even finished washing his hands before he was joined by another patron.
“Motherfuck!” the new man exclaimed as he took in the sight of Card, naked except for his cock-cage, on the floor. “What the fuck’s going on?”
The biker at the sink, chuckled loudly. ‘Looks like we got ourselves a human piss-hole for the night.”
“God,” the second dude replied, “that’s disgusting. What type of sick pervert would want to spend the night downing other dudes’ stinking pee?”
“One sick motherfucker, you can count on that, bro,” the biker opined. “But, I figured, if that’s what floats his boat, that’s his problem. There’s a lot of really twisted pervs in this world. He’s a good looking dude, but who knows what else he’s into. Probably eats shit, too, sick motherfucker. But I figured. when you gotta piss, you gotta piss so I gave the little bitch just what he wanted – a hot load of my bladder juice.”
“Well, he’s welcome to mine, too,” the second dude said, walking forward and unzipping. “I gotta piss something fierce.” And with that he started whizzing away into the funnel leaving Card with no choice but to swallow as fast as he could. And even before he’d flicked off the last few drops into the funnel, yet another dude came into the room wanting to take a piss. “What the fuck,” the new dude muttered as the guy who had just finished peeing down Card’s throat turned to explain things to him.
And so it went for the first couple hours as Card sat there naked on the bathroom floor. Dude after dude would come through the door, express his surprise, and then his contempt, and then use Card for the obvious purpose that he was there – as a human urinal. For Card, it was an unending nightmare of abject humiliation as he had to listen to all their exclamations of surprise, contempt, and disgust and then still had to swallow their stinking pee, thereby seemingly validating every vile thing they’d said about him.
And, as time went on, things only got worse. It was bad enough when he looked up and realized that a dude was peeing into his mouth for a second and then a third and fourth time, but what was even more embarrassing was when, as happened on a number of occasions, Card recognized the dude pissing into him from one of his classes – and the dude recognized him, too. Knowing the way the news spread on twitter and other sites, Card realized that virtually all of his classmates would have heard about the disgusting display Card had put on in the bathroom of The Last Stop before he even made it out of the bar.
Roughly two hours after Card had started serving as the bar’s urinal, he reached the point that he’d been fearing from the very beginning. His belly was bulging, the multiple loads of piss that he’d down obscuring his abs, his stomach extending so far forward that it protruded well beyond his pecs, the need for him to piss almost unbearable. The breaking point came when three dudes joined in filling his piss-funnel to the very top. Card’s control over his own bladder finally gave way and he began pissing himself on the floor, to their raucous amusement and his own excruciating humiliation. Card pissed himself a good five minutes and, by the time he finished, he was not only guzzling down other dudes’ pee, he was sitting in his own.
From that point on, Card pretty much lost all control over his own bladder and he was pissing himself constantly throughout the rest of the night. By the time the bar closed at 3:00 a.m., nearly half of the bathroom floor was covered with Card’s recycled piss. When Master Jackson finally came in to collect him, Card knew he stank exactly like you’d expect a urinal to.
“You have fun, bitch?” Master Jackson asked contemptuously as he finally took off the piss-gag that Card had been wearing for the last six hours.
Card just stared at his Master, all the accumulated humiliations of his long evening forcing tears to his eyes. But when Master Jackson raised an eyebrow in a way that Card had learned to fear, Card knew what he had to do. “Yes, Master Jackson,” he replied. “Thank you, Master.” Just saying those words, thanking his Master for inflicting upon him the worst night of his entire life, crushed any last remnant of manhood that Card had somehow managed to retain through all the other degradations he had endured.
A huge smile lit up Master Jackson’s face. “I’m glad to hear that, bitch, cause you were a real hit tonight – everybody was talking about the piss-bitch in the bathroom. So much so that they’ve asked us to come back tomorrow night. And,” Master Jackson continued, the raw humor making his voice almost cackle, “assuming things go as well, you’re gonna be a permanent weekend fixture here from now on. Isn’t that great, bitch? Isn’t that great?”
Card didn’t want to cry in front of Master Jackson – he knew how much his Master enjoyed making his bitch cry like a little boy. But Card couldn’t help himself and the tears just started cascading down his face. Yet even as he was audibly sobbing Card forced himself to respond, “Yes, Master. That’s great, Master.”
His triumph now total, Master Jackson’s grin grew even bigger. “Okay, bitch. Now you need to get his place clean. And you know exactly how a bitch cleans up a mess he’s made – with his tongue. So get slurping, bitch. Get slurping right now.”
And as Card knelt down and began slurping his own recycled bladder wastes from the bathroom floor of a seedy bar, the tears kept flowing uncontrollably. He was a piss-bitch now. A human urinal. That was the life that now awaited him. And even with everything else that had already happened to him, Card couldn’t imagine a worse fate.